arlert angel

REINER BRAUN

Reiner relishes in the way he feels inside of you, relishes the way you moan and cling to him. He wants to hear you whimper beneath him, he wants to hear you cry out how much you need him to keep you safe. He wants to feel needed, he wants to feel loved. He wants to make you feel loved, and he does that by burying himself inside of you and making you forget all about what happened on the field. The only thing you feel is Reiner and his gratitude that you’re alive.

LEVI ACKERMAN

Levi loves you, he truly does, but he’s also in need of a distraction. Something, anything to keep his mind off of the screams of his dying comrades. There’ll be other times to make love to you, but right now the only thing Levi is interested in is using your tight little for his own pleasure. He’s rough — pinning your arms down and fucking you mercilessly as you cry out and wiggle underneath him. You can feel his rage in every stroke, can feel his desperation. But Levi isn’t looking for comfort, he’s wants revenge and he isn’t afraid to take it out on you.

ERWIN SMITH

Despite being the commander, Erwin feels like he’s lost control. He feels weak, useless against the titans and so he decides to tie you up and regain at least some power. Here, in the bedroom, there’s no question about whose in charge. You answer to him and only him, whenever he tells you to. If you not, then Erwin isn’t afraid to lay you across his lap and spank your pretty little ass until you beg him to just fuck you instead. And that’s exactly what he does. He makes you ride his cock until you’re on the brink of tears and even then you’re not allowed stop until he says so. After all, he’s the one in charge, and it’s about time he’s treated like it.

JEAN KIRSTEN

greying hair at the sides, smiling lines at the edge of their eyes, and a myriad of knowledge on how to pleasure a woman that can only come with age. men like them are the star of your dreams, and it seems like your dreams are coming true.

they should be ashamed, fooling around with their old friend’s daughter like this, but they can never resist the charms of a sweet thing like you. the divorced brothers are lonely and not to mention, they still have needs.

you’re just what they need to feel alive again.

“does princess like it when daddy plays with her cute cunt like this?” atsumu coos in your ear, curling his thick fingers inside your tight pussy. his bare chest is so wide and firm, giving you a sense of security that only your daddies can give you.

“yes daddy, i do!” you whine as you lean on atsumu’s shoulder, your legs attempting to thrash around the bed, but your other daddy—osamu—stops you from doing so.

“be a good girl and sit still, sweetheart,” osamu chastises gently, large and calloused hands holding your thighs open. his grey eyes are bright with desire, intensely watching the way your pussy swallows his brother’s fingers.

osamu retracts one hand to stroke his cock, his thumb smearing the pre-cum from his tip down to his shaft as he watches you whimper and mewl under atsumu’s dexterous fingers.

osamu’s the more gentle of the two, but no less hungry and aching for you. he thinks you’re still too doe-eyed and innocent for his wayward brother.

even if you’re moaning wantonly while getting your pussy played with—there’s still some semblance of innocence in you.

besides, atsumu is the more playful one, teasing is his forte. while osamu, the younger but more serious twin, would rather give you what you need. what his princess wants, his princess gets.

he wants to see your eyes visibly go blank when he sinks his cock into your virgin cunt, watch your tongue loll out of your mouth as you whine you’re too big, daddy! and osamu will coo at you shh, i know, i know but our pretty girl can take it, hmm?

atsumu clicks his tongue as he removes his fingers, causing you to immediately whine at the emptiness, but he quickly plants kisses on your neck, murmuring sweet praises.

“samu will fuck you now, pretty. be patient.”

true to his word, osamu reaches forward. he pulls your hips closer towards him until your ass is resting on his lap. atsumu’s hands cup your breasts, his fingers twisting and pulling at your hard nipples.

you whimper at his touch, biting your lip as you squeeze his wrists. osamu smiles at your needy expression as he guides his cock towards your dripping sex, tapping the tip on your engorged clit a few times.

your hips jerk at the sensation, moaning when he slots his dick between your puffy folds. the heaviness and heat from his cock makes your eyes flutter as you look up at atsumu’s smirking face.

“daddy’s gonna put it in now, m’kay princess?”

you cry out at the stretch of his cock, your pussy sucking him in like a glove. fuck, he’s so big. the twins groan as they watch your tiny pussy swallow a fat cock.

osamu finally bottoms out, his more rounded stomach smushed against your pubic bone. atsumu’s massaging your breasts to alleviate the stretch, voice soft as he comforts and praises you.

“what a good girl, baby. tight little pussy taking your daddy so well.”

osamu groans loudly when you clench around him, head thrown back as his hips thrust on their own accord. he takes your ankles in his hands, putting them on his shoulders as he fucks you with more fervor. 

atsumu laces his large hands with yours, squeezing your palms as you moan and whine from osamu’s heavy thrusts.

you’re so beautiful, tits bouncing on your chest with every movement, eyes glossy and teary from the pleasure. 

it doesn’t matter that you’re too young for them, that you’re their old friend’s daughter, or that the door to your room is wide open and they can hear the voice of your father announcing that he’s home.

the only thing that matters is you’re theirs.

“Remember, doll. No hands.” Armin’s calm voice reached your ears from somewhere over the left side of the bed. You gave an acknowledging nod to his words, feeling his eager gaze on your displayed body.

He traced his index finger lightly over the blindfold’s soft silk, down to the bridge of your nose and finally tracing the shape of your swollen lips. “So pretty for me.”

The back of his palm caressing the side of your neck and over one of your breasts, stopping a second to tease the hardened nipple. A soft gasp left your lips, provoking a playful hum as a response from him. “Behave yourself.”

The bed dipped under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs, large cold hands on your thighs.

His thumb grazed your wet slit, spreading your juices up and down, purposefully missing your clit, making your hips jolt to catch the slightest pressure you could get.

“Patience, doll. I’m almost there.”

He parted your folds with two fingers, giving your neglected clit soft strokes, you moaned trying to keep your hips still for him but failing miserably.

“Please, Armin” you sobbed pathetically.

“Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue? 'S that it?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, his warm breath already running over your pussy. Lips kissing and teeth bitting softly the swollen bud. He was taking his sweet time licking and sucking every inch of your cunt.

Cold air replaced his tongue, as he backed down, snaking his arm around your leg to keep your hips in place. He gave each thigh a soft kiss, before slipping two fingers inside you and placing his tongue against your clit again.

Your moans were growing louder as you felt his fingers filling you perfectly, rubbing the sensitive spongy spot with his fingertips. Alongside with the feeling of his mouth kissing, licking and sucking.

Armin could tell you were close by your trembling thighs. The idea of denying you flashed through his mind, but he gave up on it. Groaning and moaning against your cunt and pushing you over the edge.

Your pussy squeezed his fingers as you finally reached your high, gripping the sheets so hard your arms were starting to burn. Armin kept rubbing and teasing, dragging pleasure out of you as long as he could.

He backed down, taking his fingers out of you and into his mouth, licking them clean. “Two minutes, okay?”

it's difficult for akaashi to hold back.

he knows your virginity is an important thing, to you and to him. he never wanted to rush you or convince you into anything, but at this point, he doesn't think he’d even to.

not with the way you're whimpering against his lips, your hands pulling through strands of his hair and hips grinding your clit against the rough material of his jeans.

"keiji—fuck, feel so good, keiji," you gasp, high and pretty next to his ears, and he's pretty sure he's losing his mind.

his throat feels unbelievably dry, and his hands tighten their hold on your hips, forcing you to slow down your search for the much-needed friction. you whine, a series of no no no's falling from your lips. the crack in your voice almost makes him feel bad for stopping you, but he knows he needs to say this.

"love, please—look at me." he pulls your chin towards him, his voice smooth and dark. you turn to him and lick your lips, watching as his eyes drop down to follow the movement, before rising up to meet yours with an intensity that sends shivers up your back.

"how far do you want to take this?" he asks, and you're momentarily confused by the question, before you remember—you're still a virgin.

the thought of your boyfriend still wanting to establish boundaries in this moment brings a small smile to your face, and you brush your nose against his, placing a small peck on his lips.

"i want to go all the way," you reply, and you watch his throat bob when he swallows. feeling bold, you bring your lips next to his ears, and whisper, "i want to feel you inside me."

you yelp when you're suddenly pushed off the couch onto your feet, and you're pulled by your hand to the direction of your bedroom. excitement mixes with arousal in your gut when you enter, and you bite your lips in anticipation as you make your way to the bed and hear him snap the door shut.

you sit down, your eyes finding his figure, and as you’re watching him, you feel a trickle of nervousness leak into you. as if he can sense your state, he looks at you and sends you a soft smile, and you can feel your heartbeat skip for a moment.

soon enough, he's back in front of you and cupping your jaw as he gives you a gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the pace you were on earlier.

"you sure about this?" he murmurs, and you nod confidently. you trust him, and you know that no matter what happens, he'll take care of you the way you deserve.

his hands trail along the hem of your shirt. getting the hint, you pull off the fabric and decide to take off your shorts while you're at it. once you've flung the clothes to the side, now in nothing but your bra and panties, you turn back to find akaashi already staring at you, dark eyes slowly tracing over your every curve and exposed skin.

the heaviness of his gaze makes you fidget with your hands a little, and he must've noticed, because he tilts your face up with a finger and looks you in the eyes when he mutters his next words.

"beautiful. absolutely beautiful."

the sincerity and honesty behind the words make your skin heat up, and you turn away from him in embarrassment. his hand grips your chin and brings your face back to him, when you're suddenly struck still with the pure want present in his eyes—but there’s also a delicate tenderness to it, a soft edge that forces a breath out of you.

he pushes your shoulders back lightly, until you're laying down with your head on your pillows, your heart starting to pick up its pace. he seems to ponder about something for a moment, before his shirt is suddenly off and flung across the room, and you’re staring at the wonder that is akaashi keiji.

gorgeous, is your first immediate thought. he’s not incredibly muscular or built, but you can clearly see the results of his past volleyball days and the occasional gym visits. it manifests in the form of a toned stomach, lightly defined arms, and the sharp v-line that leads into a place that has your cheeks heating up. there are a few freckles scattered along the pale skin, and you let out a slow sigh at the beautiful sight of your boyfriend.

it’s not until you see the skin at his chest turn a little pink do you look up at his face, and the light crimson dusted on his cheeks make you realize you’ve staring for a while.

“are you done yet?” he asks, trying to act as if you can’t see his pink skin, “maybe take a picture, it could last longer.”

“what, can’t i just appreciate my stunning boyfriend?” you giggle, stretching your hand out to him. he takes them and makes his way over you, until he’s hovering above you and his hair is prettily framing his face.

you pull him into another kiss, molding your lips against his. this one is slow and deep, and you’re tracing your tongue over the curve of his mouth, feeling every ridge and listening to every inhale until your senses slowly start to fill up and he’s the only thing you can feel.

the taste of him on your lips, the sound of his little sighs, the touch of his hands caressing your jaw and holding your waist—it’s intoxicating, and by the time he’s trailing kisses down your neck, your thighs are clenching and there are satisfied sighs leaving your lips.

his fingers make their way down your body, and you’re hyper aware of every touch, your skin sensitive with shivers running through you. you feel him stop at your bra, and you breathe out an answer before he can ask anything, “yes, please.”

his hands make quick work out of the clasp and the material is thrown away, and before you can take another breath, his lips wrap around your nipple. a sharp gasp escapes you, and you arch your back into his mouth when his other hand comes up to play with your other tit.

his hot tongue swirls around your bud, lightly sucking on it while his other hand works your nipple between his fingers. a stream of whimpers are falling from your lips, your fingers scratching at the base of his head, and he lets out a content hum around your bud.

he alternates between each tit, giving them both the same treatment, but soon enough, his mouth leaves and starts traveling down your body, sucking faint marks into the skin. his fingers graze the fabric of your underwear, and you’re immediately lifting your hips up, making it easier for him to slip it off.

there’s anticipation and arousal bubbling in your gut, and you let out a high gasp when you feel his lips trail along your inner thighs, ignoring the whimpers you impatiently let out.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, “sound so pretty.”

you feel yourself burn hotter at the words, and your cunt involuntarily clenches around nothing. you hear him quickly inhale, and his next words force a whine out of you.

“look at that, you’re clenching so hard just from my words. you like that? you like being told you’re good?” he teases, sucking marks into the corners of your thighs, his mouth so close to where you need it, and the lack of stimulation pushes a distressed cry from your chest, breathing fast and heavy.

“shh,” he whispers, “i’ll make you feel good, just stay still and behave, alright?”

you desperately shake your head, and you’re about to let out a needy plea when you feel his tongue drag up your slit, and the words get replaced by a broken whine. his lips wrap around your clit, and then he’s sucking and toying with the bundle of nerves. you’re helpless to the foreign sensation, and your hands tug at his hair, pulling him closer to you.

your hips buck up when you feel his tongue dip into your entrance, but his hands immediately wrap around you, forcing them in place and holding you against the mattress as he fucks his tongue into your cunt, his nose brushing up against your clit.

“god, you taste good,” he purrs against you, the vibrations traveling through you and making you keen, “taste so fucking good, angel.”

you’re so lost in the feeling of his mouth that you don’t notice the finger that comes up until it’s slowly slipping into you. a surprised cry leaves you, and your back arches at the stretch and the lips that come back to sucking on your clit.

“shit, you’re so tight around me,” he curses, fucking his finger in and out, “how are you gonna take me, hm? think you’ll be able to do that?”

the broken sob you let out makes him groan against you, his cock getting impossibly harder at your voice. his tongue continues to flick and suck at your clit, and you can feel the tension in your abdomen tighten.

then, just as suddenly as the first time, he pushes a second and third finger into your cunt, and this time, you’re so soaked from your arousal and his spit that it slips with not much resistance. there’s a faint burn, and you moan at the feeling, the way he curls his fingers making your hands clench at the sheets underneath you.

he lifts his face from your cunt, and the sight of his mouth glistening from your wetness makes your pussy clench tighter around his digits. he pumps them in and out of you, and when he comes up towards you, you drag him into a hard kiss, uncaring of the mess around his lips.

it’s sloppy and slick, and you’re whining and whimpering into it. he moans against your lips, and suddenly he’s curling his fingers just right and hitting a spot that rips a desperate cry from your throat, your chest pressing against his as you grind down on his fingers, desperate to feel it again.

“right there, huh?” he whispers, and you hurriedly nod. his fingers don’t stop their movements, and the constant pressure on your g-spot tightens the knot in your core, until you're gasping into his mouth that you're going to come.

"'m close, 'm so close."

his hand comes up to roll your nipples between his fingers, and his voice is commanding when he says, "c'mon baby, let go for me."

you tip over the edge, and your first orgasm crashes into you, leaves you quivering and holding on to him while you gasp and shake and cry out so, so prettily for him.

"fuck, look so gorgeous coming for me," he sighs, not stopping the drag of his fingers as you ride your high, "such a sweet thing, aren't you, love?"

you whimper at the words, and your hips buck at the oversensitivity that's starting to build up. he takes notice of it, and slows down his movements before pulling his digits out, the squelch making you heat up and turn away in embarrassment.

"tsk," his hand comes up and pulls your chin towards him, and you inhale sharply at the dark want that swims in his heavy gaze.

you watch as the fingers that were inside you come up to his lips, and your eyes widen when you see him take them in his mouth, eyes falling shut and relishing the taste. your thighs clench when you feel more arousal pour into your gut, your wetness staining your already sticky thighs.

"mm," he hums, pulling them out and licking the digits clean. you don't waste time before tugging him into another hard kiss, and you moan into it when you taste the remnants of yourself in his mouth.

it's harsh and desperate, and you can feel him lightly grind his clothed cock against your naked thighs, almost like he's unaware he's doing it.

the motion spurs you on, and before you know it, you're desperately tugging at his boxers, babbling against his mouth, "off, off, take them off, please," you plead, "need to feel you, need you inside, right now."

he can't help the chuckle that leaves him, and he slows your hands down in their movements, "slow down, love. i'll get them off, alright?" he pulls back, and slips the fabric off in one smooth movement, tossing it away, before turning back to you.

your eyes widen a little at the sight of his cock. it’s pale, with a slight curve and a flushed pink tip. the length and thickness are proportional, and there’s precum leaking out of the head. now, you’re no expert on dicks, considering this is your first time seeing one in front of you, but you’re pretty sure that his could be classified as pretty.

you watch him stroke himself a few times, spreading the precum around with his fingers, and you’re suddenly struck with the urge to know what he tastes like. you want to feel his weight in your mouth, and you mentally file the thought away for another time.

“eyes up here, angel,” he teases, a smirk playing at his lips when he sees you divert your eyes away from him, embarrassment clear on your face.

he leans back and spreads your legs, lifting them and wrapping them around his waist. looking back at you, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, he asks, “you still sure about this?”

“yes, baby, i’m sure,” you smile softly at your boyfriend, hooking your arms around his shoulders. your smile turns shy when you bite your lip, “want you to be the first to fuck me.”

you watch him swallow harshly, his gaze heavy on you. he positions the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasingly slipping between your lips. you’re about to whine and tell him to hurry up, to fuck you already, when he suddenly pushes the head into your tight cunt.

the immediate stretch burns. it's a satisfying burn, one that teeters the border between pleasure and pain, until the lines are blurred and everything feels so hot, like you're on fire, and you’re hyper-focused on every sensation you can feel. you’re so full, and you don’t know how you went your whole life feeling so unknowingly empty.

"s-shit, feel so tight around me," akaashi breathes out, “taking me so well, angel,” he mumbles, a stream of praise falling from his lips as he litters kisses and sucks marks across your chest.

the words make you keen, and before long, you’re begging him to move, your desperate pleas ruining whatever self control he had.

the first snap of his hips has you gasping. the pace he sets is deep and slow, forcing you to feel every ridge and twitch of his cock, the drag of his length along your walls pushing whimpers out of you.

his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, sucking and silencing his moans as he fucks his cock into you. the dual sensations make your back arch, and then you’re whining to him, telling him, “faster—faster, please.”

you hear him curse, and then he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you with quick, deep strokes that reach places you didn’t know even existed. your hands tighten their hold on his shoulders as you cry out, feeling him bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“keiji—ah, ah, ah!” you sob when you feel him change the angle, hitting the same spot that had stars bursting behind your eyelids earlier, the pleasure fogging your mind over.

“you—fuck, you’re clenching so tight around me,” he pants, his hands gripping your waist so tightly you’re sure you’ll find bruises there in the morning. the thought sends a rush of heat through you, and suddenly you find yourself nearing the cusp of another orgasm.

“c-close,” you gasp out between heavy breaths, and one of his hands leave to locate your clit, where his fingers move in quick, wet circles. your body tenses like a tightrope, and all it takes is a sentence from him for you to snap.

“yeah—c’mon, pretty thing. cum for me.”

a string of broken cries are ripped from your throat when you cum. there’s static in your mind, and you can’t think of anything beyond the shattered pleasure that’s coursing through your body. your thighs shake and you can’t stop the filth that falls from your lips, nor can you control the way you clench so tightly, so deliciously, around his cock.

“fuck—fuck, baby, sound so good, feel so fucking good—i-im—” he gasps out, and you can feel him throb inside you, his hips bucking and losing their rhythm, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you.

“inside, keiji—inside, please,” you beg, “wan’ you to come inside, wan’ feel you come.”

“shit, shit, shit—” his hips stutter and he buries his noises in the crook of your neck, letting out deep groans and moans that sound so good, you can’t help but tighten around him, whimpering at the warmth spreading throughout your body from the feeling of his cum spilling inside you.

he continues fucking his cock into you until you’re gasping about the oversensitivity. slowly, he pulls out, and you immediately wish you hadn’t said anything, a disappointed whine leaving you when you clench around nothing.

you hear a breathless curse leave your boyfriend, and when you look up at him, he’s staring down at the cum that leaks out of your empty pussy.

almost like he’s in a trance, you whimper when he brings his fingers to fuck the cum back into you, eyes blown wide open and dark with intensity. you try to close your thighs, but a hand pushes them back open, and you cry out at the burn from the overstimulation. he doesn’t pay you any mind, choosing to focus on the sticky slick that coats his digits every time he pulls them out.

“stop me if it gets too much,” he mutters, before diving between your thighs and licking a stripe along the wet, sloppy mess on your cunt.

It did not matter though, in the end at least. Because they do their duty for the Maker, protect innocents from the mages, and have a hot meal before getting into a soft bed. Unless they are sent out on missions to hunt down or investigate apostates or Maleficarum.

Unfortunately, Knight-Corporal Zeke Jaeger, the superior of the Templars in the small town in The Hinterlands that passes commands down the line, decided that the staggering tall man standing at six foot eight and the much more aggressive, stout Templar with slicked-back hair needed to go on a long mission to investigate a suspected apostate living at the edge of the Kocari Wilds and the Brecilian Forest. Too young for the blue running through their veins to turn hungry and eat away at their mind and too old to stay in this town that has plenty of soldiers and Templars to protect them. And as much as they wish to stay in the safe walls and around Holy Mothers, their dedication extends past their wants. Bertholdt by himself lacks the initiative but paired with a headstrong Porco, they make for a great team despite Porco’s half-hearted bullying.

At Bertholdts behest, they avoided much of the foggy depths of the Wilds to reach the general area of the suspected witch. Fighting off wolves and the occasional bandit, Bertholdt feeling sorry for the enemies while still swinging his greatsword so hard it decapitated some. Porco with a sword and shield, saying “you too soft for this Bert?”

In which Bertholdt would just sigh and rebuttal, “at least I don’t complain about the armor.”

Porco hates how clunky and shiny it is when they need to be a bit more discrete hunting mages, he has made it known throughout the whole journey countless times. Sitting in a small tent at camp just to curse the Makers name about how frustrating it is to even take it off, tripping over a stump and having to stagger himself up against the weight of the steel.

“Tsk. Whatever.”

But this mission is all too tiring. Their muscles are already aching, stomachs tired of hastily prepped dry meals, and the little sleep they have been able to achieve was restless at best. How much more strain can Bertholdts knees take? And do you know how many strides Porco has to take to keep up with one of his steps? The closer they get to the location circled on their map the more evident their weariness becomes, but they must stay alert. Bertholdt desperately hopes it was just a rumor, that it is just some plain old lady living in the woods away from civilization to live out her days.

Boots sunken into mud, vines stuck in the joints of their armor, and despite that, both of these Templars are focusing on the smell wafting through the air. It is not the usual stink of the forest where it makes you cringe, decaying plants and suspicious carcasses of animals they’d rather avoid. Instead, it is something… warmer. Something homey, relaxing, that settles into their bones quicker than they wish.

Stay alert, but by the Maker, they are so tired. Porco still draws his sword with his usual aggression but it is softened with a sense of lethargy and Bertholdt can barely take the greatsword off his back. As soon as they pass through into a clearing, Porcos’ blood starts to rush into his hands.

Standing there is not the old woman Bertholdt had hoped for. Instead, there is a young woman, scantily clad with obviously homemade jewelry, standing over a giant metal cauldron. So that is where the smell was coming from. A stew, stirred in a pot by a strange attractive woman in the woods. Nothing could be wrong here, right?

“Just in time for dinner.”

Porco examines you closely, looking for any sign of ill-intent or magic. He sees more of your skin than clothes and even though Templars do not technically need to take a vow of chastity, he did. Just glancing over your skin sends heat in places he wishes would turn cold at the moment, eyes grazing over your chest of necklaces. One stands out — made of obsidian or onyx around what he presumes to be a ruby. There are etchings in the black gem around the crimson but neither of the men see it well enough to tell what it could possibly say. He feels so warm, like the air is heavy with comfort as it presses into his skin, making him want to sit and relax.

You gesture to the chairs around the fire and pot, “come sit.”

Were there always chairs there? Bertholdt can not remember, he is too focused on how interesting you are. There is a lack of social adeptness you carry, how you do not shy away from them and play coy like the girls in the village. Instead, you demand your presence. The only thing in their visions and slowly filling their mind and if it is not you, it is what you are preparing.

It’s been days since they have had a half-decent meal — before they know it they’re following your directions, sitting in the chairs made of dried vines and wood — it even smells better than the stuff they eat back at the Templar barracks.

There is something important lingering in the back of their minds, but it is veiled by the need to… to do something else. To focus on you. You are so pretty. Deft calloused hands pouring stew into wooden bowls, nails long and black, stained from years in the forest and foraging amongst other things but still pristinely taken care of. Porco thinks perhaps you look out of place in the forest, like a carved statue too pure to be in a rough environment such as this but to Bertholdt you almost fit too perfectly. Someone as beautiful as you amongst nature with an otherworldly presence, you belong here, commanding your existence and letting the forest work around you.

Bertholdts hands meet you halfway to reach for the bowl you offer, “thank you.”

It feels strange to speak to you, even with the smile you keep on your face when their eyes chase you. Porco has drool dripping from his mouth and only realizes when you meet his eyes, offering his own bowl of food.

“Pretty- I mean- fuck- thank you.”

Bert gives him a raised eyebrow as you laugh, Porco’s face stained red while trying to shove his face into the bowl to avoid your eyes.

“Way to go,” Bert passes quietly to him as he savors the warmth of the stew. There’s a moan stuck in his throat from the taste, spices he never knew existed paired with the heaviness of potatoes and other vegetables that he has not had since his birthday dinner.

“Shut up,” while Porco eats (by the Maker the meal is perfect, especially after having stale bread and scrounged up meals for the past few days) he stares at you. How that necklace sways as he tries to read it, sitting pretty against the cleft of your breast.

These two are so interesting to say the least. They are here for you, you can tell by the flaming sword on their armor and the weapons they carry. All men are the same, especially the ones that have followed this Maker and Andraste they worship. They will blame their attraction to you on temptation but in reality, men are just weak. Falling into your hands like curious children with frail wills and wandering hands.

“That armor looks so heavy,” it is as if your voice carries tranquility, washing over their bodies.

Porco agrees readily, calloused hands wiping his mouth before he speaks, “it is stupidly heavy.”

Sitting on the back of their tongue there is a complaint about where he got the armor, how the symbol carved into represents… something. But it feels so heavy to even try to think about, so why speak it?

“It is hot here too, and thankfully armor is optional.”

You see the taller man hesitate more than his counterpart, watching with furrowed brows as Porco runs his fingers through the clasps of his armor. Falling away piece by piece until he is left in his sweat-stained tunic sticking to his skin and heavy steel boots the only protective piece on his body.

Porcos body relaxes back into the chair, muscles rolling and stretching at the release of the weight of steel and leather. Sighing and flexing, licking his lips while he looks at you and only you. You give him a satisfied smile, glancing at his partner with a quirked brow.

Bert stills at your gaze, feeling more like a rabbit in the sights of a snake than a huge man sitting near his weapons. Vulnerable but basking in the attention you give him. He has never had this, never experienced a woman’s attention without it being a complete risk to his vows but… no one is here besides his partner Porco and you, and Porco has kept plenty of Bertholdts secrets. The atmosphere is hot, weighing on them, and heavy with languor. The armor feels even more weighted, less of a second skin that he adjusted to, and more of a nuisance. Plus, being the most dressed alienates him from you, he wants to be closer to you and if that means letting his armor hit the ground then so be it.

He is more distracted as he strips the steel from him, trying to look at you and that pretty necklace set between your breasts and tripping a bit when gets to the lower half. He would be embarrassed if it weren’t for how holy your laugh sounds. His tunic has been patched time and time again, muscles and growth and clumsiness all tearing at it throughout the years.

“Good boys.”

Praising them like dogs should not make Bert turn red and his cock throb in his pants or Porco run a hand over his lips like he is resisting the urge to pounce on you. Slicked back hair ruffled and hooded eyes staring at you, heady and full of desire. Bert wants to avoid your eyes but they settle on that void of a necklace instead, shifting to hide the bulge slowly growing in his pants. See — men are easy.

Shifting your legs open more, leaning back and letting their eyes wander, loitering at the juncture between your thighs, “do you want a reward for listening so well?”

All eyes are on Porco, flushed red past the edge of his tunic, “I’ve never…”

Why has he never done anything sexual again? There’s a memory of a book, reciting a vow from someone in red and white robes but he can’t quite remember. One thing he does recognize is the feeling of regret. What if he disappoints you due to his zero experience?

It’s like you can see the cogs of his brain turning, working to a decision before you interrupt his thoughts. Beckoning him with two fingers and like an eager-to-please puppy, he jolts up and rushes to your demand. Standing awkwardly while you spread your thighs apart, “not to worry, I will teach you.”

Wine overfilled in a chalice, waiting to be sipped by someone willing to worship — Porco gets on his knees, letting the dirt and pebbles dig into the skin and tear the fabric to look at the pleasure he has avoided all his life. Your thighs are so soft and firm at the same time, one set on his shoulder and the other propped against the chair for him to see you fully. You are so pretty, you are pretty here too. Already glistening folds like lost jewels that make his mouth water but still, he looks up to you for guidance. He swears he’s felt this feeling before, enlightening servitude to someone greater than he.

Nails rake through his rused slicked-back hair, “your name?”

“Porco Galliard,” there is a sense of practiced duty in his tone but he is breathy, almost whispering his name to you like a prayer as if any louder would be sinful. Devotion whispered to you and only you. You can not help but think that holy work suits him, for he looks much better on his knees.

“Porco then,” you let his hands become clammy on your thighs, taking your own hand that is not set in his hair to come between your legs, spreading your folds apart and giving him an encouraging nod.

And Porco — always eager to please and determined to do so — dives right in. Tongue lapping over your folds hesitantly just to test the waters, and once he hears you sigh it’s like the flood gates open. Thigh set high on his shoulder and nose deep in your cunt, at least he is enthusiastic.

His more demure counterpart has steadied his gaze on the sight of him servicing you. Breathing heavy and cock straining his pants as he tries to catch a clearer glance of your cunt but instead, he catches your eyes. Coy and playful, as if you do not have his friend between your thighs, “are you just a decoration?”

Bertholdt stutters out a “huh,” before realizing he has just been sitting here like another chair, observing but never participating. Deep in his chest he feels like he has always done this, that his lack of initiative made him sit back from everything. Right now, he wishes to participate, and that’s what gets his legs moving to you. Both you and Porco seem small compared to him (doesn’t help that he’s standing over you,) colossal even.

He can feel your nails through the fabric of his pants, grasping at the flesh of his thigh and as you bask in the whimper it pulls from him. Your neck is bared to him as you look up, decorated with that pretty necklace that looks back at him. Porco still keeps himself busy between your legs, clumsily licking at your folds and occasionally nudging your clit with his nose. Eyes half-lidded, Bertholdt can't help but think you are tempting, a seductress set on stealing his innocence along with Porcos.

But he falls so willingly into your demands anyways, bending to your touch like molten iron and just as firm. A kiss on smirking lips, a hand encasing your ribs as you twirl a finger around the hair at the base of his neck. It's damp from sweat and exertion but even that adds to his charm. His own personal Maker-given perfume only adds to the heat in the air. Calloused and rough hands make residence on your thigh, the only difference being the pure size of the man currently curved over you. Shyly kneading the softness of your inner thigh. But their willingness and curiosity soon turns into frustration when they get in each other's way —

"Bert, move your fuckin' hand," drunk off your essence, Porcos words are slurred and stumbled but the demand is granted. You take a moment to take in his face before he goes back to work — not only can you feel his enthusiasm and curiosity but you can see it — messy and covered with slick up to his nose. But before you let him, your thighs close on his cheeks to keep his head up, squishing them cutely even when he groans, wanting to be let free to adventure your body. As much as he wants to taste you though, even your laugh at his eagerness throws him for a loop, sending his heart racing and beating in his chest like a bird in a cage.

"As fun as it is doing stuff like this outside… however, inside, there's a bed."

Swinging your thigh over Porcos head, you lead them to the door of the hut behind the fire pit, a swing in your hips and untying the knots that keep your ensemble together. Letting them see the entirety of you as you wait expectantly to follow.

And they do, eagerly. Almost tripping over each other, but Porco is faster and Bert gets stuck at the door, having to lean down to enter. Neither of them care to inspect your hut, the animal bones, glass flasks, herbs, books — none of that catch their eyes. Just you, left in only the one necklace that looks like it's watching them, set on the edge of a bed that's too small to fit Bert in its entirety. You beckon Bert with a finger and he makes his way to the edge of the bed in front of you, head narrowly missing the roof (it's not like you have a need for ceilings over seven feet.) He shifts awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to do when you smile up at him but your hands feel hot against the skin of his belly. Rolling over his abs and muscles to shift his shirt up enough for him to get the hint and take it off.

It's quite the show watching him take it off, he has to lean and work it off while trying not to hit anything and least of all you, but he succeeds. Barely standing properly before he's bracing himself against the ceiling, your hands pressed on the outline of his cock. Pants strung tight together coaxed loose until it falls to his feet.

Porco has less patience than Bertholdt, and doesn't particularly care for seeing him naked, but you on the other hand? He wants to see all of you laid before him to worship every single part, to feel every part of you, thick fingers wrapping around your thighs from behind while you continue stroking Bertholdts cock. Pretty black curls rooted in the skin around his balls that are heavy in your hand and gravity only allows his cock to curve downwards towards your face and not up against his chest. Flushed red just like his face and leaking pearls of precum, onto your lithe fingers.

You know all too well the common experience with virgins, you will have to squeeze at least one orgasm out of them before they enter you. Plus, it's entertaining to see the reactions to their "firsts" of sexual experiences. With Bert he's breathing heavy and small chest-deep moans, lip bitten raw as he watches intently to see every move you make with his cock meeting the edge of your lips. Porco behind you is just as inexperienced but doesn't wait for your lead anymore, hand wandering between your thighs. You have to guide him anyways otherwise you'd be a fidget toy for the man while you suck his partners dick. Hand set over Porcos to guide him through the heat of your nethers until he feels his fingers go to the source of your dripping essence and pop past a tight ring that makes you keen. His fingers aren't as long as the man standing before you but they are deft and have their own thickness to them that's pleasing. Now that Porco is entertained with his fingers in your cunt while you sit on your knees for him to see, you can focus on trying to devour the beast in front of you.

His musk permeates your nose as you sink your throat down on him, gagging to adjust to his size. He's cussing, bracing himself, slurring words at the sight of you. Eyes looking up at him, sly and experienced, throat warm and wet it feels… "fuck."

He can even see how Porco worked himself underneath your ass to lap at your cunt again, fingers deep and curling against your plush walls. Bert gets a front row seat of seeing how the pleasure makes your eyes roll and how the moans vibrate against his dick. By the Maker… do you see yourself? It's absolutely sinful, drool slinking down your chin and throat constricting around him until your nose is tickled by his pubes, another man's face shoved in between your thighs and indulging in the taste of your cunt. His hips can't help but rock into your throat, even as the tears tease the edges of your eyes you don't seem to stop or want to pull away. There's a knot set in his body that he's only ever unraveled himself (or occasionally with Reiner, another Templar in the order, but Bert thinks that doesn't count) but it's never been this quick. Even when he imagines what it would be like with a woman… you untie that knot with just a flick of your tongue on the reddened tip of his cock, throat constricting one more time before he spills white inside your mouth. You wish you could swallow it in one gulp but it takes two, then one more to try to get the taste off your tongue.

You leave Bert to catch his breath, pulling Porcos hair and adjusting yourself to slide down his body. Nails skimming over his skin and circling around his nipples teasingly, cunt pressing against his cock that’s laying heavy against his tummy. Eyebrows scrunched and mouth open to moan at that feeling, Porco is quite the beauty. He has his own sweet smell that’s been hidden by herbs but it’s still so him. Finally you bless him with a kiss, eating his moans up while his hands grasp the globe of your ass. He doesn’t really care there is a lingering taste of his friends cum sticking to your lips, for his own are covered in your juices.

Bert stays observing once more, watching how even the outside folds of your nethers can please a man until Porco is rutting back up into the roll of your hips, until white spills over into the dip of his abs and he bites back at your lips to muffle his groans.

“You can last a little longer than that for me, can’t you?”

When you say it like that… Porcos brows are set in an upset scowl, cheeks flushed at how his inexperience rears its head once more. So instead of leaving you on top of him to ruin him once again, he uses his well-trained strength to flip you and push your back into the bed. And you let him, because you’re just as curious in his reaction as he is to see how it truly feels to be with a woman.

He is relatively confident that where you lead his fingers is the same place he should sink his cock into as he has made himself quite familiar with your cunt within the last… how long has it been? It doesn’t matter. Because his thumbs come to part your folds open, watching his face closely to see how it twists and his eyes roll when he starts to push the tip into the small fluttering hole. He’s cursing, eyes closed in prayer about how plush your insides are, how he is blessed to even be savoring the feeling of sinking all the way inside you until his balls tap your ass.

Then — the temptress you are — you clench around him, giggling because of how desperately his hips chase yours and how he falls over your body. Hot breath against your neck as he thrusts, clumsy with an attempt at calculation and rougher than it needs to be but that seems to fit him perfectly. It’s not like he has no affect on you either, his tongue coaxed you open earlier and now he’s fucking you open to keep you that way. Redhot, a spiral curling in your belly while he continues.

“Feel good?”

His hips stutter, head fixed against the curve of your neck and his whispering again, “yes” and “shit” and all the pretty simple words his brain can think of right now.

But you are pulling his hair again, forcing him away from the comfort of your body, “tell him how it feels.”

Him? Who-

Bertholdt has been watching this whole time, what else is there to do when a beautiful woman is falling apart right in front of him? In fact, he probably has the best view, still towering over the two of you and seeing your legs wrap around Porco’s thighs, wishing it was him instead.

“Fuck- it feels- she feels… so fucking warm,” he presses deep into you until your nails dig into his back and whimper, “so wet. And tight.”

He can’t even look up to say it to Berts face, too focused on inscribing your expressions into the wrinkles of his brain. But Bert hears it all, groaning audibly at even the thought of your cunt ruining him like it is ruining Porco.

Your nails leave a medley of scratches, staining his back like ink to parchment — staining him.

A few messy thrusts later and the high that was slowly circling in your stomach is paused with white painting your insides. Groaning into your shoulder and set balls deep to fill you up with cum. To be fair, you never expected him to get you so close much less bring you an orgasm on his own.

Porco is rolled tiredly to the side and belly down like he’s drowned to favor your attention to the tallest man in the room.

“So patient,” your voice is teasing as it always is but fills him with warmth nonetheless, pulling him to lay against the wall that acts as a headboard for your bed.

His friend’s cum is leaking out of you, white trickling down your thigh and meeting his own as you sit atop him. This whole time he’s felt more of a voyeur than anything, watching and watching and watching wicked acts be performed to his partner. Why does he think this is wrong again? It feels so good… it must not matter anyways. Now he finally gets to abandon self-restraint to let his hands fall onto the softness of your hips and ass while you gather the remnant cum and stroke his cock with it, lips pressing into his jaw and feeling his scruff brush against your lips.

"Now what's that saying your organization lives by?"

"I can’t- I can't remember-" and he can’t even form a coherent thought while your cunt stretches over his cock, enveloping him in what Porco described as tight and warm and wet.

Tsk tsk, "yes, you can,” he only can remember because you let him, “how's it start.."

You try your best to take all of him in you, knees bending an ass pushed flush against his thighs as you encourage him to answer your question, "'magic exists…’"

"'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.'"

"Now, Bert, was it? Can't you see it can do both?"

Memories, at least some, come rushing back. Of duty, training, Holy Mothers yelling at Porco’s rowdiness and recitations of the Templars main goals and vows taken for celibacy. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have done anything-

"You're a demon- a lust demon-"

"Honey, if I was a demon I would've killed you already. Have you ever just thought that you are weak to pretty women and new experiences like every other man?"

He makes no move to throw you off him, if anything he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips even more. Because it’s true. Both he and Porco are weak to worldly temptations and seductresses like every other man… and to be fair, the vows of celibacy were optional.

The tips of your fingers are cold, colder than they should be, pressing into his pecs to bring his attention back to you. Circling his arms around your middle and kissing the column of your neck, he decides that it doesn’t matter.

The vows were optional, and he’s rescinding them now.

His thrusts up into you are jostling, the stretch of his cock pushing you off the cliff that Porco helped you climb, and just as you dug your own claim into Porcos back, you do the same to Bertholdts muscular biceps. He doesn’t blame Porco for reacting the way he did -- stuttering and shaking at the pure constriction and warmth of your cunt. Now Bertholdts thighs are shaking as he fucks up into you, basking in how your cunt clenches around him sporadically as you reach your high and easily bringing him with you. The white rings around his cock and cum frothed at the base are only added to when he finishes. In waves, you can feel it flooding your insides in volumes you partially expected just from the size of his balls.

Finally, he takes a deep breath, head hitting the wall as he glances over to see Porco still belly down and open-mouthed, soon to snore. Back to you, he sees that necklace once again, displayed prettily with your breast and sweat dripping from your body. Well, at least you are right…

Magic has not only ruled over man but has also served him.

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