#vee writes

Bro literally asks yuuken's permission to date you. Just because of how much respect he has for him after he helped riddle with his overblot. You're definitely his first girlfriend, I mean we all know how his mom is. There is no way he has dated anyone else before you.

The way he finds out about your strength is actually through an accident. Heartslabyul was getting ready for an unbirthday party, when the students had put one of the tables in the wrong area. He was gonna ask you to help lift it with some other students, when you just picked up the whole table by yourself.

MY ROSE!! Put down that table before you hurt yourself!!

Would not ask yuuken's permission to date you. While Leona grew up learning to respect women, he doesn't think it's important to ask your brother because you're your own person. You can make your own choices, you don't need yuuken to make it for you.

Leona I think is the least surprised at your strength. He literally talks about how strong the women are from Sunset Savanna. He first witnesses your strength in P.E. one, probably the only class he regularly attends. He sees you shove a Beastman twice your size to the side to make a score for the game you were playing.

"Herbivore, don't think you can go pushing me around now too."

Would ask for yuuken's permission to date you. Though the main reason is that he's mostly curious about how human traditions work and he's heard that usually the boyfriend asks permission to date the daughter. Since your father or parent figure isn't with you guys, he decides to ask yuuken.

To be honest he doesn't know if he should be nervous or attracted to your strength (it's definitely the latter.) He finds out your strength through when you volunteer to help out at the lounge. Floyd was messing around while serving some customers and hit an aquarium behind him, luckily you were walking past to head to the kitchen. Seeing it starting to tip over you managed to uplift it and put it back on the table, it had been on before.

Angelfish, are you okay?! What- you fixed it??

Would not ask, jamil sees you as your own person. Your brother doesn't own you, so why would he ask yuuken's permission to date you. Hates the idea of asking permission like someone does owns you. You know what you want, not anyone else.

Is a little shocked but proud?? He probably first saw it at one of kalim's parties. You were helping him bring out another round of food. Instead of carrying two or three trays of food like he was. You had managed to balance five to six on your own. He was a little panicked at first, thinking you might drop all the food he just made. Though you showed perfect strength and balance carrying all the trays.

You drop all the food and you're remaking it, habibti.

Hard 50/50, on one hand he respects that you're your own individual person. So you can choose who you wanna be with. On the other hand after everything yuuken has done, he kinda respects him enough to ask. In the end though I think he comes to the conclusion to not ask. You choose your own path, not your brother.

I think he's a little surprised but not too much. i think vil from just looking at someone can tell how strong they are. He's more surprised in how you choose to show off your strength. You guys were getting ready for the SDC, when moving around equipment. One of the speakers almost fell right over on top of one of the students, luckily you were near them and managed to push it up away from the student.

"Sweet potato, please be careful. You don't wanna strain yourself before the competition even begins."

Wouldn't ask, mostly out of fear. He would probably think yuuken doesn't think he's good enough for you. So he just doesn't ask yuuken permission. I mean he probably doesn't even ask you, you would have to ask him out. He decides you can decide if he's good enough for you or not.

Is probably one of the most surprised ones, he probably finds out when you offer to help him lift some of the machine parts for the new commission he is working on. He turns around to tell you no and you're already holding the largest piece of the project like it's nothing to you.

"Flame-e!? Since when do you have SSR tier strength!!"

Wouldn't ask, mostly because he didn't know it was a thing. Malleus still has a lot to learn about human culture and that includes the way humans date. So he didn't really know it was a thing for him to ask yuuken. I think if he did know it was a thing he would ask yuuken since yuuken is his best friend.

Wouldn't be surprised, mostly of the fact that lilla has probably told malleus and the others stories of his past all the time. So he knows humans can be capable of such strength. The way he finds out how strong you are is on one of your nightly walks. You and malleus were exploring a part of the old ruins nearby when you guys moving around caused a part of the building to become unstable. The building shakes around before a big part of the roof falls. Malleus is too busy talking about the ruins to notice it falling right above him. Pushing him out of the way, you manage to catch the piece of ceiling before tossing it on the ground.

"My flower, are you hurt at all? You didn't need to do that."

Your jaw clenches as you work to steady your breathing. Your blood simmers hot in your veins, muscles taut as you fight your body to remain calm. An earlier disagreement with the group left you tense and unraveling, a coil in your gut that just would not leave. 

Time. You just need some time and space, some breathing room from the people you’ve seen every day for weeks, some of whom know how to get under your skin far too well.You sit away from the group under the pretense of keeping watch, steadying your breath, a light breeze cooling the back of your neck.

Until you feel a prickle. You’re being watched; an unmistakable calm intensity you feel in your bones that could only be one person.

Legolas sits beside you on the rock you claimed as your watchtower. Close but not touching. A respectable distance.

“You are still tense.”

You do not answer, jaw clenching.

“It unnerves me to have such feelings between our companions.” he says, matter-of-factly. 

“I’d like to be left alone. Please.”

He looks at you from the side, eyes scanning your taut posture, set jaw. Your spine straightens out of reflex. He sighs.

“Your anger needs a way out. Try to breathe evenly.”

“You think I haven’t tried that?” you snap, and regret it instantly.

He does not seem to mind. “Your anger is misdirected.” 

You look at him. He looks back at you patiently, soft sapphire eyes meeting your blazing ones.

He stands. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, standing hesitantly.

“Somewhere quieter.” he says over his shoulder, leading you into the nearby forest.

Light filters through the leaves in dappled smudges of molten gold. The forest, ancient and quiet, speaks only in rustles and birdsong.

He stands behind you, close but not touching. You feel the heat radiate off his body.

Voice low, near your ear, he says: “Still yourself. Breathe with me.”

The forest goes still, just the two of you and your breathing. You match the inhale and exhale of his even breaths, breath syncing.

“Close your eyes. Focus on the air around you, feel the breeze.”

You do as he says. Except your breathing stumbles for a beat as his mouth is dangerously close to your pulse. You keep your eyes closed, hoping he did not notice.

He hears it. Of course he does. 

Internally, he nearly curses in Elvish about it. This is a calming exercise, but you seem to be having the opposite reaction.

“Perhaps it will be easier if I show you how elves calm each other without words.”

He steps a little bit closer. Your back is almost flush against him, steady and grounding. His hands hover near your arms without fully touching.

“Here,” he murmurs, fingertips barely grazing your forearm, “this means presence.”

His touch is feather light, but your pulse jolts as if struck by lightning. 

He feels it. 

He tries to pretend he doesn't. 

You force your breathing to even out, steadying yourself but he is so close you can feel the pine and amber of his scent enveloping you, masking your brain in a thick haze. All you can focus on is the featherlight fingers on your forearm and the heat at your back, every one of his steadying breaths sending shivers down your spine. He pretends not to notice those too.

“You are still not calm.” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it now you can’t place. “Let me show you more.”

He leans a little forward, and two delicate fingers brush against the bone on the inside of your wrist. “Trust.” His breath fans the shell of your ear.

Your body reacts before your brain does.

You exhale.

A little too sharply.

Your pulse leaps under his fingers like you’re being hunted. The coiled tension in your gut transforms into a new beast entirely. One that you don’t know how to control.

Behind you, he goes entirely still, a marble statue of self-restraint. He knows. You know he knows. The facade of a calming breathing exercise is cracking faster than you or him can manage. 

Valar help you both.

He breathes into your ear, lips almost touching your heated skin. “Again?” he asks, voice dangerous, testing you.

Your breath hitches. The back of your neck heats, cheeks and face flushing.

You offer him your wrist without a second thought.

“I’m afraid I didn’t learn it the first time.” you whisper, testing him back.

He presses two long fingers right to your thundering pulse. His breathing shallows out, and just for a moment, his careful self control chips. His golden hair brushes against your neck with the breeze, sending goosebumps along your feverish skin.

“And this,” he brushes his thumb in a delicate circle against your hammering pulse, “means you may come closer…if you want.” He breathes right against the shell of your ear, shallow and tense.

The tension in your gut coils tighter. Instead of moving, you return the touch on his wrist. 

Slow. Deliberate. 

He freezes.

Then he steps closer. A slow, careful step that closes every inch of distance. You feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, pressed right against your back. 

“You know what that means,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Come closer.

“Yes.” Propriety all but forgotten, you repeat the touch on his wrist, and you could swear you heard his breathing stutter.

He steps around you – slow, controlled, composure stung together thin as spider silk. He hooks your jaw with two fingers, lifting your face delicately.

“This,” he murmurs, voice of velvet on steel, “means look at me.”

His gaze meets yours and for the first time you see how dark his sapphire eyes had gotten, pupils blown wide. The air you share could set a fire ablaze.

Legolas closes the distance between you, chest flush against yours. Breathing ragged, he says: “There is one more.”

“Show me.” you say.

“I should not.” he whispers.

“Show me.”

 His soft fingertips ghost along the side of your neck, following the shape up to just behind your ear. Electricity follows his reverent touch.

Your breath shudders. His does too.

“I think you can guess the meaning of that.” His barely restrained hungry stare ruins every scrap of self control you have. Your knees go weak under the force of his ocean gaze.

You nod, not trusting your mouth to speak.

He leans in, lips a hair’s breadth from your jawline, hot breath fanning across your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he says.

You say nothing.

He cups your jaw with his hand, and closes the distance between your lips.

It is slow. Deep. Wrecking.

His other hand slides to your waist, pressing your hips flush against his. You pull him in even closer by the collar of his tunic, and it snaps any remaining restraint he had left. His lips move against yours like he’s been holding back for centuries, a creature awakened, and you feel his pulse, his heat, his barely-contained desperation.

He breaks the kiss only long enough to breathe your name against your skin. Your breath heaves in sync with his.

He trails his lips down to the crook of your neck, mouth slow and hot against your burning skin – intent, devout –  teeth just barely grazing in a warning that sends heat pooling between your legs.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and the sound he makes is sinful. Possessive. 

He backs you against a tree, lifting you up with the ease and grace only an immortal prince could hope to do. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, hands caging around his strong shoulders. You feel every muscle, every sinew, of the centuries of training beneath his tunic.

His hands settle at your hips, thumbs stroking slow arcs that make your stomach twist and the heat in your groins simmer.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs against your throat, “what you’ve been saying to me with every touch.”

You answer by pulling him even closer, fingers tangling in his gossamer hair.

He groans, soft and wrecked, his composure forgotten entirely.

Lips pressed to your neck again, he shifts between your thighs and you feel him fully. His need, his want, his intent. His tongue traces slow circles in the sensitive crook of your neck and you arch into him, stifling a soft moan.

“I want to hear you.” 

Your chest heaves, head spinning, clinging to him with the remaining strength you have. 

“I said,” he bites down, in the delicate space between your neck and collarbone that sends a jolt down your spine, “I want to hear you.”

The moan that leaves you as he marks you is unholy, and entirely against your best judgement. Your arch into him again and he presses back.

“Good.” he breathes into your ear. “More.”

His tongue traces the shell of your ear, one hand gripping the back of your neck, tangled in your hair and angling your head how he wants it, the other keeping you pinned against the tree. You roll your hips into him, and he groans into your ear, whispering something in Sindarin. You don’t know the translation but the tone alone could melt stone.

He trails his kisses along your jawline, his hips grinding into yours. He kisses you again, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, wrenching a deep moan from you that he stifles with his lips. It’s deeper, hungrier, and your brain goes blank, thinking only of him and the heat between your legs.

Your fingers curl into his hair, your thumb brushing along the edge of his ear and the sound that escapes him could only be a growl. 

He pulls back from the kiss, face flushed, hair undone by your fingers, and presses his forehead to yours, breathing ragged.

“Do that again and you will not leave this clearing being able to walk.” His breath fans your face, and you look him dead in the eyes. 

You bring your lips right to his ear and whisper: “Please.” 

You trace your tongue slowly around the shape of his delicately pointed ear, teeth grazing lightly, and you feel him shudder, pressing into you harder. Ever so slightly, he angles his head to give you access; and you take it.

Your tongue works around the shell of his ear. You pull it gently between your teeth, following it with more of your tongue and mouth, and he makes a sound he never intended for you to hear.

Your hand drifts lower until it reaches his belt, undoing it, and you feel him. You moan into his ear, a shiver running down his spine. 

Half moon eyes and pupils blown, his hand tightens around your neck with a delicious pressure, the other finding the heat between your legs, toying with the band of your underwear, a finger slipping behind the fabric teasing you in lazy, languid circles. You whine into his ear softly, and your head rolls back against the tree, breathless and dizzy, unspoken begs for more of him threatening to spill from your swollen, bruised lips.

You arch into him with every movement of his fingers. “Show me what you learned.” He mutters against your lips between kisses.

Half aware of what you’re doing, the haze of him blanketing you like a fog, you trace your fingers along the shape of his neck to behind his ear. 

Want.

“Good.” he smirks against your lips, soft, lethal.

You are very aware of every inch of Legolas as he slides himself into you.

You arch into him and feel him groan as his hips align fully flush with yours. You welcome the ache he leaves between your legs, the feeling of fullness as the pace he sets rewires your very being.

“You learn fast.” he whispers into your mouth, between groans and heated, ruinous kisses. Your nails rake down his back, undoubtedly leaving scorching red marks; a discovery for later. 

His grip around your neck tightens as the other continues circling your most sensitive spot. “I told you,” he says, voice velveteen, “That I want to hear you.”

You mewl his name with every push of his hips, a breathless benediction, a sinful prayer, over and over again. Every movement reaches a deeper part of you that unravels you to your core, your toes curling at the heat.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he breathes, “So well.”

Your thighs cage him, pulling him closer instinctually, wanting–needing more. He answers it, breath laborious, with every stroke. His hand leaves between your legs to cup your thigh, adjusting your position so he can go even deeper, hitting the spot that shoots white hot electricity up your spine and heat pooling in your core. 

“My pretty star,” he groans into your mouth, “come undone for me.” 

It’s as if your body obeys him. 

You gasp his name as you feel the wave rush over you, molten and overwhelming, and for a moment you see only him, golden hair haloed in the dappled daylight like stars dancing in your vision through half-lidded eyes. 

His pace falters and you feel him twitch, as he sinks completely inside of you, his hands bruising your neck and thigh as his own release catches up to him. 

“I think,” he whispers, his forehead against yours, “that you learned how to release your tension.”

-

taglist: @durinssdaughter

A = Aftercare (After sex treatment)

Robby is exceptionally caring and gentle after sex. It starts with a warm towel to clean you off, whispering sweet nothings to you as you lie and recover. Then he runs a hot shower or bath with a glass of your favourite wine or a hot beverage, depending on the mood. While you’re relaxing, he changes the sheets if needed. He rubs and massages your back, kissing any little marks he left during the heated passion - small bruises, hickeys and scratches, all consensually left. He tells you how perfect and beautiful you are and how much he loves you. 

B = Body Part (His favourite on you and himself)

Robby LOVES your mouth. He not only loves how you kiss so passionately, but he loves what you say to him, how you comfort him after a particularly gruelling shift, or the pillow talk during sex. He also loves how good your mouth feels up and down this cock or biting and licking his neck. Your mouth is a gift that never stops giving. 

On himself, it's his hands, he loves touch, to touch you, feel every inch of your body. He always has a hand on your thigh or on your hand. In public it's a hand around your waist. He just can’t help but touch you. His hands also do numbers on you. They wreck your holes, pull your hair, choke you, and spank. They hold your legs over your head, or your legs on his shoulders. 

C = Cum (His cum, your cum)

Robby loves cum. He loves when you cum. He loves when you beg to cum. When he cums. He’ll cum anywhere. He doesn’t have to try hard to make you cum, you’ll cum on his hands, from his mouth and of course on his cock. He knows his way around your body. Now for him, he’s got stamina but when he finally does cum, its like the heavens rain down. His favoriote way to cum is deep inside you. But he also loves to cum down your throat as you stare up at him. And my god isn’t he vocal, he moans obscenities and sweet nothings into the crook of your neck as he collapses on top of you in pleasure. 

D = Dirty Secret 

His dirty secret is that before you dated, he’d go home after a shift with you and he’d release all his tension out, thinking of you. You’re beauty is a borderline distraction for him every shift. He was drawn to every little move you made, how you’d bite your lip when you thought about a case or were writing notes. He’s lay in bed, or in the shower and releasing himself on his hands, with only you on his mind. 

E = Experience 

Robby has fucked. During his undergrad, medical school, during his residency and as an attending. Nothing crazy but the experience he does have makes him good. So so good. He is a doctor of making you cum. 

F = Favourite position

Robby loves to watch you, so naturally missionary is where its at. Not just a regular missionary though, he likes the missionary where your legs barely reach his broad shoulders as they’re folded back far as they can go. In this position he can get DEEP and pound into your holes. He can also stare you down as your eyes roll far back into your beautiful head and your mouth rests open, in such a haze you have lost the ability to form words. 

G = Goofy 

Robby is the kind of guy who can be laser focused one second and giggling the next.  He tries to keep it together in bed—serious, intense—but sometimes things just happen. Like when he accidentally knocks his head on the headboard or when you’re hair flies into his face. Sometimes, it just keeps slipping out, especially in those positions where his strokes are quick. You both start laughing and he teases “Guess your body just wanted a moment to recover from me huh baby”. The two of you have giggle in the middle of things, playful teasing, laughing through tangled and sweaty bodies. It never ruins the moment. If anything, it makes it better. Because with Robby, sex is hot and fun.

H = Hair

Robby has a bush. Nothing crazy but he has hair. He trims it but you can still run your fingers through it. When you’re on your knees in front of him and your nose is touching his tummy, his happy trail tickles your nose. His bush touches your cheeks. Your hands placed on his thighs, you can feel the hair on his legs. His hair is a suble sensory addition to sex. 

I = Intimacy

Robby is Mr Intimate. Even in kinkier sex, its all about connection to him. During foreplay and undressing you, he peppers kisses over your body, eye contact galore. When he enters you, he watches your reaction and then goes straight to kissing or nibbling on whatever he can each. Afterwards he’s sweet as pie and loves up on you. Always touching, cuddling, his head nuzzled into your neck. 

J = Jack off

Robby doesn’t need to jack off that often because your sex is regularm however when he does he completely surrenders. Regardless where he does it it involves his hand firmly stroking his aching cock up and down. One hand cups his balls, normally you’d do it but he has to suffice with his own hand. Sometimes if he’s feeling frisky and adventurous he used the silicone stroker that you got him for his birthday. It’s ribbed and feels amazing. It normally doesn’t take him to long to cum on his own, and when he does he releases a big load, toes clenched, head thrown back, eyes glued shut. 

K = Kink

Robby is a kinky man. Period. He is willing to try anything once, especially if it’s something you come up with. He likes any where he is in control. It’s communicated control that you willingly give up to him for pleasure. He has an affinity for tying you up. Hands together above your head, you can’t move or escape him. You both also dabble in CNC (consensual non consensual) which thoroughly discuss boundaries and expectations. Part of his job is consent and that translates into your sex life. In the moment it’s all about you taking it, being helpless and at his mercy, being used for his pleasure. A breathing sex toy, just a hole for him to use. 

L = Location (where he likes to fuck)

Robby if given the chance will fuck you anywhere. In the car after or before work because he can’t wait. Fogging up the windows, hand prints left on the windows. In the shower, the foreplay, washing each other’s hair. In the kitchen, you bent over the counter, or maybe it started with you sitting on the counter kissing each other, and it turns to a quickie. He is also a sucker for the good old fashion bed. 

M = Motivation (what turns him on) 

You drive Robby crazy, and you know it. The teasing gets to him like nothing else. It’s the way you act so casual when your hand brushes too low on his stomach, or when you press up against him just a little too close during a chart review. You’ll whisper something supposedly harmless, “you missed a spot”  while wiping his jaw with your thumb, and Robby’s already half-hard under his scrubs in the break room.

He loves it when you flirt and pretend you’re not. When you pretend you don’t notice the way he stares at your mouth while you talk. All the little touches, the innuendos. Anything that leaves him thinking of the last time he had you. 

You don’t even have to say anything explicit. Just a look, a touch, a breath near his neck, you know how to wind him up until he’s fidgeting in his seat, trying to stay cool. 

N = No

Robby will try everything once, but something he won’t do is hurt you. Sure, a bit of spanking here and there, some hair pulling. But he won’t hurt you simply for his pleasure. 

O = Oral (giving or receiving)

Robby is a munch! He loves to eat the kitty. He devours you like nothing else. His rule is you cum at least once before sex either on his hands or mouth, or both. He licks stripes up and down your cunt before focusing on your pulsing clit. 

Robby is responsive when you go down on him, hand braced on the back of your neck, jaw tight, breath hitching. Especially when you drag your nails up his thighs or pause to kiss his hip just to tease him. That’s when you feel it: the subtle twitch of his cock against your tongue, the way his hips roll ever so slightly. He can’t help himself. He’s vocal, gravelly moans, muttered curses, your name punched out like it’s been knocked from his lungs. “Fuck, baby… just like that,” he groans, his voice gone ragged when your tongue swirls or you take him a little deeper. Sometimes he’ll talk you through it, all praise and filth. Other times he’s gone quiet, lost in the glory of your mouth. And the way he grips the sheets or your shoulder when he’s getting close? Pure desperation. He’ll tell you to slow down, not because he wants to stop but because he wants to make it last. Robby edges himself even here, groaning, hips twitching, fingers clenching. But when he finally lets go, he lets go. It’s overwhelming. Messy. Beautiful. He’ll be breathless, dazed, and stupidly affectionate afterwards, petting your hair and dragging you up for a kiss even if your mouth is slick with him.

P = Pace

Robby’s pace is steady but relentless. He doesn’t rush, but he’s never slow either. It’s the perfect mix of control and urgency that keeps you screaming. His thrusts become sharper and faster in the heat of the moment, pounding with a rhythm that matches his growing need. He knows exactly when to pick up speed and when to slow down, teasing you and himself, the pleasure building until he can’t hold back anymore. It’s intense, powerful, and always perfectly timed to leave you falling apart.

Q = Quickie

Quickies with Robby are intense and urgent, no wasted time, just pure, heated need. He’s all about making every second count, grabbing you with rough hands and kissing you hard before finding the nearest wall or surface. It’s messy, fast, and electric. The hospital supply closet was cramped and dimly lit, which only made things hotter. Robby pressed you against the metal shelves, his breath heavy, hands roaming with desperate urgency. The beep of the machines outside faded as he kissed you roughly, pulling you closer. His pace was fast and hard, barely allowing you to catch your breath before he was moving again. There was no time for slow build-up here, only just raw, hungry need exploding between the boxes and sterile supplies. 

R = Risk

Robby’s into the thrill of risky moments when it comes to sex. He’s not afraid to push boundaries or sneak off when he shouldn’t, especially at work. That feeling of almost getting caught makes everything more intense. His touch gets sharper, his kisses more urgent. The tension between you, the adrenaline makes everything feel raw and real. He loves that rush, knowing someone could walk in at any second. It keeps things exciting and makes every time together feel unforgettable.

S = Stamina

Robby’s has good stamina, he knows how to pace himself so neither of you gets worn out too fast. He’s not just about quick bursts; he can go for the long haul, keeping the intensity steady. Even when he’s tired after a long shift, he still finds the energy to make every moment count. He listens to his body, making sure you both get exactly what you need, whether that’s a marathon session or something sweet and slow.

T = Toys

Robby has a stroker he uses when you’re not around — something he keeps tucked away for those moments when he needs to unwind. But when it comes to you, he’s all about the vibrator. He loves seeing the way it makes you react, those small gasps and quivers that tell him exactly how much you’re enjoying it. Sometimes, he’ll hold it himself, watching your face as the buzz hits the right spot. 

U = Unfair 

Robby is unbelievably good at teasing you. It’s like he knows exactly how to push your buttons without ever fully giving in, leaving you desperate and wanting more. The way his fingers or lips linger just long enough to make your skin burn but then pull away, making you ache with need. He loves watching you squirm, biting your lip or hitching your breath as he slows down just when you think you’ll explode. It’s almost unfair how expertly he can make you crave him, stretching out your pleasure until you’re completely undone.

V = Volume

Robby is definitely vocal. He doesn’t hold back from his moans, groans, whispered curses, and your name come out of him without effort. His voice is low and gravelly, other times it gets louder, almost desperate, especially when he’s about to cum. 

W = Wildcard

Robbys wildcard is when you are having soft and sensual sex, and in doggystyle, he rubs and gently massages your back. It brings you closer together, a sweet little gesture. 

X = X-Ray

Robby has a thick, veiny cock. His size is intimidating. When you are hanging out together on the lounge and you’ve been teasing him all night, his cock pushes against his boxers, aching to be released and when it does its a powerful spring thats ready for attention. 

Y = Yearning

Robby misses you before you’ve even left the room. It’s in the way his eyes linger a second too long when he glances at you, or how his hand stays at the small of your back just a beat after a goodbye kiss. He’s not the type to get clingy, but you can feel the quiet ache when you're apart, the way he looks at you like he’s already counting down the minutes until he can touch you again. When you’re gone, he thinks about the way your voice sounds when you're half-asleep, the shape of your smile when you're trying not to laugh. He’s not subtle about it, either. You’ll get a text that just says, wish you were here, or come home to find your favorite takeout already waiting, like he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to do something, anything, that brings you closer. It’s not just desire. It’s this steady, full-body pull toward you, like no matter what he’s doing, some part of him is always reaching. Yearning. 

Z = Zzzz

You felt him slide his rough hands up the length of your smooth legs until he met the soft, worn fabric of your shorts. The air felt heavy as you looked up from where his fingers played with the frayed edges, a thin gold chain dangling from one of his wrists, ink swirling up past the knuckles. You met each other's gazes at the same time, your brown eyes staring into his green, head tilting, as if asking if what he was doing was okay.

You reached out for his face, to feel the warmth of the man kneeling on your fluffy peach rug as you sat on the bed, books and index cards left forgotten.

Do you like this, sweetheart? My hands on your legs, use your words and tell me.

Oh, so he was aware of the effect he had on you. Good to know, you'd overanalyze this information later, for now you opened your glossy, kiss-swollen lips and on a sigh breathed out your reply.

Yes, Eren. Please keep going.

Anything for you, baby. Lift your hips; these shorts need to come off.

You tried to take your shorts and panties off as one, but Eren stopped you, clearly not in any sort of rush from the way he was acting. You on the other hand could feel the throbbing in your body growing stronger, more intense than anything you've ever experienced before. More exciting than Goliath at Six Flags, more intense than the feeling of jumping off the diving board for the first time. You thought you were going to die if nothing was done, but what on earth could quell this ache, this need in your core?

She's so pretty and swollen, look at yourself, baby. Look at your pussy and how the lips poke out around your panties. Isn't that the sexiest thing you've ever seen? Say it, baby. Tell me how sexy your pussy is right now.

The task was so embarrassing, he couldn't be serious about wanting you to say those things, could he? You looked up from the sight of your puffy brown lips already wet and damn near vibrating, to Eren's heated gaze daring you to look away without saying what he wanted to hear, what you and he both knew was the truth. You swallowed and nodded.

She's so pretty Eren. So pretty and wet all because of you, you made her like this, all puffy but-but now she's lonely. Touch her please.

Seemingly satisfied with your response, Eren rose to his knees, still damn near eye level with you as he came in for another kiss. You had been studying until he commented on your lip gloss. You didn't think he noticed or cared about things like that until you caught him staring at you, only for him to break the silence to ask if your lips had flavor to them. All it took was one half-joking, half-please-be-serious invitation to find out for you two to abandon your study guides and spend the time wrapped up in each other, the gloss enduring, though kisses away for the most part.

As you recalled the events that lead you to this moment, you felt the slick nudge of Eren's finger in your pussy, causing you to sigh into his mouth, the feeling of having something to scratch the itch delicious, but still short of the mark as he began to pump in and out, adding to the teasing flames that surged inside of you.

More. More, Eren please. I need more.

Your whispered sighs carried a desperation that went straight to your classmate's dick. He wanted nothing more than to take you there on your bed, with your index cards and notes thrown about and forgotten, but he knew from a drunken confession during truth or dare hosted by Armin that you wanted an occasion like that, your first time having sex, to be special and he was going to be the one to deliver for you. For now you'd both have to be content with just this.

I'll give you more, hold on. Let Rennie take care of you. Look down, baby. Look at how your pussy takes my fingers.

You watched in what could have been astonishment as two more fingered worked their way inside you. Your panties were pulled tight damn near ripping now as he worked you open. You were so wet, so turned on you didn't feel the pain you were expecting over three of Eren's thick fingers, only the delicious stretch. None of your toys were this thick but the feeling was so perfect you began to grind on his hand, closing your eyes and losing yourself to the pleasure.

Eren almost came on the spot as he watched you. You were perfection. The warmth of your skin radiated through him as he watched you trail your hands up your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist, squeezing your tits through your old Science Babe shirt. The pleasure taking over as you closed your eyes and wound your hips in a dance, desperate for your release. The curly halo of your twist out making you look like an erotic angel as you writhed above him as he sat on his knees before you.

Yes, Y/N, keep going mama. Ride my fingers, use me to get over. You're so perfect. So fucking fine. I knew I had to have you from day one of freshman year when you walked into bio 101 and sat your little ass in front of me. Knew you were made for me. Now look at you, go on mama, you can cum. Cum, I've got you. I got you. Yeah I do and you know it too. I can feel her getting tight, you're close baby. So close, yes there you go. There you fucking go. Cum on my hand, don't stop yourself, you deserve to feel this good. You deserve everything you want.

As the last threads of pleasure slowly left your body, you slumped, still on Eren's fingers, but before you could fully appreciate what just happened you felt the need to cover yourself. Before you could dismount and turn for the throw blanket Eren grabbed your wrist.

He saw the doubt, uncertainty, and shame flash in your eyes and he'd be damned if he let some past bullshit rob you of this pleasure.

Come here.

His tone was serious, it was almost threatening with how fast he switched up.

You leaned forward a bit as he freed his hand from under you and watched as he sucked the three fingers clean of your arousal. Not stopping for a moment, he kissed you, allowing you to taste you and him combined. The kiss was sexy and slow, he didn't rush, didn't allow you to pull away, but left you with no choice but to experience the joining of your orgasm and his hot, teasing tongue.

You taste so good when you cum. Next time I need you to do that straight on my face, I need it directly. You're so sexy. You feel good, mama?

Your nod was greeted with a smirk.

Good. You should shower and we can plan our date, I'm taking you out before I have you sit on my face, you're gonna need the energy for what I have planned for your pretty ass.

Eren, the exam is on Friday, you said as you assessed your stretched out panties, pulling them off and flinging them towards your trash can.

Yeah and you can get 50% on it and still pass, he replied back as he scrolled his phone for date night appropriated restaurants.

You're right, but this study session was more for you than me, i feel like it's been a waste of time. Well, a waste as far as school and stuff.

Trust me, I got everything I needed out of this session. Go shower and if we settle on a date fast we can get back to the books.

It was nearly midnight when Eren left, index cards and your stretched out panties in tow. If he had to wait until after finals to have your first date and maybe get you to sit on his face, then he was going to need all the willpower and traces of you he could get for when his dick got too hard to ignore.

When you made it home to finally charge his beat up iPhone 13 he had a text waiting.

What made you decide you had to get to know me, had to have me like you said earlier?

He laughed a bit in the dim light of his bathroom, his tanned skin exposed.