gaia

If God is real, then these coincidences have to be some kind of joke.

There's so many chances he had missed to talk to you, so many chances for you to learn his name and so many chances for him to hold your hand.

When Qifrey was merely an apprentice, he often look at his hand floating in the sky, wondering how your small hand would feel against his. Normal crush, as it should be but he began to grow frustrated that he couldn't have the pleasure to talk to you.

When he went upstairs to visit his mentor, you were already going down.

When he's busy with a particular class or trial, you were already free from your hectic schedule.

But his friends doesn't have this wall between you and him.

Olruggio had that chance. Alaira became your friend and even Easthies held your hand once. So why couldn't he have that privilege? What did they have that he doesn't? If it's because of a normal life, God's be damned.

He imagined what it would be like, to hold you even if it makes him release that branch, vines and twigs covering his body slowly as he succumbs to the silverwood tree.

Qifrey watched, and watched as his closest friends— and what he would call his enemy— Easthies get closer to you than he ever could. He felt something churn and darken over his chest, that feeling whenever he missed just a glance at you near Nolnoa's shop.

That feeling when his shoulder brushed against you one time when in a crowded market before he could reach out, he saw you already so far away from him.

That feeling when he saw you happily talking to Easthies, he wondered 'what if it was him instead? ' what's your reaction? Do you smile and laugh with him?

Qifrey's heart aches for you, yet you're so far from his grasp that it's laughable.

Qifrey's hand trace the mug that you touched moments before, he bought it out of a whim when you put it back and bought something else entirely. This is the closest he can go with you, it looks like a joke as he started using this mug as some sort of escape from the cruel joke.

".. Do you like coffee or tea? " he questioned, more so to himself rather than you. He wondered what your tastes are, do you like it sweet? Do you like it bitter? Something small and domestic as what flavour you'd prefer, there's a kind of intimacy that let him fantasize a life with you if you knew him.

Is it pathetic of him to do so? Perhaps, but a man can dream big.

Qifrey filled the cup with hot water, opening a freshly bought tea leaves, jasmine. A little bit sweet and a bit bitter, perfect for someone who's trying out a new blend of tea.

He waited until the water started to brown, swirling the liquid with a small spoon. ".. I think you're the type to like tea... " —nonsense muttering, Qifrey slouched as he look at the darkened tea. He doesn't feel like drinking it anymore, pushing it to the corner of the kitchen counter.

"Why wouldn't you notice me? " —A question that's buzzing all over his mind, Qifrey envied everyone that has the pleasure of meeting you, shaking your hand and let alone stand near you. He didn't think of it much and he doesn't even realize it himself when he started to take notes of where you frequent.

That stall you usually buy bread and fish due to the cheap price and freshness of the fish, Qifrey found himself frequenting it quite often, but you just sneak pass by him.

Qifrey even started to follow you, only 5 meters apart, far enough you don't see him and close enough that he could track your location. Whether you're in a dense marketplace or talking a walk in the forest, he'll just be a few steps ahead, matching the rhythm of your steps. Like hearts beating at the same rate.

He knows what café's you like, what order is your go to's, what your style of hair, how much you spend on groceries and even he knows the exact layout of your house.

He doesn't regret it, or at least he tried to, that decision is decided when you were leaving in a hurry Nolnoa's store after an urgent call from one of your friends and rushed out without grabbing your cloak. Qifrey stand there, stunned if he should call out to you since you rushed out right when he is directly next to you, he had gotten used to this feeling of distance between the two of you.

"Ah, they really are a clumsy kid... " Nolnoa's voice broke out the sudden silence, walking closer to Qifrey as the old man holds your cloak. "Do you know them personally, master Qifrey? " The old man questioned as Qifrey turn his head towards the source of the voice.

"Yes, I do know them.. We met when we were apprentices back in the Great Hall. " —a half baked lie, but Nolnoa didn't seem to catch on. "Then can you return their cloa—"

Without a second thought, he already grabbed the cloak with a small smile, though it would be bigger if it not for him realizing how rude cutting off an elder's speech. "Yes, I will Mr. Nolnoa, don't worry. "

Nolnoa look at Qifrey with wide eyes for a moment before chuckling to himself, "ho ho! I see, I see... Then off you go! " —realizing that quick and desperate approach of someone who is in love, Nolnoa quickly ushered Qifrey out of the shop.

"Shoo, shoo now!.. "

"Alright, alright, I'm going.. " — Qifrey mused, going along with the old man's antics. He looked at your cloak, his eyes darkening slightly before putting it over his shoulder. You don't mind right?

—

Qifrey paused, a slight blush dusted across his face as he holds your cloak, lifting it right to his face as he took a sniff. It still has your scent, a bit withered but he will take it, Qifrey falls to his side with your cloak tight against his chest.

"Mnnh... " He hummed, he took another whiff of the cloak, unable to take himself out of it. In moments like this, Qifrey felt close to you, even if this was the only way he knew how.

He slowly traced his hand from his chest to his crotch, he was very tempted. It's his first time feeling something so raw— primal, even. But guilt and morals were thrown away from the window as he quickly unbuckled these troublesome pants out and his...

Qifrey took a deep, deep breath, an even deeper blush dusted across his cheek, closing his eyes as he started to imagine you. His hand, slow and albeit clumsy, started to go from the base, eliciting a surprised sharpened breath.

Qifrey continued, his index and thumb closing in as he started to slowly jerk it up and down. His hand traced to the tip, circling his fingers over it. Perhaps it's shame or overwhelming lust that consumed his entire being but he couldn't stop, each breath intake led to small gasps of air the more Qifrey touched himself.

"Mnng... Haa— hmnn... " —his pace quickened.

Clutching your cloak closer to his nose as he took another big whiff, imagining that it's your body instead of a piece of cloth. The sweat on his skin is yours and the feeling of his hand pumping his dick is yours.

—Do you mind being his first time? Do you mind if he just.. Take you from here and keep you forever?

Qifrey fantasizes again, this time it's you on his bed, clothed yet there's something domestic and intimate with how you lay there, reading a book as he slowly lay beside you, his arms wrapped around your waist. Grinding his erection to the crevice of your rear, mumbling and groaning against your shoulder blades, watching as you leaned against him.

Turning you over, laying on your chest, he pulled down your trousers to your knees. His fingers tracing your backside and slowly inserting themselves to your...

Before he could finish his fantasy, a sudden gush of electricity went through his entire body, striking his brain as he cummed all over your cloak without realizing it.

"Shit, shit—" Qifrey didn't mean to release all over your cloak— he quickly sat up, tucking his dick back to his pants as he rushed to grab some tissues and conjuring ink to make a water spell. "I wasn't even finished... " he admits more so to himself about the unfinished fantasy.

He just needs to make sure it doesn't have any scent of his stained semen on it— he already have an excuse made up—

—

Qifrey ended up returning your cloak the next day, he awkwardly sauntered to your door. He couldn't get himself to focus too much, that fantasy sticking to him like paper and glue. Thinking back to it, he became embarrassed but never ashamed, embarrassed purely out of desperation.

He outsretched his hand, palms turned as Qifrey hesitated.

Knock— Knock—

"Wait a moment.. " You shouted from the other side eof the door, footsteps clumsy and hurried, he could even hear small curses as you rushed towards the door. "Uh.. Hello? " you peaked through a small gap, the small lock chain visible.

"Hello, Mr. Nolnoa sent me, have we.. met before? "—Qifrey questioned, wondering if you even knew about him from his apprentice years.

"Wait— oh, Qifrey..!— " With a click, you unfastened the lock chain, opening the gap slightly bigger. "I didn't know you live near Kalhn.. "

"I've just been settling down, even planning to have an apprentice of mine in due time. " He tilted to the side, getting a better view of you from the gap, plastering a smile that not quite reach his ears.

"So.. Why are you here? " you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes— I almost forgotten.. Mr. Nolnoa entrusted me with something of yours... Erm.. " he shuffled, grabbing your cloak from his bag. "You've forgottten this. "

"Oh, thank you— it must be a hassle to find me, sorry... " you stepped it, grabbing your cloak as you inspected it. "You even cleaned it, really, thank you. " you smiled, it sent something towards his heart. "You must be tired— please come inside. " you urged, opening the door for him.

"If you insist, are you working for Mr. Nolnoa? " Qifrey questioned, following you more closely than he did before, taking a seat in the living room connected to the kitchen.

"Only part-time, extra money on the side for personal expenses and uh.. Fixes to the house. " you replied, rushing to the kitchen to grab or to make something to drink. "Do you like tea? "

"That would be good, thank you. "

"Do you want sugar with it? "

"Hmmnn.. Sure, why not. " he nodded as you look from the corner to make sure he agrees. "How have you been? I know we aren't that close, let alone acquaintances but we still know each other, do we not? "

"I guess you could say that.. We were class mates, well, atleast your friends are my classmates. " You heated the kettle, setting down a jar of honey and a small container of sugar on the coffee table. "It's been good, I got a nice house and good job that isn't too straining and like I said before— a side job if money is tight. "

You had your back turned, feet shuffling across the kitchen and him matching those steps.

"You must be living peacefully.. Being one of the sage's being your mentor and Ghodrey's treasure by your side... Truly im jealous. " You opened your eyes, the shadow is quite dark. "So, Qifrey.. —" you turned around, seeing him looking over you.

"Apologies, but I couldn't wait for another year. " with that, he stuck a spell quickly onto your forehead.

You face quickly turned from horror to a blank expression, unable to speak another word as your body lost its strength, the corner of your eyes turning dark as the only thing you last saw was Qifrey's innocent face as he tilt slightly to the side.

He grabbed your limb body before it could drop to the floor, turning off the kettle with his other hand. "I hope you don't mind... " he lifted under your knees, adjusting your position so your body is leaning against him.

“Master Olly, show me that again? Please, please? I beg you!” hopping and cracking every wooden board, you trotted towards your ‘Master’ while your teal uniform gained a pinkish colour within the reddened room.

“Alright, kiddo. Don't get too close, ‘kay?”

You nodded, sitting crossed legs before him, clasping your hands while about to witness the magical properties of ink and paper.

Qifrey stepped inside, keen to catch on to how much you giggled at Olly’s spell—tiny pixie-like forms navigating through the atmosphere and dying on their diminute lifespan the moment they touched the solid palm of your hands.

Qiftey smiled, nothing but his beloved friend and apprentice sharing a moment together—nothing better than fire during winter.

He didn't desire to interrupt—or did he?—, but, since you were already dressed up, he had to use it as an excuse.

“Darling, I see Olly has got you very excited, right? But remember what we need to do today?”

“See Grand-Master Beldaruit!” you repeated what Qifrey told you by the morning, Olly crossed his arms behind his neck and raised a brow.

“Isn’t the old man’s birthday only in January?”

Qifrey sighs while fixing an extra coat around you.

“It isn't about his birthday, Olly. He wants to see his ‘brand new grand-apprentice’, it seems. I'll leave the girls with you…”

About to cross the door, you stopped, running to Olly’s arm to wave (or hug) a proper goodbye.

“Oh, I wish I could stay with Master Olly!”

Qifrey’s chin twitched, he looked away—he didn't want Olly to catch on his friend’s bothered countenance.

“That’s cute, muffin. But you'll like the old man…” Olruggio leaned down, whispering in your ear: “Get him to tell you the embarrassing stuff Qifrey was up to…”

The windows and doors, fitted with Gothic-style latticework, did not suggest a prison, but rather a wholesome haven of laughter and lingering caresses. In both appearance and purpose, the place was a vast nest—a sanctuary where Beldaruit lavished affection upon you in a way Qifrey never allowed the old man to do to him.

“Aren’t they a sweetling? They even call me Master Beldy! Not only that little tongue of theirs pronounce ‘Beldy’ so cutely, they also subtract the ‘Grand!’”

Qiftey landed the teacup onto the ebony furniture, some tea spilling out.

“Hmmm. I bet it makes you feel younger…”

Calling Olly your Master could be forgiven, ‘watchful eye’ was too long. But calling beldaruit solely Master when he had a designed title to come before… it was a bit unforgivable.

“I bet your bones crack a little less when they say it…”

“Oh, my darling boy. Still just as cruel! If I didn't know you since you were tiny I'd bet you hate me!”

Qiftey did not raise a brow at the whispers you and Beldaruit shared. He was an agile man in his mind, he caught onto his own burning face when he watched Beldaruit giggly kiss your cheek. Qifrey experienced a similar ache at how you seemed to rejoice on Olly’s ‘kiddos’ more than in Qiftey’s numerous ‘darlings.’

He still stared at Beldaruit, the old man was unpleasantly keen at voicing stuff one would deem better kept within the skull. So what was he murmuring into his grand-apprentice’s ear?

“I loved Master Beldy’s place!”

Qiftey looked forward, holding your hand yet gifting no stare of his eyes.

“Oh, birdie. Did you?”

“He’s so nice and he smells very… differently? It's good but I never got close to someone smelling like this!”

“Old perfume sold out of line. He commissions it. The original one he wore before was stronger and not so plesant, my love.”

“Master Qiffy…?” you leaned, listening to the ruffle of his lashes against his tinted cheeks—tint which spread across his nose bridge, lower eyelids, but did not reach his ears like the pleasant blushy moments usually did.

“Hmmm? What's it, my heart?”

“Master Beldy said that…”

Oh. Could you spill it?

Beldaruit had pulled you by the collar and ticklishly worded: ‘Oh, I believe a certain Master Qifrey is jealous, come here. Let's make it worse!’

You wondered if he wasn't playing, but now…

“Hmm…? What did he say, my darling…? Oh, also… please, remember: it’s Grand-Master.”

You nodded.

“Mastet Beldy… I mean, Grand-Master Beldaruit said that… he said he wants to see everyone, including Master Olly!”

“Hmmm… even your dear Master Olly…?”

You nodded again, now chuckling—it didn't only show that you knew about Qifrey jealously, but also seemed like you wanted to tease him.

“I like Master Olly and Master Beldy a lot. They are very nice to me!” you giggled, taking it upon yourself to spread Qifrey’s blush to farer lengths.

He bowed, nosetip almost touching yours as he slowly tilted.

“Hmm, that's a blessing, right, my love? I bet they adore you, how could they not.”

“I also adore them, hehe…”

Now that was too much.

Qifrey pulled you by the cheek, giggling to himself in quite the morbid delight when you voiced an ‘ouch.’ Yet the sound of his laughter was naive, like a child unbeknownst to their own cruelty.

“I love Master Qifrey too!” you defended yourself, tugging onto his robes.

“Oh dear me, I don’t doubt you—not even a little, darling…” Qifrey caressed the cheek he just mistreated.

After bowing to kiss the reddened spot on your face, he continued:

“I’ll always make sure you like me, dear… now, come here… let Master Qifrey carry you home. I need to make up for your cheek, don't I? Furthermore…”

“Yes…?”

“What was that that you were whispering with Beldaruit, my heart?”

“Nothing…” your mind echoes:

‘let’s make Master Qifrey even more jealous?’, ‘Sure!’

“Hmm… nothing?”

“Master Qifrey is scaring me!”

He chuckled, pulling you out of the ground.

“Oh, dear. We will talk when we get home.”

Once upon a dusky daytime, when curled up in his own chamber light, that, with no reassuring note, Olruggio stepped out of the webs in his room—which could be swept by no broom.

But there goes which the witch cannot handle—just like the fiery nymphs, summoned by each fierce candle arranged in his lodgings—,your giggled trespassing his ears, noises caused by someone who surely wasn't him. Therefore, to still the beating of his heart, the witch, while scratching his beard, looked for the spot you were to be found in.

And there it goes—just like a mirage weaved by an old fairy tale of yore. You sprawled over the teal divan, each of your legs posed in a manner such that your feet could, mayhap, purge that witch out of your reach. Yet the pushes you granted required too much strength—having in mind the size difference between you and Qifrey—, which diminished your oxygen intake. The pastel colored man led his fingerpads towards your tummy, ministrating quick, ghostly precise tickles: "Master Qif, please! Stop!”

But he isn't your Master, Olly is.

Cups of early drank hot cocoa were upon the nearest centerpiece. Olly certainly hadn't prepared those. But he supposed you liked the ones Qifrey made better.

Qifrey kissed your face amidst your hiccups, telling you to slowly drink water so they’d ease and, with a tap granted to your nosetip by his index, he withdrew from the position atop of you.

“Oh, Olly. How are you doing, dear…? It has been so hot today, I wondered if you wouldn't like to visit the Great Hall with me and the girls…”

Olly’s eyes were focusing on the door you had just crossed after your giggling session with Qifrey ended. Once Qifrey’s speech reached its period, Olly replied: “Why…?”

“Why? Olly, it's certainly a bit colder there. Don't you want to go? Of course our little one should go too!” said Qifrey, pointing to where you had just ran to.

“Our…? I mean, yeah. I'm sure. ‘Lemme’ just… actually…”

Qifrey tilted.

“‘Ya’ know… I'm gettin' them somewhere else. Just Master and Apprentice, see…? Anyway… muffin, where d‘you go?”

Quick to interrupt the conversation, Olly walked towards where you had headed. He couldn't risk Qifrey catching on how his ears grew to a crimson unusual for his worldly stern demeanor. But, perchance, if Olruggio had waited a little longer with no shame, he'd have witnessed the playful tilt his childhood friend gave him.

Where else could we envision such a landscape but in Ghodrey?

A place of veritable paradox, so mystical that it transforms altar hangings, pulpits, and kneeling benches into glittering snow of unparalleled iridescence, rivaling even the splendor of stalactite-filled caverns.

The cracking of each tree branch birthed no clue regarding the upcoming adventures Olruggio had settled you. Alas, even if no token was given, your surroundings culminated on the translucent glimmer of snowflakes, which nicely beatified the rosy spark of your Master’s cheeks.

“Now, isn't it a wonder, kiddo?”

“It’s so cold, Master Olly! I want to live here forever, snow looks like little clouds!”

“Hmm, quite nice isn't it? ‘Lemme’ show you the village.”

“But where’s Master Qifrey?”

Olly didn't answer. You were about to ask again, but he shushed you with a scratch of his beard against the tiny spot of your neck that he allowed to be exposed.

“Shush, muffin. Master Olly is having a special time with you. ‘Dont cha’ like it…? I like it a lot, sweetie.”

You nodded voraciously.

“But the snow looks like Master Qifrey!”

“Hmm… what ‘bout me? What reminds you of me, hmm?”

“Soot!”

“Oh, what a brat.”

The folk wanted to pinch your cheek, ruffle your hair. Hence Olly kept you at hand reach, so by stretching his fingers he could sweep you away from anyone else.

The utopic world you were unraveling was cold, yet filled to the brim with people Olly knew even before you were born—people whom could manage to be unpleasant in ways fancier than provoking your Master’s jeously.

‘Olruggio of the Torch’s student’, what a nice title you seemed to carry—and, by the looks of it, carried without living up to the epithet.

He had left his homeland, made his name and returned to visit it for what? Introducing his newly acquired little one?

The townsfolk believed that asking what you could show off was a decent approach. Olly was, when younger than you, quite the amazing child, wasn't he…? Now, show what you can do.

Your Master was quick to pick onto your wrinkled chin, noticing your clutching around the collar and other odd behaviors you exposed.

“Sorry, they seem a bit overwhelmed. They're quite the shy kid. Aren't you, muffin…? Please, leave them alone. Come ‘ere, dearie…”

You hid under his robes, remaining there until the people's babbling wasn't heard any longer. Some were nice and wanted to cuddle you: an old lady—who instantly recognized Olly—let you pet her puppy. But the noisy adults, circling you and asking for spells Master Olly hadn't even named to you yet, weaved a patchwork of tangled perceptions which covered up any kindness the world had recently bestowed upon you.

“‘Whatcha’ doing, kiddo…? Oh, clutching your collar again…? What's it, hmm…?” Olly kneeled to your height, pushing you by the waist towards his torso until his chin touched your chest. “You got scared, didn't ‘ya’? Don't worry, baby…”

“But they said I'm not as good as Master Olly…”

“Oh, shut up, kiddo. Don't waste your time with what those fuc… silly gooses say, hmm? Aren't you happy you’re with Master Olly…?”, he yearned for a giddily ‘yes’ as response, but it was a reverie: Qifrey was better in those moments than he could ever be.

Lord, why did Olly have to think of it right now? He randomly remembered when you were younger and he decided to shave—you ran to Qifrey saying someone weird had broken in.

You usually went to Qifrey when things were bad. At least Olly thought so, for his mind reserved indelible qualities to every millisecond in which you leaned on Qifrey, doing the disservice of treating as unforgettable the continuous times in which you happily gloated on your actual Master's dottings.

“Maybe…”, he breathed in “You want to go back and see Qifrey…?”

You shocked.

“I want Master Olly!”

“Oh…”

That was what he was looking for.

Olruggio brushed his cheek against yourd, you both giggled—his face was cold, he had warmed you up a lot and forgot himself.

“You do want Master Olly, don't cha, kiddo? Come ‘ere… I wanna kiss these cheeks…”

“What about some uppies…?”

“Ain’t you too old?”

“But Master Qif-”

“Fine, fine. Come ‘ere. I ‘wanna’ hold ‘you anyway, gorgeous…” he reassured you with a ‘muwah’ on the brow, lifting you by the armpits like if you were a brushbuddy.

With your hands on his shoulders, you felt comfortable to be yourself.

“Hehe, Master Olly called me gorgeous!”

“Of course, kiddo. You are, aren't you? Both cute looking and a sweetheart.”

“If I get a secret admirer will they call me these things too?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m burning all their letters. Now, let's take you somewhere warm, muffin. We ‘gotta’ put some tasty, warmed food into you, hmm? You were so brave handling those mean adults, let Master Olly get you the spoiling you deserve. Also stop clutching your collar like this—it might not look like it, but it can hurt your fingers…”

“But you do it all the time…”

“So…?”

“I took it from you!”

“Baby, don't go doing stuff just because I do them all the time.”

Plaintive guitars, adorned with zithers and multicolored pennants. The vibrant panorama rose beneath a periwinkle-blue dome, devoid of clouds and revealing a Sun whose rays heralded a magnificent forthcoming. The array lacked the unruffledness your Master carried, but he seemed unbothered.

“Master Easthies…?”

He replied with a ‘hmm’, tilting with ebony locks being swept by the breeze just to ticklishly land atop your nose.

“I want to go explore!”

Oh, of course you did.

Ezrest was a Cassiopeia of undisclosed secrets by this time of the year. Naturally, the voracious curiosity of youth held you down, suffocating you if Easthies didn't comply.

With a hand on the waist, he frowned, taking in any mischievous hint your current grimace could tattle-tale.

Nonetheless, he found no fiendwise turbulence about the way your lips bent upward; and your pupils gave away pure absolutely tintinnabulation.

He nodded to himself—since his face was turned to the front, meanwhile you rested by his side.

“Fine, dear. Go ahead… now, if you don't get back here by lunch time, I'm dragging you back home by your collar.”

“But how would you find me so easily…?”

“You’re keen, my dear. Perchance I shall have you by my side all day long.”

“Wait, no!”

For a rare second, Easthies chuckled, pinching your cheek.

“I’m merely joking, hmm…”

“Then I can go…?”

“Will you-”

“I shan't accept treats strangers offer me, I shan't trespass the line you drew on the map, I shan't-”

Easthies sighed, index pressed against your lips. “Oh, how checky. Yes, you remember everything, how cute. You shall go have your fun. Sadly, Master Easthies has work, but he'll find other ways to know if you misbehaved.”

You went about your day, keeping your promise of absolute devotion to the commandments laid out by your Master—save for one… mostly because, to be honest, you didn’t know where you’d stashed that blasted map.

Yet, the colloquialism with which Easthies had literally shoved it in your face—in the only time you dared to cross the crimson lines marking the panoramic view of Ezrest—was enough for the information to penetrate your epidermis and take up residence in your hippocampus.

However, if you had kept the map, you'd have noticed he drew a brand new spot, a circle within the allowed area, which was fully pointed red and followed by arrows that signalized to a near text, which read: ‘DO NOT GET NEAR.’

Really? All capital letters? If you had laid your eyes on it, you'd have thought it was nonsense, but one worth to be followed.

But, since you had basically lost the map, your brain wasn't occupying space with it—thus, you trespassed.

Walking by easy minded and stunned by the place’s greatness, you begin to run, giggling like a much younger kid. You did not know you were in the area Easthies had prohibited, but you'd soon know it. And it all began when you were thrown to the floor, your blurrier vision only making sense of a silver haired adult, reaching out to help you stand up.

“Oh my, I'm so sorry. Are you alright, dear…?”

Sorry? No, you had run into an adult and fallen! It was your fault.

If Master Easthies saw it he'd force you to bow until your forehead hit the floor.

“Mister I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean too!”

He tapped your uniform, getting rid of any dirt that might've settled there.

Behind him stood the ‘Starry Sword Stall’, you could swear Master Easthies had mentioned this one with a bit of a bitter tone. But your mind soon forgot it.

“Oh, dear. Do not fret, it might be your first time here, am I right?”

You nodded.

“My Master finally took me to Silver Eve, I'm so happy.”

“My…” the man chuckled, you could only think about how nice he actually looked. “You must have a strict Master, does he know you are here? You shouldn't go places your Master doesn't know.” He looked around, checking if any adult whose robes reminded yours was standing close.

“He said I can explore!”

“Oh, all by yourself?”

You nodded, as if you had just shown how much of a good apprentice you were—your Master allowed you to wander around all by yourself. The man couldn't help, he ruffled your hair, melted by the pride your expression signalized.

“Oh, why wouldn't your Master want to go explore with you…?” he left your hairlocks messed, going for your cheek to give it a pinch.

“He’s working, but he said I can explore!”

“He has a stall here too? What's the name, dear?”

“No!”

“Oh, he doesn't, darling?”

“He works for the Knights Moralis!”

You proudly pressed your open palm against your chest, expelling air from your nostrils. If anything, an outsider could think you prided Easthies’ Mastership more than he looked upon your role as his apprentice—but in fact you were the apple of his eye. The stranger’s expression downed, but it quickly returned to its friendly countenance.

“Oh, wait!”

“Yes, darling…?”

“My Master tells me-”

“Not to talk to strangers.” easthies concluded for you, lifting you by the collar. Your eyes drifted from your Master to the kind stranger you had just befriended.

“Master Easthies! You're back!” yet he didn't reply, exchanging a few looks with the man who still stood close.

“Oh…” the stranger begun, smiling brightly again..“My, Easthies! You've such a sweet apprentice! You have to see just how proud they are of you!”

Easthies tsked, putting you back onto the floor.

“Be careful not to be mistaken by a kidnapper.”

“Oh, never. Be careful for people not to think you're mistreating them…” the man pointed towards you. “Holding them by the collar, you aren't a cat mom who holds its litter by the back on the neck, are you…?”

“Master…?” Easthies didn't answer.

“Master…?” silence.

“Silent treatment is very childish.”

“It’s no silent treatment, your brat. Can't you read simple infographics? Can't you understand that a huge red circle is supposed to be out of your reach?”

“Which big red circle…?”

“On your map.”

“…”

“You…”

“Hehe…”

“You still have the map, don't you…?”

“Master Easthies is so scholarly good looking!”

“Oh…” he sighed. “No need to complain. By your approach, you noticed the weight of what you did. Ten essays for tomorrow, hear me…? Also… that man… what did he do”

“He ruffled my hair and pinched my cheek!”

That unleashed a swirling, effervescent storm of emotions in Easthies. It was as if his train of thought had skidded off the tracks, and every passenger—seated in apparent disarray—was swallowing their watches, driven mad by the urge to save a single possession. And, to save his belongings, Easthies craved his pennant onto the floor, tilting your chin upward and frowning.

“Did he?”

You nodded.

“Do you know him, Master Easthies?”

“I don't know. Do you?”

“Surely not…”

“So… do you like the rufflings and pinches of a stranger more than mine?”

“No… of course not…”

He released your chin.

“Gorgeous. Do fifith essays.”

“What?!” he threw you a harsh look, you gulped. “But Master…”

“I shall not endure your pleadings. Fifth essays, no calling me ‘papa’ by accident will make me turn around.”

“But Master…”

“…”

“Masteeeer!”

He sighed.

“We can have your favorite desserts today. Ten essays if fine, I suppose. You might run out of things to say if I ask for too many. Additionally… no one shall ruffle your hair or pinch your cheeks, rest assured I know the needed pressure for such caress.”

He finished, hand messing your hair and going towards your chin to scratch it—just like one would do to a cat.

The silence in Qifrey’s office was not its usual peaceful haven of scratching quills and turning pages; it was a high-tension wire on the verge of snapping. You had been putting up with it for weeks, but today you had reached your limit. Qifrey had canceled your trip to the Great Academy, ordered two of his barrier counter-spells to be attached to your robes without your consent, and, to top it all off, he had forbidden Olruggio from letting you step outside the atelier's perimeter—even if it was just to gather elderberry leaves in the adjoining forest.

"Enough, Qifrey! I’m sick of this!" your voice echoed against the stone walls, shattering the atelier master's pristine composure.

Qifrey, who had his back turned while reviewing some scrolls, tensed up. He turned around slowly, maintaining that soft, practiced smile he used with the Council, but it didn't fool you anymore. His single visible eye gleamed with a disturbing intensity.

"I don't understand that tone, my love," he said with a calmness that made your blood boil. "Everything I do is for the safety of the atelier. For your safety. The outside world is not safe right now; the Brimmed Caps are..."

"Don't drag the Brimmed Caps into this!" you interrupted, taking a step forward with your fists clenched. "This isn't safety; it's a prison. You are suffocating me. I can't take a single step without one of your tracking runes flashing on my clothes. I am not one of your apprentices, Qifrey! I am your partner. You need to stop treating me like a piece of glass that's going to shatter if the wind blows too hard. I am truly angry!"

The word "suffocating" seemed to slice through the final thread of sanity holding the witch back. The fake smile vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of raw, unadulterated hostility that he rarely showed to anyone he loved.

"I AM SUFFOCATING YOU?!" Qifrey’s shout exploded with seismic force.

You had never heard him raise his voice like that before. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with a residual magical energy that made the inkwells on the desk vibrate. Qifrey took three sharp steps toward you, closing the distance, his face twisted in a mixture of fury and repressed panic.

"Do you have any idea what is out there?!" he screamed, pointing a trembling finger at the window, his eye wide. "Do you have any damn idea how easy it is to lose everything in the blink of an eye?! You think you're free, you think you're strong, but it only takes one mistake, one single forbidden curse, and they will wipe your memory—or worse, rip you away from my side forever! I won't allow it! I won't watch you be destroyed because of your damn arrogance of wanting to be independent!"

Your eyes widened, not just from the shock of the scream, but from the violence of his words. The pain and fear behind his anger were so transparent they took your breath away. A deathly silence fell over the room once more. Qifrey breathed heavily, his chest heaving, staring at you as if he had just realized he had screamed at you.

Seeing you take a step back, frightened by his outburst, Qifrey’s face changed instantly. The fury evaporated, leaving behind absolute terror.

"No... no, wait. I'm sorry. Please, don't move away," his voice dropped to a broken whisper, losing all the authority of a master.

Before you could react, Qifrey lunged at you. His hands gripped your waist with a desperate, almost painful force, pulling you against his chest with an obsessive desperation. He wrapped his long arms around you, trapping you completely, burying his face in the crook of your neck while visibly trembling.

"Forgive me, forgive me, I didn't want to yell at you, I'm an idiot, a damn idiot," he began to mutter frantically, pressing you so close to his body that you could feel the wild, erratic thumping of his heart. "But don't ask me to let you go. I can't. I can't risk losing you. If something happens to you... if they lay a single finger on you, I'll go mad. I wouldn't survive it."

You tried to move, but Qifrey’s grip was unyielding; it was the embrace of a man clinging to his only lifeline in the middle of a shipwreck. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes, and you felt his lips leaving anxious, damp kisses on your skin, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were still flesh and blood, that you were still there.

"Qifrey, you're hurting me a little..." you whispered, feeling your anger begin to melt into deep pity for the traumas that consumed him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, but instead of letting you go, he shifted his grip, moving his hands to your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His single eye was bloodshot and clouded with tears. "Please, promise me you won't leave me. Promise me you'll stay where I can see you, where my spells can protect you. I know I'm selfish, I know I suffocate you... but I'd rather have you hate me than have to live in a world where you are no longer in it."

it’s his pet names that linger instead— sounding all soft and familiar, worn warm from use. the ones he returns to without thinking, like second nature. schatzi. simply sweet. ever so precious. the word curls from his mouth with an ease that feels almost absentminded, yet never careless. and liebling, his favorite, his darling. it’s usually spoken quieter, closer, like it belongs to you and him alone.

those are the few words you come to know. not by translation, but how they’re given. by the way his voice lowers around them, the way they brush against your skin like something tangible.

mixed by blood, eren's heritage lives in the small details about him more than anything else; his cadence, his features, his mannerisms. he doesn't necessarily talk about it. his tongues, german and turkish, live elsewhere. like in fleeting moments on the phone with his family, voice softened with a familiarity different from the kind he shows you.

it's admirable, how effortlessly he slips into the rhythm of home when catching up with his mother and father. you hear it only then, in fragments and tones, something distant. you try to glimpse into that part of him, but he leaves it unshared. 

it isn't that your boyfriend withholds any aspects of his life, or his culture, from you. rather, he lets untranslatable words fall as they come, shaped more by his feeling than intentionality. there's a certain intimacy in that. he thinks that you don't have to understand every syllable to feel the weight of it.

because with him, it's about how it lingers in the space between you long after the words have fallen away.

you know eren doesn’t make much use of deutsch in his everyday life, no. it remains tucked away as the one thing he doesn't reach for, but something that exists all the same. and maybe, that's what makes it all the more enticing, when it surfaces in the moments his control finally begins to slip.

it’s in those instances, when his breath grows uneven and composure frays at the edges, that something from deep within him begins to rise unbidden. words he doesn't consciously choose, tones he typically wouldn't shape, leaving him in a low, broken lilt. there's nothing intentional about it, just the rawness of instinct when the sensation is so overwhelming that he can't help himself any longer.

and in that unraveling, there's something disarmingly sensual. not just the act itself, or the hot slide of his hands when he touches you, but a side of him that can't be hidden away, revealed only when he's too far gone to hold it back.

"scheisse!"

it slips out of him without warning. his mind’s so muddled by the way your dewy walls squeeze his cock that he doesn’t even think to translate. he’s drawn fully into the hilt of your gushing pussy, his presence heavy both in-and-outside of you. he's got you splayed out on your back, displayed ever so beautifully, soft textured hair fanning out on the pillows, like that of a halo. how fitting, for his precious angel. 

eren has you tucked under the breadth of him and slovenly folded into missionary, your body immovably pressed beneath the heat and heaviness of his imposing frame. his attention narrows on you, you, you, until nothing else seems to exist outside of it.

your trembling leg is held in his left palm, secured at the pit of your knee as he guides it up against your shoulder as a means to fucks deeper into you. his other hand rests hot upon your waist, grip tightening whenever you react, kneading at warm brown flesh whenever you clamp down on him. he's unrelenting with how he draws out, plows in, does it again, again, again. dense clapping resounds in hollow echoes throughout the dim-lit bedroom of his paradis-city penthouse.

"e—ren! eren, erennn,” his name falls fractured from your lips, each syllable hitching as it leaves you. he hears it, and something in him shifts. a slow, unmistakable reaction that pulls at the corner of his mouth before it fully settles into a smile. it spreads wide, brazen and sharp in a way that looks as feral as he feels; all teeth, cutting sharp and boyish across his face, features drawn tight with ardor.

pleasure has already taken hold of him; face flushed, sweat gathering and rolling in narrow paths down his skin. his dark manbun sits slightly undone at the base of his head, loose strands slipping free to cling to his temples and the nape of his neck, his tattooed body damp with the same heat that coats him. his brows, thick and dark, knit tightly together, while his bright-teal eyes stay intense and wild, fixed on you with a look that doesn’t waver. you’re his maker and weakness alike, the only thing holding his focus together as he unravels for you.

"komm schon, engel," eren dips low, his large frame folding over yours, shoulders rounding as he closes the space between you, brushing the plush of your lips with his own. "hngh, wha—?" you whine against his mouth, needing of clarity. his breath is warm and close when he murmurs, earnest for a taste of your lips, "küss mich."

you don’t fully comprehend him, but eren closes the gap regardless, until there’s nowhere left for your voice to go but into him. his large hand lifts up, cups your jaw nice and steady, tilts you upwards just enough to meet him as he presses his lips to yours. firm at first, then deeper, more claiming than it is gentle. when he pulls back, it’s only by a breath’s width, enough for the curve of his smile to linger against your mouth. 

his hips take to a slow roll, grinding into yours so sweetly. the rounded end of his hard cock nudges the inner pudge of your softest spots, with the lean ridge of his pelvis brushing over the sensitive peak of your clit. the both of you hold no inhibitions, breaths pouring into each other's mouths in uneven waves, panting and moaning with not a sound refrained.

him and you, you and him, him in you. all sense becomes lost in a heated slew of sloppy strokes and the wettest kisses. he's making such a mess of you; stealing your breath, bruising your flesh, fucking stirring your insides.

for eren, countless sensations begin to merge. your velveteen walls are clamping down, tight, on his pulsing dick, dripping and sobbing all over the length of it. then there's the way you cling to him, just ferocious. the powder-white arch of your fresh nails do well at drawing fiery marks down the broad plane of his tatted back. his olive skin is warm and damp under your palms, glowing sheen with a film of sweat. 

your breath brushes against the reddening shell of his pierced ear, sounds uneven and soft in a way that makes him grow impossibly harder. eren responds in kind, groans amplified, his hold at your waist tightening just enough to keep you anchored to the you-shaped dip in his king sized mattress. you're so pretty, so perfect; behaving so well that all he wants to do is just give you more. 

so he does. 

"shh, lass mich einfach . . stillhalten." eren’s hands span down your shaking thighs, dancing around around your calf until they close around both of your ankles. his fingers wrap fully, thumbs rubbing circles while the rest of his grip adjusts you without effort. he translates what he knows you didn't catch, "don't move." 

eren shapes the physical space between you, and he continues to bend you at angles until the right silhouette is captured. he brings your knees toward your shoulders, folding the form until thighs press firmly against the core of your tummy. shifting his weight low, he transitions into a deep squat, strong thighs flexed as he assumes the position of sitting on his haunches, all without pulling out of you.

with the new vantage, he drives forward and plunges into the tightness of you with sudden, intense momentum that draws the sharpest, most involuntary cry from your lungs— a sound that brings a knowing smile to his face. eren frees self-satisfied laughter, for he always manages to pry out the very reaction he sought to provoke. he finds your body familiar. so easy to mold, too easy to play with.

"ffuuuck! p-please, papaaa, please—"

his response comes rippling out as an unintended growl, sourced from the depths of his chest, and the bass of it makes you clench helplessly around him. with every surge, every thrust forward, he loses another piece of his restraint. an especially taut squeeze of your soaked pussy is all it takes for his snark to dissolve into total surrender.

"fuck . . du bist so eng," his words grow reckless to match just how you undo him. he rambles on about just how tight you are, freeing terribly desperate praise and german incoherencies. he's too far gone to realize he'd even switched languages. frankly, eren doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, and you sure as hell don’t either. it’s hard to follow when he’s digging you out like that; hips slamming down, the fat of his balls clapping against the seam of your ass with every thrust.

more foreign words tumble from his lips— dark, guttural, yet somehow melodic, leaving you in a haze of both lust and confusion. despite it, your body understands the intent perfectly. the way you arch into him, cunt swallowing every known inch of his dick whole, slick walls clamping around him like a desperate vice, tells him everything he needs to know. 

eren finally seems to be returning to himself, eyes clearing as he grows aware; and with that, comes the teasing. another predatory smirk pulls at his mouth as he realizes just how cockdrunk he’s made you, sensitive even down to the veins that drag within you. and so, he draws out the friction, slows his pace to an agonizing crawl, buries himself into you with impossible depth.

each heavy thrust knocks at your cervix and prods at the very limit of you, blunt and demanding, as if he’s trying to leave his mark on your very soul. he's so all-consuming that the heady scent of his skin and the licking heat of his salt-slicked body fills your lungs. you’re crying, you think, unsure as to when it started. all you know is you’re breathing him in, tasting the raw, primal edge of him with every gasp and tear you choke on. 

"aww, poor baby,” he croons, tone darkened with condescend, “macht dich das an, schatzi?" he murmurs, the grunted slew of german humming against your skin. he’s asking if it turns you on— the suddenly rough shift into his mother tongue, and though the meaning of his words escape your mind, you can only nod helplessly, teeth sinking into the swell of your spit-streaked lip as a flush burns across your chest.

"feels good, yeah? i'm fucking you so deep, aren't I? mm, c'mon, angel . . . talk to me, talk to daddy." he eases more of his weight onto your pressed frame, feeding you deep, languid strokes so slow you can hear the wetness sloshing.

"yeahhh, it's good, er-en . . hnn, feelssogood, daddy," his name tears out of you in a pulled shudder, the syllables breaking over one another. it’s the type of sound that invites his wolfish grin, curled with a special kind of satisfaction. his smile is purely predatory when he gets to hitching your leg up higher, rocking into you faster. the lewdness of unfiltered noise begins to swell throughout the room.

before long, you're both trembling over the pace he’s taken; his fingers twitching along your pushed-up thighs, while you're left grappling for purchase along his bulging, corded biceps, your fingers digging into the sinuous centipede inked across his firm rounded muscle. frantically, you cling to one another as the world outside seems to fade away.

eren leans in, ink-dark strands escaping his hairtie, feathering your neck, and cascading over his shoulder to curtain your faces. overzealous, he captures your lips with his own once more, silencing your soft sounds with a deep kiss that tastes as saccharine as love itself, wettened by the salted twinge of adrenaline. his moans tumble out of him helplessly once you get to licking at his tongue. he juts it out for you to suckle on.

the tension brews to a fever pitch. you’re close, and so is he.

"komm und hol mich," he wants—no, needs you to cum for him, pleads in breathless sounds so gritty that you can feel them pass through your bones. those bright-teal eyes, glassed over with brimming tears of pleasure, desperately lock onto yours. his touch is just as urgent.

eren brings the calloused pad of his thumb to your clit, each deliberate rub a targeted press that sends fresh jolts of heat spiraling through your tummy, makes your hips buck up into the onslaught. his breath comes out in ragged puffs as his fleshy, kiss-bruised lips meet your ear, grazing the shell, words unfamiliar yet sweet all the same. “komm auf meinen schwanz, bitte.” the vulnerable rawness of his voice is a love language all in its own. something in you knows to follow his command, even if the meaning is a mystery. 

that building pressure low in your gut begins to coil, tightening into a concentrated knot that demands release. it’s a heavy, mercurial ache that pulses in sync with his movements, making your vision swim as you reach the precipice. your every nerve-ending screams for the sweet, sweet release that only his next deliberate strike can provide.

as for eren, his focus is simply fractured; hands moving with a restlessness that betrays how close he is to the edge. he lifts his free hand to knead and possess the soft weight of your right breast, his grip firm and demanding, before his fingers lift to heedlessly lace around your neck, as a means to keep you pinned in the middle of storm of his movements. 

that same grasp trails away from pressing your artery, slinks down, and squeezes a big, greedy handful of ass into one palm alone. he delivers one smack— two, three. the fourth leaves red in its wake, blooming faint along warm-brown flesh. he merely smiles when you mewl at him. 

the combination he grants you is far too much, too fucking frantic; the stinging heat of his palm against your skin and the possessive weight of his hand at your throat leaves you feeling hazy and unmoored, your thoughts dissolving into a thoughtless, honeyed fog.

a few more of those slowed, plunging thrusts, paired with how nicely he toys with your puffy clit, is what finally shatters the dam and sends rolling waves of your orgasm to crash right through you. it washes over, heavy and thick, the feeling purely electric as it zips through the base of your spine all the way down to your tightly curled toes. your quivering legs lock around his lean waist as he fucks you through the height of it, dark-chestnut hair swinging over hunched shoulders.

"don't you let go yet— m'not done." eren rasps against your agape lips, voice a broken wreck. he taps your soft cheek in two firm pats when your eyes begin to flutter shut, peers at you through hooded eyes, forcing bitten words out through grit teeth, "look at me, schatzi," his fingers tangle into the soft, dense curls of your hair to tilt your head his way. "you came so fuckin' hard, tell me you felt that—shit! mm, p-please, baby . . tell me you’re mine."

you manage to open your mouth, try for an answer, but every brutal impact of his hips knocks the air from your chest, splintering your voice into meaningless little sounds. the rhythm of his pounding, loud and heavy, turns shaky and imprecise as he utterly loses the battle for control. you can see the strain in the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his breath hitching as he teeters on the edge. 

eren frames your face with a sudden tenderness, his large hands encompassing either side of your head as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth itself. he pulls you in until your foreheads touch, eyes locking in a feral, heavy-lidded stare that teases at his release. you babble out his name with every sloppy knock of his hips.

your inner walls clamp down in a steady, involuntary pulse around him, and the friction becomes too much for him to bear. then comes a guttural sound, ripping straight from his chest, followed by a smaller, vulnerable whimper that echoes out, almost like a plea:

"scheisse, ich komme— fffuuuck!"

he jolts forward with an almost animalistic force, burying himself to the very hilt as the first warm, heavy spurts of his release spill free from his cockhead and into your awaiting womb. you feel him throbbing deep within your silken walls, the pulsing erratic as he stuffs your cunt with thick loads of his cum; emptying himself, filling you.

a hushed stillness sets over eren's thirtieth-floor apartment. all movement drifts to a weighty pause; until, eren eventually collapses his full weight onto you with a long, shuddering sigh. the solid, unyielding mass of him drives a soft huff out from your throat, pinning you into the charcoal sheets in a way that feels strangely grounding.

his inked forearms bind around you like vines, pulling your bodies flush-tight until there’s no room left between you. in turn, you drape your arms over the broad expanse of his back, your thumbs tracing soothing circles over the angry, reddened lines of the skin you tore. 

"ugh— rennie, you're heavy."

"mmn." is his heedless response. you both lie there in a tangled, breathless heap of afterglow, your lungs working for shallow air as the adrenaline begins to recede. after threading through the dark, damp silk of his long hair, weaving and undoing braids in the same sitting, your arms finally loosen their hold around his nape. eren nuzzles his face into the soft swell of your breasts, the tip of his nose grazing the sensitive bone of your sternum as he seeks out your warmth.

a small, balmy laugh escapes you, the sound light and surreal against the dense, syrup-thick atmosphere. the air is heavy, saturated with the salt-sharp scent of skin, the musk of his cologne, the lingering sugar of your arab perfume, and the sweet, pungent tang of your collective release— a sensory memento of every orgasm you just shared.

"damn . .” the silence breaks around his voice, low and winded, “didn't think y’had a kink for that."

"hmm," you blink slow, the wisps of your curled lashes fluttering. "for what?"

"uh-uh, don't play dumb now," eren noses your jugular, tickling your neck with a nudge so fleeting you can’t help but break, a shy giggle bubbling up and out into the open. "could've just told me you wanted me to switch languages, princess."

“i didn't even know it was something i’d enjoy that much," you bite down on a drowsy laugh, manicured fingers lifting to idly twirl a stray, dark lock of his hair. you’re secretly glad his hair-tie finally snapped under the pressure.

"i like the way your brain just . . . shorts out when you hear it. makes you so . . ." a kiss, breaking the pattern of speech, is pressed to your upturned lips, so pink and soft.

“—much more," another, then a suckle to your jaw, "—responsive." there's a gravel-like texture to the sound of his teasing. "i don't think i've ever heard you get that loud before, baby.” eren hums aloud onto your skin, a low rumble of pure satisfaction that thrums low in his throat and vibrates against your chest.

he shifts his weight just enough to pepper wet, uncoordinated kisses along the sensitive expanse of your throat, his every movement sluggish with pleasure. 

“verdammt gut,” he murmurs against your skin, testing the effect he has over you, simply wishing to witness how tightly you’d pulse around him in response. sure enough, he smiles to himself when you do, walls clamping down where he remains stuffed inside you. a whispered moan falls from you, eyes screwed impossibly tight. 

his lips latch to your pulse as he mouths praises you don’t need to translate to understand. the meaning sounds as sweet as his kisses taste. “du bist so gut, liebling.” even though his brain's misted over with lust, and his dick is still warmly nestled deep inside you, he can’t help but nip playful marks into your flesh. you find yourself cooing at his affections, your fingers tangling in the deep-brown spill of his hair as you shallowly rock your hips onto his softening cock. 

he mumbles more foreign little nothings into the damp, sweat-slicked crook of your neck, the tone so tender it feels like a physical caress. 

“ich liebe dich so sehr, angel . . .” he breathes, the confession soft and embracing against your skin. the meaning devotional, so unmistakable; he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. 

the ardency of the past hour's lovemaking seems to evaporate, leaving only the two of you sinking in the cooling sheets. from the crevice of your chest to his broadened one, your hearts beat heavy against one another in a synced tempo.

with one last, lingering kiss to your collarbone, eren lets his heavy eyelids fall shut. the silence that follows isn't empty. instead, it’s full and warm, smelling of salt, sandalwood, and the raw fragrancy of his adoration.

the darkness of the room feels like a protective veil. in the stillness, with his warmth still grounding you and his scent filling your lungs, you finally let your own eyes close, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep cradled in the arms of the man who loves you more than he has the words to say.

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻.ᐟ ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. reblogs are highly appreciated! please and thank you! ❤︎

plug!eren that loves serving u, his prettiest customer. always makes sure to respond to ur text within the same minute, no matter the condition he’s in.

plug!eren who gets so happy when u ask him to teach u how to roll. each time he’s served u, he’s just brought u pre-rolls since u never bothered to ask for any other rolling materials. but this time, u finally caved and asked him to teach u, saying, “i’m just tired of spending my money on a multiple pre-rolls everyday. i wanna roll for myself” - mind u, eren hasn’t ever charged u.

plug!eren that sees u eyeing him intensely when he starts licking down the sheet, green eyes challenging yours each time he goes to toast the j. he got off on hearing your breath shudder slightly each time he gave it a lick, laughing silently to himself.

plug!eren who watches you smile brightly upon not ripping the sheet (you went through 3 before getting it right). he critiques your j as the two of you hit it, saying u only really needed to work on your mouth piece. however, it was hard for u to digest anything he was saying over the loudness of your thoughts. you couldn’t get the image of eren licking the j out of ur head, wondering if he’d take that much care with u. head between ur legs, using his tongue with the utmost precision. god it’d feel so good -

“whatcha thinkin’ bout pretty girl?” eren’s voice pulls you out of ur thoughts and u smile, not trusting urself enough to express ur feelings without flat out telling him you wanted to fuck.

“i’m just… thinking about everything… you know?” he laughs at the slow pace and raspiness of your voice.

“hmm.. want rennie to make the thoughts go away?”

your head lolls onto the back of the couch and your bra-less chest points toward the sky. he can see the outline of your pierced nipples through your baby pink tank top and he sighs.

the two of you finally make eye contact once more and you lean your head up towards his, eyes deadlocked on his lips.

“please.”

that was all eren needed to hear before engulfing you in his arms. he pulls you onto his lap and runs his hands up the sides of your body, taking extra time to trace the chub that outlines ur tummy.

he drags his thumbs over your nipples causing your body to jerk. he smiles slightly and flicks his eyes up to yours, silver eyebrow piercing glittering in the warm livingroom lighting. he peppers kisses along your jawline before finally kissing your lips. you can’t help but think about how soft his lips are and it makes u let out a soft moan.

he breaks the kiss but never stops rubbing on you, “you taste so sweet. is it ya lipgloss?”

you smile, “yeah. it’s that glossier shit. cookie butter.”

he kisses you again, running his tongue over your lips once he breaks it once more, “i bet your pussy’s sweeter than this though.”

before you can respond, he reaches down into your shorts and plays with the waistband of your panties. rubbing his fingers over the outline of your cunt, causing you to shiver each time.

eren kisses your lips once more and finally touches your bare pussy. once his fingers find your clit, he makes the smallest circles and your hips jerk. he can feel you begin to pull away from the kiss, but his mouth follows you, preventing you from complaining.

he begins to apply a bit more pressure and you ease up in his grip once more. his fingers then travel down further and begin to make their way inside you. unable to hold yourself together, you let out a slight “fuck” and eren groans.

“you’re so fuckin wet. you mus’ really like me, huh baby”. he licks his lips and kisses your neck.

“yes ren… liked you since i first seen you.”, you admit.

eren pulls his head from your neck and grips your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes. “aww. baby had a crush on ‘er plug. gonna make this pussy feel so good for you, ‘kay?”

after a small yes, eren lays you down gently on your couch and begins to pull your shorts and panties down. your hands go to cover yourself and he pins them to your chest. he then pulls your tank top over your head and leaves the material loosely around your wrists.

immediately after, eren removes his shirt and your eye to eye with his tatted stomach and chest. you knew by his arms he had a lot of ink, but it was never assumed to go this far. his tattoos were so sexy though, they made your mouth water.

eren then began his assault on your neck once more, this time gradually making his way down your body. he ran his tongue over your nipples, releasing each with an obnoxiously loud pop.

as he made his way down your stomach, you could feel him start to lick down your body, making a point to leave a trail of red splotches in his wake.

when his eyes deadlock on your pussy, you can feel eren’s dick jump in his pants. he takes his thumb and pulls the hood of your vagina up, taking his sweet time in admiring your pink pussy.

he licks his lips and smirkss at you before diving head first in between your legs. his long, pink tongue swirls over your clit so gently, it makes you see stars. he licks you just like the sheet, so slowly that it takes your breath away.

he sucks gently on your clit and your hands reach down to run through his hair. your fingers wrap around the root and pull slightly, causing him to groan into your pussy.

his hand runs up your leg and you feel his middle and index finger push into your walls, gently caressing your g-spot.

by this point, your writhing so hard against the bed eren’s had to use all of his strength to restrain you with one hand. and while you knew eren could overpower you, having firsthand proof made you all the more wet.

with a few more licks to your clit, eren found you suddenly tensing up against his tongue, small body shaking and convulsing around his tongue as your orgasm overpowered your senses.

“pretty baby’s never came this hard huh? s’okay, you got somebody to handle you now. i’ll make this cunt cum everyday. my perfect girl.”

with the combination of eren’s dirty words and his gentle caresses against your nipples, it was extremely hard for you to ground yourself within reality. he was too good at sex, especially for someone as inexperienced as you.

eren finally rises and removes his jeans. his black calvin’s cling to his hips and muscular thighs as he drags you by your ankle to the edge of your couch.

he pulls down his boxers and his dick hits his stomach with a dull thud, angry red tip leaving a bit of pre where it made contact with his stomach.

he presses your legs against your body and grips his dick, hard. he runs it through your fold a few times, using the slight curve of his dick to hit your clit each time he got close. he tapped his dick against your clit a few times, and finally slipped it in.

with the two of you simultaneously gasping, eren’s grip on your hips got tighter, desperately trying to will himself to not fully sheath himself inside of you. as he slowly slipped in, he could feel your pussy twitch against him, forcing him to thumb at your clit.

“need ya to calm down baby. gonna squeeze me to death” his voice is rough and restrained, similar to his hips.

you respond, breathless and weak, “m’tryin. feel you s’deep”

his eyes flick up to yours, “oh yeah? where ya feel me baby?”

your head peaks up slightly and eren takes a look at your fucked out face. lips wet, red, and swollen, eyes watery with rosy cheeks. you were so beautiful, he never wanted to take his eyes off of you. but, he had a more pressing matter at hand.

your hand reaches down and presses on your stomach, signifying to eren where his dick is inside you. however, you choke out a moan and add onto his ever growing ego, “but i swear ren, i feel you in my throat. you’re just so - fuck - you’re so big” placing much emphasis on big.

his eyes roll into the back of his skull as he looses all composure. his hips snap relentlessly into yours, bullying his cock into your tight pussy. by this point, eren is not only lost in the feeling of your cunt, but knowing that he needs to feel you cum around him.

he keeps a hand locked onto your jaw, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. you can see how feral he is behind his eyes and it makes you gush. he’s like a wild animal and it turns you on way more than you ever imagined.

with a particular thrust, eren hits that soft spot inside of you and your legs instinctively lock around his hips. the worldless confirmation was all he needed to continue to hit that special spot inside of you. as the speed of his hips increases, he finally reaches his peak, with that familiar pulse of your pussy shortly following.

a particularly loud “fuck” leaves your mouth at the same times eren grits out your name. his hips operate on autopilot, snapping back into your cunt at a jagged pace.

once eren returns to earth, he sees the white ring of cream you left around the base of his cock. he swipes two fingers down and places them to your lips. “suck”, is all that leaves his mouth and you follow his command.

as eren slowly pulls out of you, your head lolls against the couch and you finally feel yourself catch a breath.

when eren returns, he uses a warm rag to wipe you up before helping you put your clothes back on. after he follows suit, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to your room.

he sets you down and pulls back your baby pink duvet, tucking you into the blankets. you reach your hand up to him and grab his shirt sleeve, confusion and hurt dancing behind your eyes.

eren kneels beside your bed and pets your hair, “i’m not runnin out on ya y/n. i jus gotta do my job. i’ll be back once im finished, promise.” he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, and you can hear his shoes scuff against the hardwood floor as your eyes close.

however, hours later, you’re awoken to the sound of knocks at your door and your phone ringing; it’s eren.

“hello?” you answer, voice groggy from sleep.

VAMPIRE BOYFRIEND WHO ALWAYS…

Snaps a picture of your body, and particularly your breasts. He says your breasts are always so pretty, perky and bouncing every time you ride him. He finds them even prettier when he leaves small little bite marks with his fangs, and sucks hickies into your skin. He is always proud of his work and can’t help but to take a quick picture. He promises it’s only for him, and he just needs something to look at when he is stressed at work. Other than that, he won’t take any more pictures because he’s gotta take care of his princess that so badly needs him between her legs. So he’ll slide his phone back into his pocket, and rest his head between your thighs and giving you the pleasure you awfully desired. And like he promised, finding himself stressed at work, he is happy to have a picture of those beautiful breasts on his phone, so he has something to fist his cock to.

-> NANAMI, GETO, NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI, DAN HENG.

VAMPIRE BOYFRIEND WHO CAN’T

Control himself when it comes to snapping pictures of every moment. He just says he is so proud of you for taking him this well, for both his cock and his fangs digging into your flesh. He says you look so beautiful and precious and he just needs to save them for later. Watching your eyes gently tear up as he wipes away the tears and makes sure to not be too rough. You just look so beautiful, and he needs to capture the memory. He also does it to tease you, so when you are resting he shows you the pictures he has taken, and all you can do is hide your embarrassed face into his chest.