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Chapter 10: Running with Wolves

His voice held no heat anymore, though. Just a whispered, “I’m nothing like you.” Just his eyes flickering down to Wilhelm’s mouth. “No?” Wilhelm leaned in further, breath hot across Simon’s face. Mint and scotch. “Because I think you and I are very similar, little lamb.”

♠ Read Chapter 10 ♠

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Sunday Snippet

Another week with not much writing. But I did start something new! It might not go anywhere, but it's been fun to think about.

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“The tomato food is in the shed. And … by the door … tomorrow evening … too much water …”

“You’re breaking up, Mamá!” Simon shouted down the phone, knowing full well it wouldn’t help any.

“ … pinch off … and … pots in the … “

“Mamá, I can’t hear you. What was that about—”

“ … seedlings … too hot … in the shade. And be nice to Wille! He … ” Even through the crackly reception, her tone was scolding and he felt shame prickle at the back of his neck, which was ridiculous, because he was a grown man and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Who’s Wille?” 

But the line had gone dead. With a sigh, Simon pulled his phone away from his ear.

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sunday snippet (nsfw)

I actually managed to add a few paragraphs to one of my longer wips this weekend, can you believe?? here's a small snippet of something that will hopefully be done some time soon, maybe once the semester ends. Hope you enjoy 💜

Wille thinks it must be audible, like the snap of a rubber band, stretched and stretched and stretched again and again until it gives in. Something inside him shifts, has been building, and suddenly, forcefully, snaps into place.

[...]

Wille thrashes his head against the pillow when Simon angles another thrust, long and hard and deep, making Wille wish this would never end.

Simon sets a brutal pace, every slam of his hips working Wille further into the mattress. Every time he sinks into Wille like he's making a point, like he's proving something, hammering away at Wille's coherence, working keens and moans out of him.

And with every single one, it makes more and more sense.

The way Simon lays into him, the way he holds him, the way he looks down at him, all of it, it’s strong, it’s warm, it’s comfort, it’s care, it’s… it makes so much sense, settles heavy and thick in the pit of his stomach, like a truth that’s always been there, but has now freshly taken shape, turned into something he can touch, something he can name.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…,” Simon gasps out above him, shaking his head like he can’t believe it, can’t believe that they’ve found this. “My beautiful, beautiful Wille…”

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Omar Rudberg by Damon Baker

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hiiiii <3333

How about "Aren't you afraid it'll hurt?"

hi Ninaaaa, thank you so much for sending me this prompt 💜💜💜 from across the living room dkghkfdajhgfk 👀 since i kept saying it's high time for some vampire wilmon again <3

Hope you enjoy! 💜

cw: very slightly nsfw, vampires, wille pain kink if you squint

Wille has been wondering for a while now, has been thinking about it more and more, has dreamed about it once or twice. But it's now, with the two of them sprawled out on top of Wille's rumpled sheets, the post-orgasmic exhaustion making Wille's eyelids heavy and his inhibitions low, that the thought is especially present in his mind, familiar and suddenly weighing heavy in his throat. Simon is propped up next to Wille, drawing circles into Wille's chest with one hand, his fingertips a welcome cooling sensation on Wille's heated skin. He slows above Wille's beating heart.

Wille swallows hard. Of course Simon hears. Of course he turns his head, dragging his eyes up, from Wille's chest to his face. At once, the words are there, ready for Wille to draw out the thought. "I- I think I want you to bite me," he rushes out, eyes darting between Simon's eyes and his mouth. For a long moment, there's no sound, nothing but Wille's quickened pulse hammering in his ears. Simon's hand stills completely, stays where it was. He must be able to feel it. A soft, cool breeze blows in through the opened window, the heavy curtain billowing, the candles on the bedside table moving gently. It rushes over Wille's body, raising goose bumps on the wet, sticky skin of his belly. Finally, Simon unfreezes, tilts his head to the side, as if he's contemplating. Wille desperately tries to dim down small spark of hope inside of him. "Aren't you afraid it'll hurt?" Simon's expression in unreadable, a light frown, the same deep, dark eyes that make Wille squirm if he looks for too long. Wille shrugs. He has thought about it. A lot. Simon is still staring, is trying to figure Wille out. Wille averts his eyes, feels the blood rushing towards his face. He moves his fingers to find a loose corner of the duvet and dig in, hoping to find some much-needed stability. "I don't think I mind," he says, hears the waver in his voice and clears his throat. His eyes flit up to Simon, hoping he doesn't read into it. But Simon isn't meeting his eyes anymore. Instead, he's fixating on somewhere below Wille's face, somewhere on his neck. The realization sends a tremor through Wille's body. "You don't?" Simon's voice has dropped significantly. Wille's heart responds immediately, picking up speed, as if it's trying to jump out, trying to meet Simon's waiting, cold palm. Wille likes the idea, likes the image. Something about it makes his breath hitch.

He shakes his head, tries to unstick his tongue from his palate. "I don't." It's determined, but quiet, would maybe be too quiet for anyone other than Simon to hear. But Simon hums. Then nods. His eyes still haven't moved and Wille's cheeks, his head, his neck feel hot with blood rushing to the surface. It would be so, so easy for Simon to get to it. Wille is a little surprised when Simon manages to tear his gaze away after all, manages to look up again, meeting his eyes. He swallows down the whimper that's trying to force its way out of his mouth at the sight of those eyes, dark, maybe darker than Wille's ever seen them. They feel heavy on his, feel like they're weighing him down, pinning him against the mattress. His stomach lurches at the thought. After another moment of looking, of trying to see... something, Simon shifts, lifts his heavy palm off Wille's chest. Instead, he skims his fingers up Wille's arms, then urges him up the bed. He moves slowly, but with purpose, only stopping once he's got Wille slightly propped up, soft pillows piled behind his upper body, lifting him up just so. Wille forgets how to breathe when, slowly, carefully, almost without touching him, Simon climbs over Wille's body, comes to rest with his knees digging into the mattress by Wille's hips. Wille's body is screaming for him to move up, to close the space between them, to get to feel all of Simon's weight, the solidity, the realness of his form. But he stays put, watches with bated breath how Simon runs his eyes up and down Wille.

Simon grabs the side of Wille's neck, comforting and gentle and cool and making Wille's skin burn up at the contrast. His thumb follows a line down the length of Wille's neck, pressing against his jumping pulse. Wille's eyes flutter closed. When he blinks them open again, Simon is hovering right above Wille. If he doesn't think about it too hard, Wille's breath reflecting back towards him almost feels like it's coming from Simon's mouth. He licks his lips at the notion. Simon sees, always sees, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, there's a small smile curling up the corner of his mouth. It takes what little oxygen is left in Wille's stuttering lungs right out of him. "This is going to hurt," Simon says. He brushes over Wille's cheek once, barely there touch. Wille nods helplessly. "I know," he more breathes than says. He hopes it will. Simon carefully lowers down, meeting Wille's body, all pressure, all resistance. It coaxes a quiet moan out of Wille. Simon's smile widens. "Is that why you want it?" Heat rushes through Wille, sudden and violent. It's only now that he notices, now that Simon has got him trapped underneath him, now that Simon is right there. Wille is hard, he's so painfully hard, trapped between their bodies. It's mortifying, it's- Simon shifts again, raises and lowers his lips so Wille can feel him, too. His cock presses up against Wille's crotch, just as hard, just as heavy. It punches the truth right out of him. He nods. Simon hums again, then dips his head to brush his nose against Wille's. Wille cranes his neck, tries to catch Simon's lips, hungry and thirsty and feeling horribly, horribly deprived. But Simon's hand is holding him down by the back of his neck, keeping him just far enough for Wille to be able to look down and catch a glimpse of Simon's sharp teeth, peeking out behind his lips. Wille helplessly tries to buck his hips against Simon's. "Should've told me that," Simon mumbles as he moves away, down to where Wille wants him most. "I can give you that..."

Wille nods quickly, desperately. He immediately stops when Simon gives a gentle squeeze to his neck. "I would love to give you that."

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

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71. prompt and some praise & edging? 👀💚

Hiiii!!! Using my train ride """effectively""" by writing fic hehehe. Thank you so much for this beautiful prompt, which was “i want you to keep going, forever” 👀 Happy birthday month, Simon, you deserve this one <3

I hope you'll enjoy! 💜💜💜

cw: nsfw

Just as Simon feels the knot in his belly tightening almost unbearably, Wille is gone again. Suddenly, without warning, all at once. And Simon is left panting, gasping, bereft.

His hands fly up, try to grasp onto something, blindly find Wille's hair. But before he can properly tug, guide Wille back, make him take Simon's cock in his mouth again, please please please please, Wille is crawling up and over Simon, meeting his mouth instead. Simon groans when their lips crash together, letting Wille swallow the deeply frustrated noise right down. Wille does so eagerly, cradling Simon's head with one hand, resting his other palm atop his heaving ribcage. He deepens the kiss, feeds Simon's own taste back to him, and Simon shudders with unchannelled arousal. He finally regains control over his limbs, tightens his grip on Wille's hair, keeps him right there, where he can't pull away, can't take this away from Simon, too. Simon faintly registers that he's making sounds, kissing Wille back with more fervor than seems feasible with how out of it he is. But he needs this, needs something, needs Wille close while he lies there, trying to cope, trying to breathe and not to sob with his release ripped right out of reach. He's aching. Has been painfully hard for as long as he's been on his back with Wille over him. The smallest touch, Wille's warm fist around him, the crook of his thigh, it wouldn't take much. And yet he's stuck here, slowly sliding back from the brink, eyes squeezed shut against the torturous phantom sensation of Wille's mouth on him. He only realizes that he's pushing up, writhing his hips, searching for friction, when Wille hooks his leg over Simon's thigh. Warm and muscular and firm and soft and deliberately staying away from where Simon wants him pressed into him. It's ridiculous, it's embarrassing, it shouldn't affect him as much, but Simon whines, then whines again, pushing against Wille's weight. "Shhh," Wille mumbles then, has the audacity to sound comforting and gentle and kind where he's working a line of kisses from Simon's cheek towards his ear, then down his neck. "I've got you...," Wille promises, works more kisses onto the side of Simon's neck, and rubs comforting circles into the skin of Simon's belly. "Let me take care of you, love when you let me take care of you..." There's pressure behind Simon's eyes, stupidly affected by the soft touch and the way Wille is so obviously avoiding Simon's cock. The way it just lies against his stomach, heavy, twitching, slick with spit. Simon doesn't feel very taken care of, not there at least. Every other body parts that's on contact with one of Wille's leaves no doubt, but the pinpricks of being denied still sting. "Please," he begs, believing and at the same time not believing that Wille understands, that Wille sees how badly Simon needs him. But Wille only nods against the side of his neck, continues to ignore Simon's neediness. So Simon cracks. His hand still feels uncoordinated when he untangled his fingers from Wille's hair and moves it down, grabbing Wille's wrist and pushing him further down.

As if it's not bad enough, as if Simon's cheeks aren't already hot, Wille lifts his head and looks down, watches Simon tug his hand into place. "Please Wille," he tries again, whining desperately, when he lays Wille's hand over his cock, watches Wille watch. Just when he thinks Wille is about to pull away again, Wille's hand twitches, then, oh god, finally wraps around his cock. Simon's sigh of relief is too loud, his grip on Wille's fair too harsh, his insides too fuzzy for him to think. But, fuck, Wille is grabbing him, holding him, nice and warm and tight, long fingers and delicious pressure. Simon keens, eyes rolling back behind closed eyelids. He tries to thrust, tries to set a rhythm to fuck himself into Wille's fist, to get some badly needed movement, but Wille's leg remains on his hip, heavy and unrelenting. A silent gasp leaves his mouth when Wille simply squeezes once. "Let me do it," Wille says, voice entirely too softly. So softly, so sweetly, that Simon simply has to agree. He blinks his eyes open again, finds Wille already looking back. When Simon gives him a nod, he gets a smile in return. Wille turns his head, looking down Simon's body, at where Simon is hard and flushed in his grip. "You feel so good in my hand," he says gently, and Simon feels a sudden rush of heat shoot to his head. He swallows hard, unable to reply. Slowly, oh so painfully slowly, Wille starts moving. His spit from earler has mostly dried off, so it's a little rough, Wille has to go slow, but Simon feels every single jerk down to his curling toes. This is... different. This is entirely different. Simon notices when Wille's movements get more shallow, concentrating his attention only to the head of Simon's cock, barely even pushing the foreskin back anymore. It knocks the breath right out of Simon's lungs. He opens his mouth, finds nothing to say, helplessly gapes at Wille while he feels a warm tide rising deep within, steady and familiar, but slower, only ever gaining the faintest bit of momentum. His limbs are liquid lead. It's like Wille is slowly reducing his movements to a minimum, his fist snug around the head of Simon's cock, but moving in the most minuscule ways.

Simon closes and opens his mouth again, stunned into almost-silence, tiny broken-off moans the only sound he's still capable of making. Through it all, Wille's gaze stays firmly trained on where he's working Simon in a way he's never done before, doing things Simon has never felt. "Love touching your cock," Wile says, so quietly that it barely registers. But Simon hears and he feels the reverence. The warm tide spills over, Simon feels it everywhere, feels it tingling in his toes and in his scalp, feels it coursing through him. He makes whimpery noise that has Wille's head snapping up towards him. "Is this-" Simon claws his fingernails into Wille's shoulder, suddenly terrified that Wille could think to stop whatever he's doing. Simon just nods wildly, feeling the liquid metal in his veins move. Luckily, it's enough. He keeps up the small movements, keeps stoking the flames in the pit of Simon 's stomach. Just when Simon sucks in a sharp gasp, just as he tenses up, Wille is gone again. But instead of falling, dropping, crashing, Simon stays afloat the sizzling current. He desperately sucks in more air, desperately scratches the skin of Wille's back, but the warmth, the fuzz, the sear of almost-there remains, has no way of draining out of him, stays where it is, hot and unbearable in a way that Simon never wants to stop feeling. "F-uck," he gasps out, eyes clenching shut against the odd feeling, against the intensity. "Fuck, Wille..." And Wille is there, he's kissing Simon again, he's leaning over him, pinning him down so nicely, even though Simon should be melting underneath him. Simon doesn't know how long he stays still like this, cock weakly twitching where it's resting on his stomach again, no part of Wille anywhere near. But after a while, Wille is back. He rubs the pads of his fingers over the wet tip of Simon's cock, slow and slick. The sensation cuts through Simon violently, feeling like not enough and too much all at once. It's everything Wille is giving him, a few fingers to the head of his cock, nothing more. "Always so nice and soft right here," Wille whispers. Simon is so sensitive. So sensitive he should want to squirm away, should be falling over the brink with another swipe of Wille's thumb. But he doesn't. He stays put, stays pinned down, feels the smooth, delicious glide of skin over sensitive skin and lies in the ripples of pleasure running through him with every move. It takes a moment for Wille's voice to cut through the fog and land in Simon's ear.

"Should I? Want me to make you come?" The question makes Simon shiver, causes a wave of heat to well up. But Simon shakes his head vehemently, clamps down on Wille's biceps, wants to keep him there, right there, where he's playing with him in a way that makes his blood run cold and hot at the same time, where Simon gets to wallow in the feeling of right before for what seems like minutes, hours. "Please," he mumbles, unfamiliar with his own voice. "Keep going..." There's a small sound, a gasp, quiet and surprised and pleased. "Yeah?" Simon can hear Wille's awe, he doesn't need to open his eyes to know he must be looking at him with those big brown eyes that drive Simon crazy. He switches up his movement, strokes right underneath the head of Simon's cock and it should be enough, the pressure is there. But Simon doesn't come, just feels thick hot arousal pumping through his veins. "Want you to keep going forever...," Simon babbles, throwing his head back against the pillow. The warming flames are licking up his chest, the column of his exposed throat. Wille slowly circles his cockhead, smooth and soft and sending a stinging, lovely sear through him that transforms into a loud groan right out of Simon's throat. Simon's toes are out over the edge, he's moments from falling. But he stays.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

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Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre, featured in Letters to Sartre

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@enjoythesilentworld came to Europe bearing AMAZING gifts ⛪🍆💋

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AUGUST | WILHELM | S2E1

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mantis by wunderhorse / young royals

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germany i am inside you

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sunday snippet

things have been soso crazy so it's been slow going on the next chapter, and im gonna be traveling for the next month and a half, but hopefully i can get it out soon 💀 here is some more of ch10 in the meantime :p

Linda clicked her tongue at him, “I’m just saying, maybe you could spend a little less time in the office. You haven’t brought anyone home in—”

“Mamá,” he groaned. “That’s not— It’s— It’s complicated.”

“There’s something to be complicated?” Linda asked, raising a brow. A smile grew on her lips.

The kettle began to scream in the kitchen, and Simon took that as his escape.

“No, I mean—” He groaned again as he pulled two cups from the cabinet and set about digging for two tea bags and the good honey from the back of the cabinet. “It’s just— It wouldn’t work.”

“But you like him?”

Simon tried to keep his hands from shaking.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing around for a tray. It was hard to make his eyes focus on anything, visions in his mind flicking back to that empty apartment kitchen. He braced his hands on the counter. “Maybe. But it’s not— I can’t. Even if he makes me feel— He makes me feel like I’m walking on a live wire. I’ve never— I’ve never felt like that.”

Broken glass on the floor, a finger wrapped around his.

Nicotine cravings crawled up the back of his neck as he continued on, “And I think, I think his soul is… Good. Kind, if a little misguided.”

A hand on his chin, breath on the back of his neck.

“Or a lot.” He shook his head. “I find myself looking for his face in a crowd, anyway. Wondering if or when he’ll appear around the corner. It’s been two weeks since I saw him last, and I still—”

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Sunday snippet

From chapter 5 of Young Riders. I promise it's in progress 😇

“Sara? Is everything okay?” “No, that’s why I’m calling. I need you to come pick me up.” “Pick you up from where? Did something happen to you?” By the time the question was out, Simon’s mind had already come up with a plethora of scenarios, most of which involved Sara scared and injured to some extent. Had she gotten herself in danger after he’d woken her suspicions? Was he the reason she was hurt?  “Not me”, Sara’s voice sounded through his phone speaker at that moment, making an entire rock of worry plummet off his chest only for it to tense back up when she added, “We’re just at the hospital and there’s no bus going anymore. And neither Wille nor I brought a car so- “Wait, Wille? Why are you with- Fuck, did something happen to him? Is that why you’re at the hospital?” “It’s an equine hospital, Simon” Sara said flatly. He could hear her tiredness ringing through every syllable. Equine… that meant- “You’re at a horse clinic?” “Yes. And it’d be really great if you could come pick me up.” There was a short pause, then she added, “Wille could use a ride home, too.”

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so cool that Omar gave his last performance right before i come to europe and won’t do his next one until after i leave 😀

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Omar on TikTok.

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if i finish my to-do list for the day i didnt put enough stuff on the list,but if i dont finish my to-do list i am an utter failure hey so whats up with that? folks can we call a team meeting to get this figured out because holy fucking shit i am so tired of it