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puffballthesheep · 6 months

Text

LOVE ME BACK — PIECK FINGER.

vamptober — slight edging ; find masterlist here

synopsis. In the hidden depths of Attack on Junior High, a captivating character named Peick appears, emanating a captivating vampire-like presence. The reader finds solace with her comrades Zeke, Reiner, Porco, and Annie, longing for a sense of belonging. Filled with seething rage, Peick sets out on a mission to unleash her fury upon the one who rejected her love.

length. 5.2k words (I attempted to make ts short)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, vampire peick! high school au (reader is a senior student), age gaps (100+ difference), vampire, manipulative peick, blood, gore, dead bodies, hurtful words, heavy make out session, slight edging, slight smut, names (love, dear, sweet & ect.)

Notes. this took so mfkn long to write bc first I can’t make anything short, nor can I function w/o it being long, but anywho whoever requested this, wassup dude, I been doing good n I hope u are too, but now we finna get into it but If I were you I'd lock my doors before reading this 🤸🏾

Eighteen-year-old (name) had experienced a great loss at a young age when her mother passed away, yet she had been blessed with an incredible relationship with her father who had raised her alone since then. Growing up in the peaceful suburbs, the two of them had grown incredibly close over the years, having an almost psychic connection - they would always know what the other was thinking and even feel when the other was near.

One morning, (name) came downstairs to have breakfast with her dad, and with a smile she said cheerfully, "Good morning, dad! Thanks for breakfast this morning." As she started to eat, her dad asked her how she had slept. She took a sip of her orange juice before answering, her eyes twinkling with joy as she said, "Pretty good actually, no nightmares or anything," and she shrugged as she set down her cup, before taking another bite of her food. "That's good to hear," her dad said warmly, his face beaming with love.

The two of them chatted as (name) enjoyed her breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and sausage, the aroma of the food filling the air of the quaint kitchen. Suddenly, her dad said he had a meeting later and he'd be home late, so not to wait up for him. (Name) nodded and looked up at the clock on the stove, realizing it was almost time for her to leave for school. She stood from the table, put up the leftover food into the refrigerator, and grabbed her backpack. "Bye Dad, I love you," she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth. Her father smiled and waved as he was putting away his dishes and getting ready for work. "Love you too, have a good day at school," he said with a kind smile, his eyes twinkling with emotion and pride.

As the final bell reverberated through the halls of Attack on Titan Junior High, signaling the end of yet another mundane day, (name) found herself enveloped by her group of friends during passing period. "Well, well, if it isn't (name). It's been ages since I've laid eyes on you," Reiner, with a beaming smile, pulled her into a tight embrace, his arm naturally draping over her shoulders. Looking up at him, (name) playfully squirmed out of his grip, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe because I get to class, unlike some of you," she retorted, her voice laced with a touch of sarcasm.

Not one to back down, Porco quickly stepped forward, his emotions getting the best of him. "But hey, at least some of us manage to make it to class and get our work done," Porco fired back, his words dripping with a ruthless edge. (Name) let out a soft sigh, fully aware of Porco's tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. "Ah, Porco, always ready with a comeback," she replied, raising an eyebrow in a knowing manner. The mention of Porco's impending Saturday school attendance struck a chord, and (name) couldn't help but smirk as Reiner let out a hearty laugh, his firm grip on Porco preventing him from lunging at her in frustration, as he often did whenever she struck a nerve.

Leaning against the wall with a casual air, Zeke joined the conversation, his voice calm and composed. "You know, (name) has the best grades among all of us. I'm genuinely proud of you," he remarked, his admiration shining through. (Name) scoffed, readying herself to make her exit. "Eugh Zeke! Can't you stop sounding like someone's overprotective father? It's just plain creepy, especially when you already look like you're in your forties in the twelfth grade."

Just as (name) was about to leave, her path was unexpectedly halted by Bertolt, who gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Curiosity flickered in (name)'s eyes as she turned back to face him, her tone guarded. "Whatchu want?" she inquired, her voice tinged with caution. Bertolt handed her a stack of photographs, captured through his camera lens. Being the resident photographer, (name) possessed the unique skill of working in the darkroom, a talent unknown to her friends. "Could you possibly take these to the darkroom and meet me there after I find Annie?" Bertolt requested, his eyes filled with hope. Glancing at her phone to check the time, (name) nodded and then proceeded to walk away, leaving Bertolt to his search. "Sure thing. Enjoy your quest, but I can inform you that Annie hasn't graced us with her presence in days."

Reiner and Porco watched (name) depart, the latter still holding back a torrent of insults, assuming that she was too intimidated to confront them again. "She's always slipping away," Reiner murmured, a hint of sadness echoing in his voice. Porco, unable to contain his frustration, unleashed a string of profanities. Suddenly, the authoritative voice of Assistant Principal Levi cut through the air, causing the trio to turn their attention towards him. With a stern expression, Levi addressed Zeke directly. "Zeke, report to the principal's office immediately." Reiner and Porco exchanged glances, astounded by Zeke's audacity to smoke a cigarette in plain view of everyone. "What a delightful evening we're having, isn't it, Mr. Ackerman?" Zeke remarked, his words dripping with disdain. Zeke nonchalantly dropped the cigar and extinguished it with his foot, begrudgingly following Levi's lead. "Tch, shut it, you piece of shit," Levi retorted coldly, the tension between them palpable.

Unbeknownst to her, as she weaved through the bustling school hallways, a cacophony of noise enveloped her senses. The crowded corridors echoed with the hurried footsteps and animated conversations of students. Amidst the chaos, an eerie atmosphere hung in the air, gripping her with an unsettling feeling of being watched.

Glancing around, she found everyone engrossed in their own affairs, oblivious to the hidden observer. However, her gaze inexplicably landed upon Pieck, a former member of her friend group who had become a subject of her disdain. Pieck stood alone, seemingly detached from the bustling crowd, and she knew better than to trifle with her.

Pieck's appearance had changed subtly over time. Her once-tanned complexion and deep brown, sometimes gray eyes had transformed, giving way to a hint of red. It was a drastic alteration that intrigued her, though she concealed her fascination beneath a veil of hostility, conforming to the unkind treatment perpetuated by her friends.

As she passed by Pieck, their eyes met, and the chilling effect of Pieck's gaze sent shivers down her spine. Pieck always seemed to gravitate toward the shadowy corners, exuding an aura reminiscent of a vampire's allure. Yet, she dismissed such notions, knowing better than to believe in mythical tales.

Despite the bullying that she subjected Pieck to, she met her actions with an unwavering sweet smile, leaving her perplexed and questioning her own motives.

Determined to avoid further interaction, she rolled her eyes in defiance and briskly turned the corner, attributing her unease to the unsettling encounters of the day. With a sigh of relief, she pushed open the heavy door to the darkroom, immersing herself in its mysterious embrace.

As the door closed behind her with a resounding thud, the room enveloped her in darkness. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit space, revealing an enchanting sight. Pulsating red lights bathed the room, casting an ethereal glow that danced upon every surface. A chill, inexplicable yet tantalizing, crept down her spine, captivating her senses in an instant.

In the dimly lit dark room, she set the photos down on the table, soon feeling chills run down her spine. As she turned around, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest, and she let out a loud scream. There stood Pieck, a girl she just saw in the hallway, yet her vampire-like appearance commanded attention. Pieck's hinted red eyes, dark brown and almost black under the blood-red lights, seemed to possess an irresistible power, drawing her in.

Suddenly, she was snapped out of the trance by Pieck's voice. "Good afternoon, (name)..." Her soft, delicate, tired voice sent a wave of excitement through her. She couldn't help but admire Pieck's beautiful, disheveled hair, lazy eyes that complemented her Greek nose, and full lips that begged to be kissed. Despite the pressure to dislike Pieck, driven by the disapproval of friends, she secretly felt an unexplainable attraction towards her.

Pieck's gaze seemed to search for something deep within her, as if she hadn't entered the dark room without making a sound. She finally gathered the courage to speak. "Pieck... how did you get in here so quietly?" She began to walk past Pieck, her backpack hanging from her right shoulder.

Pieck watched her intently, carefully observing every movement. Her cold, icy hands sent a shiver down her spine, further fueling her 'dislike' towards her. "Uh, can I help you?" She prepared to break free from Pieck's grip, but suddenly found herself pushed against the wall, with Pieck's finger pointing directly at her, holding her wrists above her head.

As she stared into Pieck's eyes, the room's atmosphere turned chillingly cold and the light of the red lights reflecting off Pieck's eyes. Trembling under her touch, she was astonished by this sudden change in Pieck's demeanor, as she was usually gentle and polite. It infuriated her to admit her feelings for Pieck, especially after speaking negatively about her. Unbeknownst to her, Pieck was more than just a human; she possessed an uncanny ability to read people.

Despite her attempts to break free, Pieck's grip remained unyielding. Pieck's small frame overpowering her seemed inexplicable, reinforcing the perception that she was peculiar. "Let me go!" Even with a tight grip, Pieck's movements were slow and delicate, while her eyes seemed to hypnotize her.

Pieck spoke softly once again, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "How can I, when you know just how much I love you, (name). Why do you ignore me?" Her free hand traveled from her shirt to her hair, twirling a lock around her finger. Pieck listened to her heartbeat, every move she made on her accompanied by the red dim light that accentuated her every motion, revealing a glimpse of her razor-sharp fangs.

Pieck's words quickened her heartbeat, as they shared the same feelings but couldn't express them. "Pieck, why are you doing this...?" She asked, struggling to free her hands from Pieck's grip. "Listen to me, (name). Tell me how you truly feel... no more lies."

Pieck knew there was something about her that she held dear, but she refused to grant her desires. After numerous attempts to escape, she kneed Pieck in the stomach and forcefully pushed her away. The impact was hard enough to cause Pieck to spit up blood, and she slowly lifted herself up with the support of the file cabinet next to her.

Turning back, she picked up her backpack and uttered hurtful words, "Wanna know how I really feel about you? Nothing but a disgusting disgrace. Loving me? Oh please, move on because who would ever love you?" Pieck's heart sank upon hearing her cruel words, reaching out her hand, ready to say something. "Don't leave me alone, (name)..." Her voice filled with sorrow, as she had nobody left in her life, with her mother gone and her father gone as well.

She opened the door to the dark room, preparing to step into the brightly lit hallway, making Pieck flinch. But before leaving, she turned back, saying, "You know... no wonder why people despise you. I'm certain you were the catalyst behind your father's tragic demise... you're nothing more than a repugnant disgrace and an insufferable burden. It's no surprise you find yourself utterly alone." She closed the door behind, leaving Pieck in there alone.

Pieck took her hand out of reach and wiped the blood from her mouth, knowing (name) had made a big mistake. This was the last chance Pieck gave her.

Just like that, she left Pieck in the dark, red room, unaware of how far Pieck would go to hear the words she desired. As she turned to her left, she saw Bertolt standing before her, wearing a puzzled expression. "What happened?"

At the eerie hour of 6:30 in the evening, (name) returned home from school, a lingering sense of unease enveloping her. The house, usually filled with the comforting presence of her father, was now shrouded in an unsettling silence.

With a heavy heart and a hint of trepidation, (name) settled herself at the kitchen table, desperately attempting to immerse herself in her homework. But then, out of nowhere, a searing pain pierced her delicate neck, causing her to wince in agony. The pain subsided momentarily, leaving her bewildered and unnerved. Determined to dismiss this inexplicable occurrence, she carried on with her work.

However, the pain returned with a vengeance, intensifying with each passing moment. "Ow! The fuck is this pain coming from?" she cried out, seeking solace in the freezer's icy grasp. Placing an ice pack on her throbbing neck, the pain gradually dissipated. Puzzled yet resolute, she pondered the enigma that had befallen her.

As the clock mercilessly ticked towards 8 o'clock, her father's absence weighed heavily on her mind. Homework completed, she ventured into the living room, hoping to wait a little longer for her father's return.

Engulfed by the flickering light of the television, hunger began to gnaw at her insides. With a resigned sigh, she reached for her phone, intending to order pizza from a nearby establishment.

"Hello, I would like to place an order," she spoke into the phone, her voice trembling ever so slightly. After conveying her desires, she set the phone aside, letting the monotony of the television lull her into a state of drowsiness. Unbeknownst to her, sleep gradually entwined its insidious tendrils around her weary frame, veiling her consciousness in a nocturnal embrace.

Suddenly, she was transported back to memories of her childhood, back in the house where her late mother once resided. Sitting at the kitchen table, she cast her gaze towards the stove, where an ethereal figure stood with its back turned, preparing a morning feast. Approaching the table, the figure placed a plate of eggs before her, whispering a chilling warning into her ear: "Don't open the door."

Abruptly, her surroundings shifted once more, this time to the side of a bustling highway. Amidst the cacophony of vehicles, a distant figure beckoned, its voice rendered incoherent by the clamor. Straining her senses, (name) discerned her father's voice, urgently imploring her: "Don't open the door!"

Startled, she jolted awake, her mind racing to comprehend her surroundings. The couch, her only companion in the dimly lit room, offered no solace. "what a weird dream. It felt so real," she mused aloud, its vividness leaving an indelible mark upon her psyche. Yet, her respite was short-lived, as the doorbell abruptly shattered the silence.

*Ding dong.*

Her body, guided by a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, propelled her towards the door. However, as she passed the window, she recoiled in terror. Darkness had descended upon the world outside, a foreboding sign that time had slipped away unnoticed. Doubt plaguing her thoughts, she retrieved her phone, only to discover that the clock now displayed the witching hour: 3 AM. Her heart pounding, she turned back to face the enigmatic intruder lurking beyond the threshold.

"Dad! Are you home?" she called out, her voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and fear. But the doorbell persisted, its relentless chimes growing more frenzied with each passing second.

*Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.*

It struck her then - something was dreadfully amiss. A chill crept up her spine as the memory of her dream resurfaced, her father's caution echoing in her mind.

"Don't open the door!"

With trembling hands, she refrained from unlocking the door, instead choosing to seek confirmation from her father through the peephole. There he stood, unflinching, his eyes fixated on her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. This inexplicable stillness, coupled with the incessant ringing of the doorbell, struck terror into her very core.

*Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.*

"Dad! Is someone with you? answer me! I refuse to open the door until you respond!" she pleaded, her voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

*Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.*

Overwhelmed by panic, (name) collapsed, as she pressed herself against the door, desperately avoiding any action that would invite further dread. She couldn't explain it, but an overwhelming sense of terror gripped her, eventually lulling her into an exhausted slumber beside the door, the relentless toll of the doorbell serving as a haunting lullaby.

As the morning sun bathed the world in its gentle glow, (name) stirred from her restless sleep. Recollections of the previous night flooded her mind, urging her to action. She cautiously rose to her feet, distancing herself from the door that had become a harbinger of nightmares. Glancing out the window, the sight of daylight offered a modicum of solace.

Summoning her waning courage, she approached the door once more, swallowing the fear that threatened to consume her. Peering through the peephole, she met her father's gaze once again. she opened the door and only this time something was horribly wrong. Her father's severed head, grotesquely suspended from a hook, greeted her horrified gaze. The weight of despair settled in her stomach, threatening to engulf her entirely. Clutching her abdomen, she stared at the blood dripping onto the doorstep, uttering a feeble question into the abyss.

"W-who could have done this?"

Her eyes fell upon a note lying on the ground, soaked in crimson. Trembling, she picked it up and read its chilling message:

"Now, who's all alone now?"

The note slipped from her trembling grasp, and in that moment, the door slammed shut with an otherworldly force. Just as she turned to face the darkness that encroached upon her, (name) was violently yanked backward, her screams drowned by the suffocating embrace of the abyss.

(name) awoke to find herself trapped in an unknown and eerie place. The stench of blood assaulted her senses, causing her to gag as she cautiously surveyed her surroundings. The walls were cold and made of rough stone, barely allowing any light to penetrate the darkness. Above her, a single flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting sinister shadows that danced along the walls.

Suddenly, a chilling sight caught her eye. A table stood in the corner, and blood dripped steadily from its surface, pooling on the floor below. As her eyes adjusted further, the true horror came into focus. A headless body lay upon the table, its life force gruesomely drained by some unseen force. (name)'s heart sank as she recognized the victim - her own father - his lifeless form bearing cruel bite marks.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze shifted to another figure, their body still bleeding profusely, crimson liquid flowing perilously close to where she was bound. With growing dread, she followed the trail of blood, her eyes widening in terror as the truth unraveled before her. The wounded person, dressed in a gray hoodie and jeans, was none other than Annie, her friend. Weak and trembling, Annie turned towards (name) with pleading eyes, her blonde hair matted with blood.

"(name)...help...me..." Annie's plea was cut short as death claimed her, right before (name)'s horrified gaze. A gut-wrenching scream tore from (name)'s lips, echoing through the blood-soaked chamber.

The single light bulb overhead flickered ominously, casting erratic shadows that danced upon the walls, heightening the sense of impending doom. (name) desperately struggled against her restraints, feeling the cold, rusty chains digging into her flesh. She strained to stand, but the unforgiving grip of the chains held her captive, an agonizing reminder of her helplessness.

As she cast her gaze towards the middle of the stone door, footsteps grew louder, each one a chilling symphony of dread. The light bulb's flickering intensified with each approaching step, accentuating the darkness that enveloped her soul. The door creaked open slowly, revealing the figure responsible for her torment.

A shiver ran down (name)'s spine as Pieck entered the room, her disarming smile mirroring the gentle facade she had worn the day before. Clutched in her arms was (name)'s father's severed head, blood still dripping from her mouth. The sickening truth became undeniable – Pieck was a manipulative and sinister vampire, masquerading as a sweet and innocent creature.

"Peick!! You did this, didn't you? Why would you..." (name) choked on her words, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief. Pieck's crimson gaze bore into (name), her expression devoid of remorse as she callously dropped the decapitated head to the cold, blood-stained floor, splattering the crimson liquid onto (name)'s tear-streaked face.

(name)'s heart pounded in a terrifying mix of fear and sorrow, overwhelmed by the loss of her father and the horrifying uncertainty of her own fate. Pieck moved closer, her graceful steps belying the monstrous creature she truly was. She knelt before (name), placing a hand on her trembling thigh, while her other hand wiped away the tears that stained (name)'s cheeks.

"(name)...don't cry. You brought this upon yourself," Pieck whispered, her voice both soothing and haunting. She tilted her head, her bloodstained lips curling into a sinister smile, revealing her sharp, elongated fangs. (name) recoiled at the sight, transfixed by the blood that stained Pieck's teeth, her long tongue leisurely licking away the crimson droplets.

Terror consumed (name) as she finally found her voice, tremblingly uttering, "You aren't human, are you?" The realization of the monstrous truth sank in, sending shivers down her spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Pieck continued to explore (name)'s body, her touch moving from the thigh, to the side of her stomach, and finally to her breast. Her thumb caressed the delicate flesh, while her other fingers sought the pounding heartbeat beneath (name)'s chest.

"I'm surprised you didn't realize it sooner, (name)," Pieck whispered, a sadistic pleasure lacing her words. As (name)'s heartbeat raced with increasing panic, she struggled to breathe, her gasps for air growing more desperate. Drawing nearer, Pieck's voice slithered into (name)'s ear, sending a bone-chilling shiver down her spine. The words dripped from her lips like venom, a sinister promise hanging in the air.

"Breathe, my dear. I won't harm you... yet."

Pieck's presence alone was enough to unleash a torrent of fear within (name). As she leaned back, a sickening curiosity mingled with her terror, unable to resist the allure of Pieck's touch, even in the face of impending doom. But reality crashed down upon her when she looked down at the ground, her eyes fixating on her father's severed head. In a desperate attempt to shield herself from the grotesque scene, she clamped her eyes shut, refusing to witness the horrors before her.

Suddenly, an unnatural weight settled upon her lap. Her gaze shifted downward, revealing Pieck perched upon her, her icy hands caressing (name)'s cheeks. She compelled (name) to meet her gaze once again, their lips tantalizingly close. However, Pieck abruptly withdrew, her movements betraying a calculated cunning. With a slight tilt of her head, she fixated her piercing gaze upon (name) and silence descended like a suffocating fog.

"Why did you say those hurtful things to me, (name)..."

(name) froze, the memories of the cruel words she had hurled at Pieck resurfacing. In that dire moment, she struggled to conjure any justification, realizing that her desperate attempts to fit in had only birthed destruction. "I... I didn't mean it," (name) stammered, devoid of any coherent explanation. "All I wanted was to hear you say that you love me..."

Peick's soft plea echoed through (name)'s ears, weaving a spell that threatened to ensnare her mind. Her eyes, hypnotic in their intensity, seemed to coax (name) into surrendering to her will. Doubt crept into (name)'s thoughts as she began to forget the atrocities committed against her father and Annie. Deep down, she started to believe that she was to blame for their suffering. "No... it's all my fault... I caused my father's death..." (name) whispered to herself, her gaze falling into her lap.

Tears welled in her eyes as (name) succumbed to the hypnotic allure of Pieck's gaze and voice. "I love you too, Pieck... I couldn't tell you because..."

A wicked grin twisted across Pieck's face, her eyes narrowing with a malevolent glint. She relished in her manipulative power, reveling in the opportunity to make (name) forget her sins. "I always knew you loved me, (name), my sweet. The words I've longed to hear... It didn't have to come to this, but you drove me to it, my dear..."

Pieck's grip tightened on (name)'s bound hand, refusing to release her hold. Finally, (name) snapped out of the bewitching trance, realizing the depths of Pieck's depravity. "No, Pieck! What you've done cannot be undone! Yes, I loved you, but how could I ever love you now?! What you've done is unforgivable!" (name) cried out, her eyes drawn to the lifeless bodies of Annie and her father, a grim reminder of the carnage wrought by Pieck's insidious actions.

In the face of (name)'s defiance, Pieck fixated her gaze upon her, an insidious silence punctuating her ominous presence. With a sly sigh, she sharpened her nails, a wicked transformation taking hold. "(name)..."

Pieck exhaled, refusing to relinquish her grip on (name)'s conscience. "I never wished for it to come to this, but you continuously rejected my attempts to connect with you... I tried to do it the right way, but you denied me at every turn... I only wanted to know why..."

(name) cast her gaze downward once more, her heart heavy with guilt. She recognized her own fault in pushing Pieck away, knowing all too well the countless times Pieck had tried to bridge the divide. Compassion stirred within (name) as she contemplated what it must be like to stand in Pieck's shoes. "I know... and I'm sorry! I shouldn't have pushed you away or uttered a word about your father... But why did Annie have to suffer too?"

Pieck's smile contorted into an eerie gentleness as she gazed upon her lifeless victim, Annie. "Poor, poor Annie," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "She'll be back soon, my heart...but for now, just focus on me." The words of protest began to form on (name)'s lips, but a sinister calm washed over her, drowning out any resistance. Pieck was up to her dark deeds once again.

As (name) shifted uncomfortably, a chilling sensation spread across her body. It was then that she realized she was lying in a pool of her own blood, her life essence draining away. Panic gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the horrifying reality unfolding before her. "When did..." (name) managed to stammer, but Pieck interrupted with a gleeful grin, relishing in the terror she had instilled.

Unbeknownst to (name), Pieck had viciously slit her back while she was caught in a fit of righteous anger, berating Pieck for her unforgivable actions. The cunning vampire ensured that (name) remained fixated on her, her mesmerizing voice and piercing eyes numbing any sensation of pain. It was all part of Pieck's twisted plan to manipulate (name) into becoming her companion for eternity.

Pieck forcefully turned (name)'s face towards her own, their eyes locked in a macabre dance. "Everything's fine, (name)," Pieck hissed, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness. "(Name), I still want to be with you. I'll protect you. I just want you to be with me forever..." Dizziness overwhelmed (name), her mind clouded and her willpower crumbling. A faint smile crept across her face as she succumbed to Pieck's wicked charm. "I'm sorry for everything I've done...I love you too, but I was wrong..." (name) whispered, their voice barely a breath. Pieck hushed (name) with a tender gesture, then pressed her lips against (name)'s, a kiss filled with twisted passion.

Pieck's hands slithered from (name)'s cheeks down to her shoulders, intensifying the heated kiss. Her tongue hungrily sought entry, licking at (name)'s bottom lip, leaving a taste of the blood she had recently fed on. Their tongues clashed in a battle for dominance, fueling Pieck's insatiable bloodlust. Her nails dug deep into (name)'s shoulder, drawing fresh blood that sent shivers down Pieck's spine, igniting a primal desire within her. The once gentle vampire grew more aggressive, her hunger escalating.

Within the depths of their twisted embrace, (name)'s faint moans echoed, a symphony of pleasure and pain. (name) weakly placed their hands on Pieck's sides, attempting to push her away. Pieck's concern was thinly veiled as she gazed down at (name), a hunger in her eyes that matched the thirst coursing through her veins. "Pieck...I feel so weak," (name) managed to utter, struggling to catch their breath. "You're doing so well, my sweet," Pieck murmured, her voice laced with sadistic satisfaction. "Just hold on..."

With a renewed hunger burning within her, Pieck reclaimed (name)'s lips, savoring every moment of their macabre union. The overwhelming scent of (name)'s blood intoxicated her, driving her to taste every inch of their being. Kissing down (name)'s jawline, she gradually made her way to the vulnerable expanse of (name)'s neck.

(name) willingly offered up their neck, granting Pieck unrestricted access. Even as their life force slipped away, (name) squirmed beneath Pieck, feeling a perverse wetness between their legs. Pieck seized upon this opportunity, grinding against (name) with a primal hunger, their moans intensifying as the friction between their thighs ignited a twisted pleasure. While Pieck marked (name)'s neck with countless hickeys, her hand returned to caress (name)'s cheek, her thumb pressing gently against their skin. As Pieck's fangs grazed (name)'s neck, a surge of pain mingled with a familiar sensation, reminiscent of the mundane discomfort of doing homework at a table.

Deep down, (name) knew this was wrong, but they were ensnared in Pieck's web of manipulation, unable to break free. As Pieck sank her razor-sharp fangs into (name)'s neck, the pain was numbed, replaced by a tingling sensation that mirrored the bite of a pen on paper. (name) turned their head slightly, groaning weakly as their strength waned, their eyes fixated on Annie's lifeless body. "We have... to save Annie..." they whispered, their voice fading.

Pieck withdrew, her fangs dripping with the crimson elixir of her beloved's life force. Her wild, disheveled curls framed her bloodstained face as she wiped her lips, gazing down at (name), teetering on the precipice of death. A wicked grin spread across her visage as she kissed (name)'s forehead. "Very soon, my love," she whispered, her voice echoing with sinister delight. "Soon, you will be just like me... and we can live together forever."

(name) mustered the last remnants of their fading energy to gaze at Pieck, a feeble smile gracing her lips. Unbeknownst to (name), a new set of fangs had sprouted in her mouth during this unholy transformation. Pieck watched with rapt attention as (name) underwent their metamorphosis, relishing in the macabre beauty of her creation.

y’all the theme of this ‘lil’ one shot is basically to be yourself, don't try and play who you're not to fit in with the crowd cs y’all saw what happened to ol reader girl, but anywho y’all prepare yo self for a hange x fem! reader x yelena vamp one shot cs das what’s comin next 😭

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bunnysuit-femboy · 2 years

Text

Lookalike - Pieck

(Pieck x Reader) - Word Count: 1.9k

Creature: mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin

Warnings: Con-Noncon (human guise), Thigh-Riding, Slight Degradation, Unintentional Cheating

Extra Notes: Next up for Halloween we have some spooky Pieck Finger!

The walk through the woods was lonely since nobody wanted to join you in going night-swimming. You were camping with your entire friend group - all seven of them - and not a single one of them cared about going swimming with you. You were certain all of your friends were boring for not joining you, including your boring ass girlfriend who declined the offer as well.

At least she did it nicely, you hated to admit, Pieck basically coddled you before declining the offer whereas the rest of your friends didn’t care so much about your emotions. Mikasa said no before you even had the full question out of your mouth, and Sasha and Connie admitted the s’mores they were making were more important. Armin just shrugged without giving you a solid answer, but Eren declined for both of them. Which at that point only left Jean’s answer, but he seemed to be avoiding you to get away from breaking your heart.

So now you walk alone on the dirt path through the woods, searching for the lake your friends had pointed you into the direction of. It would be easier if they could’ve just shown you where the water is considering they were the ones who discovered it earlier. You were too headstrong to head back now, you knew if you had to use their help, you’d rather just admit defeat and stay with them by the fire instead.

But, lucky for your swimsuit, you hated admitting defeat.

You finally found the lake only a few minutes after some whispered cursing and lighthearted wishes of your friend’s downfalls. The full moon hung high in the sky and reflected nicely over the surface of the water, rippling along with the light lake’s light waves. The sight was beautiful, well worth the ten minute terrifyingly lonely walk through the dark woods.

Once you had stepped onto the sand surrounding the lake, you reached down to slip your sandals from your feet before taking off the outer layer of your clothes. You let your soft shorts fall down your legs and to the sand below you with one solid push, and then you pull your shirt over your head and let it fall beside your shorts and shoes.

Now that you were standing by yourself on the shore of Titan Lake, you wondered why exactly you were even wearing a swimsuit. It wasn’t like anyone joined you and would be uncomfortable by your naked body, you were completely by yourself out here - and even a solid ten minute walk from everyone else. Nobody would happen upon you skinny dipping, if you were to do so, so why not?

You unclasped the back of your bikini top and let the fall on top of your other discarded clothing. With your chest out and glowing due to the moon’s beautiful silver shine, you felt confident enough in your decision to let your bikini bottoms follow suit of your top.

You walked slowly into the water, feeling magical. You understood now all of those stories of witches who used to dance naked around the forest at night, if given the opportunity, you were now sure you’d join them. Being naked underneath the night sky made your confidence peak.

The water felt like ice against your body, but you suffered through until the surface was up to your shoulders, covering your entire body. Chills spread across your skin as your body numbed to the temperature of the water, making you feel a comfortable middle - neither warm nor cold.

You were so distracted by the cold water and the new feeling across your body that you nearly missed the sound of leaves rustling along the shore of the lake. You quickly threw your hands over your body as if the person could even see that you were naked - and even if they could, your hands couldn’t cover enough of your body for you to feel decent about it.

“Who’s there?” You yelled from the water, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and very scared at the same time. The air had suddenly gotten colder, the breeze now sending stronger ripples through the water surface of the lake. You felt like the final girl in every horror movie you had ever seen; scared, alone, and the final target for some deranged psychopath.

“Don’t worry,” a familiar soft voice said as a silhouette you’d recognize anywhere came out from behind the trees and into the moonlight. “It’s just me.”

You took a deep breath of relief, “Thank god, Pieck. You scared the shit out of me, I thought you were-” You suddenly noticed something very odd about your girlfriend, her silhouette was something only you’d recognize considering you’re the only person who sees her in such a way- “Why are you naked?”

Pieck raised her eyebrows with a light grin, “Why are you naked?”

Your face felt hot as your hands grabbed at your bare body once again. She had seen you naked thousands of times over the years, so you weren’t sure why you felt so uncomfortable under her gaze. It embarrassed you for your girlfriend to see you in this vulnerable state.

“I didn’t realize you could see me,” You whispered mostly to yourself.

Pieck giggled as she came into the lake towards you. The water moved around her as if it were hugging her from all around, it seemed to invite her in as if she were made of water herself. Pieck glowed under the moonlight, it was like she was made just to be standing here, in this specific lake, under this specific moon, on this specific night.

“Hello,” Pieck spoke with a light smile across her lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You tilted your head towards your girlfriend, “Yeah, I was actually thinking the same thing about you.” She raised her eyebrows at you curiously. “You said you didn’t feel like joining me in swimming tonight.”

“Right,” Pieck spoke slowly and carefully, “I, uhm, I didn’t want the others to think we were sneaking away to do-” She took a brief pause, the gears in her head turning quickly- “To do dirty stuff.”

“Yeah.” You giggled lightly to yourself as you reached forward to gracefully touch Pieck’s arm. “Nice thinking.”

Pieck’s long black hair looked as if every individual strand were made of silk - and you made a mental note to ask her later about what conditioner she used. If you hadn't just watched her walk into the water after you, you would’ve been certain she had dipped her hair in the lake before you’d gotten here. Under the moon’s light, her hair looked wet with strands of silver poking through the black.

You reached out to touch her hair because you desperately wanted to see if it felt how it looked. Much to your surprise, her hair felt normal - but it still looked fantastic.

“Baby,” You whispered to your girlfriend as you took a step towards her in the water, closing the space between your bodies. You were close enough now that you could feel her chest against your own, a familiar sensation that always turned you on, you loved feeling her tits against your body. “I’m really glad you came out here with me after all.”

Pieck brought her lips towards your own, only stopping an inch away from your mouth, “Me too.”

You curled your fingers into her hair and moved them around to the back of her head. You used your hand’s new placement to bring Pieck’s face closer to your own, pressing your lips together gently. You’ve kissed this girl thousands of times, but this kiss felt new - her lips tasted salty, like the ocean.

You pressed your body closer to your girlfriend’s until you could feel every inch of her against your skin. Her arms circled around your body as you squeezed your leg between her own. You brought your thigh up, a move you had done a thousand times to her, but she still breathed as if it were the first.

“Are you okay, baby?” You whispered under your breath to Pieck, and all she could do was nod and moan against your mouth in response.

You felt as Pieck moved her hips against your thigh, fucking herself on your leg. You felt your girlfriend rub her clit on your body, using you as if you were an object created simply just to pleasure her. You had to admit you always liked being on this side of the arrangement, listening to Pieck whine and moan into your neck as she grinded on your thigh drove you insane.

She dug her fingers into your back, pulling your body closer to her. You could feel her unraveling against you and her nails feeling desperate as they dug into your skin. Her moans were all you could hear, you couldn’t even hear your own voice when you whispered to Pieck.

“Are you close, baby?” You said sweetly into her ear.

Pieck nodded frantically and spoke breathily, “Yes, yeah yeah.”

You brought your lips back to Pieck’s lips, kissing her passionately as her body convulsed on top of you. You felt her legs shake with pleasure as her moans came out in a finishing squeal. Her lips seemed to give up on kissing you, only focusing on the pleasure coming from between her legs instead.

“Are you okay?” You asked sweetly, running your hand gently over her hair.

“Yes, I am.” Pieck nodded lazily and then leaned back to make eye contact with you. “Thank you.”

You giggled, “You don’t - that’s so weird, please don’t say-”

Pieck glanced quickly at the moon, her eyes widened as she pushed away from your body, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Pieck, baby, what? Where?”

Your girlfriend moved quickly from the water, and where the resistance of the lake held you back, it didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. By the time your feet had made it out of the water and making deep footprints in the sand, Pieck was gone. You looked around for her frantically, but with no luck, she wasn’t anywhere to be found - she wasn’t on the shore, she wasn’t in between the trees, and she wasn’t making her way down the path back to the campsite.

You quickly grabbed your clothes and shoes, only throwing on your sandals, shirt, and shorts in a moment of haste. You ran down the woodsy and dark path back to the campsite, hoping to get to your friends quickly in order to find wherever Pieck had disappeared off to. The soles of your sandals slapped against the bottom of your feet, creating the only sound you could hear - not even an owl cooing or a leaf rustling could be heard.

Once you made it back to the campsite, you stopped in front of the fire you had left your friends around. They all ate s’mores and made jokes and laughed with each other, taking a few minutes to even notice you standing there. Your friends looked between each other and then back at you, confused about why you were acting so weird.

Of course they wouldn’t get it. They weren’t in that lake with Pieck, they didn’t watch her run off into the woods naked and wet and alone. They didn’t run back to the campsite as quickly as possible, preparing to beg them to search the woods for her. So, of course they wouldn’t get how terrified you were to see Pieck in front of you.

She looked beautiful in the moonlight, just different, familiar. This is Pieck. Whatever you had been with was not. They only looked the same in the moment, but now you were sure. This is the real Pieck, this is your girlfriend.

“What the fuck?” You whispered mostly to yourself.

Pieck stood up from her chair, completely discarding her s’more to the ground, “Are you okay, honey?”

#Whore-O-Ween🎃#pieck finger #pieck finger x reader #aot #snk #selkie au #pieck x reader #pieck x female reader #x reader #pieck finger x y/n #aot x reader #f/f #pieck finger smut #snk pieck #aot pieck

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3cremepie3 · 2 years

Text

Suffocate

Pieck x black fem chubby reader!

Smut 18+ Drabble

Synopsis- in which I write about two thick bitches suffocating each other while sitting on faces. Breath play, receiving, giving head, switch reader

It was a simple job interview question. “What do you like to do on your off days?” One you couldn’t answer truthfully of course. Your real answer would be your roommate Pieck! The secret love of your life. Well her and her pussy. That’s why you push her further into face not caring if your breath supply is cut off. All those days she stayed plopping her fat ass and cunt on you face must’ve been training for a moment like this. One where she was simply using you for her own pleasure. Grinding her soaping pussy onto your face. Your nose felt amazing in her hole so of course she couldn’t remove it. She knew eventually you needed to breath but that would have to wait for now. So you focused on licking her bundle of nerves. She was greedy wanting to cum over and over again in the first place. But you did such a good job sucking on her already swollen clit until her toes curled and you felt her thighs tremble in your hands. Only thing was you where out of air. Her plump ass blocking you completely and your hands slipping from her thighs. Now you had no way to tap out being stuck being having your face smothered by her pussy juice until she came creaming down your chin. She got off of you realizing your state. “Shit I’m sorry are you okay?!” She would always ask. You just held a weak dumbs up pacing for the air finally given.

She would always fake it up to you allowing you to do the same to her. Your thick thighs flooding the sides of her head. Only this time you weren’t so desperate from the start not wanting to crush her head. But she insisted more and more pushing you down onto her. Until she her self began to suffocate. Your mind was filled with pleasure not with her needs so you rode her face harder. You didn’t stop until you squirted into her mouth that was open to beg for air.

#heartland #anime #wlw smut #wlw nsft #pieck smut #pieck aot #pieck x you #pieck supremacy #attck on titan #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x female reader #aot smut #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #3creampie3 #anime smut #anime fanfic

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umeoniii · 1 year

Note

Hii! I was thinking female reader x Hange Zoe smut! Maybe reader is jealous and upset with hange seeming so invested in Pieck (you know cuz she's the cart titan). Hange starts to notice reader acting upset which leads to comfort sex. I dunno something cute and smutty

jealous reader & hange

(｀_´)ゞ

you sat alone in the courtyard watching the sunset, picking at your food. steak rice and water, the same thing as usual. you sat and thought, what drove me here? sitting alone with nothing but anger bubbling in my chest?

usually you’d be sitting with hange, listening to her ramble while you ate and nodded. a shiver ran through your body as the warm summer breeze went through you, bringing a few small flower petals aside your foot. you listened to the nighttime cicadas coming to life.

you were jealous, jealous of your lover’s friend, pieck. you didn’t trust their relationship, you were fine with hange having friends, but pieck made you feel something else. possessiveness. you weren’t possessive, or at least you thought you weren’t.

it’s been quite a while since hange and peick have been friends. about 3 months to be exact, it’s been 3 months since you’ve watched from afar with jealousy. you knew it was horrible for you to be jealous and to not have trust in hange but you couldn’t help it.

pieck had something that you didn’t have and that’s what hange liked about her. you’d watch how her face would light up when talking to her. you couldn’t help but think what would you have to do for her to appreciate you more, because you weren’t gonna just let this pass by like absolutely nothing. you’d wake up earlier to have an early start on looking even better, maybe that would’ve gotten her attention.

you’d wear your hair different ways , try to wear more pleasant clothes, you had even tried a little bit of makeup. there were times you’d even try to appear more provocative around hange. shoving your tits in her face or getting on all fours to pick something up, hoping she’d stare at your ass. she noticed it and would compliment you, but not in the way you wanted her to.

you started to become more jealous and bitter over it. you always told yourself that if hange wanted pieck that she would’ve already left you, so you were safe. but you still couldn’t help but hate her.

you’d look in your mirror before bed, mumbling and laughing to yourself “she’s not better than me, i have a whole lot more than her. im so much more desirable.” you’d then put your silky pink night gown on and go to sleep. sometimes crying yourself to slumber because of how much it pissed you off.

one day things were different though. the first time you saw them get super close, and most certainly the last. hange got super close to her, pulling her into a tight hug, jumping up and down.

you walked up with a smile inquiring about why she and pieck were so close like that.

“ive been begging her for weeks to let me experiment on her and the titan and she finally gave in! well kinda…” she smiled cheekily

she genuinely sounded so happy about it, you weren’t though.

you scanned them up and down with your eyes before turning around walking away. your finger nails digging into the flesh of your palm, fist clenching from the pure abhorrence.

that night hange came into your room, sitting next to you while you were laying down. she saw you were wearing another one of those lacy night gowns she knew you loved a lot. this one hugged your curves just the right way, it was a v neck as well, she stared at your cleavage while you were lying down.

she rubbed the side of your upper thigh “hey honey.”

“im not in the mood, go back to work.” you sighed turning around towards the opposite way of hange.

she slid her hands under the silk fabric rubbing your ass, “just what do i have to do to get under those cute panties.” she whispered

“stop talking to her.” you responded bluntly

you can feel her shocked face burning holes into your back.

“you know i can’t do that, she’s very vital to my studies.”

“then get out. m’ not gonna ask you again.”

you felt the weight of the bed lessen as she respected your wish and got off your bed.

you heard the door open and close as she took her exit.

and everyday after that you gave hange more of a slight attitude.

“look at what i read about today, isn’t it weird?”

“yup.” you looked away

“i found this for you at the store, do you like it?”

“it’s great” you say, not paying attention at all to the conflicting colors on the dress.

she noticed the complete change in your demeanor and assumed it might’ve still been because of pieck, so she tested the theory.

“i found this at the store, do you think pieck would like it?”

you turned from your vanity to look at the dress, it was very revealing. it was cute a pink, frilly, skimpy little dress. it pissed you off that she wanted her to wear something so… revealing. and you knew that she knew the dress was something of your fondness and that’s exactly why she asked.

and her theory was proven correct , because after you took in the view of the dress you turned around and threw your lipstick at her.

“the fucks wrong with you!? i was so right, you do have something for her! you probably have weird little fantasies about having sex with her titan or some shit! you might as well fuck her with how you’ve been acting! get out!” you yelled.

“ y/n hun, it’s not like that, you know i love you more than titans or anything im interested in, i put you before anything.” she stood up looking at you.

“oh my god, get. out.” you pushed her through the door and slammed it.

you heard her voice muffled through the oak door, “you know what, stay in there and cry about it. im not working myself up with your crazy little delusions.” she walked off

you sat back on your bed, you didn’t want hange to be right but you felt your lip tremble as your nails digged into your thighs. tears ran down your cheek as you tried not to think too hard about it. once again, you cried yourself to sleep. all i’ve done is sat and been pretty for her, all for her to get mad at me.

you woke up to the rhythm of knocks on your door. your head turned and you sat up as you saw your door open, hange walked in with a expressionless face. she walked and sat on the bed next to you.

“you’re not seriously jealous of her though, are you? you don’t actually believe i’d ever leave you if i had the choice? you’re the only woman i want to be with. i wouldn’t chose another woman over you on even my darkest of days.” she said rubbing your thigh with her palm.

you sniffled as she wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“you’re better than that y/n, you’re so-”

“you seem to enjoy yourself more around her.” you scoffed

“well im sorry that i get excited about that kinda stuff, but you still know i love you.” she picked up your face, your doe eyes glimmering from the still wet tears inside of your eyes.

she brought your lips closer to hers.

“tell me though y/n, do you think the things that i do to you pieck will never get to experience?”

you shook your head

“that’s what i thought.” her soft lips drifted over the goosebumps on your neck before biting your neck, sucking on your supple skin.

you let out a soft yelp clawing at her clothed back.

she nipped and sucked at you skin undressing you slowly and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“i’ll never love anyone else like this.” she said, her fingers drifting to your panties. you stifle your moan, pushing her hand away.

she looks up at you through her glasses, pulling you hand away forcefully and bringing your underwear down.

“god you’ve been such a brat y/n, im just trying to show you how much i really do appreciate and love you.” she whispered softly into your ear.

she opened you legs staring at your glistening cunt kissing and licking at you.

“you’re so beautiful.” she speaks in between laps, “i love you so much.” her tongue flicks against your hardened bud as she shook her head in between your thighs, gripping them as though she were holding onto a cliff in which she was hanging off of. her tongue slipped inside of your hole, licking at the ridges and wetness brewing deep inside of you.

“i want you to sit on my face baby.” she muffled inside of you, vibrations in your cunt causing you to whimper and squeeze her head with your thighs.

“huh?” you looked at her tears clouding your vision.

she unlatched her mouth from your pussy, “ i said i want you on my face.” she layed on your soft duvet laying her head back onto the pillow. you turned your body and sat onto hange’s face not giving her a chance to breathe.

she started lapping vigorously at your sweet cunt nibbling on your folds. then she went back to sucking on your hardened clit.

god, hange loved having you atop her face. she loved staring down your body, listening to your whines and whimpers as she gave you princess treatment.

you placed your hands onto her shoulders riding her face as her tongue stuffed you and her nose bumped against your clit. the friction was a lot, your brain even foggier from the pleasure. you couldn’t even remember why you were on top of hange practically screaming her name.

hange’s brown hair was in between your fingers while you whimpered her name “oh god hange fuck” you mewled looking at her looking up at you. she drifted her hands up your gown pinching at your nipples.

you gasped from the feeling, eyes shut tight. you felt her mumbling into your cunt, probably about how much she cherished you. you felt how her thumb started to rub your bud faster, and how her tongue got thrusted and rubbed faster. you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm going faster. you looked down at hange who was looking up at you

“ m’ gonna cum han’ ” you whimpered gripping her hair tighter.

she gave you a a little nod setting you over edge as you came inside of her mouth. hange slurped up your cum, eating it like it was honey. you leaned forward catching your breath while hange slowly moved her face up from your cunt. she gasped for breath, “ i don’t love pieck like this, i would never eat her pussy and swallow her cum like i do you.” she kissed the inside of your thigh and the valley between your breasts.

“i… love… you too” you panted

her pretty lips pecked your cheeks, “ i won’t ever make you feel unappreciated again.” she layed her head in the crook of your neck.

a/n: i got a little bit carried away… i hope u love it though! sorry it took a lil bit long

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quills-of-freedom · 1 year

Text

Short Story ~

Passion Interrupted 💕

Female Bodied Reader X Porco Galliard

You and Porco have been keeping your relationship under wraps now for a while, and after a particularly stressful day your secret is under the watchful eye of a certain sharp-minded friend...

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only.

It had been one of those days. Extremely stressful, nothing went right and to top it all off, you’d been ragingly horny all. Damn. Day.

Whether it was your body needing a nice big release of anti stress hormones or some other reason - all fucking day your pussy had been aching. It sat untouched against your panties for hours, warmth swimming through it and the cloth sticking to your wetness.

Your relief couldn’t be more blissful when you’d finally finished your paper work and bumped into your boyfriend in the hallway; grabbing him by the belt buckle without a word and pulling him towards your room.

“Hey babe, you ok - ohp. Okay then…” He happily lets you tug him by his groin, arms splayed out like a young bird about to take that first timid leap off the tree branch.

The moment your door closes behind you, you click the lock, pushing Porco against it, pressing up onto his chest and locking your lips onto his mouth. You’d craved his taste all day, that familiar tinge of coffee along with his natural palate. He’s more than happy to have you rubbing against him like a cat in heat like this, your fingers gripping his shirt tightly, your claws not allowing him to escape - not that he’d dream of it, anyway.

“mmm… What’s got you all fired up, huh?” He hums between your kisses.

“You have.” You reply clumsily pulling his tight shirt up and over his head with haste - your eyes devouring the sight of his bare chest and stomach. “I want you, Porco.”

He smirks into your mouth, those words music to his ears as his hands glide down your back and give your ass a nice firm squeeze, before using it as leverage as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist; sticking to him like some heated, horny barb.

Your tongues swirl sloppily, your kisses loud as your lips smack off one another’s. You begin to grind your hips against the ridges of his abs, his sheer delight that you're so turned on right now is evident in his sly grin and naughty glint in his eye.

“I love it when you’re all fired up for me.” He breathes, his own limitations on his sanity being breached. He turns and pins you against the wall, his mouth caressing your neck as you caress his hair, the only person able to do that without him losing his temper.

You hold back your moans for reasons you both were aware of. But Porco didn’t care as much as you did.

“Mmm, you’re so pretty…” He groans into your skin.

“Sh…” You hush him softly. “Pieck is just next door.”

A groan of frustration unintentionally escapes him. “Come on babe. Don’t you think it’s about time we let everyone know?”

“Less talk. More Porco.” You hum.

He knows you well enough to understand you’re not dismissing his concerns. Just that you’ll discuss them at a better time. You’d been through this on a few occasions. Porco wanted to be open about your relationship. You weren’t so sure yet. You didn’t want it to effect your work or how your comrades would treat you. You didn’t want either of you to lose any individuality just because you were a couple.

He removes your shirt before lowering you down onto your bed, his fingers already pulling down your pants, sliding them off your legs. You gasp as his lips trail up your calf and round to your inner thigh, massaging it with his thumb along the way.

“Fuck, y/n…” He whispers with delight when he sees how wet you were. “This all for me?” He licks his lips before suctioning your clit in his warm mouth - he could clearly see you were already too far gone for you to be teased.

You bite down onto the side of your finger, holding in your loud moan with all your might as he continues to slide to fat fingers into your tight, eager cunt. Porco makes it progressively more difficult to hold in your audible enjoyment as he moans and sighs against your bloom and whips out his trademark, AAA grade Porco dirty talk.

“You like that?” His quiet voice quivers, his breathing turning into panting.

You nod. Of course you do.

“Fuck… You’re so perfect.”

He increases the pressure on your internal weak spot, his mouth returning to your clit. You marvel at the sight of his muscles under his hunched, broad back; squirming under his skin as he works you. They flex and move, his eyes snapping up into yours and that grin he pulls when your eyes meet his…

“Porco. I’m not going to last long.” You whisper. “Please, I need you to take me..."

“Are you sure?” He raises an eyebrow, now deciding he will tease you after all. “There’s no way you could be quiet once my fat dick fills you up, right to the top.”

“Yes…!” You bark, instantly hushing yourself. “I want to feel you fill me up full. Please baby…”

Without another word, he quickly removes his fingers, sitting up and using those same digits to unbuckle his belt as quick as his body would allow.

Before you knew it, he was pressed against you, lining himself up to your core; your heat pouring from you as well as your arousal.

He hides his head down near your neck as he pushes into your tight tunnel, muffling his groan of ecstasy as your breath hitches and back arches. His fat cock does indeed make it difficult not to cry out to the heavens.

“Fu~~~ck…” He groans into your ear, his hands gripping your hair.

Your insides immediately greet him in a warm welcome, tugging him in deeper and dancing around his large muscle as he slowly begins to dip himself in and out, not wanting to bang the bed or breathe too loudly with exertion.

Your eyes roll, nails digging into him for dear life as you buck your hips. God damn you’d needed this all fucking day.

You both freeze when there’s a light tapping at the door.

“y/n…?” Pieck calls.

Porco glances at you, not knowing what to do.

“y-yeah?” You croak, trying your damned hardest to sound as normal as possible.

“Can I come in?”

“uh, I’m just getting dressed!” You lie. “I can come to your room in ten?”

Porco nudges you in annoyance.

“uh, twenty?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I was just wondering if you’d filled in section A3 of that paper Zeke had given us and –”

Porco’s jaw tenses and ears buzz with the burning desire to move. To have some sort of friction of you against his cock. He lies, still fully sheathed inside of you - too turned on by your eagerness earlier for it to soften because of a mere conversation. A conversation he wasn’t even paying attention to. What made it worse, was your insides were still clenching and releasing him, trying to pull him in with anguish. His eyes clamp closed, his teeth gritting as he rocks his hips ever so slightly when you give him a warning glare.

So he stops.

Your insides spasm harder - he wasn’t even sure if you were doing this to him on purpose or not. He could see you were sharing his extreme frustration, your face flushing a deeper shade of pink and your eyes pleading for her to leave.

“You know there’s that thing Reiner wanted me to do -”

“Honestly, Pieck I won’t be long and -”

“And you know Reiner, everything has to be done in earnest because of all the -”

Porco’s head drops, the veins in his arms begining to raise to the surface of his skin, his limbs trembling from holding himself back. The frustration was beyond belief when you finally gave him the nod.

The nod of permission.

Sweet, sweet permission.

“PIECK, SHE’LL SEE YOU LATER, FUCK!” He finally booms.

“Ah-ha! I knew it!” Pieck celebrates. “My plan worked! I knew you were in there! Bon voyage, amigos. See you later!”

You didn’t even have the chance to be astounded at her genius plan, because Porco immediately returns to thrusting, a lot more viciously and rough than before, his once stifled moans now loud and booming.

You’re too blown away to make any noise of your own as the bed now slams loudly against the wall over and over again, your boyfriend’s grunts and echoing groans filling up your senses.

“Mmm, y/n! Let everyone know how good I fuck my woman!”

He’s gone feral.

You cry out, your golden end so so beautifully close.

He yanks your hair, hissing through his teeth and slurping up the drool that was threatening to escape his mouth.

“You're so beautiful, and you're mine! I… Ah.. fuck…” His usual gruff grunts morph into high pitched whines, his voice breaking as you hurtle through time and space; that orgasm you’d been waiting on all day finally crashing over your body - the tsunami of intense pleasure physically manefstied by the gush of cum that covers Porco’s cock and balls.

“y/n! Take me!” He barks, his own atomic explosion detonating and causing mass destruction within you, his scolding white liquid colliding with your cervix with force.

You fall into the void; deaf, blind and dumb as you feel your lover embrace you tightly, his chest heaving against your own. Your mind and body broken, as he peppers kisses against your cheek.

“I love you.” He breathes, becoming instantly needy. “Guess it’s not a secret now.”

“No…” You whisper, shaking your head. “I guess not.”

#porco smut #porco x reader #porco x y/n #porco imagines #porco x you #attack on titan porco #snk x y/n #snk x reader #porco x yn

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kriz-fics · 1 year

Text

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen: Nooses and Axes

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 15K !!!

CW: Please take note. This chapter deals heavily and quite graphically with executions. If you are NOT COMFORTABLE with imagery and descriptions of hanging and/or beheading, please do not interact. Or skip the first two POVs (Eren’s and YN’s first POV) which are marked with the bird header and the winged orb header.

Other CWs: Graphic description of corpses / allusions to massive age gaps and necrophilia (not graphic) / Pieck's foul mouth / Period-Typical Attitudes

The day dawns as beautiful as the countryside. And it truly is beautiful, Eren can see that now, as he ambles along the lush green field on the back of his faithful bay rounsey, Yorik. When not cloaked in cold rain, Zheletov shows her true grace. She is enchanting, a land of fertile pastures, bright blue skies, and dense forests.

A soft breeze dances past, making the grasses bend beneath its light tread. Overhead, Lusin’s sun shines down upon them all, its harsh rays made gentle by the pervasive northern chill. By and large, the green is the very image of rural bliss: pastoral, picturesque, peaceful.

As peaceful as the grave.

Eren reins up beside one of the many gallows erected upon the sward. And there are many, rows and rows and rows of them, as far as the eye can see.

Yorik snorts and whickers, tossing his head and stepping back restlessly, unnerved by the presence of death. Eren holds firm to the reins to steady him and rubs a pacifying hand down the horse’s sleek neck until he settles.

The boy is fair, with hair of curling gold; his eyes are gray glass, pale and glossed over, unseeing. He cannot have been more than ten. But it is hard to tell with the corpses of the young, Eren has just now come to find - death seems to shrink them, making them look younger, frailer, more vulnerable.

He wonders what the boy’s name is.

Eren tries to recall what it was like to be ten. That had not been too long ago. He had been a grieving ten-year-old, newly come to court and suffering the loss no child should have had to bear so soon in his life.

But for that loss, he had everything to gain. He had everything to play for, it would all start for him at last, here at this greatest of courts. He was a fledgling, mourning yet poised to spread his wings and take his first flight. His whole life was ahead of him still, everything and anything could happen.

This golden fledgling’s wings have been clipped too soon.

A couple of flies buzz around him, poking and prodding at him with great interest. Against his gray pallor, the dried blood that seeped down from the cut on his brow is a shocking red. He must have struggled as they dragged him to his fate, a little fighter to the end, and so there was nothing for it but to beat him into submission. Stringing him up along with the others should have proved less of a challenge after that.

The sutures across his brow itch something fierce. Eren resists the urge to scratch it. Healer Dima would approve - he is not to lay hand nor finger upon the healing flesh unless it is to smear it with extract of dittany. To help with the inflammation and the scarring for brow and arm, the priest had declared, as he handed Eren a sizable pot of the stuff for his personal upkeep.

Several moments pass and still the itch torments him. Eren’s gaze slides over to the next body. Musing on the boy’s injury had made the wound flare up; perhaps staring at this one will help alleviate it.

The boy has her look, Eren notices. In a flash, a whole lifetime’s worth of comments flood his mind, people, kin and strangers telling him how much he favors his lady mother, the Lady Carla of blessed memory. He had often sat in front of a looking glass, pulling and prodding at his face and wondering what people saw to make them hold to that claim. He always thought he looked more like Father - they had the same hair and eyes after all. And he looked nothing like a girl. For a long time, little Eren had hated being likened to Mother, because he was not a girl, damn them all.

But those were a little boy’s thoughts, and courtly Eren was ten, almost a man grown and above such childishness. Now he can see what people see, see the features so soft and womanly on his mother harden into something more robust, more manly on his visage. Now he can feel pride at the thought of having Mother’s face. It truly isn’t as terrible as his younger self would have had him believe. Were he a woman, he would be fortunate to be half as exemplary as his lady mother. And it is nice, comforting to know that he need only look in a mirror to know that Mother is still with him, that she lives on in him.

Eren stares up at the woman’s lifeless body, watching her swing slowly back and forth as the wind blows past. Mother would have been of an age with this mother, had she been alive at present. Her hair, so much like her son’s, makes a tangled cloud of gold around her head. Tear tracks streak down her waxen, grimy face. Unlike her boy, her eyes are closed.

A sense of detached curiosity comes over Eren then, irresistibly drawn as he is to these condemned. Did she close her eyes to spare herself the anguish of watching the child of her body choke and convulse and struggle as he took the most excruciating path into the Fields? Did she weep as the noose constricted with every dying heartbeat, knowing that this was the selfsame pain her little one was subjected to? Did she succumb to despair before the last, knowing she was mere feet from her sweeting but was powerless, helpless, unable to save him, bound as she was?

Eren looks beyond her, at the rest of this gallows’ tenants. There are four to a frame. The grandparents, he surmises, noting the likeness of the wrinkled dead features of the elders to their daughter and grandson.

But beneath the gallows, all look the same. All their hands are bound behind their backs, and the rough hempen rope cuts into the soft flesh of their throats. Already, the black is slowly creeping up their pale miens. It will not be long now until death has its way with the fallen, leaving them all with dark and bloated faces. Then will their likenesses be more profound. One big family of the damned. The resemblance to each other should be most uncanny.

Above, the carrion crows circle, crying their harsh, raucous cries, waiting in the wings for them all to leave so they may commence with their feast. Below and closer to the banquet, flies are starting to bear down on the bodies. Soon, they will descend upon the field in earnest, covering each corpse like some dark living shroud. Flies and crows, the staunchest of companions. Where one converges, the other is sure to come.

Eren looks beyond his little family but there is no escape from the dangling dead. Countless elders, women, and children, some even younger than the golden boy, dead, all dead, because their sons and husbands and fathers played the traitor to their lawful king and broke their solemn oaths. Their lawful king will have his blood price, whatever the means, wherever the source.

Sir Symon Skaryn slowly weaves between the gallows on the back of his dun courser. It must be strange, unreal, to know you are the last of your House. Eren’s gaze lingers on him a moment, musing, pondering, watching the studiously blank face of the last and only scion of House Skaryn as he plods slowly past each frame, eyes sliding over their occupants as though they never were. Eren recognizes the look. That one has gone away inside.

Some ways away stride Sir Julian Halkin and his bay gelding. This one is beloved of the gods. It must help, being wardens of the Old Faith. It certainly saved his blood from the axe - piety is of use, after all, and makes for a good savior. Almost as good as Father. And he would have been incapable of doing that were it not for Eren and his timely heroics, such as they were.

It is cruel of the king to send the pair of northmen to see to the deaths of their countryfolk. Eren has to question the wisdom of this - it does not seem very prudent to offend further those whose families he has dispossessed and stricken from existence. But then, His Majesty can hardly offend them any more than he already has. This morbid duty may very well be a ploy to distance himself from two likely kingslayers.

Not since Marius Zackly has the realm seen the like amongst the Guardsmen. It is commonly held that the Guardsman had murdered the second Urklyn Reiss in cold blood by dint of his mistreatment of the knight’s younger sister, Queen Mariya. Others allow him a nobler cause. Urklyn II, the Unfortunate as he is called and the last wielder of the Founder, is a highly reviled figure, after all. Zackly cannot be faulted for ridding the realm of a despot and ending the threat of the Titans forever. Still, others argue that despot or no, the Guardsman had sworn to protect the king, whatever his sins, whatever his failings. If one such as Sir Marius could break a solemn oath, what does that do to the sanctity of vows? He had not been the first kingslayer, to be sure, yet he was the first such Guardsman and remained a decidedly polarizing character in the annals of history.

It will seem that Rod Reiss is not so remiss in keeping his northern Guardsmen well away from his royal person. Only a century parts Marius Zackly and the knightly northmen. His sin is still fresh, and vows seem to hold little weight nowadays. These northmen have seen to that.

Eren lightly presses his knees to Yorik’s sides and makes to move on. The golden boy stares at him, sad and forlorn. Stay a while, please, sir, his blank eyes of glass seem to convey. Eren hunches his shoulders and leaves. He is not here to keep the dead company.

Sir Julian comes to cross his path, and their eyes meet. A hint of what looks remarkably like deference flickers across those hazel depths, and the older man inclines his head toward him before passing on. Eren watches him trot away, feeling disquiet, bemusement, and pity well up inside him. A peculiar concoction of emotions, indeed.

It is a surreal thing, carrying the knowledge that a whole lineage lives on still because of him. Now he is tied, irrevocably, immutably, absolutely to the Halkins, whatever they do, whatever becomes of them, come what may. And they to him, whatever he does, whatever becomes of him, come what may. Eren does not know how to feel about that. He has never thought of being on the receiving end of a blood debt. It is a thought too large to comprehend, especially for the likes of him.

More than anything else, he does not know how to feel about being used as leverage for a boon, like he is some sort of bargaining chip in a game of dice. It was all to the good, in the end. Pointless to rail against something that benefits all in one way or another, he supposes. In their world, being used is a matter of course, he has come to realize. They all of them are bargaining chips, even those who fancy themselves as players. This is hardly the first time he has been played at the courtly table, nor will it be the last, and being used for a just cause is better than the alternative. Yet he cannot help but feel… something. And it is not entirely pleasant.

A handful of men-at-arms traipse across the field, slipping sprigs of mint into pockets and aprons and making sure all life had fled from their wards. The unoccupied Guardsmen, the Lord Commander among them, oversee the whole undertaking. Knights all, as Marius Zackly had been, and bound by the same vows, bound by the same calling to save innocent lives. Eren will soon be held to the same calling and yet he could not even save these. That does not make for a good beginning, it seems to him.

All are powerless before the will of the king. He has been robbed of the Halkins, he must have his blood price elsewhere. Eren did not think he would dare touch these commons, innocent and valueless as they are. To him, Rod Reiss is a middling king, with very little to commend him. Stout, sedate, lecherous, amiable, and unassuming, if a tad bit petty, that is all this Reiss king has to his regal name. And then they served him treason and treachery, and it tore him open to expose the dark and the sinister that moldered within. The middling king is not so middling, after all, and this one wants the North’s fear more than its love.

Eren sits up straighter in his saddle, swaying slowly with his horse’s gait as he spies Sir Levi turning his black courser round and making his way toward him. Best not to get too mired in his head. He saved a bloodline, that should still count for something. And he saved the holy traitor from his cruel fate.

Lord Grisha had milked his son’s deed for all it was worth to dampen the fires of the king’s rage. All it bought him were the Halkins (but for their lord, he must die withal), Sir Symon Skaryn, and a gentler death for the old lawyer. No longer will he be hanged to near-death, sliced open and shown his own innards as he lay still living upon the boards, and have his body quartered, the head, the arms, the legs, all to be buried in separate corners of the realm. Robert the Lawyer will be hanged to true death, wrapped in chains - a quicker death than that of most of these in the field.

The priest will die on the morrow, Eren remembers with a jolt. He wonders if he will be in attendance. Robert’s is not a private execution, the court will not look on as he takes his final steps to meet his Father Above. Eren reins back a bit as Sir Levi draws up to him at last and pulls ahead to take the lead. Should the Lord Commander order his soon-to-be erstwhile master to the affair, Eren will be obliged to attend him.

Robert of Feyhill still holds to his innocence to the last. Eren had asked Father if he believed the claim.

“The man still holds, even under duress,” Lord Grisha said.

Perhaps they could stand to handle him a great deal more sharply. Only then do criminals break. The old man truly is resilient. Again, Eren had felt that admiration, grudging and reluctant, but admiration nevertheless. He can see why Father is disposed toward the priest. He recalls the private audience he had seen between Lord Grisha and Robert the Lawyer three months past. His father would have gotten the full measure of the man then. Most like he found him as admirable as Eren did. Perhaps that was even enough to persuade him to back the northern cause to the best of his abilities. He had come through on that font and managed to help the lawyer sway the king away from his Tybur pet. That backing is proving to be of little help now that they have shown their true skins.

Yet Robert isn’t the only one balking at the charges, even under the sharpest of torture. The spearheads of the outlaw factions, who will be joining him in death come the morning, echo him to a man. They have naught to do with the attack on the royal party if they can be believed. Father had found that more than passing interesting. “There are other hands at work here, my lord. Believe what you will but me and mine still hold our oaths sacred,” the holy Father claimed.

Of course he would claim such. The criminal sort will say anything for the slimmest chance of a pardon. Were he truly honest and knew of no attack, then perhaps his hold on his folk was tenuous at best. Factions within factions are not unheard of, perhaps these ones were prevailed upon to go their own way, unable to reconcile themselves to the king’s peace and mercy.

Even so, his claim is worth looking into, Lord Grisha and even Zeke felt.

It was too little too late, though. The king must hand down his punishments, the sooner the better; an inquiry would further delay things and he was already determined to see them all guilty and have them eradicated. For all his clout and influence, Father was powerless to stop him. Right hand of the king he may be but that is all he is. The hand is not the head, only its servant.

The Traitors’ Thicket looms ahead, dark and forbidding and swarming with flies. It is here where the bulk of the carrion feeders hold court to pass the time until they can start their next course. They have made a fine start to their feast already. The strung-up outlaws each have a murderous retinue to attend him. One man must have been incredibly delicious; more crows converge on this one than any other. His eyes and most of his face have been pecked clean, so the birds move further down his body, tearing and clawing at his rags to get to the sweet meat beneath. His whole head is thick with flies, darting in and out of his empty eye sockets and tongueless, gaping mouth. Around him, his fellows are much the same short a crow or four. With each passing heartbeat, the traitors look less and less like men.

Eren turns his head to look upon the innocents once more. Nearby, a young woman of an age with him sways with the wind, her hessian apron blasted with dirt and mud. The rest of the Guardsmen stroll past on their mounts amid the dead, faces blank and hard as stone. Eren averts his gaze, as they do.

Knights protect the innocent. He has never wanted to be a knight for them, though. But truly, what knight at present can claim to such ideals? Such lofty principles only live on in the tales. He doubts if even Gerald Kirschtein, paragon as he was, had such charitable aspirations when he set out to become a knight. Men the likes of Sir Anselm of the Moonmere, Albert Reiss, Prince Rodion Siljan, and their ilk… Now he can believe the best of them. These were men of the people, true knights every one. And all figures of fancy and legend. Eren has only ever thought about the honor and the glory.

No anointed knight here is protesting this savagery. Perhaps it truly doesn’t matter that he couldn’t save these at all. Perhaps this is not so bad a beginning for his calling as he had first thought. Zheletov had escaped justice once, it cannot do so again. She has committed the highest of treasons and the wages for treason is death. It is law. It is better to be feared than loved. It is a sharp lesson but they must learn. This will give them pause should treacherous thoughts flourish once again. Now they know how traitors are dealt with in this kingdom.

The men-at-arms are all converging upon the Lord Commander. It will seem that these Zhelevic, innocent and traitor both, are well and truly dead. Eren takes one last glance at the countryside. The green is vibrant, the air as yet untainted by the stink of rot and decay, so still and peaceful. Zheletov is enchanting. An enchanting lichyard, the most enchanting lichyard he has ever seen. He turns his back toward death and trails behind Sir Levi as they and the others strike out for Merrydell. Above, the waiting crows begin to descend.

You had been eleven the first time you had seen a man die.

The late Lord Dietrich had been a cousin on your mother’s side. Distant cousin, Lady Theresia will be quick to claim. He was a traitor, attainted and disowned, there will be no immediate kinship with his lot. You do not much remember him. He had given you a gold and ruby bracelet on your tenth yearday, that is the extent of your familiarity with him. You still wear the piece now and then.

Eduard Dietrich claimed royal Eldian blood, through the female line. In the Old Way and with the Old Blood, that would have been enough. Yet he was Paradisian-born and his claim meant little and less than a rat’s arse to his and the Eldians’ sort. That did not stop him from entertaining delusions of grandeur. He had taken it into his head that he should be king and started to gather his levies to mount his usurpation. The realm could hardly have ignored such sudden suspicious conscription, and so the king had him taken in for questioning, only to uncover his treasonous plot. Witnesses were called upon, each one accusing him of listening to prophecies about the king’s death, hiring hedge witches to ill-wish him, and plotting to kill him come the Winter Fete. His death warrant was sealed in light of such damning testimonies.

It had been a cool spring morning on the Month of Showers, the day of his execution. It had not rained during the event, to the court’s great fortune; the showers would come much later, you recall. You also recall plenty of hunger pangs. The court had not yet even broken its fast, the king was in such a state to rid himself of this would-be pretender to the throne. You sat with the young Princess Historia and her other maids on the bench, wriggling your toes inside your new silk slippers (such a pretty pale pink, like your new gown) and longing for fried sausages and mashed neeps soaked in good beefy gravy.

The whole thing seemed like a masque, a play, a court entertainment no different than the ones you had of a night. You had been far away, unwitting and favoring your stomach. Your appetite vanished when the axe fell. He had a strangely stumpy neck, you thought then, as his head thumped to the straw beneath the block. And there was all that red. You had never thought that blood could be so… red. Like Rhyzkov red yet unlike it in equal measure. The headsman then lifted the head of the traitor lord so the court could take its last look. Eduard Dietrich smiled at you all, defiant and mocking to the last. It had not looked real, not to you. For all you knew, the headsman could have been showing you all some mask he fetched from some costume box. Yet you had seen the head part from the body, so it must be real after all.

Madam Anastasia, your then-governess, had praised your composure. Proper ladies know how to comport themselves even in the face of such barbarism. You had floated through the rest of the day, composed and numb and stuck inside your head. It had taken half a year for the nightmares of mask-like faces and headless men to stop tormenting you.

The Dietrichs of Goldcap lost much of their lands to their more powerful cousins, the Dietrichs of the Crown Hill, from which Mother hails. They had been fined heavily for their lord’s sin, leaving them much impoverished. They make a quiet presence at court now. The only one of some renown from their blood is a knight, Sir Ian Dietrich, yet only just. By and large, he is little more than a household knight, barely a step away from being a hedge knight. He is a doubtful scion of a doubtful line.

Whispers and murmurs erupt from the court assembled on the green below the platform they had hastily built to accommodate the Royal House and their retinue. You sit in your accustomed place beside the Princess Historia, looking on as the two condemned are led to the scaffold at the front of the main yard of Merrydell Castle.

Valko Skaryn walks to his death as defiant as Eduard Dietrich. Yuri Halkin looks about ready to piss himself. And piss himself he does, you note, with mild disgust. His courage leaks onto the flooring beneath his boots, forming a puddle that darkens the wooden planks. One of Death’s Hands glides forward, enigmatic and inscrutable in his robes of black and white, with the bronze key of the afterlife resting on his chest. He reaches inside his black left sleeve for a small scroll of parchment, which he unrolls so he may recite the lord’s crimes and pray the prayers for the condemned. No one pays heed to the mark of incontinence the frightened man left.

It is strange how much the liege cuts a poorer figure than his vassal. One will think it is Halkin who has lost everything, not Skaryn. Poor doomed, pissy man. The Halkins have been fined heavily for their lord’s crimes and lost the wardenship of the State of Kostrokan. Moreover, little Yakob Halkin, the new Lady Halkina’s younger brother, is to be sent to Midford to serve as the king’s new ward and cupbearer. A hostage, everyone knows, to be kept in custody for the Halkins’ good behavior. The Goldcap Dietrichs, worse or better off I cannot say. Circles within circles.

At least Lord Yuri and his have gotten off lightly compared to the Lesser House. The Skaryns are all gone, quietly expunged the day before. It was valerian that did for them, a softer and gentler death than their lord’s. A thimbleful of the stuff produces a light, dreamless sleep. A whole bottle produces a sleep that never ends, and it was such that was given to each member of the House. Better to be gently poisoned than feel the pain of a beheading. In a fit of twisted arrogance, Grigoriy Skaryn had demanded to be drowned in a cask of red instead. That is the rumor, in any case.

Death’s priest, having finished with his prayers, tucks his scroll into his white right sleeve and floats to the back of the scaffold. The black-masked headsman strides forward as another Hand half-leads, half-pushes the very disinclined Lord Halkin closer to the block. He is white as curdled milk as he stumbles and nearly falls over the waxed wood.

Some semblance of pity rises inside you as you watch this sorriest of productions. What a wretched creature. It is almost hard to look upon the petrified Lord Yuri as the executioner asks for his forgiveness, for he is only performing his calling and it should not be held against him. The lord gives the man a lost and uncomprehending look, as though he is speaking in another tongue entirely, and does not answer.

When it is clear that no reply is forthcoming, the Hand forgives the headsman for him and pays the man his customary fee of twelve silver crescents before asking Halkin to speak his final words. Once more, no words are forthcoming, hence they bid the lord to kneel upon the straw they have scattered around the block. To catch the blood, you know. Your heart begins to thrum faster in your chest, and you lace your cold fingers together on your lap. Apprehensive you may be but you are a proper lady, you will not look away.

Yuri Halkin will not kneel, so they have to force him down. He is sobbing by then, great, fat tears rolling down his fine, pointed nose as he lays his head upon the block and clutches at it as though it can save him. The sight magnifies the pity within you and makes your insides squirm uncomfortably. What an undignified way to die. You glance at the king askance, to where he is sitting upon a makeshift throne near his daughters’ bench. His face is dark and hard around the mouth. Clemency is well and truly dead as these lords.

The headsman raises his axe and waits for the lord to fling out his arms, the sign of his consent that the axe can fall at last. Halkin will not give it. Still he clutches at the block, trembling like a leaf, until some knight - Sir Levi Ackerman, you realize, recognizing the mop of short black hair and the pale purple cloak - strides forward to wrench his arms from the wood and hold it wide before him so the axeman may finally do his duty. Close by, Sir Julian Halkin watches his brother aid in his cousin’s shameful end, face blank as fresh parchment.

It takes only one stroke, to the wretched lord’s fortune. Sir Levi stalks away, looking mildly annoyed and inconvenienced. Spots of blood fleck his cheeks, dark against his pale skin. Sir Mike Zacharias hands him a kerchief he has conjured from somewhere so he can wipe down. Blessed with luck, you think, eyeing a couple of the more superstitious lords and ladies slinking forward to dip their fingers into the beheaded lord’s blood, so they may attract better fates. It is one of the stranger customs of the Creed you have come to witness, but it is a fascinating one as well.

The executioner puts aside his now scarlet-smeared axe and bends to pick up the lordly head by its mahogany hair. Its expression is twisted in grief, and tear tracks carve a path down his cheeks.

Overhead, the crows caw. You lift your eyes to the surrounding walls. The Skaryns might have died gently yet their bodies were not treated so. Each head has been dipped in tar so they - and the lesson - may keep longer. From your vantage, they are no more than dark orbs adorning the spikes upon the ramparts. The saddest orbs are the little ones. You watch as a crow perches atop a little head and tugs its ear off. Little and great, it makes no matter; the crows feast on them all. The longer you look, the more you forget they are even human. You turn your attention away and back to the scaffold. Their lord and their liege will be joining them soon.

Valko Skaryn goes to his death a braver man than his liege. He had gone pale as a sheet as he watched them bear his lord’s head and headless body away in nondescript boxes, but still he stands firm and does not crumble. He manages to forgive and pay the executioner himself before stating his final words.

You glance at the king once more and see his dark countenance grow ever darker at the lord’s continued insistence on his innocence and his lack of humility. Your eyes alight on the king’s hands as they tighten on the arms of his seat, more than certain he is on the verge of leaping out of his throne to shout, ‘Off with his head!’ had the lord not finished his spiel at last.

The way Skaryn throws out his arms to give the headsman his consent is almost triumphant, defiant. Would that his death is as dignified.

A lady screams and a gasp flies out of your mouth unbidden as the axe slams down the back of Skaryn’s shoulders instead of his neck, making the lord jerk upon the block. The court buzzes loudly in horror as the executioner checks and tries once more, only to botch it again. And again. And yet again.

Cold and sweating hands scrabble quickly for your own, and you look at your princess as she squeezes your hand almost painfully, eyes wide and aghast yet unable to look away from the bloody botch of an execution you are all now forced to witness.

The executioner, it transpires, is young and new to his trade. Halkin’s pitiful and unseemly death had discomfited him more than he thought it would, so he could not replicate his earlier success. Now a half-mangled man in red linen sprawls atop the block where once a lord in white knelt. In the end, Sir Mike Zacharias steps in and makes an end to it himself, to the court’s relief. Sir Symon Skaryn is gray as the stone walls around him; he could have been a corpse himself, such is his pallor.

Historia’s grip is cold and tight around yours. You can feel her slender fingers trembling, and you hold tighter, trying to convey what comfort you can in your touch. On the throne nearby sits the king triumphant with his face of grim pleasure, looking on at the head in the axeman’s gloved hand with its face of twisted pain. Hiring a green and untried headsman has produced the desired result. The scaffold is a mess of blood. Rhyzkov red yet unlike it, too.

Your face is prickling, familiarly so. You turn your attention away from the scarlet scaffold, almost reluctantly, and find yourself looking back into your betrothed’s green gaze. There he stands between his wan father and stony brother upon the sward, and he is looking at you intensely, ardently, admiringly, as if you are a spot of light in the darkness, the only good thing in this dismal world.

All at once you are warm and everything else ceases to matter. Not the bloody scaffold, not the undignified, awful deaths, not the cruelty of kings. There is only him. There is only Eren. He is all that matters, in the end.

Fifteen are made knights that day.

The Warrior’s transept in the Great Temple of the Creed smells heavily of incense, and the Grand Marshal’s deep, rumbling voice echoes off the high vaulted ceiling of the chamber as he prays his martial prayers to the martial god’s massive monument looming in front of them all. A far cry from last night’s peace and silence, Jean thinks, fighting to keep himself alert and on his feet.

That stimulating concoction of sage, knight’s garlic, and a bundle of other herbs he does not care to know nor name is wearing off. The Marshals had given them all Flasks of Awakening after their ritual baths, so they might complete their vigil with great success. It was a potent brew, that Flask. None of the fifteen had disgraced himself by nodding off in front of Sir Tardon.

Now sleep is doing its utmost best to make him shame himself in front of the court. Jean digs his nails into his palms, hoping a touch of pain may give his senses that necessary jolt awake. He had not disgraced himself last night, he is not about to do so now, not on this most auspicious of days.

Mikasa Ackerman is standing with her parents off to the side of the transept, not far away from him. A jolt shakes off the sleep inside of him at the sight of such pure beauty. The white gown she is wearing to match the initiates only elevates that cool and speckless grace. Her hair looks so black against the white, it is almost startling, and now he is gazing upon a queen of ice and snow, come among them from the northern songs and tales. Truly, she is a beauty. His Queen of Love and Beauty. His Queen of Ice and Winter.

Jean bites back a smile as he gives the Grand Marshal his attention once more. The sight of Mikasa Ackerman is a restorative more potent than any brew.

They have not long to wait, in any event. The High Priest dispenses with his prayers and the dubbing proceeds apace.

A handful of men-at-arms had acquitted themselves most admirably during the outlaw ambush. These will be knighted first, followed by the squires of the lordly knights. Last will come the Guardsmen’s lads, the few of them who proved their mettle in battle and showed the realm what training under the very best can truly yield.

The ceremony goes by smooth and quick, and all too soon, the Guardsmen’s lads will come into their own.

Their Bull is a knight at last. He should be well-pleased by that, Jean thinks, as he watches Sir Mike Zacharias lightly tap his foregoing squire upon each broad shoulder with the flat of his blade. Perhaps that pissy little tosser Galliard will finally ease off on Reiner now that they share a title. Perhaps he’ll ease off on all of them, for that matter.

Not anytime soon, though, Jean reconsiders, inwardly grimacing. The northern ambush had brought the summer progress to a crashing halt, and the court flew back to Belris soon after the executions. Lord Pixis, while upset at the fact that his preparations (and expenses) went to naught, did not complain overmuch. Northern sentiment has soured after the attack; best not to remind the court of his own Province’s earlier grievances with the king and raise concerns of another uprising. The Galliards - that is, Porco - have not been as magnanimous. The last stop was theirs, and the prickly Porco is not taking this perceived snub well. He will be unpleasant as sin come the next week or so, Jean knows.

Sir Porco is standing not too far away from Reimund Braun, knightly mien in place. His foremost rival’s lord father is not too far from Reiner, face hard and stern as he watches his boy rise to greater heights. Jean wonders if he ever felt proud of his only son. The way Reiner deals with and speaks of him leaves a lot to be desired. These are private matters, however, for the Brauns to work through, not anyone else.

The Braun lord is quiet of late, in any case, unusually so, in Kirschtein opinion. Tybur has won Zheletov now that the Skaryns are gone, something that would have rekindled Braun’s passion for territorial expansion. And northern stock is low at court nowadays, he may find the king with a more willing ear should he choose to push his old claims upon Trost once again.

And so House Kirschtein finds itself lying low with both eyes keeping a careful watch on the lay of the land. Their Province of Egstatten has just seen itself freed of Tybur’s yoke, any misstep of theirs will see it flying back into his hands sure as sunset. They had best tighten their leash on their side of the North. The cruel slaughter of Zhelevic innocents is starting to cause a stir in broader northern sentiment last they heard from their anxious vassals. Egstatten especially is seething with rage at the senseless murder of kin. Father has promised Lord Pixis a company of men to bolster his garrison should the commons boil over into a riot. No whisper of upheaval must leave their borders.

Within the borders of the temple, Reiner stands at last as Sir Reiner of the House of Braun. Jean watches as Reiner moves off behind the line of Guardsmen, to take his place in the line of new-made knights in front of the Warrior’s towering likeness. The merest flicker of pleasure flashes across his sire’s face, like the swiftest of blinks, so easily overlooked if one is not paying him heed. Quiet he may be for the moment but Reimund Braun will play the field of politics again.

Sir Levi Ackerman comes forward to take Sir Mike’s place beside the Grand Marshal and his attending Marshal. Unbidden, unwanted, the old entrenched envy inside Jean flares up strong and hot at the sight of Eren Jaeger striding forward to take his much longed-for knighthood. Jean grinds his teeth behind his lips and tries not to glance over at Mikasa once again. The look on her face as she watches Jaeger being honored is not something he cares to see.

There he is, the Magister’s beloved second son and now savior to the king himself, the consummate golden boy. So brave, so daring, made of the stuff of songs and legends. Truly, graces fall onto his lap so easily and so freely. Jean wrestles with his resentment and forces it down back to where it will no longer bother him. He has put that behind him, he should no longer be its thrall. Let past woes stay in the past.

The golden boy does not look as proud nor as triumphant as Jean expects him to be. You would think he was kneeling before a bier at a funeral. The thought snuffs out the embers of his resentment. To be sure, most every man of them looks somber and grave as pallbearers. The northern executions have sapped the triumph in this investiture. He cannot say if it would be any different were they knighted before the punishments. Surely the knowledge of innocents going to their deaths would have accompanied them to the Warrior’s shrine as it does now. Perhaps this is all to the good, to time the ceremony just so. The court needs something, something triumphant to bring the light back to the last of summer.

All too soon, the gates of knighthood loom before him, and he walks toward it nervously eager. He can ruminate upon the horror of innocent deaths later. The present belongs to his achievement. He may not have saved the most important man in the realm but he had saved his brothers-in-arms and helped bring down the outlaw threat. That should count for something.

It does count for something, lest he will not be standing here, he reminds himself as he pads barefoot in his whites to stand before his very soon-to-be former master, the Lord Commander himself.

The marble floor of the transept is cold beneath his feet and hard upon his knee yet it is not so uncomfortable as sitting on his calves for the duration of the long night. The would-be knights had all sat thus, with their arms and armor laid down before them, surrounded by Marshals who made sure they kept their silence and prayed their prayers.

Come morning, the pain in his legs near made him weep like a little girl. That pain is just now accosting his legs again, his muscles crying out in protest, but Jean bears it all. Pain is a knight’s consort, they will be more intimate than he cares for them to be in the course of this vocation.

The Grand Marshal approaches him with an ornate cruet in hand to smear the holy oils upon his forehead and anoint him a true knight at last. The Marshal hands his elder a cloak of cardinal red, which he wraps around Jean and pins into place with a brooch of red gold shaped into a likeness of a lynx with deep red garnets for eyes. The Lord Commander, by tradition, should have been the one to cloak him with the ceremonial mantle; for want of an arm, the Grand Marshal himself is obliged to do so instead.

Now comes the time to swear his oaths. Jean takes a breath to steady himself and, with his hand above his heart, swears to uphold and maintain all that makes knighthood good and holy. To adhere to the truth; to be loyal to his lord but answer to his king first and foremost; to defend the weak and helpless; these and more he swears until the list is spent and the last ringing notes of his voice fade away into the stillness of the transept.

Sir Erwin steps forward, his sword Sunstrike clutched in his gauntleted left hand, ready to proceed with the rite himself as custom dictates. After all, a knight does not need two arms to dub another. The flat of his blade presses lightly upon one shoulder and then the other as he acknowledges Jean’s vow and bids him keep it, and it is done.

Jean knelt a servile squire; he rises a noble knight. And nothing can please him more. At last. At last. Sir Jean Kirschtein takes his place among his peers, gloriously and unendingly proud.

Not even envy nor regret can touch him as he watches the fortunate four come forward, the chosen ones, the new elite. Amusement is all he can feel looking on at the utter farce that is Connie Springer being knighted as one of the Royal Guardsmen. How a lackwit like him came to be part of such exalted company is beyond Jean yet he is happy for him all the same.

Jean sobers some at his friend’s uncharacteristically dour expression. Losing Sir Gunther had been hard on him, and that compounded with the executions did not do wonders for his fortitude. He is not a terrible warrior, Jean can give him that. He has earned his spurs fairly, just like every man of them. And this is all to the good for the sprightly lad; perhaps the threat of the expected honor and dignity that comes with such a lofty post can finally make him more of a Conrad and less of a Connie. Sir Gunther’s noble boots will make a strange fit at first, but Connie will grow into them. The pale purple cloak of the Guardsmen is a good look on him. Better than the mantle of the Knight of Joywatch, at any rate - that will be worn by little Martin Springer, who will be squiring for his older brother and taking up their knightly father’s lands and title in time.

Once, Jean had dreamed of donning a pale purple cloak. Mikasa Ackerman and her delicate prettiness dashed his aspirations to smithereens; little smitten Jean knew he could not wed her were he a Guardsman. Not that his lord father minded. Richard Kirschtein had not been subtle about his reluctance to let his boy take the purple. Doing so would have robbed him of his only son and heir, for the Guardsmen swear to relinquish all rights and titles they are born to in favor of serving the king for the rest of his life. Lord Richard would much prefer to see his line propagate House Kirschtein instead of some distant relation’s.

Looking back on it all makes Jean want to laugh at his childish presumptions, yet something in him still dares to hope. Father had gone courting once hint of his son’s interest reached him - the Ackermans are one of the oldest Houses of good Paradisian stock and one of the eight High Houses besides, this can bring them great prospects. Lord Lukas demurred, to Jean’s great disappointment, though he can take comfort in the fact that the offer was not met with an outright rejection. The Ackerman lord has been demurring all prospects for his only daughter for years, Jean has as much chance as any to win both father and daughter over to his suit.

He sneaks another glance at the younger Lady Ackerman and smiles at the look of sisterly pride on her face as Connie and his fellows receive their due honors. She is always so serious and austere that any moment of soft tenderness from her is such a sight to see. He drinks it all in for several heartbeats, before giving his attention back to the ongoing investiture with a renewed sense of invigoration.

Four good men had been lost to them in the North, and four good men have been named to assume their noble calling. It is always a pity to lose such paragons as Sir Eld Jinn and Sir Gunther Shultz, but Jean is more than passing certain that their squires will take up their mantles easily enough.

Beneath the resolute mask, Jean can sense Bertolt Hoover’s anxiety. He has often heard it said that Bertolt is the perfect squire: deferential, tractable, and so, so biddable. The less pleasant squires have taken to calling him the Squire behind his back, for that is all he ever will be; a proper knight should be able to lead as well as serve, and serving is all he knows. Yet the Guardsmen must have seen something in him to invite him amongst their ranks - meek and biddable he may ofttimes be yet Bertolt’s skill with arms is nothing to turn a nose up at. And being a Guardsman doesn’t require much leading, Jean supposes, unless he is the Lord Commander (and gods know Bertolt will never aspire to that). He should do well in the Guard.

Marin Tarasav will be taking Sir Adam Yaros’s post. Jean suspects this was done as some sort of apology to the Tarasavs for the Crown Prince’s… indiscretions with the Lady Gudrun Arlert. How well that will serve the late Lady Mariya’s kin is yet to be known; the appointment smells like a sop to Jean but it is what it is.

The last appointment is hopefully no sop as Sir Dorin Serech is more than eligible to replace his brother Sir Miron in the Guard. Here is another appointment that Jean can take pride in. Just like that, Marco finds himself squiring for a Royal Guardsman, and that is a boon upon a knightly aspirant such as him. Jean will see his friend rise as high as him, he is sure of it.

Four good men had been lost to them in the North. Now four good men are standing before them all, the king’s new protectors, clad in their purple cloaks clasped with their pins of silver and amethyst. The purple stones wink up at Jean as the transept erupts with thunderous applause, somehow suddenly putting to mind another entirely different stone altogether.

He wonders where the lawyer’s sunstone has gone to. The perturbed Lord Richard had discreetly gleaned the fact that the jewel was not in the priest’s person when they took him in, to their great relief. If the gods are good, it has been used for the betterment of their cause and sold off for the sake of the displaced Zhelevic. But greedy hearts are just as like to make off with something so precious. Jean hopes not; they did not risk implication just so some light-fingered bastard can make a quick profit.

Father Robert had claimed innocence to the absolute last. Jean was there at his execution, to attend his Lord Commander. The lawyer had been racked so badly that he had needed the aid of two burly men to keep him upright. Old as he was, it had not been hard to leave lasting damage; his hips, knees, and ankles had been stretched to breaking point, there was no using them ever again. But where he was headed, there would be no further use to them, not anymore. The image of the priest held up by his captors wrapped in chains, quietly bleeding, and grotesquely limp in all the wrong places haunts Jean once more. At least Robert’s had been a quicker death than his folk’s. Some of those in the fields had taken their time dying upon the noose. It was just ill luck that they did not have chains weighing them down and snapping their necks for them.

The Magister had wanted to look into Robert’s claims, but the king’s rage could not be quelled. Lord Richard is now trying to take on that mantle himself. Nice and discreet-like, as always. Tybur gaining control of Zheletov is a daunting prospect. Were the Zhelevic truly innocent, someone else was trying to tip the scales in the Consul’s favor. Father could see himself grappling with an unsanctioned insurgence, just as Yuri Halkin had. If they must point fingers, they had best gather hard evidence.

And all at once, Jean’s joy and triumph leak away to be replaced by dread. There are so many things lurking in the dark these days. These are early days, yet still… His eyes alight on the new knights before and next to him. It would seem that the realm will have need of the likes of them soon enough. What a time to be a knight.

The last enchanting strains of the high harp fade away along with the princess’s dulcet notes as she makes an end to her song. You applaud with all the rest in the queen’s presence chamber, gratified and proud of your lady. She truly has the sweetest voice.

Historia stands from her cushioned stool, giggling and waving away calls for a reprise. Her lady mother, Her Majesty Queen Linda, summons forth one of her ladies to fill the quiet her daughter left in her wake with more music. You sit upon a divan of purple velvet next to the lady and the high harp, enjoying the spell of the moment. It has been some time since last you picked up a lute or played the high harp. You quite miss singing for an audience; your mistress prefers the sound of gossip to the sound of song in her own rooms, and she would rather put your voice to spilling secrets than serenades.

There is a little rush as the young men of the court crowd around Historia, to her amused alarm. Foremost among them is Reiner Braun, who instantly waxes eloquent about the beauty of her voice and the grace of her form. You stand from your seat, inwardly shaking your head as you pass the mass of royal admirers. That one has always been the most cunt-struck of the princess’s devotees. Not that Historia will have them, anyway. The one she truly wants is beyond her reach at present.

It is a thing of great luck that you had been the one to catch the princess and her maid at their dalliance. This summer had been a blessing to them, perhaps the best they had yet received in the course of their courtship. You found yourself a conspirator in their forbidden romance the moment you were made privy to it but did not regret the fact. The happiness of your mistress and dear friend is of utmost importance. But it is not an easy thing, to keep a secret of such magnitude. As happy as you are for your princess, the fear of Historia getting caught compounded with the recent developments in the North make for heavy burdens.

Wine. I need wine.

A decanter of it sits waiting on a sideboard close to the occupied loungers by the hearth. You pour yourself a glass and walk toward the girls by the fire, who smile and hail you over.

“So good of you to join us. We were just commiserating with our poor Lady Pieck here,” Isabelle Seitz says, gesturing at the woman in black sitting on the purple velvet armchair across the one you claimed.

“I am very sorry for your loss, my lady,” you condole, which Pieck acknowledges with an incline of her head and a small smile. The only heir to House Finger of Mühllug is a striking figure. She does not have the beauty that singers and poets love but something about her dark looks draws the eye all the same; she is a great favorite of the young men of the court, and most go in thrall of her. After speaking to her that first time, you can understand why. The woman is charmingly affable and has an easy way about her.

“My lady is most kind. Although,” Pieck lowers her voice and glances around carefully, before continuing, “it wasn’t much of a loss, truly.”

Hannah Kefka shudders in her seat on the purple divan situated between the two armchairs in front of the fireplace and its gently snapping flames. “You will forgive my saying so, Pieck, but I do agree. Thank the gods for my sweet, darling Franz,” she gushes, dreamy and starry-eyed. “At least he still has all his teeth.”

“Oh, you can be sure my next husband will have all of his, Father must oblige me on that. Being gummed all over gets tiring before long. I want someone with more… bite,” Pieck gleams at you all, eliciting giggles.

“We would have the truth from you, Lady Finger. Was it gout or sex that did for your old man?” Isabelle asks eagerly, ever the busybody.

The old Lord Rahojsa had passed in his sleep three days past, leaving his young wife of two years widowed and flying back to the custody of her father. His gout prevailed over him at last, the Healers claimed, yet that proved to be too deadly dull to the tattle-loving court. His three previous marriages produced no living sons and so it was widely said that, with this new marriage and a younger, more fertile wife, he had sought to remedy that problem most enthusiastically. In the end, all that sex at his ripe old age of four-and-fifty had killed him dead, the gossipmongers giggled behind their deceptively prim and proper hands. He just could not keep up with a nineteen-year-old young woman in her prime; he lasted two years, at least, they all gave him that.

Pieck sighs and sips her wine. “I’m afraid the court has it right for once,” she announces, to Isabelle’s delight and Mina Carolina’s scandalized fascination. “That was very unseemly of him. And the disrespect. He didn’t even reach his peak,” Pieck smirks at that bit of witticism and goes on, “the least he could do is get me in pup and give me an heir but alas. Old seed is weak seed and no amount of fucking will make it take root.”

“D-did he really die while…” Mina trails off, face flushing a vivid crimson. The black-haired girl is always a delicate one when it comes to more intimate matters, yet still she oft listens in on them as though she cannot help herself.

“Oh, yes. He died in me, actually,” Pieck remarks, offhand, to all of the listening ladies’ stunned horror. “Now I have some inkling as to what it’s like to indulge in Sir Henlein’s particular penchants.”

A shudder of disgust passes through you, and you hurriedly down a mouthful of red to mask the taste of revulsion on your tongue. Sir Gabriel Henlein, by and large, is a respectable, unassuming man from a respectable and unassuming House sworn to the Reisses. He serves as castellan for his elder brother, the current Lord Henlein, and does his duty well and ably. Would that he is all he seems. The man has been seen frequenting the Phantasm, that most questionable of brothels in the Red Walk, heavily rumored to indulge in a man’s more… adventurous tastes, the least of which are beautiful corpses. You had once wondered, in revolted interest, how the place manages to acquire such commodities but decided not to satisfy your curiosity. The knowledge would most like scar you for life.

“Honestly, Sir Corpsefucker makes it seem a great deal more pleasurable than it truly is. Old he may have been but Husband - may the gods give him rest, poor soul - at least could thrust and pound away at me. Before doing so made him a corpse himself, to be sure.” Pieck shakes her head, mischievously dolorous. “While I won’t say no to taking the reins every once in a while, I would loathe having to do it all the time. I need… reciprocation, I need life and passion, and I find the dead quite lacking in those. But I suppose some men prefer their women less lively.”

A gale of laughter meets her words, and she continues. “Gout,” Pieck rolls her eyes at that. “These priests and their pretensions, I tell you.”

“At least you can have more of a say on your next husband,” you put in, once again extremely grateful to the gods (and your parents) for saddling you with the young, strapping lad that is Eren Jaeger. Such luck, indeed. At least he is less like to die in bed with you. You take another hearty gulp of wine to rid your mind of fancies that include Eren and beds. You can indulge in them later in the privacy of your chambers.

“Mm-hmm. And this time I’ll get one who actually knows where the clit is.”

Isabelle stuffs her knuckles into her mouth to smother her shriek of merriment as Hannah blushes to the roots of her hair and Mina squeaks in embarrassment, face buried in her hands.

“For all their prissy pretensions, these priests know how to name things, I give them that,” Pieck goes on, quite unmindful of the furor she has raised in your little circle. “Clitoris. Clit. I like it. The clit and the cunt, the woman’s greatest founts of pleasure.”

“Have you no shame, Pieck? You speak beneath the portrait of a queen of spotless repute,” you chide in jest, covering your mouth in amusement. It is a pity Historia isn’t with you. She would have much and more to contribute to the chinwag, were she free of her persistent zealots.

Pieck glances at the portrait hanging above the glass-fronted cupboard beside the hearth and snorts most inelegantly. “Oh, spare me your shame. All queens have clits and cunts, and that one’s were used often and well, as her fourteen children could attest.” Eleanor of Aviçon stares down at you all, a comely woman with pretty, brown doe’s eyes and hair cascading down her shoulders in soft, elegant brown ringlets. She certainly does not look very reproachful or scandalized. “But, truly, is she as spotless as they would all have us believe? You don’t get fourteen whelps by being a virginal nelly. Pretty thing, though, isn’t she? Small wonder Berthold the Buck couldn’t get his royal prick out of her. Now that’s a man who knows where the clit is, if his reputation was anything to go by.”

“Oh! Speaking of whelps-” Isabelle leans forward, sly and underhand. “I heard that the Constant Whore has gotten herself in pup.”

“Gods, that Alma woman,” you remark, voice snide and cool and forbidding all of a sudden. You do not think much of the king’s official mistress. The Alma woman had first entered court as Historia’s governess and, by all your friend’s accounts, did a botched job of it. She spent the barest time educating her royal charge and preferred to moon around court, preening and flirting with the men.

While you thought this fantastically negligent, it paled to the utterly appalling way the supposed governess had treated her ward that one fateful day.

Historia, ever the affectionate child, had tried to hug her lady tutor. The woman forgot herself entirely and shoved the little princess away so hard that she hit the edge of the desk the governess was sitting in front of. That broke Historia’s nose and the bitch’s contract. Furthermore, for harming one of the blood royal, Alma would have lost her own nose - had she not seduced her former charge’s kingly father.

It was some spell, some potion, some hedge witchery, that made the king so beholden to her, the court liked to claim. She escaped punishment and was given her old post back, to the queen’s horror. Long had she tolerated her husband’s infidelities but this she would not bear. He could do as he liked with this new whore, but never again must she go anywhere near the royal children. An easy enough stipulation to adhere to, for the king, and so it was done. Today, Madam Alma is a governess in name only - everyone knows what she truly is.

“Hmm, she’s been the official whore for a decade, and not once has she whelped. Why now?” Pieck wonders, tapping long, shapely fingers against her bottom lip.

“If she thinks to have her bastard legitimized, she has another thing coming. The king’s never acknowledged any one of them. And why should he? He has two living sons, six children in all by Her Majesty,” Isabelle opines.

“Someone forgot to drink her söga,” you remark, but then add, “He did acknowledge his get from Tatyana Alyokhina earlier this year, but that was only because she’s highborn.”

“Perhaps she thinks to get the same settlement as the lady?” Hannah puts forward. “He gave her rich holdings for her upkeep. Perhaps Alma’s banking on him doing the same for her since she’s been favored so long.”

Pieck stands and heads to the sideboard to refill her glass. “What’s her secret, do you reckon? How does one become a Constant Whore? The king flits and fucks where he will but somehow, he always comes back to her.” She returns and settles back into her armchair, glass sufficiently full. Gossip is thirsty work, after all.

You look away, mockingly prim. “I wouldn’t know. I’m still an honest maid, I wouldn’t know her whore’s tricks, I’m still pure and quite untouched.” Pieck snorts and shoots a swift artful glance over at Roman Meledin chatting animatedly with his betrothed by one of the tall glass windows.

“Whatever the case, poor Queen Linda, having to bear all of that for all this time. And she handles it with such grace, too,” Mina comments, a little sadly, and you all glance over at Her Majesty, where she is sitting on her throne at the end of the chamber, sewing shirts for the poor with her retinue. Her ladies are all huddled around her feet, skirts spread out around them in rich swathes of silk and samite and satin as they go about their work. Beside them all, the recently widowed Lady Elena Tarana sings her songs with a sweet sadness. The whole scene makes for a charming tableau.

“Speak of poor ladies, though, I do commiserate with the Lady Tarana.” Hannah watches the lady at her play with a gaze of solemn sympathy. “I cannot imagine what I would do if my sweet Franz leaves me for the Fields.”

And there it is. You shift a little in your seat, your grip tightening a little around the gilt stem of your glass. You knew it would come to this eventually. How can it not when it hangs over the court like a bloody shroud? It is all you can do not to leap off of your chair and sweep out of the queen’s rooms.

Pieck turns to you, to your utter dread. “Have they found a likely candidate for the new Procurator yet?”

You take a little wine and smile your courtier’s smile. “Father is of the opinion that the king has his man, though he hasn’t said who exactly. I suppose we’ll know come winter when the court reconvenes.” Poor mousy little Anton Taran. The lord treasurer had been a casualty in the northern ambush all those weeks ago, curiously and woefully the only one of the Conclave to perish. A chill runs through you at the reminder of how close Father had been to being one of those casualties. You give yourself a little shake, deep within. No use dwelling on the what-ifs. Onward and upward. Onward and upward.

“I still can’t believe the Skaryns are gone,” Mina says in a hushed tone, her fingers curling on her lap. “It seems like only yesterday when I was speaking to Margarita Skaryna about northern fashions… I cannot wrap my head around it.”

“The Halkins truly are lucky,” Isabelle speaks after a short silence. “They may have lost a lot but better their lands and prestige than their lives.”

Kostrokan now belongs to the Volnys, one of the few Kostrokish Houses who are partial to the king. The Halkins had lost most of their lands to the new Paramount House but were allowed to keep the wardenship of the Godsway. All important activity and business in the State will move to the new capital, Konicaj, the ancient seat of the Volnys, now bigger with the addition of the neighboring Elibine lands.

The Crown State of Mitras saw itself expanding as well with the addition of Zheletov to the royal lands of Herstadt. The Volny appointment had come as quite a surprise to the court, as many and more had thought that a wardenship was in the cards for Tybur. It will seem that the king is still short with his cousin, no matter the recent shower of favors. Perhaps he thought a wardenship would be too much on top of the governance of Ishvelune.

This has not been met with bleak silence. Already, reports of stirring dissidents from the rest of the North are coming down to the capital. Thus far, most of the northern lords, cowed by the show of royal rage, have kept the discontent from getting out of hand.

The brewing, ever-growing conflict in the highlands feeds the stuff of your worst fears. It is good that the autumn reprieve is upon you at last. The comforts of home are much welcome and sorely, sorely missed. Down in the far South, at least, the North and its increasing tensions are far, far away and will not touch you and those you love. Tomorrow cannot come fast enough. I need to be away. Away.

“I beg your pardon, my ladies, but the hour grows late and I still have much packing to supervise with my household,” you announce to your little circle, who groan and pout and plead for your continued presence, only to yield to your pretext with goodbyes and well-wishes for a safe journey home on the morrow.

Never mind that your goods are packed and waiting for the grooms to cord them all up in the baggage train in the morning. A nice calming soak in the bath (and a good book) will do you wonders. You have the winter season to reel in whatever fresh miseries the realm will see fit to give you. Let autumn be your escape.

And Eren. You smile to yourself as you make to leave the queen’s chambers, having just finished your goodnights and farewells with your princess, who looked mournful at the reminder of the court’s reprieve. Autumn and home and Eren. These are what await you soon, your greatest comforts.

Your plans of escape and baths are abruptly dashed by no less a personage than your princess’s betrothed. To say you are surprised will be understating things. Jurgen has never paid you heed in all your years at court together. He does not seem to be in his cups as well, which makes your wariness instantly rise along with your courtier’s mask. It would have been a great deal easier to put him off were he drunk - easy enough to outwit and outmaneuver a man in his cups than one outside them.

Linse brings you on with pretensions to poetry, and you sigh to yourself. Very well. If he wants to play at courtly love (please gods, let it be only courtly love) then you can indulge him. You are no novice to the romance of the court, the least and meanest sort of romance that, in the surface, seems to promise you everything but more often than not promises nothing at all.

And so you find yourself sitting on the window seat of one of the chamber’s embrasures, doing your utmost best not to glance outside the leaded panes in utter boredom as the Linse boy recites his (terrible) verses to you. He is now attempting to write sonnets to your beauty, waving away your politely pointed remark about his betrothed, the Princess Historia Reiss, and how he should be writing of her instead.

“It would please me to write of you, my lady,” Linse simpers. “A woman of such surpassing beauty deserves to be written of, to be made immortal in verse. Indeed, you are so beautiful that it is the duty of every man to love and praise you, and I have always been a dutiful man. Besides,” a dark, almost nasty look flashes across his face as he glances over at the crowd of young men around Historia, so fast you almost miss it, “my most beloved betrothed has all the sonnets she needs. She will not miss mine.”

The smile on your face has taken on a fixed quality, you are sure of it. A demurral slips onto the tip of your tongue.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short, Linse. I’m sure you can trounce them all, with that silver tongue of yours.”

Your heart stops and you look up with a hastily stifled gasp. Eren is standing before your seat, face dark as an autumn storm, utterly at odds with the saffron-yellow tunic he is wearing. The added couple of inches to his height are used to impressive effect; he towers over you and your aspirant poet, and you can see, from the corner of your eye, Jurgen shrink a little but recover himself almost at once.

“You flatter me, Sir, but I must confess I believe my wit and my silver tongue have been entirely spent in the service of the Amethyst Empress,” he gleams at you in your silver and purple gown and your hairpiece of amethysts. “And so I have nothing for any other, no wit, no words, no love.”

That last word makes your betrothed’s eyes flash. “Oh, surely you have wit enough to know when to fucking piss off. My lord.” His hand has gone to the ornamental bronze belt around his waist, to where his blade will normally hang if he has it.

You twine your fingers together upon your lap. The very air within the chambers has, all of a sudden, grown peculiarly hot and cold at the same time.

"Eren-"

“Very well. I have overstayed my welcome, it seems, I am wise enough to admit defeat. If you desire more… refined company, you need only ask, my lady. I bid you good night,” Jurgen Linse gives you a winning smile as he stands with his things in hand. “Sir,” this he directs at Eren coolly, before taking his leave, all proper and dignified.

Eren watches him go, his jaw clenched tight with anger. One year of betrothal and friendship had never given you cause to fear him yet now… You chew on your lip at the look on his face. Never have you seen him so livid. You reach up, tentative and uncertain, for his hand, nearly flinching back as his incensed gaze flicks to you, quick and abrupt and menacing.

His expression softens as he catches sight of you, and he sighs. His fingers, long and calloused, lace through yours, allowing you to draw him down to the window seat with you.

“Fucking prick,” he growls, and his hand tightens around yours. “Any other respectable man would’ve been put off by a betrothal necklace… the fucking gall-” And he trails off into furious mutters, something something something ‘how dare he mention love to someone spoken for’ and ‘fucking spoiled pretentious lordlings,’ and other invectives that make you smile despite the situation.

“I thank you, Sir, for delivering me from the utter tedium that was Jurgen Linse’s verse,” you interpose through his irate tirade, successfully breaking him from his monologue.

He looks at you a moment and smiles, a little grudgingly. “Isn’t that what knights are for? Saving ladies from cunts like Jurgen Linse. It’s a duty I’ll happily hold to if it concerns you.” He glares around at the rest of the room, at the young men with their marks for the night, flirting, endlessly flirting. “Had I known better, I would’ve asked if I was looking at Some Boy.”

You take care not to let your eyes stray over to Roman and his beloved, and ventures, “Still on the scent, are you?”

“No,” Eren says mulishly, then amends, sullen and sour, “It makes no matter, anyway. I still wouldn’t be able to get so much as a peep of his name from you. But I’m sure one of these outstanding paragons of chivalry was the former favorite.” He gazes around once more, eyes narrowed and suspicious.

The thinly veiled jealousy in his tone is gratifying and concerning in equal measure. “Well, I can’t risk you making mince of his face. Such a scandal is something I am not disposed to manage.”

“It’s no more than he deserves,” Eren mutters, thunderously dark once more to your dawning dismay. His fingers dig almost painfully against the back of your hand. You wince a little and flutter your fingers within his hold. At once, he loosens his grip with hasty apologies and gentle strokes of your skin with his thumb.

The true depths of his jealousy had never been made clearer to you as it was then. You are not entirely sure how to take it. It had seemed a light thing once, common enough in boys (and girls) who had a claim on another. Yet you cannot help but sense a certain darkness in his envy, something dark and deep and dangerous, a shadow beneath his abyss.

You being that familiar with another man doesn’t sit well with me at all.

A shudder goes through you at the memory of his ominous tone that spring night. There was something thrilling in it; there was something chilling in it.

You give him a placating smile. “It’s in the past, Eren. Whatever feelings and dealings there were between me and Some Boy are long gone. And how many times must I give you tokens for you to see where my favor lies these days?”

The smile he flashes you then is a deal more genuine, and what chill there is in the air slowly begins to dissipate. He has yet to let go of your hand.

You sigh inwardly, relieved. “So, what brings you ‘round these parts? Correct me if I’m wrong but I have never recalled you visiting the queen’s rooms before.” Which is not out of the ordinary, for him. Only the flirtiest men are constant guests in these royal chambers. The royal women’s maids and ladies are often to be found thereabouts in service to their mistresses, and so the men buzz about, drawn to beauty and elegance as bees are drawn to flowers. As it is, the queen’s presence chamber has always and will perhaps forever be the place of flirtation. Queen Eleanor the Elegant set a strong tradition for it, at any rate.

Another look at your betrothed has you wanting to stifle a laugh. Eren Jaeger, with his grounded earnestness, is entirely out of place amongst his fawning, sycophantic peers, masters all of the art of courtly love, the best and most passionate of liars. He is the least flirtiest boy you have ever met. Well, except for Armin. Like calls to like, as they say.

“I stopped visiting about… a couple of years after I entered court?” Eren glances around, taking in the tasteful music, the greatest beauties of the realm, and the myriad, endless circles of flirtation, and shakes his head. “Nothing has changed from what I recall of it. I was only here because I was new to court and easily biddable. I went my own way soon enough. I’d rather do something more worthwhile like training than waste my time here flirting and being idle.” A peek at your face has him quickly adding, “Not that everything you do here is idle. Sewing shirts for the poor is a noble task! It’s just the rest of it that I don’t hold with.”

You giggle at his little fumble, glad to see his features clear of the storm that had beset it earlier. You squeeze his hand gently (still he will not free you). “We’re more idle than not in these rooms, true enough. But going back to my question: what brings you ‘round these parts?”

Eren blinks at you, as though the answer should have been obvious. “You. I wanted your company so I looked for you. They told me you were here so here I am. Honestly, only your presence could persuade me to set foot in this place again.” The jaundiced, suspicious look from earlier returns to tarnish his face. “Perhaps I should make it a habit. If only to fend off the scum…”

The beginnings of a tremble start to assail your upper lip. You place a hand over your mouth and titter, like some milkmaid being given the best of the summer berries by the farm hand she has been eyeing over at the other pasture. His last few words do not even register, so great is your glee. A fleeting gaze around the room shows you the friends you are supposed to have left some time ago, looking over at you with raised eyebrows and quizzical smiles.

Elsewhere, you can see a handful of the younger, prettier maids eyeing your betrothed, giggling and whispering behind their own delicate hands. The sight is enough to curdle the joy inside you. You are not the only one enamored of Eren Jaeger’s dashing good looks - you have quite forgotten that. He’s not here for them, though, the girl inside you whispers, smugly triumphant. He doesn’t belong to them. “Jurgen Linse should take notes - your conversation is so much better than his verse. Your budding poet trumps his practicing poet by leagues.”

“Is that what you want?”

You stare at him, confused by the unexpected query. And by his expression. There is that strangely blank look again, the very same that he had worn the day he failed to kiss you. It perplexes you now as it did then. Before you can ask what he means, he goes on, “Are the flowers not enough? Do you want the flowery words, the poems, the grand gestures?” He looks out across the chambers once more, and the emptiness is filled with uncertainty. “It’s what you’re used to, after all. And… I’m not. What you’re used to. Did Some Boy write you poems? Maybe I could be more-”

“I don’t want any of that.”

That look of surprise on his sweet face will always remain so endearing to you. You bring both your entwined hands up so you can cup that sweet face into your palm and feel the warmth of him. “I don’t want the poems and the grand gestures and the empty flirtations,” you tell him, as earnest as he. “Any words you say are verse enough to my ears. I don’t need or want you to be a grand romantic, ‘Ren. I like you just as you are: a novice and utterly, helplessly useless at courtly love. Because that makes you more real. I’d rather have your simple truths than any man’s flowery lies.”

His eyes turn to green glass and you see, with a jolt of shock, the film of tears that gloss over and fill the verdant pools near to overflowing.

Oh, sweetheart.

“Are you crying, ‘Ren?” you ask lightly, gently, tenderly rubbing your thumb across the apple of his left cheek. You note, with a small pang, the new red scar above his left eyebrow - a token of his knighthood, of the day he earned it.

He sniffles and turns his head to bury his face in your hand as if to hide away. His grip on you tightens. “No,” he mumbles in a small, thick voice, muffled by your palm. The tips of his darling ears have turned a pretty pink.

Your heart melts even more. “I would believe that whole tosh about having nothing for any other if it came from you,” you tell him, wanting more, more of this sweet, endearing, darling Eren who is quickly becoming the delight of your eyes. The side of his face that you can see has turned a deeper scarlet, to your elation, his skin so warm that, had you known better, you would have thought he had a fever. “And, you know, I wouldn’t like you as much if you were flirtier.” He is no Jean Kirschtein or Reiner Braun, the most proficient of flirts. But that is good. He need only flirt with you.

And he is more than passing capable, you think, now finding your own cheeks prickling as you recall his many attempts at seduction. All true and honest and successful, oh-so successful, which is more than you can say for the ones you have received over the years. You cannot even claim as much; he makes a more candid flirt than you, who only know the language of courtly love and have never dabbled in love sincere.

Eren emerges at last from the cover of your hand, face still Rhyzkov crimson but with eyes a clear Jaeger green, no longer of glass. He smiles up at you a little tremulously, lifts your hand from his face, and places the gentlest of kisses across the back of your knuckles.

Your skin still tingles long after you had set yourself the task of fetching wine for you both. His lips are pillow soft and pleasantly warm. Your friends swarm up to you to make inquiries to your continued presence yet you hardly notice, interacting on reflex with your mind firmly attached to your betrothed and his gentle mouth across your skin.

You come to him with wine and a smile, and for a long while you speak of the morrow and autumn and home, everything but your brief intimacy. Yet still it lingers deep. You have never dabbled in love sincere. Perhaps it is time that you have. It is ridiculous of you, you have come to realize, to always deal with false coin in the market of love when all along there has been another, better, truer currency of pure gold. That pure gold is now in your reach - it will be foolish to continue to dismiss the true and the valuable for the false and the lesser.

The talk turns to knighthood at length, as it inevitably will with this new-made knight.

“How has knighthood been so far? The little taste of it you’ve had, I mean,” you inquire, cradling your wineglass and settling back comfortably in the cushions of the window seat.

“It’s strange not being at Sir Levi’s beck and call now, for a start. To think he’s actually a peer. The greatest knight of the realm himself is my peer,” Eren says wonderingly after a mouthful of wine. “And I’ve already met little Falco.” A fond smile spreads across his lips. “Good lad. I hope to make a fine knight of him someday. I’ll introduce you when we go back to court after the reprieve.” He lets out a huff of air, an anxious gesture at the thought of having such influence on another’s fortune. “All the rest of it’ll be arranged come winter. And then… my knighthood commences. At last.”

The way he said this last was less exultant than the statement warranted. The smile slowly fades from his face as he stares down at the depths of his drink. “I thought I’d be happier,” he admits after a time. “I have everything I want, haven’t I? Everything I’ve dreamed of, worked for, served for. I finally have it but… it holds no joy for me.”

Clear as day, you see the gleam of a falling axe. And the slow creep of red. “The horrors are still fresh. I suppose not even the savor of knighthood can wash the taste of copper from our mouths.”

“I don’t know who to rage against. The northmen for their treachery or the king for his cruelty.”

“Hush,” you say at once, looking around swiftly for too-close ears. All are far off and out of earshot of treason, to your great fortune. Eren shoots you a mutinous look but does not press on, to your relief. “Dangerous to say such things here, close to royal hearing,” you tell him in an undertone.

Eren sighs and drains his glass. “You’re right. As usual.” He smiles ruefully. “I didn’t mean to weigh down the air. And it’s such a good night, too.” He squares his shoulders and straightens up, extending a hand toward you. “I’m a knight, the reprieve’s upon us, and Arsechkala awaits. We have a lot to rejoice.”

You glance at his face to his hand and back again, smile, and lace your fingers through his. You leave the queen’s chambers light and cheery. No use dwelling on unpleasantness. It will always be there, waiting. In the meantime, you will live and carry on and snatch joy where you can.

“Don’t forget to finish your packing,” you remind him once you reach the set of corridors that will take you to your respective apartments.

Eren groans and whines like a spoiled child. “Yes, m’lady.” A look of mischief rolls over his face, quick as a wink. “Perhaps m’lady would like to help me with my packing. Two is better than one, as they say, and the work’ll go faster.”

“Are you luring me to your rooms? At this hour?” you reply without a hitch in your bearing, though your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest. “For shame, Sir. Knights are supposed to be paragons of virtue. How dare you tempt me into bed with you.”

Eren is smirking now, hot and sensual all of a sudden. “It was worth a stab.” And he pulls you toward him by your interlaced fingers.

Your heart stops as he bends down to brush his lips across your cheek. Soap and wood and Eren engulfs your senses, and the burn of his touch feels good. Terrifyingly so.

Eren straightens up leisurely and stares down at you. “Far be it from me to tempt you to sin. Though,” his eyes, turning slowly black as sin, skim over your face with a measured hunger, “you have the look for it.” His fingers slip from yours to run lightly over the spot where he had kissed you. “A token of good night. Perhaps you’ll dream of me, then. My lady.” He inclines his head, gaze dark and intense, and leaves you standing in the middle of the hall.

There is a loud pounding of drums, and it takes you a while to realize it is coming from your own chest. Absently, you find yourself touching your face. Burning, burning with fever.

I already dream of you.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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A/N:

At last! The first chapter of the year! Have a 15K word chapter for the month-long absence!

Soooooo the modern AU oneshot was shoved to the backburner because my inner muses decided to focus on this instead. Since it’s my beloved baby, I couldn’t resist. Alsosmutcomeseasiertomewhenitactuallyhasaplot... asdasdsdfsdfjsdfjskfs

Did I mean for Chap. 13 to be filled with executions and introspection? Not really, but the stars aligned ✨

Added one (1) throwaway sentence to Proctor Nick's dialogue in chap. 6 about not offending the North just to tie it neatly to things mentioned here.

And yes, clit is a word in this world. I tried making it sound better and more “poetic” but I risked making it sound awkward. I do not want to go down the route of wordy phrases and descriptions for a tiny body part that will see a lot of play later (HEH). It all ends up sounding horribly and awkwardly like 'fat pink mast' and I have to repeat words that sound like that every time the clit is mentioned and. Just no.

And have more kisses to compensate for the failed attempt! It’s still a start! (Was I giggling and taking so many breaks because I couldn’t handle Eren and his Eren-ness? Yes). ‘Home’ awaits next time and thank you for reading, to my readers!!!

Tagging: @alekstraszas @lukepattersin @aki-and-saltfish

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren jeager x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

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deonaenaeh · 2 years

Text

heizou’s jitte – ꒰ GET TO KNOW ME !! ´ˎ˗

1┊about me

💼🔍 – hello i'm deonaeh !! i write and draw ; she/her ; intj 8w9 ; certified heizou simp ; ar 54

i usually make genshin content but i’m also part of many fandoms ;))

➽ dni & reminders

2┊content i write

🖋 fanfictions • headcanons • povs • both sfw and nsfw

genres : fluff • smut • angst • crackfics

➽ masterlist

3┊random

🤎🔍 – ☼ libra sun ; ☾ pisces moon ; ↑ aquarius rising • choleric - melancholic • ambidextrous • dark / light / classic academia • classical pianist and violinist • cabin 6 - athena

4┊꒰♡꒱

💕🔍 – cats ; beetles ; orca ; red ; maroon ; brown ; beige ; purple ; piano ; violin ; yogurt ice cream ; takoyaki

5┊favorites

💕🔍 – genshin impact ; the promised neverland ; studio ghibli ; pjo ; asoue ; twoset violin ; rusty lake ; the queen's gambit ; into the spider-verse ; spy x family ; omori ; atla ; dangerous fellows ; ride your wave ; words bubble up like soda pop ; bubble ; colorful ; uzumaki ; junji ito

6┊loml

💕🔍 – heizou ; kazuha ; scaramouche ; cyno ; xingqiu ; chongyun ; razor ; albedo ; aether ; percy jackson ; leslie 71548 ; miles morales ; klaus boudelaire ; sokka ; haku ; obanai iguro ; minato (ride your wave) ; sugawara koshi ; shirabu kenjiro ; future trunks ; loid forger

💕🔍 – beidou ; ningguang ; mona ; yun jin ; yanfei ; nilou ; lisa ; lumine ; annabeth chase ; mari ; beth harmon ; isabella 73548 ; mel medarda ; gwen stacy ; violet baudelaire ; momo yaoyorozu ; pieck finger ; reyna avila ramirez-arellano ; kyoko kirigiri ; yor forger

7┊ships

💕🔍 – heizuha ; xingyun ; xiaoyu ; scaramona ; beigguang ; scarazuha ; scaraheizou ; chilumi ; character x reader

💌 note : i am currently not taking requests as i have many ideas at the moment. feel free to send if you have any but i may not immediately write it, unless it gives me ideas for a solid plot line — i will credit you, of course! you can also send requests on my twitter (@DE0NAEH) and ig (@deonaeh) but for now, i am writing for myself.

— i write for male and female characters. i’m currently focused on male characters at the moment but i’ll be feeding my bi and sapphic readers soon !! <33

— sfw and nsfw content

— check out my ig and twt for art ;))

thank you !!

╰┈➤ follow me !!

twitter : @DE0NAEH | ao3 • ig : @deonaeh

anonymous messages <33 : sayout.me/say/deonaeh

#introduction #get to know me #heizou’s jitte 💕🔍#deonaeh #genshin impact #heizou’s wife #heizou #kaedehara kazuha #scaramouche #cyno #spy x family #the promosed neverland

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svmiidarling · 2 years

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About my blog ♡

(..◜ᴗ◝..) Hi! I'm Sumi εїз I'm lesbian, I use They/them pronouns and write sapphic (wlw, wlnb, nblnb) things.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Multifandom, sfw/nsfw content. Requests : open!

DNI: male/male aligned people, anyone Uranic (any gender attracted to anyone not a women), homophobes/lesbiphobes or anything like that.

Female/female aligned people, enbys, sapphic trans women, people who identify as any sort of sapphic! You get my point please interact <333

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rules: I will write smut (as long as the character is and adult) and fluff for most characters. I mainly reader x character. I do not do any kind of incest, scat/piss, feet, n0nc0n, or anything to do with anal or periods type content. I also do not do anything besides sapphic relationships, so please do not request anything x male. Please note most of the time the reader will be using she/her or they/them pronouns unless requested otherwise, I can do any pronouns you request :) Also please be polite when requesting things, no means no, and all questions are welcome as long as they're respectful

Fandoms/characters I will write for

Attack on Titan ❖ Mikasa Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Pieck Finger, Yelana, Annie Leonhart, Ymir

Spy x Family ❖ Yor Forger

Genshin Impact ❖ Beidou, Eula, Ei, Yae Miko, Lisa, Jean, Ganyu, or almost any adult female

Demon Slayer ❖Shinobu Kocho, Misturi Kanroji,

#abt

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nightshade-rules · 5 months

Text

thinking about pieck after a long mission

pieck can never stand up straight without wincing after a longer deployment, always hunched over and fighting the instinctive urge to be on all fours. she can do it, she’ll walk properly, biting her tongue bloody as she does, always standing up-right in front of the eldian soldiers, she’ll put on a brave face in front of the parades welcoming the titan shifters homes. but porco is always nearby to catch her if she stumbles. it’s when the group finally gets inside the eldian warriors’ compound that she allows herself to relax, accepting zeke and porco’s help gratefully.

and when she finally sees you, standing further down the hallway, just out of view of the rest of the public? she practically shoves the boys away from her, stumbling the few feet into your arms and practically collapsing, an odd mixture of a hug and being used as a crutch. she shoves her face into your neck with a tired sigh and you can feel her eyes lashes fluttering against your neck. when you laugh, she bites down on the skin on your neck, merciless. at your yelp, she has the audacity to laugh, demanding that you take her to the physical therapist. you always do as she commands, pressing a long kiss to her hair, shifting so you take more of her weight and leading her through the winding halls of the compound, listening intently as she murmurs about her time away.

despite having a titan known for stamina, it’s her literal super power, pieck always manages to push it too far. it leaves you worried at the dark bruises under her eyes and lethargic movements. when she finally goes to sleep after a long deployment, truly sleep and not the quick naps during deployment that last less than a couple hours, she’s asleep for at least a full day. and you are, according to her, required to stay with her. she’ll latch onto you, grumbling and pulling you tighter to her when you try to escape. the only reason you get to leave is to get her food when she demands it, feeding the sleepy warrior fruits and sweets even though she can barely keep her eyes open. you press kisses to her lips between bites, heart swelling with the little giggles she gives.

when she is in her titan form, she gets hungrier much slower than normal. the titan isn’t her body, she hardly moves at all, never expanding much energy beyond mental. she doesn’t eat much on missions, it’s not necessary for her, she’s rather save it for her soldiers. but by the time she gets back, she misses eating food. so you gather all of her favorite foods, as much decaf coffee you can manage to get a hold of and prepare a feast for her. and the way her face lights up when she sees all of the baked goods and fruits spread across your dining table when you two finally make it to your guys’ quarters is always worth how much lighter your wallet feels. you both sit down to eat the muffins, the scones, the strawberries and apples, you warm up and assemble crepes for her. you love to watch her eat her food, smiling at the little grins she has when she eat something she likes, the hums of pure happiness. porco has told you more than once how much of a dope you look when you watch your girlfriend. when she eats her full, you usher her to the shower, packing up the leftovers for the morning, or whenever she demands more. you’re only given a few minutes before she’s yelling, calling you into the shower with her with a pout in her voice. and who are you to deny an eldian warrior?

pieck is a monster when she gets back from missions. once she’s finally cleared from her physical therapist, comfortably full and finally clean from an actual shower after months of rag washes, she’s all over you. she’s relentless, pressing heated kisses to your damp skin as you try to dry off from the shower, she could care less about the water still dripping down her pale skin, rivulets rolling down between her breasts. you try not to drool as you trace the water’s path. she pushes you out of the bathroom and onto the disheveled bed in your distraction, taking the towel from your hands and throwing it somewhere. she’s beautiful in the bedroom light, dark hair flowing loosely down her back, her skin unmarked and perfect and eyes black as night. she crawls over you with a smirk, dragging her tongue up your stomach, between your breasts eyes lidded as she stares up at you. she mouths at your neck, leaving marks to match the bite she’d given you earlier before she makes it to your ear, “show me just how much you missed me, darling,” before she’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

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conniespringerblkwife · 3 years

Note

Hello idk if your request are open (if not then just ignore it) but can I get some AOT girls head canon on how you started dating please and thank you.

I saw this a couple days ago (I think??) and I’m actually almost done with it BUT here’s a snippet...

Warning: this is a draft so it has not been edited

Full version here

ALSO: I’m taking requests!!

Ymir:

-This bitch was annoying when you first met her.

-she would make fun of how you would run, talked, breathed, ANything!! You hated that freckeld bitch.

-You did everything in your power to avoid her.

-Ymir liked teasing you just to see your reations. She liked getting you worked up because she knew she was the only one that could get under your skin.

-SHe enjoyed watching your face would fall whenever she was near. WHat she loved the most about your facial expressions was that your lip would slightly hang and she would quickly look at it, wanting nothing more than to rub her thumb across it.

-She also enjoyed saying things like "I know you want me." when you try to fight back.

-She also the type to say "when or where." When you say "fuck you."

-You reached your breaking point one night when you two were trapped in a snow storm and couldn't find the cabin.

-Ymir kept sayin things like it was your fault and how you were useless, until you turned around and finally sstood your ground.

-Ymir tried to hold back her smirk as she watched you rage.

-When you were done, she noticied the pout you had and pulled your to her chest, giving you a messy kiss.

-you were confused but the feeling of her lips against yours felt so good you couldnt resist.

-Ymir was a messy kisser. She stuck her tongue in your mouth and tasted every part of it trying not to maon.

-she then told hyou to stick out her tongue so she could suck on it.

-You two no longered were cold because of the warmth of the kiss spreaded throughout you two bodies.

-When she pulled away, she had a smirk plastered on her face and you smackede her.

-SHe was shock but then smiled again, pulling you into another kiss

-In conclusion this bitch is crazy

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ficsforeren · 2 years

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List of my upcoming works (Feb - March 2022)

Chapter 3 Release Date: 27 FEBRUARY 2022

UPDATE: ALREADY POSTED HERE

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst

Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world’s population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. You and Eren Jaeger are both survivors crossing paths in the cruel world, but together, you’re able to find some beauty in it.

Snippet:

Eren continues to rock his hips until he meets a certain angle that makes you shudder. Only then does he curses in an undertone, his voice so husky and unpolished, almost like a growl.

“Do that again,” he says and you’re too dazed to know what he’s talking about. So he decides to take control, hitting the same angle and leaving you with no choice but to clench your walls around him just like you did earlier. He thrusts hard, over and over, pumping with a ferocity he’s never felt in his life. Possession. White-hot need. Pure animal fucking.

“Eren—” You gasp out, feeling your orgasm building up. “Eren, fuck, slow down—”

Chapter 1 Release Date: 12 MARCH 2022

A collaboration fic with @smfics, art by: @NxngOna on Twitter

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Pornstar AU, Smut, Fluff

Summary: Over the last four years, you’ve become a rising star in the adult entertainment industry. Yet, you can’t seem to forget one of the actors you met in the very beginning of your career — Eren Jaeger. You might even say you’ve got a bit of a crush on him with how often you watch his videos. When you’re hired by Bellesa Films to shoot a sex video, they allow you to choose your partner, and without hesitation you state out his name. While the sex is bliss, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, you’re ignorant to the truth behind your years-long crush.

Snippet:

On Zeke’s cue, Eren and Porco entered you and Pieck at the same time, pushing you both forward and forcing your lips to meet. You moaned when you felt Pieck’s mouth parting yours, her slick tongue plunged and plundered. Eren sank his nails a little harder on Pieck’s hips as he pounded his hips faster, encouraged by the pretty sounds of your whine. Eren had watched his fair share of porn, but damn, none of those girls ever sounded as sensual as you.

How are you going to sound when you moan my name? he wondered.

You broke away from the kiss, letting out a little, “ah, ah, ah,” with every thrust Porco gave you. Eren’s eyes darkened. Jealousy gnawing at his chest like a hungry wolf.

It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me.

Release Date: 30 MARCH 2022

Sequel to Restrained

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Smut, Fluff, Romance

Summary: After you edged him multiple times during sex last week, Eren was only eager to get his revenge on you. He wants to tie you up and wreck you apart until you cry, begging for your release. So when he takes you out to celebrate his birthday together, things won’t turn as you expected it would be.

Snippet:

You’re woken up by a slap, however, when you feel him ramming his cock back inside you with a sudden force.

“Baby,” Eren breathes heavily against your ear, “You better remember that I love you," you can feel his teeth grazing against your earlobe as he growls his next words, "‘cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

“Oh—God—” you sob out, your entire body being pushed forward with his merciless thrust.

Eren fucks like the devil, but he brings heaven to you.

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titanicsimp · 3 years

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Mine, his, ours

Pairing: Zeke Yeager x Female!reader/Porco Galliard x reader/Reiner Braun x reader

Genres: Smut

Warnings: Sexual content including; gangbang, vaginal and anal sex, oral, cockwarming, creampies, fingering, double and triple penetration.

Summary: Zeke asks you to join him during a meeting with Porco and Reiner, but you never imagined he did so to tease you in front of them.

A/N: Shoutout to @pandorasbox126 for letting me spitball this idea to her 😌 like two weeks ago already but still

The Warriors meetings were usually a private affair, reserved only for its members, but you had just been invited.

It had surprised you when Zeke told you he would like you to come along with him to the meeting later that day. You had been going out with him for over half a year, and you had never been to one. You of course had accepted, excited to get closer to the others.

The building was almost completely cleared up when you arrived. You didn’t think anything odd of it, it was quite late after all. The Warriors had a busy schedule so late night meetings had happened once or twice before if you recalled correctly.

Zeke gives you a smile as you approach, greeting you excitedly. “There you are. Come on, the others are already waiting.” He tells you and throws an arm over your shoulder.

You glance around the empty hallways curiously as he leads you to the meeting room. It’s all pretty plain and clean, you aren’t sure what else you expected.

When you and Zeke stand outside of the door, you stop him from opening it.

“Anything I should know before we enter?” You ask him nervously, glancing up at him.

His hand on your shoulder squeezes you reassuringly. “Remember to relax.”

You nod and enter the meeting room with Zeke. Reiner and Porco are indeed already waiting, sitting on the couch that’s on the left of the big oak table in the middle.

You give them a bright smile and wave. “Hello guys.”

They both greet you back. You notice that even though they are acting nonchalantly like usual, their eyes seem to drift over you eagerly. No way, you think to yourself, you are mistaking.

Zeke pulls out a chair for you on the right side of the table and you happily sit down. He takes a seat next to you, giving you a tiny smile before he turns his attention to the rest of the Warriors.

You suddenly realize that you are missing someone. “Uhm, is Pieck not coming?”

Porco leans his arm over the backrest of the couch. “Nope. She’s not feeling well or something.”

You nod your head. Even they get sick now and then you suppose.

Silence falls over the room before Zeke clears his throat. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Whether we should let Braun be eaten already.” Porco says, a grin on his face.

Reiner shakes his head, crossing his arms. “Shut up, Galliard.”

He looks at you. “We are discussing defense.”

You give Reiner a appreciative smile. Fuck though, you don’t know shit about that.

As the three of them start going over defense tactics and possible adjustments, you start feeling lost. You fiddle with your hands in your lap, grateful that Porco and Reiner can’t see your nerves.

Zeke puts a hand over yours, and you glance at him. He’s continuing their talk, but his fingers stroke over yours. He must have noticed that you were nervous.

You relax under your boyfriend’s touch, and you lean back a bit in your chair. When your fingers stop fiddling he moves his hand away from yours and instead lays it on your thigh.

You swallow as Zeke softly squeezes and strokes over your thigh through your skirt.

Reiner and Porco start arguing about something, and Zeke grabs the opportunity to lean over and whisper in your ear. “I wonder what you’re wearing underneath this.”

His hand slides up your thigh and strokes over your panties. You clench your legs together and give him a shocked look. The others are right there!

Zeke’s smirk speaks volumes. He’s more than aware that they are present.

Your face heats up as his fingers continue to stroke up and down your mount, teasing you to open your legs for him.

Reluctantly, but too curious not to, you spread your legs slightly. Zeke pushes up your skirt till he can reach your panties. Two of his fingers slide over your clothed sex, and you jump slightly in surprise of how far he is actually going.

“Are you okay?”

Your attention is drawn back to Reiner and Porco, who seized their arguing and are looking directly at you.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m just a bit tired I suppose.” You lie.

As their eyes glide over you in an assessing manner, your heart beats rapidly in your chest. It feels so dirty to have them look at you right now, especially as Zeke takes it a step further and sticks his hand into your panties.

You grind your teeth together, doing your best to tuck away any expressions or noises that will give you away.

“So, what’s your conclusion?” Zeke asks, forcing the others back to the subject as his fingers seek out the wetness he just created.

You sigh in relief as both Reiner and Porco lay down a conclusion, which still conflicts with each other. They’ll be busy a bit more, which you’ll need.

Zeke glances at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk on his face as his fingers find your entrance, and after stroking over it a few times, he enters you. Your hands grip onto the edges of your seat as his fingers stretch you out.

You feel embarrassed but at the same time thrilled about doing this so publicly. His fingers move in and out of you slowly and he draws his fingertips exactly against the spots he knows you like.

Reiner gives up and settles, bringing his and Porco’s argument to an end. Your walls clench around Zeke’s fingers when both look at you again. You avoid making eye contact. Gods, it’s so embarrassing to admit, but you’re scared you may cum if you do.

You had found Reiner and Porco attractive since the first time you had met the Warriors, so their gazes definitely have you heated.

Zeke’s fingers speed up and you grab onto his arm in response. He’s going too fast, doing too much, you won’t be able to keep quiet if he goes on.

You squeeze his arm tightly, but he pays it no attention. He chats on like nothings going on, the only thing betraying him the bulge in his pants that only you can see.

A soft moan slips from your lips when he starts curling his fingers inside of you, right against the spot that always has you cumming. You quickly cough to cover it up, but as you catch a glimpse of Reiner’s and Porco’s faces, you realize you might be busted.

You glance desperately at Zeke and tug at his sleeve. You are so close to cumming, he really needs to stop.

“Uhh Z-zeke? Sorry to interrupt but I forgot something at home, it’s pretty important.” You say and do your best to keep your voice steady.

It didn’t sound convincing at all, and Zeke shrugs it off. “I’m sure it’s fine, the meeting’s almost over.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his fingers still moving inside you without remorse. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Focus, you tell yourself. You have to focus on not cumming.

When you glance around the room, your gaze accidentally meets Reiner’s. There’s a clear flush around his nose and cheeks, and the dark look of lust in his eyes confirms that he knows what you are doing. Seeing him like that pushes you over the edge, and you gasp as you cum around Zeke’s fingers.

You grab and claw at Zeke’s sleeve, still trying to cover your actions but tiny moans pathetically spill from your lips.

When realizing that you were still looking at Reiner while you came, you quickly avert your eyes to the floor. Your body feels like it’s on fire, a potent mix of embarrassment and lust setting it ablaze.

Even as you hear them say your name, you don’t dare look up. How can you face Reiner and Porco after this?!

Zeke’s hand leaves your panties and he grabs your face with the other. He takes in your flustered expression with a smile.

You can’t believe your eyes when he leisurely licks off his fingers, groaning at the taste of you.

You glance at the others in absolute shock, finding them both with lust-stricken smiles themselves.

“You did good, baby.” Zeke tells you and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“I-I don’t understand.” You tell Zeke and then turn to the other two. “I’m really sorry, I don’t- I never- I-“. You have no clue how you can correct this.

Porco chuckles at your embarrassed rambling. “You really should’ve told her beforehand, Yeager.”

You look at Zeke again, who gives him a casual shrug. “It’s more fun this way.”

Zeke cups your face again. “They knew they were getting a little show, that’s why they came.”

Your eyes widen in shock as you process what he just said. Reiner and Porco came so they could watch... you? Your fantasies are coming true in a way you never thought they would.

“And quite a show it was.” Porco says and Zeke let’s go of your face so you can look at him. Porco’s palming his erection through his pants eagerly, his eyes never leaving your form.

You can barely believe this is happening.

Zeke strokes over your arm lovingly. “Why don’t you get undressed?”

His gaze shows he’s sure of what he’s asking, prompting you to go along with it. Though the situation has you rattling with nerves, you want to do this, and who knows if you would ever get a chance like this again.

You stand up and stand next to the table, your front in full display to Reiner and Porco while your backside is visible for Zeke.

You slowly undress, taking off your shoes, your sweater and skirt. Embarrassment creeps up your skin as you feel exposed before them, but Reiner and Porco embolden you with their entranced gazes.

Porco takes his cock into his hand when you take off your underwear, stroking it faster the more skin you reveal.

When you are completely naked, you glance at Zeke. He waves his hand, urging you to move towards Porco with a casual smile.

You go over to Porco, who grabs you and pulls you onto his lap, showing you a toothy smile. A mewl leaves your mouth as he places your back against his chest and spreads your legs, sliding his cock through your wetness.

Across the table, Zeke lights a cigarette, watching the scene unfold as he leans back.

“You know, I couldn’t believe it when he offered to share, but I’m glad he did.” Porco pants into your ear, his cock poking at your entrance. “I’ve wanted to know what you feel like for way too long.”

His arms hook themselves under your knees, assuring that you are on full display for Zeke to see as he slides his length into your cunt. You moan loudly when he bottoms out inside of you, your walls eagerly sucking him in.

Porco bites your neck softly when he starts fucking up into you, sucking and nibbling at the skin till you are sure he has left a mark. Zeke watches you with a small grin and you feel a shiver run over your body at the dirtiness of it all.

After Porco has been thrusting into you for a bit, Reiner speaks up. “Bend her towards me.”

Porco groans but does it nonetheless, letting go of your legs so he can position you on all fours, facing Reiner instead. You moan when Porco reenters you, his hands finding your waist and grabbing it harshly as Reiner strokes your cheek.

Reiner’s face is still flushed with lust, and as he presses his cock against your lips you happily open up for him. You moan around his cock, taking it as deep as you can without choking as Porco continues fucking you, causing your body to rock forward.

Reiner groans your name, his hands finding your hair and pulling it lightly as you suck his cock. The head soon starts hitting the back of your throat as Porco’s hard thrusts cause you to fall forward onto Reiner over and over again.

Your scream is silenced on Reiner’s cock when you cum again. It feels foreign but amazing to cum around Porco, but he pulls out almost immediately when you do. You realize why when you feel his hot seed spurt onto your ass and back.

Zeke laughs and Reiner pulls you off of his cock with a pop. He slides his cock over your lips and cheeks messily before backing off.

“Almost forgot the number one rule there, Galliard.” Zeke says and tsks at him disappointingly.

Porco groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect her to cum, shit.”

You can hear how ragged his breathing is and you can’t help but feel proud that you took him by surprise.

“What’s the number one rule?” You ask when you find your voice.

Reiner lifts you up and drags you onto his lap, once again making you face Zeke. Your eyes roll back when Reiner slides his thick cock into you, but unlike Porco he doesn’t move.

Zeke eyes sparkle with lust and amusement as he speaks. “They can’t cum inside your cunt. I’m a generous man but that I won’t share in.”

You smile through your strained panting. You’re glad that Zeke is possessive of you in that way.

Reiner shifts slightly, causing his cock to drag against your walls. You bite your lip and he groans behind you, his hands finding your breasts.

Porco and Zeke start shedding their clothing as Reiner keeps you on his cock, playing with your breasts. You cry out his name when he tugs at your nipples and you feel his cock twitch inside of you in response.

Reiner pants your name heavily into your ear. “I heard you and Zeke, night in night out, and it made me wonder how one little girl could draw so much noise from him.”

He rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out excitedly.

“Now I know how.”

You try to move on his cock, eager for more, but Reiner keeps you still.

Zeke leans against the table in front of you, stroking his cock with a grin on his face while he watches you. You already look like a wreck, and the main event hasn’t even started.

He calls out your name, causing you to look slightly more focused. “Don’t you think it’s unfair to keep one of us waiting the whole time?”

Pushing away from the table, he walks over to you. You moan loudly as he presses down on your shoulder, pressing you down harder onto Reiner’s length.

“I’m confident my little slut can please us better, can’t she?”

You nod your head desperately. Fuck, you are so sensitive after cumming twice already and you would do anything to get off again.

“Good girl.” Zeke says, lifting his hand from your shoulder and giving your forehead a quick peck.

He motions at Porco and Reiner to get up. You whine in protest when Reiner lifts you and slides his cock out of you, making you stand up with him.

Zeke lays down onto the couch, giving you a smirk before he pulls you onto him by your hand. You straddle him eagerly, grateful for the lush couch this room has.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth opens in an O when Zeke slides his cock into your slick cunt, your arousal coating part of your ass and thighs already from all the activity, making his entrance easy.

His hands find your ass, and your eyes open in shock when he spreads your cheeks. Are they going to?..

“Ssshhh.” He reassures you. “Breath in and relax, just like we’ve done before.”

Reiner settles behind you, having coated his cock in a generous amount of lube to make it go as smoothly as possible. You suck in a breath when you feel him position his cock at your tight hole and you grab onto Zeke’s shoulder in preparation.

Curses fall from Reiner’s mouth as he pushes into your ass, slowly spreading you out on his length. Your nails dig into Zeke’s shoulders till Reiner has completely bottomed out and you take a deep breath.

You feel so full, both of theirs cock stuffed inside you and sandwiched between their bodies. You let out a shaky moan, both of them biting back groans as well.

Reiner kisses the back of your neck comfortingly as he holds still inside of you. Zeke on the other hand, drags his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back in with an impatient look on his face.

You scream out in pleasure and squeeze hard around both of their cocks.

“Fuck, that’s what I like to see.” Zeke says as you shake slightly on top of him.

He’s such a bastard, but he knows exactly what you like.

Encouraged by Zeke, Reiner thrusts into your ass experimentally. When you moan out and his cock slides in and out with ease, he starts thrusting harder, matching his pace with Zeke’s.

Your mind is growing more and more fogged, so much pleasure coursing through you all at once. When Porco grabs you by your hair and forces your head to the side, you look up at him with watery eyes.

Porco chuckles and slides his cock against your lips, smearing your combined juices from before over them. You mewl and open your mouth for him obediently.

Knowing that you can’t focus on moving it yourself while getting fucked in both holes, he holds your head still and starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. “Fuck you look so hot.”

Zeke and Reiner continue to thrust into you, their paces starting to differ as each starts rutting away in pleasure. Your desire for all three of them is so high that you don’t protest in the slightest even as Porco starts fucking your throat roughly, his pelvis bumping against your nose with every thrust.

Reiner sputters out incoherent words as his hips slam harder against your ass, his cock twitching wildly inside of you. He’s close, and to ensure his friend feels you squeeze around him one more time, Zeke brings one hand down to your clit.

You want to move away from Zeke’s fingers, all of it becoming too much, but you have nowhere to back off to. When you thrash you only pierce yourself further onto one of their cocks.

“Fuck! Ah- God- Wait!” You try to say, but Porco’s cock muffles you. If you cum now you feel that you won’t stop till they pull out.

Nobody hears your pleas, and soon Zeke’s fingers reach their goal. You scream out around Porco’s cock as your holes clench wildly around the ones inside of you.

With a last stutter and a cry of your name, Reiner cums in your ass. You tremble from your own orgasm as he continues fucking his load into you.

“Shit, you’re still cumming huh?” Zeke says teasingly as he thrusts up into your cunt.

You wouldn’t be able to say anything even if Porco’s cock wasn’t down your throat. You moan and cry out with abandon and he groans at the vibrations it creates on his cock. His hand in your hair tightens as he reaches his own end.

Just as Zeke halts his thrusting and cums, Porco does as well. You swallow down the robes of cum Porco shoots down your throat while Zeke stuffs your cunt with his.

When Porco pulls out, cum drips from your mouth, making an even worse mess.

Zeke and Reiner continue lazily fucking their seed into you, but your body is too exhausted to keep up anymore. Your cunt throbs from cumming so much and you don’t even care about the cum that’s on your face.

Reiner catches you just in time when you fall forward, your arms giving out.

“I think she’s done for today.” He says with a chuckle.

For today? You want to question whether this is a regular thing now, but your throat is too sore from screaming and sucking.

Reiner holds you against him as he lifts you off of his and Zeke’s cocks. Cum flows out freely from your holes, leaving a mess behind on the couch.

Zeke scoots over and Reiner lays you down on the couch, half on top of Zeke. You cuddle into his form, so warm and comforting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you pant out your excitement.

Zeke strokes your hair off of your forehead. “At least tell them thank you.” He tells you smugly.

You glance at Porco and Reiner, both looking at you with desire in their eyes. You would feel flushed if you weren’t heated as hell already. “T-thank you.”

Porco grins. “No thank you, but next time I’m getting-” Reiner puts up his hand to silence him.

“Don’t say anything about a next time.”

Reiner smiles. “Zeke likes for it to be a surprise after all.”

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jujubean90 · 3 years

Text

Word Count: 8048

Genre: Fem Body Reader Insert, AoT AU, FIILTHY Smut, Monster Fucking, Bull Hybrid. Reiner Braun X Porco Galliard X Marcel Galliard X Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW Minors ABSOLUTELY DNI, BREEDING, Courting, Creampie, impregnation, lactation fantasy, cum Inflation, drool, overstimulation (male), hand jobs, ball fondling, rimming, dumbification, possessiveness, vaginal sex, fingering, blowjob, cunnilingus, belly bulge, knotting.

Characters are appropriately aged up for NSFW situations. Do not repost, copy, or duplicate. Sorry for typos. I try. Remember I’m hella dyslexic.

Featured Characters:

Main Cast: Reiner Braun, Porco Galliard, Marcel Galliard, Theo Magath, Zeke Yeager, Colt Grice, Pieck Finger.

Honorable Mention: Grisha Yeager, Eren Yeager, Historia Reiss, Mikasa Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Miche Zacharius, Nanaba, Dhalis Zachary, Petra Pal, Gabi Braun, Falco Grice.

SPECIAL Author’s Note: This piece was inspired by @erenscockslut’s work found here . Thank you for letting me use elements from your writing. I appreciate you so much and please follow them for more interesting writings!

Synopsis: You are a fresh graduate and new hire at Marley Farms. You have been tasked with getting three unpaired bullmen under control for competition and you need to figure out why they refuse to take interest in the only unpaired female of the group. They should be all over her! However, it turns out they might have an interest in you instead.

Next Chapter here!

Marley Farms and Paradis Farms were huge competitors in the cattle farming industry. Farmer Magath and Farmer Zachary had a long-standing family rivalry that went back hundreds of years. And because of it, your town was the ‘tamed’ cattle capital of the world. They held huge showings and competitions every year, and even though anyone could compete, it was the grounds of Magath and Zachary’s pissing contest.

Now, regular cattle weren’t that big of a deal to most people. It was the beast hybrids that drew everyone’s curiosity, and they were the main reason the area was so famous. If you had a large enough cattle farm, chances are you had a bullman to protect your herds and breed better cattle. Chances are you also bought them from either Marley Farms or Paradis Farms.

For years, the two families were civil with one another, often teaming up together to help local communities and create a wonderful environment for everyone to enjoy. But it all went bad again when someone in Farmer Zachary’s family stole Grisha, one of Magath’s perfectly designed and bred bullmen. The idea was to take Grisha for the night right before his rut and have him mate with as much of Famer Zachary’s regular herd as possible. They totally planned on returning him. However, Grisha wasn’t having it. The regular cattle were not the only ones he mate with. He discovered another cowlady mate after the passing of his previous mate. He much preferred Paradis Farms over Marley and gored anyone who tried to take him back. So, Grisha Yeager stayed, and both farms ended up with the legendary Yeager bloodlines. That’s how the greatest rivalry in the community was transformed into a downright nasty blood feud.

Farmer Magath had someone else to worry about besides his old family conflict. There was a new farmer out making a name for himself and he was making headlines for his rare breeds. Farmer Erwin Smith of Scouts Hollow Farms was hot on both of their trails and Farmer Zachary took a tremendous interest in what he was producing. So much that he made a deal with Farmer Smith, and they’ve since teamed up with a common goal to shut Farmer Magath down entirely.

And it seemed to work.

To date, Marley Farms was down to a handful of bullmen because they had produced too many males as of late and females were rare to capture or come by since the laws changed and prohibited the import and external trade of bullmen. Zeke Yeager was the main sire, and every herd calf produced by him was impressive, as to be expected with a carefully bred bullman like him. He always won every category in competition for the past eleven years, at least until this past year.

He was aging out soon and Paradis Farms had a younger Yeager sire, Eren, who knocked Marley off their eleven-year winning streak pedestal. And if that didn’t make Farmer Magath sweat, he heard Farmer Smith had two sires who were ready to breed and compete, named Levi and Miche. They were voted to be the favorites of next year’s competition. Miche was a stud, but they mated Levi with two Cowladies, Hange and Petra.

Then there was the powerful matriarch, Nanaba. They often kept matriarchs from being paired if they were docile enough. Someone artificially inseminated them to produce the best of the best from a few hand-picked studs.

Now, even the bullman produced regular herd cattle that was always top-notch. Selling off the regular herd cows bred from bullmen kept Marley Farms ahead. But, while Farmer Magath focused on his short game, Farmer Smith and Farmer Zachary transfixed on the long game.

Marley Farms had one mated pair, Bertholdt and Annie. He just recently introduced an unpaired female named Pieck to his circle of unpaired males. He was desperate right now to get his bullmen numbers up. She didn’t look spectacular, but every test he put her through put him at ease because she scored high marks, especially on the intelligence scale. She was also docile and sweet, the complete opposite of the three males that needed pairing.

He did not know what sort of numbers Farmer Zachary had these days. Every time one of his spies got close enough to get good information, Zachary figured them out, and they’d end up missing. He assumed from previous reports that he had five females and five to six males. They could have easily paired off together and Farmer Zachary could overpower the entire market, but it rarely worked that way because bullmen were picky about their actual mates. The fact that Farmer Smith’s prized bull had two mates was incredible.

The rutting “season” wouldn’t force the bullmen into mating either, because they had to be excited enough about a potential mate for the rut to be triggered. And that was why bullmen were dying out because they were so goddamn picky. So, just because Farmer Zachary had a better ratio than all of them, didn’t mean he was automatically top dog.

From what Farmer Magrath understood, Farmer Zachary only had one mated pair, and that was Eren and Mikasa. He had one younger matriarch named Christa, who would just be hitting her season, and that put him to an advantage. That was, of course, if he could gather semen to implant into her.

It was such a delicate, expensive, timely process with a high mortality and failure ratio due to how quickly the seed spoiled that it was never worth the trouble. The pay was phenomenal if you were an artificial inseminator with a high success statistic. However, your life was guaranteed to be short.

The rutting season came and went and none of the three unpaired males gave a single shit about cute, adorable cow lady Pieck. They weren’t mean to her. In fact, they adored her, and they immediately accepted her as one of their own. They just wouldn’t fuck her and produce more bullmen, and Farmer Magath was desperate.

And that’s why you’re here now, a brand-new employee to Marley Farms. You studied animal psychology and got you doctorate. Your specialty area of expertise was hybrids, and it was now your job to figure out why these three breedable males wouldn’t mate with this unpaired female. You had to figure out what they didn’t like about her and fix their thought process into thinking she was the right one. You had to figure out how to tame their aggression so they could at least have their semen collected, because these three weren’t even able to be categorized as studs because of how awful they were. Your last order of business was getting them ready for the upcoming competition so Marley Farms could get back their bragging rights and get better PR.

Zeke wouldn’t allow a collector near him. He was too prideful, and it was discovered he kept note of how many people he killed. Honestly, breeding further down the Yeager line was out of the question because Farmer Magath realized the aggression was becoming too ingrained in the bloodline. Farmer Zachary would find that out the hard way, but usually after the third generation, it was time to find a pure line again. And that’s how the Braun’s, the Galliard’s and the Grice’s ended up at his farm. Completely by ‘legal’ means, of course.

He had two younger calflings from the batch he got, but they had a long way to go before they were ready to be bred. Gabi Braun was the spunkiest little she-calfling he’d ever seen, and she led the other Grice calfling on many adventures. One day, she would be a fantastic matriarch and asset to the farm, but again, that was a decade away.

Now Gabi and Reiner were from the Braun lineage, and Brauns were known for their strength. Honestly, females were the more aggressive in this line. The Galliards were smaller, but agile and aggression was about 50/50 in this line across both male and female. The Grice line was gentle and determined, but sometimes a little clueless, so they made for better herd tenders instead of competitors and studs.

The mated pair, Bertholdt and Annie were ideal in every way. Annie was strong, tough as steel, and didn’t give much of a shit about anything. Bertholdt was quiet. More of a gentle giant, if you will. The Hoover line was the tallest and the Leonhart line was powerful, though all of them paled compared to the Yeager line. For the safety and future of the farm, Zeke wouldn’t be bred. Of course, if he seized Pieck for himself, no one was going to stop him. But he didn’t care about mating with her either.

“Welcome to the farm,” Magath said to you as you both sat in his office. “First day jitters?”

“Not at all, sir,” you say.

“Good, so here are your subjects. Porco, Marcel, and Reiner. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kid. Porco is the worst of the bunch. He’d be a good stud and a great competitive bull if you could get him under control. Bet he could bring home gold in the speed and agility category.”

“Marcel will be the easier of the three. He would be the best replacement for Zeke, and he would be a great contender for Best in Show.”

“Now Reiner could also be a show bull and bring home the prize in the strength category. Reiner isn’t bad so long as Porco isn’t nearby. Those two hate each another and their fights get violent. Can’t have that happening. So, make them play nice or find an alternative solution.”

“The next window for a rut is coming up in six months, and I want Pieck paired with one of them, Marcel, if possible. You got a year to get some calflings in the physiological oven. If you don’t succeed, I’ll end your contract and you’ll never work in this industry again, got it? There aren’t many hybrids to work with that get you the type of money these fuckers will, so yah got a lot at stake.”

Farmer Magath wasn’t wrong. All the other hybrid groups were far too dangerous, and the money was in the bullman industry right now because of their scarcity. This was certainly a make-or-break situation for you.

On your first day, you would brainstorm and getting acquainted with the farm so you could develop your game plan. You knew the first few weeks would be observation and trust building. You also had charts and diagrams to make, along with a bunch of other organizational science mumbo jumbo, to track their stats and behaviors. Not to mention moving in to a new place too.

Your home would also be here on the farm. Farmer Magath gave you a grant, along with your salary pay. They would set your housing unit up the moment you determined the best spot, so that was another goal for today. You had to consider the possibility of nighttime observations and find the best place to get your living quarters set up. But for now, it was time to meet your subjects.

One of Magath’s farm handlers led you to the field.

“Zeke’s easy to find,” he said. “Look there on the boulders. He always sits up high so he can see everything. At first, we thought it was so he could monitor the herd, but we realized… it’s so he can keep an eye on us. Never approach him. Let him come to you. Also, never, ever look him in the eyes. If you go to him, he’ll kill you. Now if you can’t avoid walking his way, again do NOT make eye contact. Just keep your gaze forward and he will leave you alone. The minute you near him and make eye contact, it’s over. He views it as a challenge. Not even the other bullmen look him in the eye.”

“Got it…” you say nervously.

“The one over in the cafling pen is Pieck. She goes back and forth between them and the field. As will Colt. Both seem to babysit them. It’s obvious Pieck wants to be a mother. It’ll be a righteous thing you do if you get her mated. She’s such a sweet girl.”

“Now Colt, Zeke seems to tolerate him most, because Colt isn’t a threat by any means. Colt watches the main herd with Zeke, and he is the only one who can get near Zeke safely. Colt is a kind bull, a little clumsy from time to time, but his temperament is by far the best out of any male we’ve ever had during my employment here.”

“Bert and Annie are nestled up together because she’s expecting. You won’t see much of them. The three you’ll be studying stay towards the north of the pasture, away from Zeke and the others. They’re broody males, but you better believe when Zeke calls all of them, they come running and are suddenly so well behaved.”

“Marcel is the better of the three. Honestly, you’ll probably have the best luck out of him. Reiner is alright. Gets a little rough from time to time because he doesn’t know his own strength, but the problem child is Porco. Now Porco and Reiner avoid one another, but usually Porco starts shit and will encroach on Reiner’s territory to challenge him. Marcel ends up putting them both in their places and on those days, sweet Marcel is one irritated bull. Porco is just mean all around. He doesn’t like a single handler. He gets along with his brother and that’s about it. He’s good around the calflings and Pieck and Colt. He keeps his head down around Zeke. But Reiner will put him in a rage instantly, though. Best to keep them apart at all times. ”

The farm handler pulled out his binoculars and scoped the north end of the field. “Hmm, Porco’s down by the creek with Marcel. We probably put Reiner up for today. Let’s go check the pen. I think they got into a terrible fight and Reiner’s recovering. He might be ornery because of it.”

You followed the handler to check the bullmen's pen. It was an enormous building with roomy stalls for the bullmen to lie down comfortably in a nest of furs and hay. They had shelves and trunks for them to store their shiny things and treasures. Each had a water spout for them to get fresh water. Even their own bathroom space for privacy during vulnerable moments. Washing was supposed to be done by the handlers every day, as was any grooming, but these three males were wild and unruly. They wouldn’t allow humans to get close enough to groom them.

They had to be tranquilized to do it, so it was a once-a-month thing. The bulls were good about washing and keeping themselves clean, but the intricate parts that required a helping hand just weren’t allowed to be done without sedation.

The only thing they didn’t fuss about was feeding.

“Alright, yeah, Reiner’s in here,” says the handler as he stops at one pen. You heard a loud snort and a threatening hoof stomp. “Yep, real pissed off bull.” There was another loud stomp and a warning call. The handler backed up and despite his anxiety, you eased over to get a good look at the bullman.

He bowed up, with a snarled lip, hair raised with rage in his golden eyes, but the moment he glanced at you, and then ultimately became fixated on you, he relaxed.

“I’ll be damned,” the handler muttered. “Never seen him get calm that quick.”

Instead of rushing the heavy door and attempting to reach over and grab you or the handler, he stood upright and tall when he sauntered over, as if he were strutting. He was impressive, and the broadest built bull you’ve ever seen. A hulking seven foot and a few inches high with herculean muscles that would make even the strongest waste lander orc envious. He was also extremely handsome and blonde with rugged facial hair framing his mouth. Even his coat from the waist down was brilliantly golden blonde. His upper body was ivory with warm pink undertones.

Like all bullmen, he was mostly hairless up top, save for his head, and other typical spots human males had a peppering of fine hair. He had cow ears and typical bull horns growing outward from his face rather than forward towards his nose. Minus those two things, he looked like a regular human, until you followed his belly button’s happy trail down to his waist. Then he was all bull. Tail, hooves, cock sheath, balls, and all.

He looked so docile, and you smiled up at him. “Hello Reiner, I’m Y/N and we’re going to be working together.”

“Y/N?” he questioned softly. “Y/N…Y…N.”

He looked completely captivated by you and, just from the immediate connection; you felt he would be easier to get along with than you expected.

“We’ll be hanging out quite a bit,” you tell him. “I can’t wait to get to know you.”

And for the rest of the visit, Reiner was calm, watching and listening to you with maximum interest. He looked sad the moment you told him you had to go. He leaned over his heavy door to watch you leave like a sad puppy. It broke your heart when he let out this adorable little bleating noise as if begging you to stay.

Marcel came up to feed while you were in the bullpen with Reiner. He was shorter than Reiner and not as broadly built, but you understood they bred his lineage for agility. His coat was a shiny chestnut brown, and he had a ring in his nose. His face was handsome too, with a sharp nose and brilliant keen eyes. He had strong, quick-witted alpha energy.

He eyed you curiously for a moment, then decided he was interested in you. He circled around you once and let out this loud bellow. Of course, this alerted Porco off in the field, and he hurried to see what his brother found.

Marcel drew closer, leaning down to sniff your hair, giving a powerful snort afterwards. “Name?” he asked as he circled you again. The handler went to place a hand on you to ease you back because this was odd behavior for Marcel.

Marcel did not appreciate it when the handler touched you. He gave a threatening huff and stamp, along with a warning call to let the handler know he needed to get away from you.

“We need to get behind the gate,” the handler said to you. He noticed Porco over the hill, watching intently. If Marcel sounded off again, his angry brother would surely come running.

“No,” Marcel growled as he stopped between you and the handler to block you from leaving. “You go. I want a name.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say gently. “I will be working with you.”

Marcel stared at you for a minute. “Come,” he said, and he took your hand. “Come, Y/N.”

Marcel tugged at you, insisting you follow him, and you looked back at the handler with uncertainty. He was gaping, wild-eyed as you let Marcel pull you along. But really, what choice did you have when he could easily reach around and snap your neck? The handler slowly followed, and he got far too. However, Porco charged down the hill, bellowing with all his fury the moment he got too close to you and Marcel again.

You gasped, tightening your hold on Marcel’s hand, and he shushed you while Porco barreled past to chase the handler backed beyond the gate. He stamped and hollered while Marcel led you further away. All the while, you felt a pair of judgmental eyes staring down at you from a far. You knew it was Zeke. You could feel it coming from his direction and it made the hair stand on the back of your neck.

“Come, Y/N,” Marcel said again with bright eyes looking down at you. “Want to show you places.”

“O-ok.”

Porco turned and followed the two of you, satisfied that no one else was going to intervene with his brother and him. Porco was a duller blonde than Reiner, and just like Marcel, he was short. His hazel eyes were intense as he stared after you, trying to figure you out. His brother never cared to interact with humans, but here you were, hand in hand with him.

Nothing terrible occurred on your little side adventure. Marcel just seemed to want to show you places he liked. Porco kept watch and did not get close to you until the end of your brief tour. He must have decided he liked you too, because he placed a flower in your hair.

It pleased you that the three bullmen you’d work with felt comfortable with you on your first day. It wasn’t grounds for letting your guard down, but every handler was in awe that all three of the aggressive males seemed so calm in your presence.

Now, going forward to build trust, you were the one who would be their main handler. You fed them and cared for them. They let you near to groom them too. That even included ornery Porco. You established a routine quickly, and you were what they looked forward to every day.

One goal was to get these three in shape for competition and get one to mate with Pieck. All of them seemed interested in everything you did and said. They learned and followed your commands. To your surprise, they were more than willing to do most of everything you asked to prepare for competition. Not a one of them showed interest in Pieck and it was frustrating because every time you asked about why, they shrugged or just avoided answering your question. You swore they collectively took an interest in you, but you denied that ridiculous idea. They just wanted to please their handler, nothing more.

You spent time with Reiner separately from Porco and Marcel. All the bullmen spent equal amounts of time with you, but Reiner was always the most torn up about you leaving his side. He was always wide-eyed and did that little bleating thing that made your heart feel like someone stabbed it with a fork and twisted it. Now, Porco hated smelling Reiner’s scent on you, so he did everything he could to remove it. He urinated on you once, and you harshly scolded him for such awful behavior. Porco was sour for an entire week and he took it out on every human who came too close. Marcel didn’t care if you smelt like Reiner. He always laid his head in your lap without a care in the world while Porco showed off how cool and fast he was.

They became excessively needy for your time and attention as months passed. Porco finally had enough of trying to douse Reiner’s scent from you one day, so he cornered Reiner to show dominance and dissuade him from interacting with you. They got in a huge fight and Reiner had to be put up for a while again, however this worked more in Reiner’s favor because you spent more time with him while he recovered. And boy, did he ham it up.

Tension got worse when Porco noticed Reiner give you some little trinket he found one day. That’s when the competition between the males for your attention really popped off.

Reiner brought you a flower, and Porco would bring you ten. Porco would bring you a rock, and Reiner brought you five. They had to be moved to separate pastures because the fighting became an almost daily occurrence. Marcel would get involved too and overpower both bulls. Reiner and Porco bellowed at one another despite being separated, until Zeke ultimately shouted once, shutting them all up for the day.

In their minds, they were competing for you and for the honor of being your mate, but you were still in denial about that until, one day, it all became way too obvious for you to ignore.

Reiner waited in anticipation to hear you enter the bull pen every morning. In his mind, he was dancing because he loved to see you after being separated from you for the night. You always came to groom him first, right after waking up, and the time you spent together during your morning ritual meant so much to him. But today, you were late, and he got antsy. Porco and Marcel went off to their field already, but Reiner refused to budge, even threatening the other handlers to keep them away. Out of all of them, Reiner was the most obsessed with you.

His ears perked up when he heard the hinges of the main entry door squeak. Midmorning sun light flooded in as you pushed the heavy barn door aside with a soft grunt. His tail flicked happily and then he paused as he looked you over. You were still in your thigh length night gown. Your housing unit was within a quick walking distance to the bullpen, so you quickly came to get Reiner fed because you knew how stubborn he was. You planned on getting ready for the day after he was happily munching away on his food.

“Running behind this morning,” you huffed. “Stayed up too late last night compiling data. Please forgive me. I know you waited for me.”

He gazed at your form, and it was the first time he noticed certain things about you that made him feel funny. The straps on your shoulders were thin and the cut on your neck was low. He could see down into your snug cleavage, and the sight of it made him lick his lips.

The way your top hugged your curves made his eyes wander. His nostrils flared when he noticed your nipples perked up beneath the fabric because of the chilled air. He wondered if you produced milk like cattle. What would it taste like? Could he milk you?

Something about the idea hit differently. He shifted his stance because his balls suddenly felt uncomfortably heavy. He could feel them swell, gathering his load as if he were readying to mate. It was time for his seasonal rut, and you were ideal to him in every way. He tilted his head up, snorting, then inhaling sharply to see if you were ready to be bred. He picked up your scent, but it wasn’t the one he wanted. You weren’t fertile yet. Your scent still caused a reaction. He looked down at himself. His cock throbbed and peeked from his velvety sheath. He watched it grow with each pulse, and his mind spiraled further as the rut took hold.

He wanted to know what it felt like to touch you. He wanted to taste every inch of you and commit your scent to memory. Reiner wanted to breed his sweet little human and see your belly round with his offspring. He wanted to suckle at your breast when they were full of milk while he impregnated you again and again every season. He’d care for you endlessly while you gave him many offspring. Drool fell from the corner of his mouth at the thought of fucking into you now and you were oblivious to what was happening.

You were out the door, gathering up vegetables to prepare with his breakfast, and Reiner kept his gaze set on you from a far. He wasn’t used to have an erection like this. Your fertile scent hadn’t caused it. He knew your regular scent well enough. It was just the sight of certain things he hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe he noticed them before, but they didn’t matter until he hit his season. He didn’t know, nor did he care.

He was fully hard now. Every time you bent down, he wanted to mount you and stuff you full of him. He wanted to make you his and ingrained your scent into his olfactory glands. You’d be his mate for life.

You put the bucket away and sighed as you looked up to see where Reiner went off to. His breakfast was ready, and normally he was on your heels, eager to assist, but not today. He was being so quiet this morning. So you went back inside to look for him.

You gasped when you noticed his hardened length, out for the first time in your presence. His dilated eyes stared at you with strong desire. He breathed heavily and looked as though he would lunge at you at any moment.

Color bloomed across your cheeks as you gawked at the horny male. Pre pooled at his tip’s opening, and you watched it ooze down his flushed, deep red head only to drip to the stone ground beneath him. His balls were so big, heavy, and full. You’d never seen them expanded so much. Not that you looked at his package for anything except research.

“You breakfast is ready,” you muttered as you hurried off, eager to put distance between you and the aroused bull. He snorted loudly as if he disapproved entirely of your sudden departure. He even stamped one of his hooved feet. Reiner was never aggressive towards you, but just then, he showed he could be. This was the first time you experienced a bullman during his rut.

When you came back after breakfast wearing actual clothes, he seemed fine. You understood you had to be careful about the things she wore in front of him. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Still, your mind wandered to the image of his long, thick cock. It was a dangerous thing to let your mind tumble down the rabbit hole of scenarios with him. No good could come of it.

You noticed minor changes in him as the days wore on after that moment. The rut completely dominating his brain. Reiner looked at you much longer than normal, obviously fantasizing about what he wanted to do to you. He became more protective, bellowing at anyone who came near, even other handlers. He hovered over you constantly and his erections became more frequent. Didn’t matter what you wore. Didn’t matter what was happening. His balls ached terribly, and his temper rivaled Porco’s on his worst days. He was always so patient with you, but even you made him irritated because he wanted to mate you and you weren’t showing any interest. He had to win you over. So; he started courting you the only way a bullman knew how.

You received more gifts from him. He showed off his strength. He strutted and let you see his erections to let you know he was ready to mate. You didn’t acknowledge his display publicly, but it affected you as your mind wandered further down a forbidden path of unnatural fantasies. The idea of him came to you late at night when you were alone in your bed. You wondered how it felt to be fucked by him. After you got yourself off, you settled into a nice bath and went to sleep, suppressing the idea until the following night.

Reiner smelled your arousal as time went on, and it got to him. He wasn’t the only one. Porco and Marcel started displaying the same behaviors as Reiner and your perfectly balanced routine suddenly turned chaotic. Your normally docile bulls were full on rutting and they still didn’t give two shits about Pieck. Their eyes were on you.

You smelled so good and ripe, especially when you were fertile and today, Reiner noticed, you were at peak fertility. He had to claim you once and for all, squishing any chance of Porco or Marcel getting to you first.

He paced in the pen, watching you work with Colt while all the handlers took off for lunch. He caught your fertile scent and excused himself before he raged at Colt. His balls were so heavy they hurt. His aching dick throbbed angrily, dripping so much pre-cum that it made his coat sticky. He grunted and stamped his hoof, wishing he could calm down, but that would not happen now. Your scent was stuck in his nose.

You entered to check on him because you noted his absence and he stared at you, drooling, glaring, wanting to fuck his seed into you.

“Reiner...”

He let out a powerful snort and paced in front of you, eyes fixated, cock inflamed. His flow of pre increased as his balls tightened further into him. He was ready to mate you now because your scent was so strong, and it was driving him crazy. If Porco and Marcel got near you today, they would figure out you were ripe, and Reiner could lose his chance. Still, he didn’t want to force you to decide. No, he was a good bull. You told him that all the time.

“Need....you to leave till I’m calm,” he warned.

“Should I get Pieck for you?” you questioned.

“N-NO,” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall as he made himself to look away from you. He panted with his tongue lulling out as he forced himself to stay in place. “Want you...don’t want cow. Don’t want cowlady Pieck. Want...you. Want to breed you.”

“Reiner...it can’t be that way.”

“Am...am I not good enough to mate with?” He asked. His voice cracked, and it made you sad. “I am strong. I show you all the time. I bring you gifts. I prove I am capable and best mate for you. No one better than me. Not Marcel. Not Porco. I give you strong children. I protect you. I can provide. I am best for you and I’ll fight for you.” He paused to breathe. Of course, everything he said was so jumbled and frantic that it barely made sense to you.

“So pretty. Make beautiful children with pretty hair. So strong. So kind. So smart. So caring. I want you as my mate. No one else. “

“You want me?” you asked as if you didn’t already know. “A human?”

Reiner nodded quickly. “I want you...don’t want others. Just...you. Please...pick me. Not Pock or Marcel. Me. I take care of you. Give you many children. Give you much affection. Protect you always.”

“It’s against the law and policy for us to have relations,” you explained. “I will be fired and you will never see me again.”

Reiner looked to the side and shook his head. He didn’t understand what you were saying about laws and policies. What he understood was that if he mated you, he would never see you again, and that hurt him more than anything. “No…no, no! No leave. I won’t….I won’t let you.”

You stepped forward, and he flinched as you drew near. “There’s one other thing I can do, though. Let me help you with your problem.”

“No, not safe,” Reiner whined.

“Shh, sweet bull, it’s okay,” you cooed. “You’re aching, aren’t you? Your balls are so full. Let me help you. I can make you feel good, maybe ease your frustration.”

He was still seething with lust when you pressed her body against his back and reached around from behind to grasp his length below his medial cock ring.

“So much pre,” you observed as your hand slid over him with ease. “You’re lubricated for me already. Let me make you feel good, Reiner. Let’s get you a release. Maybe I can calm you down.”

As you started pumping his dick, he groaned and flexed in your hand. He leaned forward to brace himself against the wall and he widened his stance as you jerked his cock. He started bucking his hips, thrusting into your hand, grunting and moaning like an animal in heat.

“Such a big cock, Reiner,” you murmured. “What a powerful, mighty male. So handsome. So strong and proud.”

He fucked into your hand faster as you complemented him and then you reached around with your other free hand and gently fondled his swollen velvety balls.

“Mmm, you’ve got such huge, full balls,” you gasped. “So plump with cum.”

He stuttered his thrusting and reared his head back, letting out a cross between a bellow and a sigh as you fondled and massaged his jewels. And of course, that noise was heard across the field alerting Porco and Marcel. It wasn’t a challenging call. No, it was a mating below! And from Reiner. Porco and Marcel bristled and charged toward the bullpen.

Reiner’s tongue hung out and drool dripped from his chin as he keep thrusting into your hand, wishing it were your pussy.

“Wanna mate me?” you questioned, teasing him more than anything. “Wanna make me yours? Wanna see my belly round with your calflings? Wanna suckle the milk for my tits, Reiner? Wanna keep me perpetually filled with your seed?”

Again, he reared his head back, bellowing louder, even stomping his hoof. You swore you heard Porco and Marcel respond, but perhaps that was all in your imagination.

“I see how you look at me like I’m just something for you to stick your dick in and breed. Bet your cum feels good dripping down my abused cunt after you’ve fucked me. How big are you, my sweet bull? 12 maybe 13 inches? Your girth is so much. Can’t even close my hand around it. You can’t fit into my little pussy to mate with me. You’re just too goddamn big.”

He was shaking, trembling from head to tail as your words tormented his mind.

“But that’s okay, Reiner. I’ll get you off. I’ll help you cum. Make you feel good and release that build up you’ve got. You’re such a naughty, horny bull. Thinking of me like I’m your little breedable fuck toy.”

Your eyes grew heavy, and you released your hold of his balls. You were worked up now too, and you needed to join in on the fun. It wasn’t fair to you if you didn’t get off, too. You dipped your hands into your pants and pressed into your clit. The heavy scent of your arousal curled into Reiner’s nose. He rolled his eyes back as his cock flexed and despite his want to cum, it just would not happen. Not unless he was deep in your tight hole for him to properly breed.

His ears flicked as he heard you groaning, and he wanted to know what was making you create such a beautiful sound. Your grip lessened on his length, and he turned to see your hand down your pants. A nice wet spot formed on your clothes. It was heavy with that fertile scent he loved. Pre surged once more from his tip, and his balls jumped up at the sudden thought of mating preparation.

“S-such...a dirty, horny bull,” you gasped. “With such a gigantic cock! I want to taste you.”

His eyes widened as you crouched before him and grasped his hips. You licked your lips as you hovered over the mass of his deep red inflamed head. He did not know what you were doing, but the moment your mouth took his tip and you moaned into it while you suckled, he fell apart. You gasped between attempts to take more of him in your mouth and he thrust lightly as your hands clutched his length once more. You milked his fat cock, and it felt so good, but it still would not make him cum, despite your best efforts.

“Let me drink your cum, Reiner,” you moaned.

“No,” he gasped. “Want...mate...you. Need to breed you.”

And suddenly, the dangerous game you were playing fell out of your favor. Reiner grasped your neck and, with a turn of his wrist, he pushed your head away, only to force you down to the ground. You choked as you fell to your hands and knees. He was behind you in seconds, ripping your pants off your being to expose your sex to him.

“Reiner! We can’t!” you shouted, but you’d be lying if you said you really didn’t want it. Your desperate plea was just the last bit of your sound logic leaving you, because the reality was you thought about this moment for quite some time.

Reiner shoved his face into your wet cunt. The flat of his tongue ran up your slit all the way to your ass. He lapped and dove his tongue into your puckered hole. It was so thick and rough, but it felt so goddamn good. He circled it around, twisted and fucked your ass while slurping wickedly. He brought his lips down to eat it voraciously, like he hadn’t had a meal in months.

“Finger fuck me while you do it,” you managed to somehow command.

He paused, looked down at his fingers, and thought of you and what you were doing to yourself when you tried jacking him off. Of course, you used your fingers to make that sound he loved, and he wanted to hear it again. With a curious expression, he played with your folds, touching them, spreading your lips to observe how it made you react, and then you reached back and guided his touch because you became so impatient with his stalling. You showed him your clit, and you put two of his fingers in your folds. You moved your hips to fuck yourself on his hand and then it all suddenly made sense to Reiner.

Soon, you weren’t able to focus on moving because he was lapping at your ass and pumping his arm while he pleasured you like a god with those thick digits.

“Fuck yes, such a good obedient bull! Finger fucking your mate while you eat my ass! So, good Reiner. Don’t stop! Please, it feels so good.”

To have you belt out those words...to have you sounding so sweet, it was all music to his hears. He worked his arm and ate you out until your scent was too much to stand. He had to make this official by imprinting your scent within him permanently. So, he pulled out his fingers and licked them clean before diving nose first into your cunt. He inhaled you deeply and lapped up your slick while his tongue massaged your clit. You fucked his face as he worked, and he engraved your scent into his being. Once finished, it was time to breed his new mate.

“Gonna breed me?” you panted. “Do it then. Fuck me like a good bull.”

He lined his engorged tip up to you and, to his surprise, you began pushing him into your depths the moment you felt his heat. He gasped as you took his length in and moved your hips to coat it with your wetness. You slowly took more of his girth, until you came to his thick, fleshy medial ring.

He stretched with his abnormal size, as it was. Getting beyond the ring required a little more work. So, for now, you fucked what you had inside yourself. Reiner’s hands grasped your hips when you moved them forward and back along his dick. You squeezed his thick member as it glided within your folds.

“Feels....good!” he groaned before releasing another mating below. “Never felt this before!”

“Mmmm, your cock is so much to take, Reiner,” you moaned as you rolled your hips and clenched each time you pulled your abdomen forward. You milked him, pulling at his length to coax out his cum. Because, for some stupid reason, you wanted it so damn badly. He made you feel like a bitch in heat and, in the smallest part of your mind, you thought it was all strange. You couldn’t think clearly about it now. Not with his dick so deep inside you.

Your mouth parted, and you closed your eyes to concentrate on your movements, to push him further inside you. His tip pressed against your cervix, kissing it with each dip of your being. Then you changed your rhythm. You rotated your hips clockwise and suddenly, his medial ring slipped into your opening. It was such a painful feeling and truthfully; it was only the beginning.

Your walls clenched in surprise, and you halted your movements because the pain was too much to bear. He needed to continue because he was oh so close to his finale. Reiner took control and thrusted upward with deep rhythmic motions that matched your previous love making. He stuttered for a moment, because his medial ring expanded. Then he resumed with a brutal, ruthless pace.

You braced herself against the ground as he rutted into you, nudging deeper into your belly even though you felt you couldn’t take anymore. Your stomach bulged as he growled, fucking into you with so much ferocity. Your knees became raw with each wild snap of his hips. You were groaning, crying out his name so loudly that he swore your voice echoed for miles. And it did, because now Porco and Marcel realized it was you Reiner was mating with.

“Such a good bull! Fucking your dick into me. Mmmm, keep mating with me. Fuck your thick seed into me, Reiner!”

Hearing that you wanted his release made him force you down further, tearing the skin of your knees in the process as he speared himself into you. You screamed as he held you in place to get used to the feeling of all his dick. Then he resumed fucking into you with such dominant savagery that you were a fucked out, babbling, crying fool.

The ring around his length expanded fully, fitting snuggly in place and the moment he could no longer thrust, his length pulsed and his cum shot into your womb. Rope after lengthy rope flooded into you until your tummy inflated from the mass of his seed.

He let out a mighty, thunderous bellow as his balls emptied, shrinking to their normal size for the first time in weeks. It was such a relief and now the entire farm knew you belonged to him. You whimpered as your stomach tightened to accommodate his massive load. He remained plugged into you with that expanded medial ring and there was no leaving the position until he became flaccid.

“My little mate,” he cooed, while he gently moved your hair that obscured your face behind your ears. “You take me so well for having a small body. You will be swollen with child soon. I care for you when happens. So beautiful. I want to mate with you often. Feels so good.”

Something slammed into the bullpen entry door and suddenly it was pulled open with a horrifying force. You cried out, expecting it to be Farmer Magath or perhaps one of the handlers, but no. It was Porco, and he was staring at the two of you, all wild-eyed and furious. He tilted his head to the side as he observed the two of you knotted together. He let out this horrifying bellow that almost sounded like a cry of anguish.

“YOU!” he growled as he glared at Reiner. “YOU touched her! How dare you…touch what belongs to me and my brother! I’ll rip your throat out!”

Marcel step forward, calmly touching his brother as if to dismiss him. He glanced over the two of you and then he lifted his head into the air, taking in a strong inhale. “It hasn’t taken…still fresh. We can drown out his seed with ours and make her ours.”

“I’ve imprinted her,” Reiner snarled. “She belongs to me!”

“Why do I smell fertile scent then?” Marcel growled. “Is this a human thing? Imprinting should take away the scent. No, we can still claim her.”

“We’re wasting time!” snarled Porco.

Reiner bellowed, challenging them, but there wasn’t anything he could do until his cock softened. There was nothing Porco and Marcel could do, either. None of them wanted to hurt you.

“Scent is still strong,” Marcel pointed out. “Can have multiple mates, I think.”

“No,” Porco huffed. “Ours. Not Reiner’s. Ours!”

You had no idea this was how your day was going to go. Being fucked by one bullman was already enough. Now there were two more who wanted a piece of you.

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