#another unexpected positive consequence of getting into shifting

[rottenlittlefink]

I don’t feel jealousy much, anymore, man 🤔 anyone else notice this in themselves? Like, no matter their 3D circumstances, even the shitty ones??

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: Eren dwells on the possible consequences of not saying three little words back. However, a week at the Jaeger house only makes your bond grow stronger and for your trust in each other to manifest in more ways than one.

— Content warnings: nsfw, dry humping, sloppy make out, vaginal sex, handjob, oral sex (f receiving), multiple positions, dirty talk.

— Notes: Chapter 9 is finally here! <3 This is my second favorite chapter in the entire series. It’s a long one, so buckle up because lots of things happen. Reblogs and likes are highly appreciated. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

home is in your arms

The passing scenery from inside of the rental car is bursting with color. Toasty yellows, cheerful blues, fresh greens, and vibrant reds span your vision as you drive across the town. It's a stark contrast to the icy whites and blues you left behind just a few hours ago when you took a flight to Paradis Island. 

Eren's free hand rests on your thigh while the other steers the wheel. His sunglasses are low on the bridge of his nose and the warm wind comes in through the lowered windows and teases his hair. 

You bite down on the ice cream sandwich in your hands before humming for Eren's attention and offering him a bite, too. 

He chomps down on the snack, laughing when you pout at the significant reduction of the treat he brought you at the convenience store next to the car rental shop. He insisted he didn't want anything other than the bottle of cold water snug in the cupholder, so you only offered him a bite of your ice cream to be nice, but didn't expect him to be so greedy.

You click your tongue in annoyance before playfully slapping his hand from your thigh. 

It only fuels his amusement. At the next red light, he leans over the console, using his reprimanded hand to pull you closer by the back of your neck into an enthusiastic kiss.

“I'll get you another one later,” he promises before falling back into his seat, his warm hand back in its original spot.

He strokes soothing stripes with his thumb, switching to tapping beats with his fingertips when he happens to like a song on the radio. 

“I'm really happy you came,” he grins.

You glance at him with a smile.

“I can tell,” you tease.

On the days leading up to your year-end holiday trip to the Jaeger family's hometown, Eren has barely done anything to keep his excitement under wraps. 

His face would light up each time he talked about showing you around the streets he grew up in before his late father moved them to the city when he was just six years old. After Eren grew up and could properly fend for himself — his parents moved back to Paradis Island to live out a more relaxed life until Eren's dad, Grisha, passed at the hands of an illness a couple of years back. It's the only time Eren's been back that hasn't been for the winter holidays. This year, it just made sense that you joined him.

“You think your mom will like me?” you ask, neatly folding the ice cream wrapper into a small square that you wedge beside your water bottle in the cupholder. 

“Are you kidding?” he grins. “She's thrilled I'm finally bringing you over. She's gonna love you.”

You smile as you continue to look out the window through your sunglasses, oblivious to the sudden shift in Eren's demeanor after his reassuring words.

It's been roughly a month since you told him you love him. It's been just as long since he failed to say it back — not because it'd be a lie, but because he was simply shocked and overwhelmed with emotion at the time.

He's been trying to find an opening to say it, but you haven't pronounced those three words since, and with every passing day, it's gotten more embarrassing to just say it out of the blue. For a while, his paranoia even led him to believe your confession to be no longer true since you neglected to bring it up after it happened, so the topic has been hanging in the air for a while. Not that you seem consumed by it as much as he is. You've been perfectly fine since that night, much so that he'd actually prefer if you confronted him about it so he gets a chance to preach his true feelings.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp as he pulls through the open gate of his childhood home. 

Your eyes scan the area. It's a lovely home with a manicured lawn, hydrangea patches and neatly trimmed rose bushes overflowing with pink and white. The two-story house is painted in peach with terracotta tiles lining the roof of the terrace, and colorful handmade pots on either side of the front steps. To the left is a small driveway that Eren steers the car towards, and to the right is a small ornate gate painted in white that leads to the backyard where you catch a glimpse of a pool.

A woman — whom you presume is Eren's mother — eagerly rushes out the front door at the sound of the foreign car. 

Much to your surprise, she calls out your name first, passing by her son and pulling you into her arms instead.

“You're finally here,” she gushes. Your arms awkwardly hang at your sides, taken aback by the sudden contact, but you quickly regain control over yourself as you sink into the warm welcome. She sways your body from side to side as she exclaims how happy she is to finally meet you.

Your heart flutters with an unfamiliar sensation, one you haven't experienced in years as Carla Jaeger’s motherly affection lightens your soul.

“Look at you,” she says, pulling back and cupping your face between her soft hands to soak in every detail of your face. “You're so pretty.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile. “It's so nice to meet you.”

You take the opportunity to observe the woman before you. Eren's shown you a few pictures before, but Carla's even more beautiful up close. Though still fairly young, it's easy to tell she's one of those people whose powerful genetics allow them to age gracefully. She shares the same large eyes as Eren, though hers have a caramel color to them, and they crinkle more at the corners when she smiles. Her thick eyebrows match her voluminous head of dark hair, which is fixed in a loose braid over her shoulder. 

She's wearing a long flowy dress that easily outshines your airport look made up of a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized graphic tee with a hoodie tied at your waist, but the way she looks at you makes you feel as though you may as well be stepping off the runway given the twinkle of admiration shining in her eyes.

Eren regards the endearing scene between his mother and girlfriend with a smile etched on his face. He can tell you're shy but just as happy for the warm welcome. 

He clears his throat suddenly, garnering the attention of both women. 

“I'm here, too, mom,” he sassily pronounces with his hands openly asking for the same attention.

Carla laughs and walks over to him, but not before affectionately squeezing your hands and tossing you a playful eye roll.

She wraps her son in a tight hug, forcing him to hunch over to accommodate her petite stature as he reciprocates her embrace.

“My baby boy,” she coos, much to Eren's embarrassment as he blushes profusely when he notices your teasing smile.

A yearning feeling pulls at your heartstrings at the scene of mother and child reunited.

Carla ushers you inside the house, asking you all about the flight on the way. You and Eren trail behind her to the kitchen, where she takes out a pitcher from the fridge while you sit down at the bar.

“Not too bad, right?” Eren glances at you, encouraging you to take part in the conversation.

You smile at him appreciatively before turning to Carla, watching as she carefully pours lemonade into two glasses and offers them to you.

“Smoothest airport experience ever,” you agree before taking a sip. “Even though I don't have much to compare it to.”

“Why's that, hon?” 

Your heart flutters at the affectionate name you've earned without trying.

“Oh, it was her first time on a plane,” Eren explains, tossing you a smile.

“Really?” Carla's eyebrows rise in surprise. “What'd you think?” 

“It was okay,” you reply with a shrug, trying to seem cool about it. But Eren outs you as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“I had to hold her hand during take-off,” he bluntly states, earning himself a slap on his shoulder.

“You don't have to expose me like that!”

“Hey, I wasn't complaining,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

Your face burns when he pecks your cheek, and you nervously glance at Carla, who only laughs at your exchange.

“You two are adorable,” she gushes. 

Her words fluster you even more.

Eren teasingly wiggles his eyebrows at you before chugging the rest of his drink and hopping off his stool.

“I'm gonna get our suitcases.” He turns to his mom. “Are we in my old room or did you already turn it into a yoga studio?” 

Carla shakes her head.

“It's a craft corner now,” she clarifies, holding up a finger. “You're staying in the pool house. I fixed it up this morning.”

Eren nods, humming in approval. 

“Nice. Thanks, mom.”

He ventures out of the house, leaving you and Carla alone.

“I figured you could use some privacy,” she adds once her son is out of earshot.

You laugh nervously at her mischievous smile. Her eyes crinkle in amusement before she wears a more serious expression.

“How's my son treating you? Is he good to you?” 

Carla — though very stern about making sure Eren grew up to be a good person, and proud that he did — is one who will still check in every now and then to make sure nothing has led him astray. Especially in situations that are so rare in his life, like romance is.

You smile, easing her worries instantly.

“He's incredibly kind,” you softly say. “I couldn't be happier.”

Carla relaxes into a smile. 

“That's good to hear.” 

“He's a very respectful man,” you add. “At least in my case, it’s been pretty hard to come across genuinely good guys, but ones like Eren are especially rare… He’s very caring… and patient… and understanding. You and Mr. Jaeger raised a wonderful person.”

A dust of pink surfaces Carla's cheeks at the compliment. 

She reaches across the counter to place her hand on top of yours.

“You know, I was so excited when he told me he started seeing someone. For a while I worried he just wanted to be alone,” she admits. “Not that there's anything wrong with that. I've always said it's better to be alone than to keep the wrong company, but he’s been so happy every time he calls me up since you started dating… I'm glad he has the same effect on you.”

“Well, he makes it easy.” 

You share a smile with each other, holding hands in silence.

You aren't as nervous as you thought you'd be when Eren first told you he wanted you to come to Paradis with him to meet his mom.

She's got a calming energy that easily soothes you in her presence — much like her son.

“I meant to say this earlier, but your house is lovely,” you say as you look around, eyes landing on every pop of color provided by eclectic knick-knacks and accent walls, handmade vases and colorful flowers. It's like someone took your apartment and turned the dial as far as it can go, it's unapologetically loud without being overwhelming. “It’s like a dollhouse.”

“I decorated it myself,” she grins. “Picked the palette, the furniture, everything.”

“That's amazing,” you breathe, highly impressed. “Eren told me you used to work as an interior designer.”

She nods.

“I did. I majored in art in college but my father already had an architecture firm so that's where everything fell in place for me after I graduated.” 

You politely nod along.

“I like to dabble in lots of things now. I still paint and take on private clients now and then, but I spend a lot of time on my hobbies. Knitting, sewing, baking, Italian, gardening…” 

Your eyes widen as the list goes on, especially when it's a hobby of your liking, too.

“You saw the pots outside?”

You nod.

“Made those, too,” she proudly states.

Your smile grows as does your admiration for the talented woman before you.

Eren told you some basic things before coming, but he failed to mention how remarkable his mother truly is.

“That's incredible,” you sigh. 

“What about you?” she smiles. “What do you do outside of work? Eren told me you're an office administrator?”

“Office manager, yeah, it's not a very glamorous job,” you chuckle. “But I like knitting, too. And reading, cooking… but baking is my favorite.”

She claps with glee at the last of the list.

“Oh, good! You can help me make cookies tomorrow!” 

“Yes, of course!” you reply, mirroring her enthusiasm.

She squeals with delight.

“Oh, it's so nice to finally have a baking buddy,” she gushes. “Eren only helps lick the batter off the spoon.”

You laugh.

“Eren, what?”

The man himself wanders into the kitchen with an accusing gaze.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. “Just exchanging war stories with your mom.”

In his ever-lingering childish manner, Eren pouts.

“Hey,” he complains. “She's still my mom. She'll report back to me later.”

He glances at Carla for backup, but the lively woman tears down his idea on the spot.

“I wouldn't dare. Girl talk is sacred.”

She holds up her pinky in your direction, which you gladly link with while laughing at Eren’s playful scowl.

“You two should get settled in before dinner,” she says, waving you out of the kitchen. “I'm making bolognese.” 

“Oh, would you like some help?” you offer.

But she shakes her head while waving her hands in front of her.

“No need, honey. Just go unpack and I'll call you out. You're probably tired from the flight here.”

Before you can insist any further, Eren laces your hands together and gestures to you to follow him out with a nod and his signature boyish grin.

He leads you out to the backyard through the sliding doors at the back of the dining room.

The pool water sparkles underneath the sizzling sun at the center of the vibrant green of the freshly cut grass. A few lawn chairs are scattered along the poolside under the shade of a tree.

On the other end of it all, there's a simple, one-story construction in the same peach tone and the same terracotta tiles from the main house. Eren holds the door open for you to step into a colorful lounge area equipped with a bar and kitchenette, with two doors along the left wall that lead to other rooms.

“It's a mini-dollhouse,” you murmur in amazement as your eyes go from the royal blue curtains to the yellow velvet sofa to the oddly-shaped acrylic coffee table before it, to the green and blue mismatched tiles that take up the northern wall of the kitchenette. 

Eren amusedly watches you wander over to the doors on the left side. 

“There's a pink bathtub!” You turn to him in surprise. 

He laughs as he rejoins your hands and guides you to the bedroom.

“I've never seen a pink bathtub,” you murmur, still amazed by what you saw in the bathroom.

“Come here,” Eren grins, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you onto his lap. 

He looks up at you, eyes shimmering as he brushes your hair out of your face.

“Are you happy?” 

You smile as you lock your hands behind his neck.

“Very.”

“Yeah?”

You reply with an eager nod as you close the gap between you to kiss the corner of his lips. He doesn't allow you to pull away, his hand keeping you in place as he returns the kiss. 

He falls back onto the bed, pulling you down with him by the waist.

You rest on your sides, regarding each other in comfortable silence.

“Do you think we can find a place with a pink bathtub?” you wonder out loud after a few minutes.

Eren laughs.

“Are you still thinking about that?” 

“I can't help it! This place is amazing,” you gush. 

“Just wait til the New Year's Eve party,” he says. “You're gonna love it.”

“Tell me about it,” you ask him, snuggling into his chest.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, as he squeezes your frame. “There’s music and champagne. My mom has a friend who owns a catering business and they serve the most incredible food. My mom decorates the terrace with all these flowers and lights, and at the stroke of midnight there's a fireworks show to celebrate the new year.”

“That sounds so nice,” you smile, then lean back to look at him. “Any New Year's kiss plans, Jaeger?”

“I don't know,” he sighs. “There's this girl I have a huge crush on but I don't know if she'll say yes.”

“That's too bad,” you say. “One-sided crushes are the worst.”

He nods in mock disappointment. 

“I'll just have to settle for you.”

“I guess you should.”

He kisses your cheek once, which soon transforms into a full-on attack of affection as he tickles and pokes your sides, making you laugh until you're gasping for air and tears of joy line your eyes.

Laughter echoes throughout the Jaeger home as the three of you browse the pages of Eren's baby photo albums.

After a relaxing shower and filling your bellies with heaps of Carla's pasta — she promised to pass on the recipe to you before you left — she left the dining room with a mischievous grin on her face, only to return with a stack of five albums, one for each early year of his life, and a box with more photos from later years. 

The three of you curled up on the sofa in the living room — you in between each Jaeger.

“This one has to be my new favorite,” you laugh as you land on a new spread.

Your eyes focus on a picture of a chubby nine-month-old Eren wearing nothing but a diaper and a pair of black boots, his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses as he grips his tiny hands on the edge of a chair. 

Eren blushes when you turn to look at him with eyes crinkled in amusement and giggles leaving your lips.

“You already have like twenty favorites,” he chuckles.

“You were a really cute baby,” you defend. 

“This one is my favorite,” Carla points out, as she turns to the next page to reveal a photo of him fully naked with his back to the camera as he looks over his shoulder with a pout on his lips. 

You fall into a fit of giggles, gushing at baby Eren's adorable expression. 

“This feels like a hate crime,” he mutters.

“On who?” you laugh.

“On me, obviously!”

He tries to seem annoyed but the truth is, he enjoys watching your eyes light up as you watch him grow up between every still image.

The three of you share more laughs and you and Carla especially gang up on Eren when you reach the photo series from when he was going through a self-proclaimed model phase, where he would strike the most ridiculous poses he could think of in every frame.

You resist your tiredness until the last of the pictures has been graced by your delighted critique, to the point where you practically collapse onto the bed hours later when you and Eren go back to the pool house for the night. 

With Eren's warm embrace and the hours of travel catching up to you in an instant, you quickly fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Your first official day in Paradis has a late start. After your late-night laughs, you didn't wake up until nearly noon. Though you intended to help Carla make breakfast and clean, she was very understanding about how tired you were after such a long day. 

Even so, a couple of hours later, you hoped your assistance in baking cookies would be enough to make up for it.

You and Carla seem to make quite the team as you move around the kitchen in sync — sifting dry ingredients and mixing the wet ones, all while keeping your stations clean for the next steps. 

Christmas music plays in the background as Carla's infectious joy for the eve of her favorite holiday spreads through the house and wraps you in the same eagerness. 

“I've never made Christmas cookies before,” you mention, as you raise the whisk from your mixing bowl to check the consistency of your chocolate batter for the bundt cake Carla put you in charge of as she rolls out the dough for the cookies.

“Really?” Carla asks.

You nod.

“One of my neighbors gifted me some once when I was younger, but they were store-bought. And my mom wasn't much of a baker… or into holidays, for that matter.”

Carla glances at you with a sympathetic smile as she sets aside the rolling pin and eyes the thickness of the slab of gingerbread dough.

“It must've been hard for you at times, huh?”

Eren shared some details of your past with his mother before making the trip. Not that he expected her to say anything hurtful, but because he figured she shouldn't be caught off guard in case you were particularly sensitive about something.

“I can't really miss what I've never known,” you reply with a shrug. “I think there was a time when I would feel a little jealous of the kids at school after winter break when they would brag about all the stuff they did. It was normal for them but to me, it seemed like a luxury. I'm sure there were some good holiday moments at my house but they were too early on for me to remember.” 

Carla nods, lips pursed and eyes pensive.

“Is there anything you want to try this week?” she asks with a smile. “Eren and I always watch a movie on Christmas Eve and eat cake.”

With a shy smile on your face, you shrug.

“I don't really know. That's already more than I've done on my own… and I'm having enough fun already.”

Carla's smile grows wider at your words.

“Well, if you think of something else, let me know, okay?”

Appreciatively, you nod.

Just as you're about to pour the chocolate batter into the mold, Eren pops into the kitchen, eyes zeroing in on the whisk in your hands.

For the sake of spending more quality time with you, Carla asked her son to keep out of the kitchen — that, and because she doesn't want his sticky fingers near the cake batter. But, of course, he just had to make an appearance during his break from cleaning the pool.

“Looking good,” he comments, pressing a hand against the small of your back so he can get to the fridge for a glass of cold water.

A smile paints across your features as you continue pouring the batter into the mold, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a wooden spoon.

“Are you done with the pool already?” Carla asks him, to which he nods as he chugs down the glass of water.

“Sure am, ma'am.”

Carla hums with skepticism. 

“Go water my plants now, will ya?”

Eren straightens his posture, giving his mom a soldier's salute before making his way out. 

He pauses when he's right behind you, snatching the wooden spoon over your shoulder, pecking your lips when you turn around looking startled. 

“I'll take that,” he grins, winking at your flustered face before exiting the room, laughing on the way as Carla yells at him to not distract her baking buddy.

You bring a hand to your lips, laughing nervously as you avoid Carla's amused gaze.

The two of you take on either side of the slab of dough with cookie cutters as the holiday cheer heightens.

A while later, after the kitchen's been wiped down and the sweet smell of cookies and cake permeates the air, the three of you settle in the living room to fulfill the Jaeger’s Christmas Eve tradition.

You're snuggled between Eren's legs on the reclinable seat, your body covered by a blanket. The nights in Paradis run as cold as the afternoons are hot, but that's no issue when your boyfriend is always so warm.

Eren has his arms wrapped around your waist and every few moments he'll lean down to kiss the crown of your head. Your back picks up the vibrations of his chest when he laughs at a funny scene, as well as his heartbeat, which echoes in sync with yours as your fingers lace with his underneath the blanket.

The tree lights twinkle from the corner of the room as the only source of light aside from the TV. The air is sweet and you're at peace with a stomach full of cake and hot chocolate with peppermint and marshmallows. 

Good holidays have been rare, but this one so far will remain at the top of your list for years to come, you're sure.

The morning after, you're huddled on the floor around the Christmas tree, watching Carla open the gift you got her — a steel jewelry kit with an assortment of stones to embed into her creations. 

Her face lights up like a child's and she throws her arms around you in appreciation. 

“It's perfect!” she exclaims. “How did you know?” She narrows her eyes at her son, assuming he forecasted her next hyperfixation. 

Eren raises his hands in defense.

“It was all her,” he says with a proud grin on his face.

“Thank you,” she smiles as she pronounces your name.

Eren gives her his gift next — a signed vinyl of her favorite band from her early twenties, which receives an equally big reaction.

Eren bursts out laughing when he unwraps your present and pulls out a chibi Sailor Mars figurine. 

“This is amazing,” he grins, turning the box in his hands with fascination. 

You and Eren each receive hand-knit sweaters from Carla, made with intricate patterns and neat stitches in vibrant colors and soft wool.

When it's your turn to open Eren's gift, he holds his breath as he carefully watches you peel off the paper from the black velvet box.

“Oh, wow,” you murmur as you lift the delicate necklace to admire the pendant up close. It's an angel cast in silver, its tiny hands holding a sphere made out of your birthstone.

A knot forms in your throat as you look back at a shyly smiling Eren.

“It's a guardian angel,” he explains in that gentle voice that makes you weak at the knees.

He gestures for you to angle yourself so he can put the necklace on you.

Carla admires the scene from her place with proud eyes and her hands over her heart.

“Do you like it?” Eren asks, his face hovering over your shoulder to gauge your reaction as you look down at the little angel that rests a couple of inches below your collarbone. 

Turning around to face him, you nod, eyes shimmering with joy and appreciation for the boy before you.

“I love it.”

After breakfast, you and Eren wander back into the pool house hand in hand.

You collapse onto the bed, side by side as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Are you happy?” he asks.

“You asked me that yesterday,” you smile. “And the day before, too. Do I not look happy?”

He chuckles airily.

“I just wanna make sure.”

You prop your weight on your elbow and cup his face with your free hand. 

The silver angel dangles between you, catching the light that comes through the window. 

“I'm extremely happy,” you murmur, bending down to kiss him as soon as the words leave your mouth.

He smiles into the kiss.

“Good.”

You stand from the bed, walking over to the mirror above the dresser. Smiling, you tilt your head, swaying your upper body so you can see how the angel looks at different angles.

Eren admires you from the bed for a moment before coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I have a second gift for you,” he murmurs slyly. 

Your eyebrows rise with intrigue.

From the mirror, you see him pull something from his back, waving it into view.

Your grin widens at the familiar image of black boots and sunglasses.

“The baby picture!” you exclaim.

You turn around in his arms to take hold of the glossy photo paper.

“It's all yours,” he smiles, then lifts your chin to kiss you on the lips. “And so am I.”

You sink into his kiss, soft and warm, as your arms drape around his neck.

You're giddy with excitement as you, Eren, and Carla venture between scattered beach towels and umbrellas in search of a good spot to settle down.

As expected of Paradis Island's track record, the weather is perfect for a day at the beach. Eren is happy at the chance to make up for the lack of water activities from your first date, as you finally get to cross out one of the items on your bucket list. 

You find a good spot at an equal distance from the water and the seaside eatery where families gather for food after their afternoon swim.

It's not as crowded as you expected, but enough people thought the beach was the perfect setting to unwind from any leftover Christmas chaos from the day before.

Eren fixes the beach umbrella while you and Carla smooth your towels on the sand. Eren gulps hard when you tug off your t-shirt and shorts, revealing once more the delicate swimsuit you bought for the occasion, before lathering yourself in sunscreen, aided by Carla for the spots you can't reach.

When you stepped out of the room in your one-piece earlier today — one with embroidered flowers and delicate straps tied in bows on your shoulders — while tugging on a pair of shorts to keep you modest, Eren nearly passed out.

The drive over allowed him to cool down and thankfully, you threw on that baggy t-shirt, too, or he would've been too flustered to drive.

He plops down onto the beach towel next to yours, watching you share a laugh with Carla over something unknown to him. You turn to him with a smile, kissing his cheek before offering to help him put on sunscreen.

He blushes but nods.

Your fingers sear his back as you massage the sunscreen into his bare skin. You catch glimpses of his flustered demeanor as you work your way down his back. The tips of his ears are flushed red, and when you finally finish, he shyly averts his gaze. 

After a quick look over your shoulder to make sure Carla is distracted looking for something in her bag, you lift Eren's chin and place a soft kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” he smiles, glancing at his mom lying behind you. He knows you've been shy about kissing him in front of her.

“Because you're cute,” you tease with a shrug before relaxing against your towel.

Eren laughs to himself before taking a moment to relax in the sand as well. His hand meets yours in the middle and he interlocks your fingers, relishing in the warmth of your soft hand and that provided by the heated sand underneath him.

Carla's engrossed in a romance fantasy novel, which she reads through her sunglasses while you and Eren take in the salty air and the collective rustle of fellow beachgoers, with their distant cheers and laughter in between splashes of water.

“I'm gonna go for a swim,” Eren says after a while, carefully releasing your hand before standing. “Wanna join me?” he asks you, hoping you remember his promise to teach you.

You do. 

“Maybe in a little bit,” you smile.

With a crooked smile, he nods before jogging out toward the water.

You and Carla watch him run into the water without hesitation before diving in and swimming for a few feet until he resurfaces and waves at you from a distance.

An endeared smile takes over your features by reflex.

“He's pretty energetic, isn't he?” Carla laughs.

You nod.

“That's one of the things I like about him,” you murmur.

Carla glances at you briefly as she wedges her bookmark into the freshly read pages and sets the novel down on the sand. 

“Eren really likes you, you know,” she smiles. You nod. “I've never seen him so infatuated.” 

You giggle nervously.

“Yeah, but he's had a girlfriend before, right? That's what he told me.”

Carla racks her memory for a moment. 

“Oh, you mean Frieda!” she exclaims. “They dated in high school. She was a nice girl, but I don't think it compares to the way he looks at you. Besides, their romance was pretty short-lived. I don't think she liked him enough.”

You nod along to her words, wondering how anyone could ever not fall for Eren.

“He's a bit of a hopeless romantic,” she adds. “I figured most people would like that but I guess not all of them do.”

“Well, I do,” you assure her. “I like that he's sensitive.”

You poke holes into the sand with your index finger, unaware of the lazy grin that shapes your lips until Carla points it out.

“Do you love him?”

You immediately nod.

“I told him a while back, too… but he didn't say anything. I didn't expect him to, I know I might’ve said it a bit early but… everything feels right with him. I think I might’ve scared him, though.”

An amused air leaves Carla's lips.

“Oh, honey. He brought you here, didn't he?”

Embarrassed, you laugh down at your lap.

A looming shadow draws your attention. You look up to find Eren standing before you, hair wet and droplets streaming down his tan skin, swerving between every dip and curve of his toned torso.

“Hey,” he grins. “Ready?” 

Picking up your jaw and smiling, you nod before looking over at Carla.

“Mind if I steal her away for a bit, mom?” Eren asks.

Carla dismisses you with a wave of her hand.

“Go, have fun. I've got my book,” she says, plucking the bookmark from its place.

You take off your angel necklace, leaving it for Carla to keep safe in her bag. Eren helps you up with one easy pull and leads you through the sand.

The sun blares onto his back, drying off the smaller specks of water from his form as you walk to the shoreline. 

“What were you guys talking about this time?” he asks.

“You, obviously.”

He grins.

“All good things, I hope.”

You smile at him.

“Always.” 

The two of you walk along the shoreline, playfully swinging your linked hands as you distance yourself from the more crowded waters. 

“Here’s probably good,” Eren says once you reach a less saturated area.

You look around nervously, checking for any onlookers near the scene, but Eren’s quick to reassure you.

“Nobody’s gonna be looking at us,” he smiles, squeezing your hand. He steps backward into the water, gently tugging you along with an encouraging shimmer in his eyes.

The water causes you to shudder as you come into contact. It’s not too cold, but combined with the prospect of trying something new, it awakens a nervous response.

Eren carefully guides you deeper into the water until it reaches your waist. Instinctively, you catch yourself standing on your tiptoes the entire time, too unfamiliar with the wet sand beneath you to properly set your feet on the floor. You gently push your weight up, testing if you can somehow float even just the tiniest bit, but your body’s fearful reaction almost causes you to lose balance, if it wasn’t for Eren holding your hands. You go back to standing on your toes. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to learn how to swim in moving waters?” you ask, making nervous minuscule steps toward and away from Eren. You can’t seem to keep still with the feel of the sand shifting under your weight. “Maybe you should teach me in the pool. At least I can't drown there.”

“Relax,” Eren chuckles. Your nervous doe eyes have him in an amused trance. In his eyes, you're a clumsy baby deer learning to walk. “I worked as a lifeguard.”

You blink up at him, still making those tiny aimless steps.

“Did you really?”

“No,” he chuckles, too weak to lie when you’re holding onto his hands so tightly and looking up at him so helplessly. “But I’m not gonna let you drown; you’re too precious.”

You heat up in embarrassment. It’s not enough that you’ll likely make a fool of yourself but he can’t stop flirting even for a moment.

“How can I trust you after you just lied to me?” you pout.

Smiling, he lifts your chin with his index finger, leaning in to capture your lips in a brief kiss.

“Fine,” you murmur, miserably failing at hiding your flustered smile. “I trust you.”

He eagerly grins as he tells you to continue holding onto him and just allow your lower body to rise and float. You fail a few times, your fear keeping your legs from staying parallel to the water. Eren helps you, murmuring gentle commands and tips until you finally manage to stay afloat on your stomach.

“Now, try kicking,” he says, momentarily releasing one of your hands to mimic the motions with two fingers. 

His instructions are clear and in that soft tone he uses with none but you. Even when you're feeling self-conscious or silly it mostly stems from an inner source. Whenever he happens to laugh, it’s because he’s happily encouraging you and cheering you on, or because you’re laughing too.

When he begins pulling you around the water as you practice kicking, he teases you by racing a few steps, causing you to lose your center of gravity. The two of you erupt in laughter as he quickly hoists you up by your waist until you regain your balance.

“You jerk!” you laugh, using as much force as you can muster to splash him with water. 

He raises his forearms in defense, grinning as the salty water washes over his form, before returning your attack in the next instant.

You continue attacking each other with water, squinting at the salt that manages to reach your eyes and trying hard not to laugh to keep from tasting it.

Eren draws his body closer. His attacks are much more aggressive, making you back away from your offense and resorting to shield yourself with your arms while you gleefully squeal words of surrender and pleas for mercy.

The splashing stops when his arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back into his chest as he spreads salty kisses onto your cheek.

You turn around in his arms, grinning widely as you catch your breath. 

He looks adoringly into your eyes, airy laughter sputtering from his lips as he smooths your hair back with one hand and squeezes your hip with the other.

“That was an unfair fight, Jaeger,” you breathe. “You’re supposed to go easy on your girlfriend.”

“I don’t know. You were pretty feisty,” he grins.

You pull him in for a kiss, easily ignoring the saltiness on his lips as a satisfied hum bubbles up his throat.

You lean back, still mirroring each other’s smile.

“Want me to teach you to float on your back?” he suggests.

You hesitate. 

“That one scares me a little,” you admit. “What if I’m carried away by the current?”

He laughs.

“You won’t, there are barely any waves. Come on, it’s really cool once you get it.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, you nod.

Under his guidance and his strong arms, you're lifted parallel to the water again, only this time you’re on your back. His hands are pressed under your upper back and just below your glutes for support, as he tells you how to adjust your form. 

“Lift your chin,” he gently instructs. “And arch your back just a little more.”

You focus intently on keeping your head centered, resisting the urge to look at him so you don’t tilt your weight. 

“I’m gonna let go, okay?”

You quickly utter a string of no’s.

“I’ll do it slowly, yeah?” he offers. “Just stay as you are, I’ll still be right here in case you lose your balance.”

Hesitant, but mildly intrigued to see if you can stay afloat on your own, you subtly nod.

“Okay.”

Slowly, the pressure of Eren’s firm hands strays from your body, leaving you to float on your own.

Holding his hands out for you to see, he proudly grins.

“There you go,” he laughs.

Nervous giggles spill from your lips as you observe the water from your peripheral vision. 

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of floating in water. Eren stands next to you, like a palm tree shading an island.

“Pretty cool, right?” he murmurs.

You grin in response. Your eyes flutter open, squinting at the sun. With Eren keeping watch, your body relaxes into the soft motions of the water.

A ripple in the water sways your form. It’s a small shift in movement, so it only adds to the experience.

That is until a slightly bigger one comes your way. It’s still small enough that it would barely faze you had you been standing, but in your current position, it’s enough to startle you.

Eren reaches for your hand once he notices the mild panic in your eyes, but your arms shoot out to cling to his neck as you clumsily lift your upper body from the water. The ripple passes through, and your feet have yet to meet the ground. Eren’s hands are wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady as your doe eyes look up at him in apology for the sudden assault.

In one swift motion, he hooks his arms under your legs, wrapping them around his torso — simultaneously putting an end to your struggle and fixing you in a compromising position. 

“You okay?” he murmurs, his face mere inches from yours.

Flustered, you nod.

He smiles; you mirror the expression. 

His gaze flits to your parted lips, which expel soft breaths. 

He leans forward, tilting his head slightly as his nose brushes against yours. Your eyes flutter closed as he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. His lips are salty but warm as they slot between yours. Your hands are still hooked behind his neck from when you clung to him when the second ripple passed through the water. You ease your grip to weave your fingers in his hair, the water droplets trailing from the strands, and onto your palms as you deepen the kiss.

His sigh of relief falls inside your mouth, as your tongue brushes against his, eliciting goosebumps on your sun-kissed skin.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you notice him hardening, the bulge under his swim trunks brushing precisely against your most sensitive spot.

You pull apart from the kiss, forehead pressed against his, as you glance down where your lower bodies meet.

Just two measly layers are keeping you apart, and you can easily make out the outline of his erection as you continue to peer down with shallow breaths leaving your parted lips.   

When you look back up, you’re met with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, bashfulness lacing his meek tone as he tries to laugh. “Not much I can do about Little Jaeger in this situation.”

Warily, he scans your face for any motion, any twitch to get a read on what you’re thinking.  He can easily put you down now but, frankly, he doesn’t want to. He just hopes you feel the same way because having you in his arms like this, with water droplets clinging to your skin and your hands lovingly petting his hair, is something he wants to prolong forever.

“It’s okay,” you breathe. “I don’t mind.”

You reconnect with his lips, gently sucking on his bottom lip, drawing out a strained moan from him in the process.

He can feel himself growing impossibly harder under his trunks. It’s getting more difficult by the second to keep himself together when you’re moving your tongue against his so slowly. Thankfully, you pull back a few moments later.

“We should probably get back to your mom, though,” you murmur. “And I’m kind of hungry now.”

He nods. He doesn’t want to, but he lowers you to the ground. His erection brushes against your lower stomach in the process, leaving you to stumble back with a flustered expression on your face.

“You should head back first,” he says, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m gonna need a minute to… calm down.”

You shyly avert your gaze but nod to let him know you understand before finding the way back to your spot on the beach without him.

Still dizzy from the recent exchange, Eren looks out onto the horizon, taking long, deep breaths until he’s ready to meet you for lunch.

You pad barefoot into the bedroom, ruffling your hair with your hands to catch another wave of the fresh scent from your shampoo. Standing at the foot of the bed, you stretch your arms over your head, smiling down at Eren, who observes you quietly through shimmering emerald eyes as his arm rests behind your pillow. After your long day at the beach, where you sunbathed with Carla, Eren taught you how to float, and you feasted on ceviche and coconut water, you’re more than ready to collapse.

You climb onto the bed next to Eren, snuggling into him as you always do, while he lazily wraps an arm around your waist as he always does. The golden light from the bedside lamp on his side acts as the only source of light, soft and comforting.

“You had quite a day today, babe. Think you're on your way to join the Olympics?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, scooting back so you can face him properly.

“Not if you keep dragging me around like that,” you deadpan. “That was an attempted murder.”

He laughs.

You watch him ease into a smile as his thoughts wander to somewhere unknown to you.

“My mom really likes you, by the way,” he murmurs as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

You prop yourself on one elbow, your interest piqued by his comment.

“Really? Did she tell you that?”

He nods as he raises his hand to trace the curve of your bottom lip.

“You know when you went to get shave ice? She told me then.”

“Ah, so you talk about me behind my back, too.”

An amused air blows through his nose.

“All good things. She kept going on and on about how pretty you are.”

“Is that so?” you say, leaning closer to his face.

“Mhm. She said you're the perfect girl for me.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“That's a pretty bold statement.”

“What can I say? She's obsessed with you.”

You giggle as you lean even closer. His gaze flickers from your eyes, to your lips, and back again.

“Are you sure it wasn't you who said all those things?” 

“Oh, what? You think I'm obsessed with you?” he jests.

You suck in a meditative breath through your teeth. 

“I can't know for sure but you look like you really want to kiss me right now,” you reply, your tone laced with a hint of arrogance. 

“I don't know what you're talking about," Eren murmurs, immediately contradicting himself by lifting his chin to meet your lips, which linger dangerously close above him.

“Hm… then maybe I'm wrong,” you say, pulling back just as his lips ghost beneath yours.

Eren blinks up at you, helplessly sighing. 

You giggle before dipping down, only to pull back at the last second once more.

You chew on your bottom lip as you look down at him with mischief tainting your gaze.

A gasp travels past your lips when Eren suddenly pushes you back on the bed, pinning your wrist down with a firm grip.

He hovers over you now, eyes stern and determined with your body caged between his legs.

From your point of view, he seems so big. And the strength with which he keeps you in place reminds you he's as tough and manly as he is gentle and sweet. It's a reminder that draws a tingling sensation in your stomach.

In the next second, his eyes soften, as does his grip on your wrist as he bends down to kiss you.

Your body relaxes upon the comfort of his mouth caressing yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as your free hand finds a home in his hair, urging him closer — a command he can't resist.

His careful tongue wanders into your mouth, swallowing the soft moan that bubbles up your throat. 

He breaks away from the kiss, exhaling heavily as he rests his forehead against yours.

The corners of your lips tug into a smile.

“Trying to finish what you started?” you murmur.

“Maybe,” he says before his voice grows timid. “Should I?”

Slowly, he pulls back just enough to properly gauge your reaction. 

Your eyes twinkle as they hold his intense gaze. They travel over every single one of his features — his upturned eyebrows, the pink cheeks, the lips that hold back from taking or releasing breaths, and the emerald eyes that twinkle just the same. 

“Please.”

Your voice is barely enough to be called a whisper, but the word reaches his ears just fine.

The kiss is quickly reignited; his tongue forces itself into your mouth, earning a delicate whimper in return as you free yourself from his grasp to pull him closer by his hair. Your fingers tangle themselves between the short chocolate strands as he needily sucks on your tongue, the mix of your spit slathered around your mouth in the midst of his sloppy greed. 

One forearm keeps his weight above you as his free hand grips your waist, your shirt riding up in the process as you writhe under him, desperate for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue.

As you grow dizzy from your frenetic makeout, your hands travel down his chest, feeling each tensed muscle over the cotton fabric until your fingers hook under the hem of his shirt, silently asking for him to undress.

He pulls back to give in to your wishes, swiftly tugging the garment over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

He takes a moment to look down at you, your frame suddenly so small beneath him but your pupils are blown with lust and excitement as they wander his bare torso.

Through shallow breaths and with trembling hands, you trace over every defined curve with the pads of your fingers, committing every shape to memory as you go. 

Eren bites back a smile. He knows you're only trying to be gentle, but your delicate fingers tickle his skin as they slowly explore his abdomen. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, brow furrowed and eyes fluttering shut when you reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

You eye him carefully as you trace the border of the only remaining piece of clothing on his body — testing his patience as you draw over the edge a couple of times before your fingers hook around the elastic band.

Slowly, you pull down his underwear, holding your breath until his semi-hardened cock springs out of its confines. 

From above, Eren closely watches your reaction, getting drunk off the image of your parted lips, your gentle half-lidded eyes, and your shy hands that carefully wrap around his growing erection. You stroke him once, to which he bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from pronouncing any profanities, but when your thumb brushes over the sensitive head of his cock to collect the gathering amount of precum, his eyebrows upturn in pleasure and he fails to keep himself upright.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, falling down onto your chest, struggling to hold up his weight on his forearm while he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Your other hand nestles in his hair, comforting him as you continue stroking him.

His cock grows under your touch, fully hardening until it's pressed against your stomach when you finally release it.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the length of what's bound to penetrate your insides. 

“See what you do to me?” Eren's strained voice murmurs into your neck.

You turn your head to the side, trying to get a look at the boy whose feverish skin is burning through your clothes.

You call his name in the shape of a whine — a shy plea. 

He lifts his face from the crook of your neck, his eyes boring into yours before he leans forward to kiss you.

The kiss is less urgent than before, but equally needy. His warm tongue slips into your mouth, drawing out a relieved sigh.

“Let me do something for you, yeah?”

You look back at him quizzically, but he only pecks your lips before pressing an open-mouthed kiss onto your collarbone and lowering his body down the bed. He stops when his face is level with your abdomen. His fingers hook around the hem of your shirt, lifting the fabric to expose your stomach. 

Starting just below your ribs, he leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, circling his tongue around your belly button when he reaches it and continues further down. 

You close your eyes, head thrown back as your mouth falls open from his affections. 

His fingers tug on the drawstring of your pajama shorts as he glances up at you for confirmation.

Meeting his questioning gaze, you nod, chewing on your lip as you lift your hips for him to slide the garment off your legs. He tosses it to the side and wraps his hands around your ankles, spreading your legs just enough for him to kneel comfortably between them.

Your heart quickens in anticipation, but he outstretches the thrill as he's intent on teasing you first. He holds up your left leg, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he litters your skin with the same open-mouthed kisses he left on your stomach. His mouth travels up your calf, up your inner thigh, and near the trim of your white cotton panties, where he nips at the skin with his teeth, sucking fervently before repeating the process on the other side.

He kisses your right calf, and up your inner thigh, and sucks on the skin before your panties start. And finally, he kisses your pussy over the cotton fabric as he watches you bite down on your bottom lip through his lashes. With his eyes finally closed, he loses himself in the sweet scent of your sex as he drags his tongue in rhythmic stripes, pressing into your clit through your underwear. Your whimpers echo throughout the room as you squirm under his tongue, hoping he'll rid you of your panties soon. 

But he takes his time.

He engages in a heated makeout with your pussy through your underwear, his tongue gliding over your entrance before his lips take their turn each time. 

Your pussy flutters around nothing, aching to be touched, to feel those fervent strokes from his tongue directly on your flesh.

There's a dark patch forming on your underwear, courtesy of his saliva and your built-up arousal. The flimsy cotton sticks to your pussy lips, giving Eren a perfect outline of your needy sex.

“Eren,” you whimper, finally earning a glance from the teasing man between your legs. 

Putting a pause on his teasing, his eyebrows rise in question.

“Please,” you beg, eyebrows upturned in a helpless manner. 

Your ruined panties are discarded. He hooks his hands behind your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders just in time for him to dive into your pussy like a starved man. His tongue swirls around your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as your fingers lose themselves in his hair. 

A guttural moan rises from the back of his throat as he collects every last trace of your arousal, the taste heavenly sweet on his tongue, though that might be because he's so undeniably whipped.

He repeats the same motions from before on your bare pussy, his mind reeling with dizzy pleasure when he feels you pulsing directly on his tongue. He buries his nose between your folds as his tongue prods deeper, lapping at every nook as he makes a mess of his face.

Checking in on you as he does, he pulls back and slowly inserts a finger inside you. You've barely any strength to utter a word, but the way you throw your head back with your eyebrows upturned in pleasure is enough for him to continue, adding one more finger as he curls them against your insides, searching for that sweet spot that makes your thighs twitch once he finds it.

He lowers his face back into your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He draws tight circles onto it, the pressure making you squirm in pleasure in addition to his lithe fingers that produce melodious wet noises as your arousal only continues flowing.

He sucks on your clit as your slick coats his fingers and drips down your ass and onto the covers. 

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you can only continue pushing his face down between your legs as you feel an orgasm creeping up on you.

You whine his name again.

Eren pulls out his fingers, quickly sucking them clean before finishing you off with his mouth.

His tongue languidly prods at your entrance and, with the aid of his fingers spreading your folds, he pushes his tongue inside you as far as he can, stroking your insides with the warm, tireless muscle. His thumb toys with your clit, drawing out a series of lustful cries from you until your toes curl and you squeeze your thighs around his head — not like he cares, anyway; it's practically a bonus reward.

With one last kiss pressed onto your pussy, he pushes himself back up.

When your eyes flutter open as you come down from your orgasm, he's hovering over you, his chin and plump lips glossy with your release and his spit. 

“How'd I do?” he asks breathlessly. His eyes twinkle as he awaits your review, hopeful that you'll praise him.

You pull him closer by his neck.

“So fucking good,” you breathe, before meeting his swollen lips.

Tasting yourself from his mouth feels nothing short of sinful but you happily suck on his lips to gather every last bit of your essence.

In the midst of getting you off on his tongue, Eren discarded his boxer briefs somewhere on the floor, so when he grinds his hips against yours in search of friction, there's nothing but flesh on flesh and neatly groomed pubic hair tickling your skin.

His hand massages the side of your waist, creeping up until he's met with the underside of your breast. This time, your lack of a bra doesn't surprise him, and he doesn't shy away, either. 

His hand eagerly gropes your breast, his fingers gently pinching the nipple as he swallows your moans.

He kneads the soft mound as his cock continues dragging between your folds, hitching on your entrance with every other stroke.

“Mind if I take this off?” he mumbles into your mouth.

You hum in approval, sitting up so he can tug the shirt over your head before falling back onto the pillow.

“Wow,” he whispers, eyes drinking in every detail of your upper body — your tender breasts, your pert nipples, your soft skin, your shiny hair splayed on the pillow, and your pretty face looking up at him with equal admiration.

You smile at him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. He closes his eyes at the contact and rests his hand over yours, turning around to press a kiss into your palm.

You giggle. He smiles down at you.

With your free hand, you travel up his chest, resting just above your favorite sound.

“Your heart's beating like crazy,” you point out.

He squeezes your hand before bending down to brush his nose against yours.

“I wonder why.”

Your eyes crinkle with glee as a shy smile takes over your lips.

He cradles your face with one hand, stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“You have no idea how precious you are to me.”

A warm glow spreads through your insides at his words, like golden honey that infiltrates your heart and pumps through every corner of your body.

“I think I do,” you whisper, to which he smiles.

He pulls back, eyes glassy and cheeks dusted with pink.

He reaches over to the bedside table, fumbling around the drawer as his angle keeps him from having a full view of the inside. He retrieves a foil square between two fingers.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Were you hoping to get lucky on this trip?” you tease.

“I bought them just in case,” he grins.

You nod in approval. 

“Good call.”

He tears the foil packet open, tossing it aside once he pulls out the contents, and rolls the condom down his length. 

He fixes himself on his forearm once more, caressing your face as his eyebrows rise in question.

“You sure?” 

With a small smile playing on your lips, you nod. 

With the help of his knee, he spreads your legs wider while reaching down to line himself with your entrance — all while maintaining eye contact.

He makes slow teasing stripes down your pussy with his tip — once, twice, three times — before he finally starts sliding inside of you. You hold onto his arm, the muscles firm at your fingertips as they work to keep him steadily above you.

His tip slides in with little resistance, though it's still a bit of a tight fit. Carefully scanning your face for any signs of discomfort, he pushes himself inside you in fragments. 

You close your eyes, sighing in relief when you finally feel the brush of his pubic hair against your lower tummy.

Eren closes his eyes for a moment, too, swallowing thickly as he comes to the realization that he's inside you. He's inside where everything is warm and wet and tight and comforting. 

He opens his eyes before you do. For another moment, he simply admires you, watching your parted lips release hushed breaths — your peaceful image close to that of an angel in prayer.

He smooths back your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When your eyes finally open, you smile up at him. 

Taking that as a sign, he makes an experimental thrust, eyeing your reaction as he does so. 

You hook your arms under his, your hands pressed firmly against his back as he gradually gains more confidence with each stroke. He peppers your face with kisses until he settles on your lips, where he gingerly pulls on your bottom lip with his teeth, and his pleased sighs are poured down your throat.

You hug him tighter, moaning his name into his ear as he rolls his hips into yours with finesse. 

Eren's back grows sweaty with each of his movements, his breath shallowing at the same pace. Every drag of his hips brushes against your clit, making for the most well-rounded experience as he loses himself in the feeling of your insides fluttering around his length. 

“Does this feel good for you, baby?” he asks as he presses your foreheads together.

“Uh-huh,” you whimper. “Don't stop, Ren. Please.” 

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he smiles before capturing your lips in a needy kiss.

You sigh into his mouth as your tongues swirl around each other, heightening your arousal while he continues building up the pace of his hips. His fingers dig into your waist, acting as leverage for his increasingly faster thrusts. You buck your hips upwards, meeting him halfway in search of more friction. 

“My baby,” he coos against your mouth.

The room is filled with squelching noises of your arousal glossing his length over the condom. Every vein, every curve of his thick cock leaves its mark on your insides, permanently altering your body to fit him. Every deep thrust, every tight circle drawn by his thumb plants a seed for a permanent craving that only he can satisfy. Only he can draw out such pretty noises from your mouth. Only he can make your sweet and innocent voice morph into that of a sinful, greedy woman who wishes to be brought to pleasure by his expert touch. Only he can make love to you like this.

His balls are quickly growing heavy, slapping against your ass with every roll of his hips — the sound echoing in your ears. 

With one quick kiss to his cheek, you push him back gently. He falls onto his back, his aching cock pulsing into nothing but air as he scoots back to rest against the headboard, watching through adoring eyes as you straddle his lap and lower yourself onto his cock with a whimper, relieving yourself from the momentary emptiness you felt. His hands grip your hips with a bruising force, his jaw slack as he watches you expertly move your hips, rocking back and forth against his pelvic bone to satisfy your clit, and up and down to satisfy him.

He fondles one of your breasts as your face falls into the crook of his neck, whimpering and blubbering about how good you feel with him buried deep inside you. One of your hands tangles in his hair while the other digs crescents into his back. 

It’s unreal. To think he’s allowed to be this close to you, to be blessed with the opportunity to melt into your touch. Every whimper, every instance of begging, every drowned-out moan as you hide your face in the crook of his neck — it's beyond addictive. 

You're both coated in sweat, the place where your bodies meet growing stickier with every passing second. Your thighs begin to burn as you continue riding him, trying your best not to lose your pace as he sucks on your nipples and your head falls back in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he huffs. “Keep riding my cock like that.”

You tighten around him at the unexpected dirty talk.

Eren's always such a gentleman, so this shift in behavior is surprising — though certainly not unwelcome. 

“Eren,” you whine, looking down at him helplessly as you continue bouncing on his cock.

He flashes you with his signature boyish smile.

“I got you.”

In one swift motion, you're flipped back on the bed while Eren hovers over you. Refusing to let your build-up slip away, he reconnects with you in an instant, sloppily thrusting into you as your legs wrap around his waist.

“Look at you,” he breathlessly coos as he caresses your thigh with one hand and cradles your face with the other. “My baby's so fucking pretty.”

The sounds of slapping skin and moisture reign the room. Your nails dig into his back, scarring the skin with red marks, claiming his body as yours — not that he would want it any other way. Your feverish body clings to him like he's the only thing keeping you grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens more and more.

Sweat drips down his forehead and the now dark chocolate strands that frame his face. His pupils are blown with lust, nearly dominating the entirety of his sweet emerald irises, but his usual warmth remains.

His hips start bucking erratically, his rhythm carelessly tossed out the window as he hooks his arms under your legs and presses them toward your chest. The new angle has you crying out in pleasure as he uses his last bit of strength to sloppily thrust into you a few more times.

The coil reaches its limit, snapping at the hilt of your ecstasy as you cry out his name and your toes curl in pleasure.

A couple of thrusts later, he's spilling hot ropes of cum into the condom and releasing hoarse moans into the crook of your neck. 

His hips finally stop as you lay there, limbs tangled and bodies sticky, while you steady your breathing. His hand rests on your waist, tenderly stroking the skin with his thumb as you comb through his hair with your fingers. 

The air is thick with the sweet remnants of your sexual fulfillment. 

Reluctantly, he pulls out of you, his cock already softening inside the condom as he falls onto his back and pulls you by the waist so that you rest on top of his chest. 

His hand affectionately smooths your back as he takes in your exhausted features. 

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice still too weak to speak as normal.

Not yet recharged from your passionate lovemaking, you just nod.

You smile at each other.

“I didn't… I mean, I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?”

You shake your head at his worried expression before leaning forward to peck the corner of his mouth.

“It was perfect.”

He smiles again. 

Carefully, you lift yourself off his chest before any more soreness settles into your muscles and you begin scouring the floor for your clothes. 

Eren sits up on the bed, ridding himself of the used condom and tying it in a knot as he watches you slip on your underwear.

“What's wrong?” he asks when you click your tongue in confusion.

“I can't find my shirt,” you mutter as you pick up a garment from the floor, only to find it's not what you're looking for. “I don't want to walk around naked. What if your mom comes?”

Eren glances around briefly before he lights up at an idea upon spotting his own white t-shirt on the floor. 

“Here,” he says, tossing the garment in your direction. You catch it with ease. “Just wear mine.”

Without thinking too much about it, you tug on the shirt over your head, the fabric cascading down your body and falling mid-thigh.

“Thanks,” you smile before grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser and stepping out the door, leaving Eren a blushing mess at the lingering image of you wearing his clothes.

A few minutes later, both clean and tired, you snuggle into each other under the covers. Eren reaches behind him to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving you in peaceful darkness.

“Are you happy?” he asks.

You smile.

“I've never been happier.”

With your hand on his chest and his arm around your waist, you fall asleep.

The following morning, you're woken by the sunlight sifting through the curtains.

When you squint your eyes open, you see Eren smiling at you.

You giggle. 

“How long have you been staring at me?”

“Not too long,” he grins. “You look pretty when you're sleeping.”

Your face warms as you hold onto him tighter. Your body is still dealing with the tired symptoms from last night's heated encounter.

“You think your mom will mind if we stay in bed all day?”

“I don't think I can go that long,” he murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize what he's hinting at but, when you do, you playfully slap his shoulder. He laughs.

“How are you feeling?” he smiles.

“I'm just a bit sore,” you reply honestly.

He hums in response.

“You wanna postpone our plans?” he asks, concerned you might be too tired for today's itinerary. “We can go out tomorrow.”

To his surprise, you shake your head.

“No, I still wanna go. Just give me a few more minutes.” 

He smiles as he looks down at your tired form. You're wearing that same relaxed expression from last night, reminiscent of an angel when he was hovering over you.

Three words teeter the tip of his tongue, but when his lips part to pronounce them, he retreats, flustered.

So with a quick kiss to your temple, he slips out from under the covers, gets dressed, and ventures to the main house. 

Carla's fixing herself breakfast in the kitchen when he walks in. She greets him with a smile, asking where you are.

“She's still asleep. She's pretty tired from yesterday,” Eren explains, hoping that if he doesn't think about it too much, he won't seem suspicious. 

But Carla only nods in understanding as she sits down to enjoy her omelet. 

“We’re going into town today. I’m gonna show her around. Wanna come?” Eren asks with a smile.

“I can’t today, honey. I’m meeting up with my book club later and I need to catch up on my reading. But you two have fun.”

Eren nods.

A couple of minutes pass by in silence. He stares at a blank point as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like me to make you one?” Carla asks, an amused look on her face as she notices her son intently staring at her omelet.

Eren blinks. 

“Oh, no. I’m good.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Can I ask you something?”

She sets her fork down, resting her chin on her laced hands with a nod.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

Eren nervously wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, taking a deep breath as he gathers the right words to speak his mind.

“A while back,” he pronounces your name softly. “She told me she loves me.”

Carla smiles, having known that already since you told her.

“But I kind of choked at the time.”

Carla tilts her head, her features serious now. She’s seen the affectionate look in his eyes whenever he sees you, and the way he’s so gentle when treating you. However, perhaps it’ll be easier if he practices admitting his feelings out loud.

“Was it because you don’t…” she trails off, but Eren quickly denies what she’s implying with a shake of his head.

“No, that’s not it. I was just surprised when she said it… It felt really good to hear it,” he smiles.

“So what’s got you worried?” she tenderly asks.

Eren looks down at the counter, gaze lost on the patterns of the mismatched tiles that somehow harmoniously blend together.

“I just… She hasn’t said it since. And I keep trying to tell her how I feel but now I’m worried that, because I didn’t say it back that time, she… might not feel the same way anymore.”

Carla’s concerned features soften, her lips perking into an endeared smile before her son’s anxious expression.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs.

Eren blushes.

“Do you think that’s it? Do you think she changed her mind?”

“You beautiful dumb boy,” Carla laughs.

She reaches over to squeeze his hand.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?”

“And this is where I dislocated my elbow.”

Eren points to a spot a few feet from the seesaw. 

“How’d you do that?” you ask.

“I let go when it was my turn going up,” he meekly explains, to which you laugh into your hand.

“Oh, Eren.”

You can picture the scene in your head — a young Eren flying into the air after trying to act tough by raising his hands from the handlebar, too young to understand the physics behind the oncoming accident.

He grins as he guides you toward the swings, where he offers you a seat before stepping behind you and gently pushing you.

“The swings are supposed to be for the kids,” you giggle as he pushes you higher.

“It’s not like that’s a law,” he replies with a shrug.

He settles into the swing beside you, promptly matching your height as the chain creaks under his weight. 

As you fly up in the air, he glances over at you. You’ve got the same youthful look in your eyes from the evening you spent together building a sandcastle with Josie. Your face lights up in the same delighted manner. You’re a kid again.

Classical music echoes in your ears from your headphones as you turn the page of the novel Carla left you before leaving to meet the ladies from her book club. 

She gifted you an extra copy from one of the titles in her personal library — last month’s read which she thought you would enjoy. You’re curled up on the yellow velvet sofa, snacking on a clementine from the bag Eren bought for you at the market. As you turn to the next chapter, you catch a glimpse of movement from your peripheral vision, and you look up to find Eren leaning on the bathroom door frame, wearing a robe. 

You pause your music and set your headphones aside.

“What are you doing?” you smile.

He tilts his head in a flirtatious manner.

“I filled up the pink bathtub.”

Your smile grows as you stand to accept the hand he holds out for you to take.

Candles are burning in every corner of the bathroom as vanilla-scented bubbles rest on the water’s surface.

Eren’s robe pools at his feet and he steps into the pink bathtub first, relaxing in the water with his back pressed against the porcelain as his arms rest on either side of the tub. He watches you undress, an enamored smile shaping his lips as you gradually reveal every delicate curve of your nude body to him. 

Using his hand as support, you step into the warm water and settle between his legs, your back flush against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. 

You instantly relax in his arms, every trace of leftover soreness vanishing from your body as you scoop up the vanilla foam in your hands and rub it between your palms.

Eren presses an open-mouthed kiss onto your bare shoulder and the slope of your neck.

“Are you happy?” he whispers into your ear.

You smile.

“Very.”

He hums in approval.

“I had fun at the park today,” you add.

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“I felt like a kid again when you were pushing me on the swing.”

He chuckles softly. You continue as he listens closely.

“I feel like you really spoil me sometimes.”

“Does that bother you?” he asks, his eyebrows upturned in concern as he wonders if you still don’t feel entirely comfortable with all the attention he gives you.

But you smile and shake your head.

“I like it,” you murmur shyly. “I feel like God compensated me for everything by putting you in my life.”

Your voice weakens with your confession, pulling at Eren’s heartstrings in the process. When you look back at him, tears are lining your lashes, but your features remain cheerful.

“I’m glad I met you, Eren,” you smile before facing forward again.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” he whispers, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You remain quiet, allowing your synced breathing to be the only one to take up the room.

Eren’s thumbs trace up and down your stomach, as you sink further down his chest.

After a while, your voice breaks through the silence. 

“Eren?”

He hums in response.

“Do you still want to know everything?”

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[yujo-nishimura]

Impel Down Chaos - Head Canon - Part 5

@lostfirefly and anybody else who wants to be tagged for the next parts, just let me know.

Okay, I thought I would end this here, but I have so much more to write about and I want to keep the tension up. So I guess part 6 will be the end of this story... maybe.

You and Buggy had been trapped in the same spot for what felt like an eternity. Time seemed to lose its grip, and the hours blended together in a stagnant, viscous flow. It was impossible to guess how much time had truly passed, as the suffocating grip of monotony held you both captive.

Sitting side by side, you and Buggy waited anxiously, anticipating the arrival of guards to take you away for interrogation or torture. The absence of their arrival struck you as strange, almost scary. The silence and seclusion you found yourselves in, locked in this confined space with Buggy, felt like its own form of torment.

Hunger gnawed at your stomach, and thirst parched your throat. All the running of the recent escape had begun to take its toll. You longed for water and a shower.

Throughout the agonizing wait, Buggy and your gazes met repeatedly, a silent exchange between two souls still grappling with the aftermath of that awkward yet undeniably romantic moment. Buggy's embarrassment echoed within you, mirroring your own mixed emotions. Despite all the confusion, a deep happiness bloomed within you, knowing that Buggy had reciprocated your desire for that stolen kiss.

Each glance shared spoke volumes, you saw that Buggy blushed everytime you directly looked at him, making you blush as well. You had hoped the guards would come right after the kiss and end this torture, but now you both had to sit here with your feelings and the consequences of your actions. 

After what felt like another endless stretch of time, you decided to seize the opportunity to steal a brief moment of rest. You hoped that a short nap would help restore some of your depleted strength and distract you from hunger and thirst. You shifted your position, rolling onto your side in an attempt to find a comfortable spot on the stone floor. But just as your wearied body began to settle, a sudden jolt coursed through the elevator. Startled, you and Buggy snapped back to attention, adrenaline coursing through your veins, getting up to your feet. 

Instinctively, you readied yourselves for whatever awaited beyond the elevator doors. Being captured and the prolonged wait had heightened your senses, and the possibility of a confrontation loomed large in your minds. However, nothing happened, it felt like the elevator was just going down, deeper into the lower levels of Impel Down. 

"What is happening?" you asked, your voice laced with concern. The expression on Buggy's face revealed that this unexpected turn of events had caught him off guard as well. "They're sending us to the lower level," he replied, "Can you feel that heat? We must be at Level 3 now." Suddenly a surge of intense heat permeated the stone walls, seeping into the elevator. The elevator came to a halt once again, leaving you both trapped in an unbearable heat. "I think they've stopped us at Starvation Hell," Buggy said, desperation evident in his eyes.  You anxiously awaited the opening of the elevator doors, but they remained stubbornly shut.  "Will they let us die here?" you asked, your voice trembling with fear. Buggy didn't offer a response, instead scanning the interior of the elevator again for any means to open the doors from within. The heat continued to intensify, making the air thick and suffocating. The thirst that had plagued you since earlier now intensified as well by the sweltering temperature.

In a moment of defeat, Buggy sank to the floor, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The situation had pushed him to his limits. "These damn bastards want to see us suffer," he muttered, a mix of frustration and resignation in his voice. To your surprise and slight embarrassment, he removed his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen. Your gaze involuntarily went over his body, captivated by the sight of his chest adorned with a hint of blue chest hair. As the beads of sweat dotted his forehead, he used his shirt to dab it away, revealing a glimpse of his toned physique in the process. You immediately checked your nose for nose bleed again, but at this moment you were fine. However, the intensity of the moment and the scorching heat seemed to amplify the allure of his appearance, you felt weak in your knees and were happy you were already sitting down. You both stayed silent to save energy, but sitting so close to your handsome captain without a shirt almost felt maddening. 

If Buggy intended to torment you with his shirtless presence, you felt justified in returning the favor. Swiftly, you discarded your own shirt, leaving yourself only in a bra as you settled next to your captain. Buggy's reaction was immediate and unexpected. He let out a startled shriek, nearly losing his balance as his eyes widened in surprise. The sight of you half-naked seemed to catch him off guard, his gaze momentarily fixated on the glistening sweat on your décolleté. "Y/n! What if someone sees you like this...!" he stammered, his voice laden with a mix of concern and astonishment. "If you can go shirtless, then I have every right to do the same, Buggy!" Once again, he emitted a startled shriek, his body parts detaching and reattaching in surprise at your audacity and the fact that you had addressed him without his usual title of "captain".

Once again silence fell on you both and you closed your eyes, trying to save every little bit of energy you had. However, before long, a prickling sensation of being observed compelled you to cautiously open a single eye. You saw your captain, being fully awake, staring at you.  Buggy's eyes were fixated on your breasts, his face flushed with a deep shade of red that mirrored his nose. His discomfort was palpable, evident in the fidgeting of his hands as they nervously played with the fabric of his pants. "Are you alright, Captain?" you inquired, a subtle trace of amusement lacing your voice. The sight of Buggy in such an awkward and vulnerable state was entirely unfamiliar, and it stirred within you a sense of amusement. “Yeah.. yeah.. Just the heat.. makes me feel really light-headed…”, he said, his voice as shrill as before.  "It truly is unbearable," you responded and decided to take another bold leap forward. Without a moment's hesitation, you shed your pants, leaving yourself seated in front of Buggy, clad only in your underwear. The sound of his gulp reverberated in the stifling air, rendering him speechless. You tried not to chuckle. He probably had never seen you as a woman before, but only as his loyal crew member. The realization was dawning on him now and visible on his face. 

An undeniable tension hung in the atmosphere, thickening with each passing second. As you closed your eyes once more you could suddenly hear Buggys voice, hoarse from arousal, very close to your face. You opened your eyes, immediately blushing as you saw his red nose just before you, his emerald eyes fixated on you. 

“I granted you a wish earlier, will you grant me one as well..?”, he whispered. 

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 3 (Ty)

DKGAM continues with Myron's roommate, Ty. As Myron shares his theory, Ty reflects on the mishaps and frustrations of their own mysterious dick growth, as well as its unexpected benefits. Notably, their newfound enthusiasm for autofellatio.

1 | 2 (Previous) | 4 (Next)

---

“What do you mean they’re growing around you?” I asked Myron, driving us home after my shift finally ended.

“Like, ya know…bigger,” he said from the passenger seat, splaying his hands for emphasis.

“Hmm, I mean your booty’s been looking pretty nice lately,” I laughed. “You sure the boys just aren’t a little too excited?”

“No, I mean like, you’ve noticed yours is much bigger than it was a year ago when we moved in, right?”

“Yeah, definitely, but that was like a late growth spurt or something. It happens.”

“When does it happen? You’re 28.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And Miguel’s is much bigger than it was six months ago when I first started working in his office.”

Of course I had noticed the prominent bulge in Miguel’s khakis, but Myron sounded like he had some firsthand details of his boss’s supposed growth. I made a mental note to squeeze that tea out of him later.

“Six months?” I asked, my interest piqued and the gears beginning to turn in my head. “Then if you’re right, he might be in for some fun times pretty soon,” I added with a chuckle.

—

Several months previous, on a clear winter morning, I was trying something new. Myron was starting his new job with his studly l’il office mate, which was changing the dynamic in the house somewhat, for the better I hoped.

We’d moved in together last summer having barely known each other–we were both in dire straits trying to find a new place and a mutual friend connected us–and had settled in to a surprisingly chill dynamic. Neither of us was the 9 to 5 careerist type, leading us both to string together personal projects, freelancing, and whatever seasonal or temporary gigs we needed to get the rent paid. Consequently, we had domestic routines that were always shifting, sometimes work-from-home, sometimes office gigs, sometimes third shift, so this recent change was nothing new. We had fallen into a routine of constantly adjusting to each other’s routines, which may have only worked because we really did get along as friends. Not that we had much choice, practically living on top of each other in what used to be the cozy attic of an early 20th century mansion turned into affordable (read: poorly maintained) apartments. At the time, I was working as a ghost writer while bartending on the side, so my mornings were pretty open and I let Myron have the run of the place bopping around getting ready for work while I stayed snug under a generous layering of blankets, also kept warm by the heat emanating from the all too familiar weight laying against me.

Most people, I imagine, might be freaked out to wake up to chest high morning wood insistently pulsing against the fabric of the sheets and the hair of my torso in anticipation. But I guess I had had time to adjust to this mysterious growth spurt that had started the previous summer and didn’t seem to be stopping. I let an exploratory hand dance along my shaft, sending a shiver of pleasure down to my toes, then lifted my dick slowly, feeling the weight of it, and let it fall against my chest with a wet thwack into a small pool of precum that was already forming. Not wanting to ruin a third set of sheets this week, I pulled myself reluctantly out from under the covers and grabbed an old towel from the hamper, my hardening cock bobbing in the cool morning air as I got set up and got to work, dimly registering the sound of Myron leaving.

The week before, I had been camming (another side gig, with some play mixed in) and received an interesting message. With one hand running up and down my long dick and the other pushing anal beads into my hole (the scene carefully positioned for the camera), I almost missed the question that popped up in the dialogue box: Can you suck it?

Truth is, I had never been one for blow jobs. I’ve never liked the feeling of someone putting their mouth to south, so to speak. I’m usually somewhere on the ace spectrum. Depending on the person, I can take or leave sex, but I certainly know how to take care of myself with enthusiasm. So I hadn’t considered the possibility of sucking my own dick, or even if it would be enjoyable. 

 Of course I had seen videos online of guys successfully getting their lips around their own cock heads–at least one freak of nature making it some way down the shaft–but I never imagined myself at that level of talent or expertise. I had just assumed it was some magical combination of being super flexible and super hung. But that comment stuck in my brain. And apparently one of my handful of horny digital followers thought I had the latter if not the former. 

So I took the plunge. As I tilted my face down, ungracefully straining my neck, my lips met the salty stickiness of my head, already excitedly leaking. I lapped up my own precum as I traced the curvature, still sleepily nuzzling around my slit until I finally went all in, getting my lips just past my glans and sucking carefully on my own member. 

I was immediately hooked, reveling at first in the novelty of sucking my own dick, but slowly falling into deep pleasure. I had never been all that great at cock sucking, but this was lovely. I was still getting used to a dick was constantly larger than I remembered it being, but I managed to get as much of myself into my own mouth as I could before hitting the limits of my own flexibility. 

Periodically, I would lift my mouth away, leaving viscous trails of spit and pre, and marvel at the sight of it. As if the dick I remembered from several months ago, that I had assumed was just my standard issue member, had somehow been scaled up. As I slipped the head back past my lips, I let out a heavy moan as I almost gagged on the gush of precum that erupted. I continued with this routine until I felt an orgasm imminent, sending tremors through my body as I worked diligently, my hands playing up and down my shaft. Finally, that all too familiar pulse erupted from deep inside, traveling up my shaft and sending ropes of jizz into my mouth, which began covering my face as I pulled my cock head back into the cool morning air.

Ok, I thought. I get the hype.

—

I guess in the weeks and months previous I had taken note of the fact that my dick had been hanging lower and lower, but I hadn’t noticed until that fateful morning. Those first six months with Myron had been a whirlwind of re-adjusting to roommate life as well as navigating our own wacky schedules, habits, and routines. After a few months, more and more of it filled my hand every time I jerked off, which I chalked up to being inexplicably, increasingly horny. My subscribers clocked the changes well before I did, but I had been used to a steady stream of messages and comments heavily influenced by their lustful gaze and my own use of flattering angles. And if they wanted to get caught up in the idea of some fantastical growth spurt, I figured let ‘em. I was there for the fantasy anyways. 

My new talent quickly became my new obsession, and after I debuted it on cam, I got a deluge of new subscribers, tips, and engagement. And with that, the small frustration of facing discourse about how my dick simply couldn’t be real, along with all manner of carefully dissected screenshots alleging everything from silicone to photoshop. As one person said, Their dick was already big, they don’t need to do this fake shit. But the money was good and I figured I was already selling a fantasy one way or another. And if people believed it was fake, that meant less attention from people wanting an explanation that I couldn’t really provide, or god forbid, wanting to meet irl. Besides, I didn’t think of it as more than a party trick, albeit one that ended with very mind blowing, and very real, orgasms covering my face with gobs of jizz. And the crowd, per usual, would go wild.

Thankfully, the growth slowed down around this time, and the claims of dick deception slowed down with them. And with Myron out of the house at his new 9 to 5, I could really take my time becoming intimately acquainted with what I was packing. As I settled into this new routine, and as late spring rolled around, I wore less and less around the apartment, especially when Myron was at work. Not only had my dick grown long enough to tap politely at my chin, but it was getting difficult to last more than several hours without draining the beast.

One day, with nothing better to do until the shift at my new kitchen gig, I fiddled with the recipe for my homemade pot brownies, underestimated how strong they are, and ended up spending the afternoon splayed on the couch, dozing in a sunbeam. I was falling in and out of the weirdest dream about some guy that was somehow magically inflating dudes’ butts through horny chaos magic, culminating in some sort of showdown in the forest. I had already gotten myself off three times that day, so I guessed my constantly aroused mind was getting creative. And, plot twist, I awoke to see Myron’s cute buns turning to lock the front door as he got home from work. I had to meet this new boss who was overhauling his wardrobe, his ass looked great these days.

“You���re not gonna believe what happened last night,” he said. “I was at this show with Miguel and, I, um…”

He trailed off, intently staring, and then intently not staring, at the general area of my crotch, currently featuring a thin pair of tye dye sweat shorts for the warmer months. I didn’t think Myron had thought all that much about my recent gains downstairs, he always seemed not to notice, or at least not to notice for too long. As he set his things down, he tried to stammer out something about this party they had hit up the night before, unsuccessfully trying to string phrases together. I decided to give him a chance to reset with a “You’re home early! They finally let you go?”

He switched gears and glanced at me quizzically, responding “It’s 5:45, if anything my bus was late.”

“Ah. Fuck,” I groaned, realizing that the warm afternoon sun streaming through our living room windows had adjusted to the lengthier day with summer approaching. I, however, had not, and was already late for work. What was left of my high began quickly wearing off as I sprung from the couch, my semi soft monster moving with its own inertia and threatening to flop out of my shorts–and likely short circuit Myron’s already weary brain.

I threw my backpack together, grabbed some shoes, and headed to the door. I figured I could show up looking messy and change into the backup uniform I kept in my locker.     

“Look, I need to head to work, fill me in on the rave later, okay?” I said, shooting him a lazy smile as I headed out the door. “And invite me next time!” 

As I was hustling down stairs and half jogging down the sidewalk to my car, I got the same looks from passerby as the one from Myron; entranced, but desperately trying not to be. As I strolled up to my subcompact hatchback–what I would call retro, distinguished even, but most would call old–I caught myself in the driver side window reflection. Specifically, I eyed a bulge that made even me gasp. Ok well that explains some things, I thought, mentally hitting myself for inadvertently showing a bunch of unsuspecting pedestrians much more than I’d intended.

There weren’t many onlookers as I slipped into the kitchen through the back–my co-workers were busy and it’s not like they weren’t already aware I was packing something major. Thankfully, I did have a pair of black work slacks waiting for me in my locker, and while my bulge was less visible, they were definitely more constricting. Around this time, I noticed that my gait had been changing slightly as more and more of my cock took up any given pant leg, but the last time I had worn these was several inches ago and they hadn’t had time to adjust, making my stiffened posture painfully obvious.

—

I wore an apron at that job that covered just enough of my lap to mask the fact that I was sporting an unmistakably, unexplainable, ungodly dong. But as spring turned to summer, more and more of it began to show from out the bottom, especially when increasingly studly and sweaty hikers wandered in with less and less layers. When I finally saw Myron’s boss, Miguel, sitting with him across the bar, I almost sported a boner that threatened to wrap halfway around my hip.

When things calmed down–in the bar and in my pants–I decided to introduce myself with the gift of fries, and some made up story about a customer who didn’t pick up. As I approached, I felt some weird magnetic energy, like I was being drawn to Miguel. Specifically, like my dick wanted to point due north to his own unmistakable bulge. Based on how uncomfortable it was getting to walk in those pants, I guessed that my cock was responding accordingly. At this point, I was used to the blatant stares of people who thought they were being subtle, but Miguel was laser focused on my crotch with a look that implied he was trying to piece together a deeper story.

I don’t know what came over me, other than the fact that he was cute and I enjoyed messing with my roommate, but I decided I might as well show off the goods, giving Miguel an indulgent view of my trouser snake from multiple angles. As I walked away, I felt that same tug from behind, as if I could feel his eyes drilling into me.

Ever the gentleman, Miguel had insisted on hanging with Myron until I finally got off my shift, not that I was complaining. As we parted ways, I took my own indulgent look at his perky backside in those tight khakis, that weird feeling of connection slowly fading as I jumped into the car with Myron. We sat in silence for a little while, the space between us filled with the sound of my after work chillout synthwave playlist. 

“So,” he said. “I have a theory.”

“Is it about this hot boss you’ve been keeping from me?” I asked.

“No, it’s, Miguel? No…so I think–”

“Because frankly I’m disappointed you’ve kept him hidden for this long,” I interjected.

“Dicks keep growing around me,” finished Myron. “I think.”

I sat in silence for a few beats, before laughing at the absurdity. “What?”

And then he laid out his whole theory as we drove toward home. With previous people in his life and their unexplainably large members, wrapping up with Miguel and I.

“That’s a hot story,” I said. “Complete nonsense, but hot.”

“You never suspected something was off, like you never saw a doctor about it?” he asked.

“No, it works fine,” I said. “Works better even. It’s just really, really big.” I adjusted in my seat slightly from becoming reminded of the size of my appendage, not to mention all this reminiscing about my dick was getting me worked up. Sucking myself off after long kitchen shifts was an otherworldly experience, and I was looking forward to getting home. Actually, I was getting more and more worked up as the conversation continued. All this talk of expanding dicks and the past year of growth was activating a ticking time bomb that was creeping down my pant leg.

“What’s wrong?” asked Myron, looking worried as I could no longer hide the fact that I was visibly distressed.

“Well,” I said, gesturing at the lengthening bulge, my breathing becoming heavy. “Once it gets going, it really–”

“Gets going,” said Myron. “Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that. Can I do anything?”

“No, it’s fine, we’re almost ho–augghhhh.” My dick surged against the fabric of my slacks, painfully constricted against the confines of material that for some reason was not designed for a raging monster cock. It felt white hot against my leg, furious at the lack of attention, and urgently trying to garner some relief.

“That doesn’t sound fine,” replied Myron, worry entering his voice.

“No…really…happens all the time,” I squeaked out, my mouth salivating at the thought of my massive member finding its rightful place between my lips. My belly followed suit with a rumble of hunger, echoing the yearning I could feel deep in my throat. “I just…” I tried to adjust myself into a more comfortable position but only succeeded in sending a jolt of pleasure through my body that was so intense I almost lost control of the vehicle. Myron grabbed the wheel and began dutifully steering as I took deep, calming breaths.

“Is this normal?” he asked.

“Well ‘normal’ is relative,” I quipped with a wry smile, one of many truisms I liked to throw out to his annoyance. “But this is…a little more urgent than I expected.”

“Ok, well, we’re almost home, just focus.”

“Ok,” I breathed. “Focusing.” 

I kept my eyes on the road, trying to let myself fall into the smooth electronic rhythms coming out of my speakers. I thought about ice cold showers and used car commercials and every rude customer from the past week. But definitely not about Miguel’s perfect bubble butt. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns meeting whatever it was Miguel was seriously packing down there. Or how even that would pale in comparison to the pipe that was sending waves of agonizing pleasure up my spine as I felt every square centimeter of contact squished between the fabric of my slacks and my own sweaty leg. A sensation being made all the worse by the steady drip of precum that was threatening to start gushing as my taint began to contract and pulse with anticipation. I was swimming up to my eyeballs with orgasmic need, struggling to coherently process the cacophony of sensations and stimuli, and managing only a soft “Oof.”

“Oof?” asked Myron. “What’s oof mean?”

“I, um, don’t think we’re going to make it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. With my hands at 10 and 2–and Myron’s at 4–I heard the unmistakable sound of what I didn’t think was possible outside of my subscribers–and my own–weird fantasies. With a series of steady, sharp rips, the interior seam of my pant leg finally gave up in the face of the log extending from my groin. My dick, finally free, thumped against the steering wheel then rose with surprising grace directly to my eager, waiting lips. The growth had thankfully slowed in recent months, but as I tasted and felt my own hot, sticky, mushroom head before seeing it rise into my field of view, I came to a realization somehow more exciting–and upsetting–than the one on that fateful morning six months previous. If things were to continue on their current trajectory, my fully hard cock may soon reach past my mouth entirely. I was terrified by the prospect of losing easy access to my schlong for the most comical of reasons, while also titillated by the prospect of learning anew the meaning of too big. I realized that I really didn’t know how long this mysterious growth would last, and even worse, if it would ever end. I decided I might as well enjoy it before things became truly unwieldy. And besides, there was only one way to get this thing back down.

“Do you mind if I…?” I asked. 

Myron, my passenger princess, hand still gingerly holding the wheel, was rendered speechless by the scene before him. I let him finish the question in his head.

“Um, well, go ahead,” he stuttered.

With orgasmic relief flooding through every cell of my tense body, I gave in, swallowing as much as I could into my waiting throat.

It’s a miracle I managed to keep my eyes on the road through tears of unrelenting pleasure as I slid my lips down more and more of my own overgrown shaft. Any other drivers whose gaze wandered in our direction must’ve gotten quite a show. How many times do you get to see someone milking their own megacock behind the wheel of a moving vehicle–which, come to think of it, would be a great idea for premium content. If my subscribers were starting to stop believing all of this is real, then I might as well lean into the novelty.

We pulled up to our building, miraculously getting a parking spot right out front, and I could finally focus enough to get myself over the threshold of release, using my free hands to work more of the shaft and wander down to massage my taint, periodically squeezing my nutsack, which felt swollen with pent up need. I had given up being concerned about the fact that Myron was still sitting there like a deer in the headlights, instead focusing solely on bringing myself to climax. 

But the finish line remained elusive. The harder I worked the more intense my dick pulsed with an angry heat. I swear, I could feel it growing with every heartbeat, stretching slowly to the rhythm of my strokes, pumping with more girth that I thought my own esophagus could handle. I was stretched to the limit, gagging on my enormous tool and losing myself in waves of orgasmic bliss, until finally I came. 

And came. 

And kept cumming, pumping what felt like an endless reservoir of jizz into my throat until I could no longer swallow it all, pulling my engorged head from my mouth as it continued shooting ropes of cum onto the ceiling, the dashboard, the backseats, and yes, my awestruck roommate, who had not taken the chance to flee the vehicle in terror, opting instead to take shots of warm goo directly to the face. After what seemed like an eternity, I ran out of spunk, or at least my body no longer had the energy to keep shooting indefinitely. My ungodly dick began to deflate, still leaking as it fell softly against the steering wheel. 

There are no words to describe the awkwardness of turning to see your roommate casually wiping globs of your warm jizz out of their hair. 

“So I’m guessing that was not normal?” he asked.

I took a beat and responded, “No…no, that was pretty new,” letting the tension sit in the air between us before we both burst out in deranged laughter.

“I…somehow will find a way to make this up to you,” I said.

“I’ll take the first shower. You can start with laundry.”

—

I woke up half expecting–and dreading–my morning wood to be kissing me gently on the cheek. I was certain I had had some sort of growth spurt during the incident last night, and was at a loss for what to do with a cock that could literally eclipse my face. But, to my pleasant surprise, it only went up to its usual spot, right at the chin. Small victories, I thought, as I leaned down to give it a gentle kiss before I began dutifully sucking myself off.

As I bumbled through my morning routine, even more groggy than usual from last night’s events, everything felt slightly off. Moving through space was a slightly different negotiation, the bathroom counter wasn’t quite where I expected it, my toothbrush felt different in my hand. My dick, however, felt very much the same, gargantuan as usual but at least a familiar mode of gargantuan. I still marveled at the sheer size of it, pointing down to the toilet bowl under its own weight as I relieved myself. What am I gonna do with you? I thought, giving it a gentle shake to clear any remaining drops. I had passed through the realm of comical and ridiculous months back, and it was surreal getting used to an appendage that could only be described as unbelievable. How would I even begin to explain this to people, let alone keep it successfully hidden in public? Problems for a different day.

I threw on a crop top and my usual pair of sweat shorts, noticing that my clothes also felt slightly off on my body. As I ambled into the kitchen to find Myron making coffee, I adjusted my dick to run along my hip, but the shifting movement of my legs and my lack of underwear caused it to fall straight down, poking out the bottom of my shorts. I decided this would also have to be solved later, and besides, my roommate had been through a wildly more indecent experience not twelve hours previous. 

“Hey man, sorry about last night,” I said. “It was kind of an emergency situation, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I guess it is…somehow my fault,” Myron said introspectively, his eyes landing on the python swinging in my loose sweats.

“You’re still on this theory,” I laughed. “The magic dick situation?” I gave a thoughtful scratch to the scruff of my chin.

“You still don’t believe me,” accused Myron, turning fully from the coffee pot to lean against the counter, folding his arms in his usual defensive stance.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender, “it’s just that I would maybe like more of a preponderance of evidence. More than my…condition and the fact that your boss happens to have a really big dick that you keep getting to peek at for some reason.” My eyes came out of a roll to narrow on Myron, trying to catch him off guard by turning the tables toward whatever workplace dalliances he’d been keeping from me.

“It’s not like that,” he retorted, his eyes widening. “It’s a couple of mishaps and coincidences.”

“Just a few.”

“A couple.”

“Almost a pattern.”

“Be that as it may, how do you explain last night?”

“How do you explain it?” I returned, but decided to play along. “Honestly, I could have sworn it grew again.”

Myron looked taken aback, his head tilting to the side. “Well, I mean, it did.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I’m pretty familiar with this guy, I’m thinking he may have finally plateaued.” I leaned casually against the kitchen cabinets and sat my butt on the counter, that feeling of slight disorientation still sitting with me. Everything in the space just felt a little off. I wasn’t trying to put my dick on display, but at this point, I had given up hope of hiding this thing. “Can’t even imagine things getting even more disproportionate.”

“No, that’s what I mean,” he said, staring intently at me. “It grew, but so did the rest of you.”

I laughed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “The plot thickens,” I said mockingly. “Let me know when the coffee’s ready,” I said, turning to head to the next room and whacking my forehead into the top of the doorframe.

He rushed over to catch me as I fell on my ass. My balance was completely shot as I realized that my center of gravity really was significantly higher than it had been last night. My crop top wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was constricting, and, taking notice of the hem, was actually never cropped even though it sat just above my belly button. I noticed that my shorts, similarly, covered much less of my thighs than what I expected. My gaze turned to my long, long legs, the heels of my feet resting completely outside my house slippers. 

Okay, I thought. He might have a point.

[ofliterarynature]

JUNE 2023 WRAP UP

loved liked okay no thanks (reread) bookclub*

An Unsuitable Heir | The Winter of the Witch | An Unnatural Vice | Bloom* | An Unseen Attraction | Masters in this Hall | (The Mislaid Magician) | Gilded Cage | The Age of Innocence | (The Grand Tour) | Any Old Diamonds | The Rat-Catcher’s Daughter | (Sorcery & Cecelia) | (The Goblin Emperor) | A Gentleman’s Position | The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street | Dust and Shadow | A Seditious Affair | A Fashionable Indulgence | Subtle Blood | Proper English | Range

Let’s just say I was feeling a bit unhinged this month…

I don't know what was up with my brain this month (it was stress, probably. ugh.), but it was comfort-reads-only central. Which spun out of control a little with the KJ Charles, but we'll get to that.

Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World started things off with a great non-fic pick. It spoke so deeply to me that it made me very angry at the world while also being very comforting. Would highly recommend.

Dust and Shadow is Sherlock Holmes solves Jack the Ripper, but hewing much closer to canon than say, that other one I fell in love with last year (The Angel of the Crows). I couldn't help comparing the two, and while it was interesting seeing each author's interpretations of the Ripper case, this one did not come out on top for me.

The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street is a sort-of sequel memoir to the author's collection of letters published as 84 Charing Cross Road that I read last month and loved. A little different but still a delight, and I've got another one of her related memoirs waiting for me on my desk right now.

The Goblin Emperor... what can I say, my brain needed comfort, I caught up on the AO3 tag, and thought why not. It was amazing to go back and see all the little bits of Maia I'd forgotten.

Sorcery & Cecelia I picked up partially as a consequence of my KJ Charles/historical romance rampage that fully put me off of the other audiobooks I already had checked out. I've been meaning to reread them for a while (it's probably been a decade) because I wanted to explore my mixed memories of the two sequels. And I don't blame younger me! The original book is a delight sort of in the vein of Diana Wynne Jones and The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, with adventures and almost a comedy of manners element to it. The much later sequels lose a lot of the whimsy and brightness, are much more serious and adult, and are much more explicitly mystery novels. Now I love a mystery novel, and I think if you distance them from the original book they're not too bad! The Grand Tour is the worst, I think, both because of the unexpected shift in style and because I don't think the epistolary format they chose works well (I really would have loved to see some letters they wrote to other people, imo, rather than diary entries). The Mislaid Magician brings things back around much closer to the original novel's format both literally and narratively, if not in style, and I liked it a great deal.

This next one goes out to Lauren, who will probably never read this but - I finally read The Age of Innocence! Not the copy you gave me, but I did it. It wasn't quite to my taste, but it absolutely fits with what I know of your other favorite things. Sorry this was like 8 years too late.

Bloom I've had on my shelf for years and it's totally my doing that we read it for book club - it was a nice read, I love the art style, but ultimately it was a bit forgettable. Maybe if it'd focused on resolving the non-romantic conflicts as well, idk.

It took me MUCH longer to get to Winter of the Witch than I had planned, but I did! It felt a little clunky trying to get all the ends tied up, but overall I liked it, I was very glad to get away from the politics of the second book. This was such a well written series, I definitely recommend it, but it also made me feel angry and anxious enough while reading it that I can't see myself ever revisting it. (I'll definitely keep an eye out for more of the author's work though).

AND NOW FOR THE KJ CHARLES!!!

I started off the month finishing up the Will Darling/English books, which, do not follow my example, you should absolutely read in chronological order (and pay attention to character names!). These were not books I fell immediately in love with, but exposure and persistence, not to mention some great side characters, won me over. I also cannot BELIEVE that KJ waited until the very very end to introduce the "proteges" concept, and it's the best thing I've ever heard I am emotionally devastated (and cackling, lmao).

I've mentioned elsewhere my accidental discovery (too late) that the next 3 series were related, but I did manage at least to start with the correct one. Society of Gentlemen was...okay. The first one might actually be the worst KJ Charles I've read so far, but the other two were definitely better, if not exactly to my taste. I like the mystery/action/adventure plots more, I suppose, rather than...politics? I think? and respectability is boring anyways.

I managed to accidentally skip over Sins of the Cities directly into the Lilywhite Boys, which is a pity, because they're much more closely related to each other than Society (which honestly you don't need to read beforehand). Even without the more detailed background from Sins, I LOVED the Lilywhite novels and novellas. Thieves and shady characters who are extremely competent, excellent lovers, a little violent, and with their own moral codes are catnip for me, I could not have resisted.

I then went back to Sins of the Cities, which were also good! The leads in the first book were sweet but a little bland, the love/hate thing going on the second book was fantastic, and I loved that the third book had a genderqueer/nb lead. I appreciated getting all the background to events hinted at in the Lilywhite books, but I also admit I spent less time focused on the murders and more on "ok but HOW does X become the Earl???????" I had so many theories lol, none of them right. I just wonder if these would have hit a little harder if I'd read them first.

As I write this in July, I'm still working my way through the rest of KJ's catalogue but I think the worst of my brain fever is over, and I'm hoping to soon have the mental capacity to read the new Victoria Goddard I've been ignoring for a couple of months. Wish me luck, and happy reading!

[unitedstatesofworld]

The Controversy Surrounding Jaylen Fleer: A Closer Look

Life can take unexpected turns, but some stories truly capture the public's attention. One such story is that of Jaylen Fleer, a former law enforcement officer whose name has been linked to a scandal that continues to raise eyebrows. So, what exactly happened? How did a promising career come crashing down? This article will explore the events surrounding Jaylen Fleer and the aftermath of his actions, while keeping the conversation informal, engaging, and as smooth as butter!

Who Is Jaylen Fleer?

At one time, Jaylen Fleer was just another face in the crowd, making a difference as a member of law enforcement. He had a decent career, a reputation to uphold, and, from the outside, things appeared to be going well. But, as we all know, things aren't always as they seem! Behind the badge was a hidden side that led to a series of shocking revelations.

The Shocking Scandal

So, what exactly went wrong? Why is Jaylen Fleer suddenly a household name in such a negative light? Here's where the story starts to get interesting (and not in a good way). Jaylen Fleer was involved in illegal activities that shocked not just his local community but also gained national attention. The details of his actions caused waves of anger and disbelief. His fall from grace was quick and severe, with public trust in him shattered almost overnight.

The Fallout: What Happened Next?

After the accusations came to light, the legal system took swift action  faced serious charges, leading to court appearances and significant consequences for his behavior. There’s no denying that his actions left a lasting impact, but the question remains—could this have been avoided? The scandal led to public discussions about trust in law enforcement and how one individual’s decisions can harm an entire community’s faith in the system.

How Public Perception Shifted

At first, many who knew Jaylen Fleer couldn’t believe the news. Could the person they once trusted really be capable of such acts? As more evidence came to light, however, public opinion turned quickly. People began questioning his motives, asking: "Was there any warning sign? Could this have been prevented?" Unfortunately, these are the kinds of questions that only leave us with more doubts and uncertainties.

Lessons Learned: What Can Be Taken Away from This Incident?

When it comes to situations like these, there are always lessons to be learned. The Jaylen Fleer case, in particular, opened up many discussions about accountability, transparency, and ethical behavior. Trust, once lost, is incredibly difficult to regain. The case reminds us that no one is above the law, and even those in positions of authority must be held to the same standards as everyone else.

Accountability: No one is immune to the law, no matter their job or position.

Trust: Once it’s broken, it’s difficult to rebuild, especially when public figures are involved.

Ethics: Upholding strong moral principles is crucial for maintaining public confidence.

Why Did This Scandal Shake the Community?

It’s easy to see why people were so taken aback by the revelations surrounding Jaylen Fleer. Here was a man in a position of power and trust, and he abused both. As with many cases like this, the betrayal is personal to those who put their faith in him. So why do stories like this hit so hard? Because they force us to question everything we thought we knew. They make us wonder—can we really trust those tasked with protecting us?

Moving Forward: Can Redemption Ever Be Achieved?

In situations like this, it’s natural to ask: "Is there room for redemption?" Can someone like Jaylen Fleer ever rebuild his life after such a public fall? The answer is complicated. While there are examples of people who have worked to make amends after their wrongdoings, the road to redemption is not an easy one. It takes time, dedication, and a lot of self-reflection. And even then, there are no guarantees that public forgiveness will follow.

Conclusion

The case of Jaylen Fleer serves as a stark reminder that actions have consequences, and those in power must be held accountable for their behavior. While the fallout from his actions will likely reverberate for years to come, the lessons learned from this incident are clear. Trust is fragile, and once it’s broken, it can take a lifetime to repair—if it ever does.

[autolovecraft]

The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon.

He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. Clutching the edges of the aperture. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he vaguely wished it would stop.

He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood.

As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been mocking. He could not walk, it appeared, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude.

Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try.

His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he vaguely wished it would stop.

Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply.

His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, just as I thought! Great heavens, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live.

And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. Being without superstition, he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th.

It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. Perhaps he screamed. Why did you do it, Birch? He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you got what you deserved.

[use-your-telescope]

YO, K.

You have -- WOWOWOWOWOWOW YOU HAVE OUTDONE YOURSELF MY FRIEND. I read this three times already and waited to reblog until I had a chance to full on f r e a k over how delightful this is.

Loki huffs as the two of you cross the threshold into his rooms, kicking the heavy golden door shut behind him, the impact reverberating off the stone walls with a resounding thud.   Norns, he’s as eager to get to the bedchamber as you are. And rightly so – it’s been days.  “Loki!” You giggle as you turn to him, warm laughter faltering at the sight of his solemn countenance, a shift that tinges the atmosphere with something you can’t quite place.   It’s unexpected, yet familiar. Anticipation simmers in your stomach as he releases your hand, jerking his chin toward the blazing hearth at the center of his study. 

This passage starts off with so many lovely sensory details that give such a cozy feel to everything, which then builds when you add in the details about the hearth. Love it!

Your reunion at the celebratory feast had been nothing short of scintillating – a mirthful evening of rousing conversation, stolen glances, abundant wine, and teasing touches.  But it hadn’t been enough. With Loki, it’s never enough. 

UGH. The word choice here - so perfect for the environment and for the world this takes place in, and the diction/rhythm is just *chef's kiss*

His jaw is set, the muscles of his neck subtly tensing as he holds his head high, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyes bore through you.

Can we talk about these little details? OOOOOOH LAWDY they are painting a beautiful, H word image in my mind 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

The fire emits a symphony of pops and snaps, flames lapping at the logs in an enchanting waltz as Loki stalks forward, commanding your attention with each step. He unfastens his cloak, draping it over the settee. You wonder why you’re not already draped across the sofa, Loki’s body pressing into yours. But you dare not move from your designated spot, especially when you notice the devious glint in his sharp, calculating gaze. “It’s been much too long, love.” He’s in front of you now, poised and majestic and biting his lip in the most devastating way. The crackling fire crescendos as logs shift, casting shadows that flicker and sway throughout the chamber, and you furtively take a small step to the left. It’s a vain endeavor to quell the mounting ache between your thighs, but at least the new position allows the amber light to accentuate each curve of your silhouette. Because whatever little game Loki’s planning, you intend to win.

HOLY FUCK. The musical imagery tied with the fire, and integrating it with the dance metaphor?! I cannot. You broke me before we even got to the main event!!!

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, his palm flat against your collarbone. “Remain where you are so that I may get a good look at you.”  “I believe you did enough looking during the feast,” you quip, finally catching your breath. Loki takes another step back, eyes crinkling in mirth and appearing every bit the mischievous god that he is.  “There wasn’t much else that could be done in front of the Allfather and half of Asgard, now was there, darling? And surely you cannot fault me for wanting to admire a divine creature such as yourself.” 

Okay, I love that reader is snarky and bratty in this, and I love the chemistry it provides between Loki and reader! And I also love his retort at the end of this - "There wasn't much else that could be done in front of the Allfather and half of Asgard, now was there, darling?" made me crack up.

“Careful, little one. Do not lie to me. Not when both know your intentions are less than honorable, what with that rousing performance licking the ambrosia from your fingertips at the high table.”  An impish smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he circles you, the stealth movement reminding you of a predator on the prowl. You refuse to be his prey. For now, anyway.  “Oh, that? Merely an ill-timed consequence of misplacing the serviette.” 

Picturing this in my mind, between the predator/prey comparison and the teasing "oh, don't mind me, casually misplacing things so I can tease the hell out of Loki at the high table in front of everyone!" was h o t. Yasssss

It’s an addicting action he knows drives you wild, and, in the haze of lust he’s conjuring, you don’t realize he’s deftly unclasping the pin at the shoulder of your gown.    A small gasp escapes you as the silken bodice pools around your waist. Even with the hearth burning beside you, the air in the chamber is crisp, and Loki’s hands are cooler still. He circles you again, tugging the lustrous material over your hips, a smug grin adorning his face as you stand completely bare before him. You straighten your shoulders as he retreats, his pupils expanding with unabated lust as he drinks in the sight of you.  The light ebbs and flows around you, but your eyes are solely focused on each other as Loki settles into the plush velvet armchair across from where you stand. 

me internally: LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The descriptions, the interplay between hot and cold, the contrast between silk and velvet... YES YES YES!!!

“So brazen,” you tease, stepping out of your slippers and lightly kicking your discarded garment to the side. “But I thought you fancied yourself a benevolent god, Loki.”  “Hmm? Oh, yes,” he says, eyeing the front of his trousers. “I suppose that was quite unfair of me, wasn’t it?” He waves his hand with a flourish, his clothing evaporating in a flash of emerald.  Gods, he's gorgeous. Golden light flickers across his immaculate physique and a part of you wants to stay here forever - committing the impossible splendor of this maddening man to memory.

Again, THE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN THESE TWO!! Swoon. Also, I love love love the phrase "committing the impossible splendor of this maddening man to memory."

He’s going to be the end of you. You shake your head, watching in awe as he widens his hips, the ripple of elegant muscle beneath his alabaster skin accentuated in the firelight – but it’s the sight of his beautiful cock resting against his thigh that makes your heart stutter. You’re gawking, too; you’re sure of it.

Holy shit, K. There have been many descriptions of cocks on the beloved hellsite, to the point where I don't usually bat an eye at the reveal, but this -- after the build up, then the way that you describe the whole scene here? Yes.

“You know–” he interrupts “–out there, in the wilds of Asgard, the vision of you on your knees, begging for me, possessed my every waking thought. In fact, darling, I was so preoccupied with thoughts of you that I nearly clipped Thor with a rogue arrow.” 

LOL. I'm picturing this and the scenarios that come to mind are all A+.

“Beg.” Your resolve shatters, words tumbling from you without conscious thought. “I need to touch you, Loki. Please.”  “Oh, you can do better than that, dove,” he taunts, languidly beginning to stroke himself. “Beg for me and I’ll give you exactly that which you desire.” 

YASSSSS LET'S GOOOOOOOOO.

“My king,” you say with an air of innocence, pride bubbling in your chest as Loki’s cock twitches in his palm. “I am yours. Completely.” Your gaze meets his as you caress his thighs, pushing them slightly outward as you lean forward. He exhales when your hand replaces his own, shifting in the chair as you emulate his unhurried strokes. “Words alone cannot express my eternal devotion.” His eyes glisten as he reaches down to tenderly grasp your chin, the pad of his thumb massaging  your bottom lip. “That isn’t–” Loki hesitates, his voice carrying a hint of wariness, and your heart aches for him. All these years and some small part of him still believes he’s unworthy of your affection. 

OH READER KNOWS WHAT LOKI NEEDS TO HEAR. I LOVE THIS. IT HURTS A LIL' BUT IN A GOOD WAY.

“Allow me to exalt you” is what you think you say before he guides himself into your mouth, but you’re not certain of anything right now. Except that he’s warm and heavy on your tongue, and the sweet, tangy taste of him is divine.  You hear him gasp from above, and you moan in turn, watching in fascination as he responds to your touch. He’s everything you desire and soon your fervent slurps and Loki’s soft grunts are the only sounds accompanying the crackles and pops of the fire.  

The sensory details!! Perfect balance of adding to the moment without overwhelming or distracting from the moment. A++++++

“Get up here, woman,” he instructs, eyes twinkling as he guides you to his lap. As you straddle his waist, Loki’s head tilts to the side, an expression of absolute reverence that no one – save for you – ever bears witness to on his handsome face.  “I love you.” It’s a whispered incantation on your skin, his cool breath sparking a yearning that burns brighter than any star in the night sky. Surely this must be what Valhalla feels like.

Yup, sated for a couple minutes. Yup, surely *this* must be what Valhalla feels like. 100/10.

The glow from the hearth illuminates his dimples as he grins up at you before playfully swatting your ass. “You know, I don’t believe you ever actually begged,” Loki says, turning his head to leisurely kiss along your inner wrist. “We’re going to have to rectify that.” 

Leave it to Loki to remember that reader didn't truly beg. I love that it came back at the end!!

“Is that a threat or a promise, your highness?” Truthfully, you aren’t sure which prospect excites you more, but without warning you’re in motion, a small shriek escaping you as the prince lifts you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. Loki pretends to ponder your question as he lays you gently on the sofa, his practiced fingers dipping between your thighs. “I promise you this, my love: You’ll be begging for release before the night’s end.”

WHAT AN ENDING!!!! You, my truly talented and fantastic friend, absolutely KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK with this fic!! From start to finish, the pacing, tension, chemistry, details -- all absolutely sensational and divine. Cheers, my friend!!

Exaltation

AO3 | Loki Masterlist

Summary: In which you express the depths of your devotion to Loki of Asgard (whilst on your knees). Pairing: Prince!Loki x Female Reader Word count: 2.2k Tags/Content: Teasing, Bratty Behavior, Humor, Bit of Fluff, Praise, Smut, Oral (m receiving), Established Relationship, Second Person POV, No Y/N Rating: Mature; 18+ Author’s note: So, I’m kind of obsessed with writing Prince Loki at the moment. Perhaps this is the start of a new collection? Anyway, here’s a lil’ something for @sarahscribbles’ birthday celebration. I hope you enjoy these brats in love, my dear!

Loki huffs as the two of you cross the threshold into his rooms, kicking the heavy golden door shut behind him, the impact reverberating off the stone walls with a resounding thud.  

Norns, he’s as eager to get to the bedchamber as you are. And rightly so – it’s been days. 

“Loki!” You giggle as you turn to him, warm laughter faltering at the sight of his solemn countenance, a shift that tinges the atmosphere with something you can’t quite place.  

It’s unexpected, yet familiar. Anticipation simmers in your stomach as he releases your hand, jerking his chin toward the blazing hearth at the center of his study. 

“Over there. Now.”

Oh. 

Just a few hours earlier, Loki, Thor, and their entourage had returned from a week-long royal hunt. Your reunion at the celebratory feast had been nothing short of scintillating – a mirthful evening of rousing conversation, stolen glances, abundant wine, and teasing touches. 

But it hadn’t been enough. With Loki, it’s never enough. 

He’s always a bit insatiable after time apart, but tonight something is different. There’s a sense of determination emanating from him as he observes you following his order without hesitation. His jaw is set, the muscles of his neck subtly tensing as he holds his head high, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyes bore through you. 

It’s quite thrilling, really. 

The fire emits a symphony of pops and snaps, flames lapping at the logs in an enchanting waltz as Loki stalks forward, commanding your attention with each step. He unfastens his cloak, draping it over the settee. You wonder why you’re not already draped across the sofa, Loki’s body pressing into yours. But you dare not move from your designated spot, especially when you notice the devious glint in his sharp, calculating gaze.

“It’s been much too long, love.” He’s in front of you now, poised and majestic and biting his lip in the most devastating way. The crackling fire crescendos as logs shift, casting shadows that flicker and sway throughout the chamber, and you furtively take a small step to the left. It’s a vain endeavor to quell the mounting ache between your thighs, but at least the new position allows the amber light to accentuate each curve of your silhouette. Because whatever little game Loki’s planning, you intend to win. 

“I don’t know why you insist on making it longer.” 

He only hums in response, quirking a brow as he rocks on his heels, regarding you. 

Infuriating brat. 

Loki slightly startles when you impetuously fist the collar of his tunic, crashing your lips into his. You don’t expect him to lean in, considering his little display of dominance and all, so it’s your turn to be caught unawares when his tongue slips past your lips. It’s slow and sweet, and the lingering taste of honey wine envelops your senses and sends you reeling with pleasure.

When Loki breaks the kiss, you lurch forward, craving more. It’s never enough. 

But any momentum you might’ve summoned with your amorous advance is now gone – the deep, jovial laugh rumbling through his chest a stark contrast to your shallow pants.  

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, his palm flat against your collarbone. “Remain where you are so that I may get a good look at you.” 

“I believe you did enough looking during the feast,” you quip, finally catching your breath. Loki takes another step back, eyes crinkling in mirth and appearing every bit the mischievous god that he is. 

“There wasn’t much else that could be done in front of the Allfather and half of Asgard, now was there, darling? And surely you cannot fault me for wanting to admire a divine creature such as yourself.” 

Damn that silver tongue.

“But I am curious to know all the sordid thoughts hidden away in that pretty head of yours,” Loki continues, his darkened eyes raking over your body as a familiar warmth ignites every nerve ending like a fiery enchantment. At first, you think he’s magicked away your gown – a dash of disappointment arising in you when you realize you’re still fully clothed.

“Whatever do you mean?” you reply, tauntingly narrowing your eyes. It’s a wily attempt to lure Loki into your trap – because the only thing he loves more than provoking chaos is countering a challenge. 

“Careful, little one. Do not lie to me. Not when both know your intentions are less than honorable, what with that rousing performance licking the ambrosia from your fingertips at the high table.” 

An impish smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he circles you, the stealth movement reminding you of a predator on the prowl. You refuse to be his prey. For now, anyway. 

“Oh, that? Merely an ill-timed consequence of misplacing the serviette.” 

Loki’s fingertips trail down your arms before he grasps your hips, pulling you against his solid form. 

“Is that so?” he rasps in your ear, his cool breath sending a chill down your spine. His erection is evident, and you both shamelessly groan as you grind your ass into him. 

“See?” The timbre of his voice vibrates across your flesh as he cups your breast, his thumb roughly flicking your nipple through the sinfully thin fabric of your dress. “Trouble.”

“You love it.” 

“Oh, do I ever,” he hums, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin below your ear as his hands continue their exploration. It’s an addicting action he knows drives you wild, and, in the haze of lust he’s conjuring, you don’t realize he’s deftly unclasping the pin at the shoulder of your gown.   

A small gasp escapes you as the silken bodice pools around your waist. Even with the hearth burning beside you, the air in the chamber is crisp, and Loki’s hands are cooler still. He circles you again, tugging the lustrous material over your hips, a smug grin adorning his face as you stand completely bare before him. You straighten your shoulders as he retreats, his pupils expanding with unabated lust as he drinks in the sight of you. 

The light ebbs and flows around you, but your eyes are solely focused on each other as Loki settles into the plush velvet armchair across from where you stand. 

“So brazen,” you tease, stepping out of your slippers and lightly kicking your discarded garment to the side. “But I thought you fancied yourself a benevolent god, Loki.” 

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” he says, eyeing the front of his trousers. “I suppose that was quite unfair of me, wasn’t it?”

He waves his hand with a flourish, his clothing evaporating in a flash of emerald. 

Gods, he’s gorgeous. Golden light flickers across his immaculate physique and a part of you wants to stay here forever – committing the impossible splendor of this maddening man to memory. But Loki has other plans. 

“Enjoying the view?”

You release a shaky breath, the throbbing in your core becoming more unbearable by the second. “Yes.”

“But it’s not enough, is it?” His voice drips with a blend of amusement and mockery, as if savoring the mere taste of your frustration. 

He’s going to be the end of you. You shake your head, watching in awe as he widens his hips, the ripple of elegant muscle beneath his alabaster skin accentuated in the firelight – but it’s the sight of his beautiful cock resting against his thigh that makes your heart stutter. You’re gawking, too; you’re sure of it. But you don’t care. 

When your eyes dart up to meet his, Loki smiles and silently beckons you with a graceful curl of his forefinger. 

Finally. Arousal thrums through your veins, but as you move to climb atop him, he snatches your wrist, and you freeze. 

“Kneel.” 

It’s a command so powerful, so sensual, that you know surrender is imminent. 

You’re between his thighs in a heartbeat, yearning to worship every glorious inch of him. Your knees sink into the plush furs at his feet as you prepare to indulge every request he makes.

“Loki…” you say breathlessly, dragging your nails up his muscular calves. 

“You know–” he interrupts “–out there, in the wilds of Asgard, the vision of you on your knees, begging for me, possessed my every waking thought. In fact, darling, I was so preoccupied with thoughts of you that I nearly clipped Thor with a rogue arrow.” 

You breathe out a nervous laugh at his admission, and his lips curl into that damned smirk as he looks down at you. It’s the one he always dons when he’s up to something, and suddenly everything falls into place.

“Beg.”

Your resolve shatters, words tumbling from you without conscious thought. “I need to touch you, Loki. Please.” 

“Oh, you can do better than that, dove,” he taunts, languidly beginning to stroke himself. “Beg for me and I’ll give you exactly that which you desire.” 

You inhale, mouth watering in anticipation and mind reeling with possibility. And then the perfect words come to you.

“My king,” you say with an air of innocence, pride bubbling in your chest as Loki’s cock twitches in his palm. “I am yours. Completely.” 

Your gaze meets his as you caress his thighs, pushing them slightly outward as you lean forward. He exhales when your hand replaces his own, shifting in the chair as you emulate his unhurried strokes.

“Words alone cannot express my eternal devotion.” 

His eyes glisten as he reaches down to tenderly grasp your chin, the pad of his thumb massaging  your bottom lip. 

“That isn’t–” Loki hesitates, his voice carrying a hint of wariness, and your heart aches for him. All these years and some small part of him still believes he’s unworthy of your affection. 

He deserves every ounce of veneration you can bestow upon him – and not just tonight. For as long as time stretches across the cosmos, you’ll spend your days and nights proving to Loki the love you share is real and that he is worthy of it and so much more. 

“Allow me to exalt you” is what you think you say before he guides himself into your mouth, but you’re not certain of anything right now. Except that he’s warm and heavy on your tongue, and the sweet, tangy taste of him is divine. 

You hear him gasp from above, and you moan in turn, watching in fascination as he responds to your touch. He’s everything you desire and soon your fervent slurps and Loki’s soft grunts are the only sounds accompanying the crackles and pops of the fire.  

“Gods, yes,” he pants, delicately placing his hand at the nape of your neck as you quicken your pace. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.” 

His praise spurs you to flatten your tongue against his cock, working your magic until his hips rise to meet your every movement. 

Saliva drips from the corners of your lips as his sounds of pleasure intensify, thighs shuddering around you. His brows knit, face contorting in ecstasy as you gag around him. 

“Faen… I- I’m,” Loki manages to say through gritted teeth, chin pointing up to the heavens before his hips jerk once, twice – a strangled groan echoing around the chamber as he spills into your mouth. 

When his hand falls from your head, you slowly pull off of him, sitting back on your heels to admire the view before you. 

He’s still hard, and you already miss the weight of him on your tongue, but the flush of pink on his cheeks and the thin sheen of perspiration on his brow, along with the ragged rise and fall of his chest, assures you he’s properly sated – for the next few minutes, at least. 

“Get up here, woman,” he instructs, eyes twinkling as he guides you to his lap. As you straddle his waist, Loki’s head tilts to the side, an expression of absolute reverence that no one – save for you – ever bears witness to on his handsome face. 

“I love you.” It’s a whispered incantation on your skin, his cool breath sparking a yearning that burns brighter than any star in the night sky. Surely this must be what Valhalla feels like.

You open your mouth to respond – to tell him you’d unquestionably journey to the ends of the universe and beyond with him – but the passion burning in his eyes compels you to kiss him again. You delight in the small whimper he makes when you bite his bottom lip, rolling your hips against him in response. Loki deepens the kiss as you comb your fingers through his dark curls. It’s surprising that he allows you to continue your search for friction as you grind into him, but just as you’re nearing the edge of bliss, he pulls away, stilling your motions with his hands as you whine in protest. 

The glow from the hearth illuminates his dimples as he grins up at you before playfully swatting your ass.

“You know, I don’t believe you ever actually begged,” Loki says, turning his head to leisurely kiss along your inner wrist. “We’re going to have to rectify that.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, your highness?” 

Truthfully, you aren’t sure which prospect excites you more, but without warning you’re in motion, a small shriek escaping you as the prince lifts you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. 

Loki pretends to ponder your question as he lays you gently on the sofa, his practiced fingers dipping between your thighs. 

“I promise you this, my love: You’ll be begging for release before the night’s end.”

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, so if you no longer want to be on my tag list, send me a note. @loki-cees-all @cake-writes @shine101 @use-your-telescope @tripleyeeet @simplyholl @joyful-enchantress @coldnique @lokixryss @buttercupcookies-blog @lunarnights95 @smolvenger @peaches1958 @thedistractedagglomeration @milly-louise @dj-murasaki @tallseaweed @lokidbadguy @imadisneyprincessiswear @val-writesstuff @loz-3 @diorsirenskkn @huntress-artemiss @cakesandtom @fictive-sl0th @maple-seed @stargazing-moonlilie @mochie85 @loopsreacts @mischief-dream @mischief2sarawr @gruftiela @icytrickster17 @cultofcarter @lokidokieokie @eleniblue @litaloni @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley @chokeanddagger @sarah5462 (continued in comments)

[loverhymeswith]

All You Have To Do Is Stay | Takeshi Kovacs x GN!Reader

Summary: A heatwave in Bay City leads to unexpected consequences.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Angst. Vague mentions of characters sleeping together. Nothing explicit.

A/N: Written for @that-sarcastic-writer 's 1300 follower celebration, using the prompt "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me". Congratulations lovely! <3

Summer in Bay City does not come without its fair share of rainfall, but this year is different. It’s been six weeks since the heavens opened, six weeks since a drop of water fell from the sky, and now the drought - combined with the cloying heat - finally seems to be causing the residents of The Raven to lose their minds. 

Takeshi Kovacs is no exception. As soon as the pink unicorn backpack made its appearance, you knew trouble was afoot. With no end to this heatwave in sight, tempers are fraught, nerves are frayed, and left right and centre, unwise decisions are being made. In your opinion, Takeshi might just be the number one culprit, having just concocted a brilliant scheme that is sure to result in his real-death – that’s if you don’t murder him first.

“If you do this, don’t expect me to be waiting around to patch you up again.”

Takeshi finally drags his attention away from cataloguing the extensive weapons cache on the counter, his intense hazel gaze landing on you instead. A thin sheen of sweat clings to every inch of tanned skin he currently has exposed. There’s some small amount of satisfaction to be taken from the fact that he’s not entirely immune to the rising temperatures.

“I mean it,” you warn him, reading the subtle amusement in his expression. He’s clearly not taking your threats seriously enough. “I’m done. I’m gone.”

He zips up the obnoxious pink backpack and levels you with a penetrating stare. “If I don’t do this, a lot of people are going to die.”

You fold your arms, trying to ignore the uncomfortable prickle of heat at the back of your neck. “And what about you?

The stubborn, pig-headed envoy simply smirks. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

You used to believe it – used to believe that Takeshi Kovacs was invincible. You clearly remember the first time Vernon brought you along to The Raven to help patch up the envoy’s wounds. You had been shocked, to say the least. Fascinated, too. Not only that Takeshi was still standing after suffering such extensive injuries, but also by how quickly he had healed.  

That was nearly two years ago. For some inexplicable reason, you found yourself sticking around. Like Takeshi and the Elliots, you’ve become somewhat of a permanent fixture at the A.I. hotel.  Consequently, it has put you in the perfect position to notice the shift in Takeshi’s behaviour. Ever since Bancroft and Reileen and Ortega, it’s like he’s intent on becoming some kind of martyr.

“Can’t you at least take Vernon with you?”

“And watch him get himself killed? I don’t think so.”

Poe and the Elliots have already spent the morning bickering with Takeshi, once again throwing around words like ‘friendship’ and ‘teamwork’ as if such concepts could be enough to make him change his mind – could persuade him against this ridiculous suicide mission. But they don’t know him like you do. 

Even after all this time, Takeshi still doesn’t believe in friendship. He believes in acquaintances. Assets. People he can leverage to do his bidding. To help him get what he wants – whatever the hell that might be. No matter how hard you’ve fought to make him believe otherwise, he still refuses to accept that there are people like Vernon and Ava, like Poe, who truly care for him.

And then, there's you. It’s still unclear where you fit in when it comes to Takeshi Kovacs. Until recently, you’d suspected you were just another dispensable asset. But then everything changed. What the others don’t know is that for the last six weeks – when it’s late at night and all the fighting and the scheming has finally stopped – not only have you been sharing Takeshi’s company, you’ve also been sharing his bed.

It’d be easy to blame it on the heat. Even easier to blame it on the liquor. The first time had been little more than a drunken mistake, an ill-advised distraction after his near-miss with the Yakuza. But the following night, you had sought him out again. After that, it became a compulsion. 

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Emotions were certainly not supposed to beinvolved. But that had become harder and harder each time you found yourselves rolling beneath his sheets. Foolishly, you realise,  you’ve been starting to think that you can see through the walls he’s erected. Thinking that one day you might break them down, brick by brick. 

It’s possible you imagined it entirely, but you thought you’d seen a change in Takeshi, too. You thought that there had been a softening to his eyes as he made love to you. A half-smile that he seemed to reserve for you alone.

That smile is currently nowhere to be seen as he matches you glare for glare.

Unfazed by the six foot three wall of muscle standing before you, the spark of anger in your chest ignites. “But you expect us all to sit back and watch as you get yourself killed?”

“That’s different.”

“No,” you tell him firmly. “It’s not.” With it now increasingly apparent that he’s not going to heed your warning, you simply turn around and leave.

The streets of Bay City are eerily quiet. Nobody wants to be outside in this heat. It’s like a furnace, constant and smouldering. Leaving the relative luxury of The Raven’s air-conditioned foyer might have been another unwise decision, but you couldn’t spend another minute inside knowing that every passing second in Takeshi’s company might just be your last.

You’ve been walking for almost fifteen minutes when someone calls your name. Your hackles raise, but you continue walking, picking up the pace despite the pressing heat and the sweat forming on your brow. You're not some dog that can be called to command. No matter what might have transpired between the two of you back in the privacy of his bedroom, you’re not just going to roll over for Takeshi Kovacs. Not anymore.

A firm hand grasps your shoulder, halting you in your tracks. “Would you just stop and talk to me?” There’s a hint of desperation in Takeshi’s voice as he spins you around. It affects you far more than you care to admit.

“There’s nothing left to say,” you spit, not bothering to hide the venom in your own voice. He should know that wounded animals are prone to bite. “You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

His fingers are still curled around your shoulder. You shrug out of his grip. “Explain what, Tak? That you’d rather go charging into danger, risking your life for a bunch of strangers than even contemplate the fact that there are people here that care about you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No. I don’t.”

Takeshi is a storm cloud. As his mood darkens, electricity fills the air. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken away from me. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that kind of pain. These are bad people. But I have the power to stop them. I have to do this.”

“And what about the people who love you, Takeshi? You don’t care that one day you’re going to be taken away from them? Do you know how many nights I’ve sat up waiting for you to return, not knowing what state you’re going to come back in. If you’re even going to come back. I can’t do this anymore.”

A flicker of understanding crosses Takeshi’s face and his expression shifts. That softness you thought you must have imagined has suddenly returned. “Is that what this is about? Your feelings for me?”

His words penetrate your skin like a knife, cutting you open and leaving you to bleed out the truth all over the sun-bleached pavements of downtown Bay City. “I don’t have feelings for you,” you assure him, slapping a bandaid over the wound. “The only thing this is about is you being a selfish prick.”

Takeshi shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s true.” He reaches out a hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head so you’re forced to meet his gaze. "Look me in the eye, sweetheart. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me."

“I-” Before you can answer, a crack of thunder shatters the silence. As one, the two of you cast your gaze to the sky, only to find that the sun has disappeared behind a huge black cloud. 

The first fat drop of water lands on Takeshi’s brow. He blinks in surprise. The next one falls on your cheek. Takeshi wipes it away with the soft brush of his thumb across your skin. As you stand there, frozen by his words, by his touch, the heavens fully – finally – open. A tiny squeak of laughter threatens to burst forth from your lips. Of course, of all the days for the drought to break, it had to be this one.

“We should go inside,” you tell Takeshi, blinking away the heavy drops of water now clinging to your lashes. 

“No,” he disagrees, his palm still curved around your cheek. “I want to know what you were going to say. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been looking at me lately. We both know these last few weeks have been more than just about the sex.”

It’s complicated. Isn’t that always the case? There’s a very real possibility that you do love him, but you’re not ready to admit that just yet. You’re not ready to open yourself up to that kind of heartache. Not if he’s still going to walk into battle with that reckless grin on his face. You can’t bear the thought of losing him, but it’s easier with a protective shell of willful ignorance around your heart.

“What does it matter if I’m going to lose you anyway?”

Takeshi dips his head lower to make himself heard over the hammering rain. “It matters.”

The force of the rainfall has plastered the lengths of Takeshi’s hair to his brow. It’s a struggle not to reach out and brush the locks from his face, but such a gesture would do little to fight your case. “Would it make a difference?” You wonder aloud, trying not to lean into the warmth of his hand against your cheek. “If I told you I love you, would it make you stay?”

Takeshi’s lashes shutter. You can sense the conflict as he works his jaw. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that it would make me stay. But I can promise you it would be something worth surviving for. A reason for me to make it out of this fight alive.”

Three little words aren’t going to change the outcome of this battle, but if it means he’ll try that little bit harder –  if it means he’ll have hope in his heart instead of fear – isn’t that a small price to pay? 

Balancing on your tiptoes, you close the gap to Takeshi, brushing your wet lips against his. “I love you, Takeshi. Just promise to come back home to me.”

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @sociiallydiisoriiented @lacontroller1991 @ed-baldwin @fairchildflag @phoenixhalliwell @s-u-t @kirsteng42 @katjnordstrom96 @weallhaveadestiny @lavenderluna10 @mayhem24-7forever @yespolkadotkitty @bewitchedignition @heresathreebee @immyownlittlebitch @littlefreakingfangirl @xoxabs88xox @justin-hammers

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

[bakugohoex]

Ok ok hear me out: a sleepover with the class 1A girls and the fem reader, they all let loose eating, doing face masks, dancing in their tiny pjs or whatever and the boys hear about it and go spy on the girls. Bakugou goes because he’s curious to see what the reader is like when they’re not in school (as she seems mom friend ™️) turns out she’s like a big goofball and a dancing queen and Bakugou gets all blushy after realizing he has a fat crush on her. The guys get caught obviously 😂 ty sm!!💕

“she’s doing what?”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, kissing, fluff

word count: 1500+

a/n: umm hi, this is a request and i’m done for tonight i need to get on the grind again with revising so hopefully i’ll go back to posting once a day but i thought new year a little treat

summary:  in which you’re seen as the mom of class 1a, the boys got to spy on the girls sleepover and what they didn’t expect was you to confess your crush but also for you to have hidden talents that makes bakugo realise he needs to have you 

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

If you don’t think you have these boys in the palm of your hand then you’re lying to yourself.

They’re either scared of you telling them off or fearful of disappointing you.

Even Bakugo will refrain from his usual angry self around you,

It’s probably more due to his infatuation with you though.

This boy just wants to know what makes you tick.

How someone like you has the ability to be so caring to the class that even Mineta stops being a perv when you’re around.

He says he doesn’t care.

He does care.

This man just wants to know if you ever act like a normal teenager.

You literally worry about everything with the class.

Making sure Denki doesn’t overcharge himself and become well dumb.

Making sure Ururaka doesn’t use her quirk too much to make her puke.

Even making sure Deku’s injuries arent as bad as they really are.

This man follows the rest of the boys to the girls sleepover and is in shock.

Utter shock at the sights of you doing the Tiktok dance Mina had been begging you to do.

The facemasks and music played in the common area on the bottom floor, the tight shirts and shorts on all the girls. You all had been playing truth or dare with masks you and Mina had bought hours prior. Ready to peel off the masks and toss them in the bin hopefully feeling refreshed and rehydrated. The Saturday night sleepover had been a sacred ritual for months now, the boys being banned from even daring to step one-foot downstairs.

“Truth or dare, Y/n.” Ururaka giggled with the tea that Momo had made in her grasp.

You thought looking around the group, “truth.”

The boys had finally got the nerve to come crawling down. They hid in the kitchen listening in, Mineta being locked in his room due to him being well a pervert. Even Bakugo stood alongside the group of his own free will, they were all listening in, watching how you were waiting for the truth question.

His eyes perked upwards listening into round faces question, he didn’t care about the rest of the girls. He just wanted to see how you were outside the comfort of class and school, of course he had seen you in your less worrying state but this, your shorts shorter than normal. Your shirt peaking upwards towards your stomach, he waited and waited until the words dripped from round faces mouth.

“Out of all the boys in the class who would you date?” It was unexpected and he hoped he said you, it was a wish, knowing how close you were with Todoroki and Midoriya he didn’t expects his name to ever come from a question like that.

He watched you think, your eyes looked tired but still happy before you confessed, “100% Bakugo.”

“Y/n I cant believe you’re actually into the angry Pomeranian.” Momo spoke up.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, like he’s not that angry with me and he’s just I don’t know, I think he’d be an amazing boyfriend.” You confessed the truth, knowing Bakugo would never found out so you didn’t care, “also he’s so fucking attractive.”

They laugh as the truth and dare continued, the boys had looked at Bakugo, his face beet red and his eyes were a lot softer. “She…she likes me.” He whispers.

“Now you can ask her out.” Kirishima nudged him with his shark teeth grinned.

“Shut it.” He muttered allowed not to anyone in particular. You liked him, you saw more past the anger and thought he’d be a good boyfriend. Hell you ever called him attractive, it fuelled his ego and he wanted to see even more.

The boys continued to listen in, “this was a waste of time.” Tokoyami muttered having been dragged here. He left with some others, Bakugo hadn’t noticed but Midoriya stayed talking to Todoroki and Sero and Kirishima and Denki paid attention to the girls so Bakugo wouldn’t feel self-conscious about staying to here you speak. Well Denki mostly stayed thinking that a pillow fight would occur soon enough.

“Y/n, let’s make the Tiktok dance.” She gestured; this perked Bakugo’s ears but he was unable to move. You weren’t going to dance; you were too pristine and clean to dance to a Tiktok song.

“Woah Y/n’s a fucking good dancer.”

“She’s doing what?” He listened to the sound of oops! By yung gravy, it had been playing in Mina’s phone for the past week and Bakugo had gotten sick of it.

But clearly you had learnt the dance as you did it with ease with Mina, you both did the dance with a swing in your step, he watched in awe at how your body moved. Heavily attracted to you and enticed by your movement. He continued to stare, moving his body to lean against the wall in view of the girls as he watched you. He needed you, he craved you and most of all he didn’t care who knew about their spying at all. 

“Agh.” Hagakure belched out, making you all stop. You noticed Bakugo’s eyes skim you up and down.

You looked at how the other boys fell out of the kitchen, silence occurred but Bakugo stayed leaning against the wall eyes directly facing you. “How long were you guys there?” You ask, “tell me.”

“Long enough.” Sero spoke to ease the tension.

You heard the noise of stomping down the corridor seeing an agitated Iida, “I told you all there would be consequences if you followed Kaminari.” The blame had shifted to the boy who jolted out of there Jirio and Tsu chasing after him.

Momo, Mina, Hagakure and Ururaka looked between you and Bakugo all knowing he had heard the words that had supposed to have been private. “Let’s go.” Kirishima muttered making the boys leave except Bakugo, the girls looked before collecting there things and scurrying away themselves.

Mina mouthed a sorry before you moved towards your discarded hoodie about to put it on, “leave it.”

It was a command rather than a suggestion and you obliged, tossing it with your things. Before sitting on the sofa, he sat beside you in silence, you looked down not wanting to meet his gaze, “Iida was right, you shouldn’t have been watching us.”

“Really you going to tell me off to avoid the real matter.” He pulled at his hair and action that made your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied.

He laughs cocking his head back before meeting your gaze, “you’re the one who said I’d be an amazing boyfriend and called me fucking attractive.”

“I…” You couldn’t lie he had repeated the words, word for word.

He moved closer grabbing your jaw with his rough hands. “You could’ve just told me.” He spoke making your face move closer to his own. His lips brushing against your neck, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin.

“Bakugo.”

“Katsuki, you already think I’m fucking attractive, so call me Katsuki you brat.” You took in a sharp breath, his hand still on your jaw, your cheeks squished between his fingers. “I saw you do that Tiktok, showing yourself off like that to everybody, only I can see that, not those shitty extras, only me.”

You hummed in agreement feeling intoxicated by his voice waiting for him to continue, “you want to be mine, want to be my fucking girl don’t you.”

His thumb brushed against your lips, a soft moan of a “yes” erupted from your mouth. It was beauty to his ears, he felt you lick your lips brushing his thumb.

“Prove it then.” It was another command, he needed you to beg, needed you to prove that you wanted to be his. “Beg for me.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek, you closed your eyes, “I want to…to kiss you.” It was torture to say, torture to admit that you craved his touch even more.

“That’s all I wanted to here baby girl.” He let go of your grabbing your waist and bringing you closer to him.  “You’re a lot more than an irritating worrier than I thought.”

“Katsuki.” You pout, “I thought being nice would make people like me.”

“Be yourself idiot.” He spoke.

“O…” Before you could agree his lips smashed onto your own.

He spoke through the kiss as he nibbled on your bottom lip, “shut up.” You nodded wanting to feel his tongue inside of you, teeth banging together. His touch sending shivers down your spine, feeling him kiss you with such passion that drives you crazy.

His lips were exactly how you expected them to be, rough and able to bruise your own. Your lips felt sore, felt bitten and wary. You felt his tongue guide your own, you followed his movement, his hands in your hair pulling you closer.

He let go taking a breath, watching your dazed position on top of his lap. “Fuck, we should ugh…” He didn’t know how to speak your figure on him making his ears perk red.  “…go out or something, I don’t care.”

“I’d love too Katsuki.” You smile, you hadn’t expected his next movement. His arms wrapping around your waist into a hug, the words you had said prior about being an amazing boyfriend. Had shot something inside of him, you believed he would be good at something, and maybe even maybe you believed he would be your amazing boyfriend.

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[doricntorrcs]

Dorian was normally good at managing to redirect the brunette to somewhere that wasn't their work environment but it felt like on this particular day, nothing was going to stop her. She'd been insistent in the way she'd grasped at him and it wasn't long before he'd felt his resistance slackening. Laurel was a difficult woman to resist once she had her mind set on something and everything about her was tempting to Dorian. Much as he had attempted to deny it at the start, the woman was addictive to him and that was how he found himself pressed up against his desk with Laurel almost forcefully wrapped around him, his hands grasping desperately at every part of the others body they could get at and no doubt leaving his fingerprints in their wake.

Despite how molten hot his blood felt right in that moment as they grappled with one another's clothes, mouths hungrily meshed together, he couldn't recall many instances in his life where it had shifted so drastically in such a sudden manner. The lust he'd been feeling was effectively doused when the door swung open and he locked eyes with their superior. They found themselves face to face in the most awkward of positions and the searing pleasure Dorian had been experiencing was swiftly replaced with a familiar dread that he'd only really experienced one other time. Where as Laurel seemed to become very vocal, Dorian had gone deathly silent as he carefully untangled their bodies, trying to straighten himself out. His mind was already attempting to sort through the situation, knowing he needed to try and rectify the muddle they'd found themselves in. It was frowned upon, yes, but surely it wouldn't have been the first time. Perhaps there was a way to work around this. At least that was his hope.

It felt a little like walking to the gallows as they followed forlornly behind the man who was currently contacting what sounded like the manager to meet with them. It wasn't unexpected of course and the situation rang a little bit too painfully of dejavu for Dorian. He could feel his heartrate pick up, but he tried to take some form of positive from it that in this case he wasn't alone in the situation. They made their way to the conference room and in no time at all the manager arrived.

If Dorian was being totally honest, what was said to them in those minutes he couldn't really recall even if he had tried. It'd felt akin to listening to someone speak when your entire head was under water or had been swallowed by quicksand. The words seemed dulled and far away as the blood rushed through his ears. It took them asking him a question for a second time or third time, certainly more sharply than the first for him to return to their current sorry state of affairs and not his swirling thoughts, causing Dorian to almost seem to flinch in surprise.

"I said do you have anything to say for yourself, Torres?"

Dorian found himself taking a breath because he wasn't even sure where to begin with the whole situation but he eventually found his voice and spoke with surprising clarity and fortitude. "I'm sorry that you feel I disappointed you and let the team down with the choices I've made and actions I have taken." He didn't regret them as such, but he knew that they were frowned upon. "I ignored the expectations and allowed myself to get caught up in certain circumstances with another player and I accept the consequences of that, but I believe it's relevant to point out that it's never once impacted upon the team. We have both kept a professional relationship on the field."

"That's hardly of import now is it." Came the harsh response, cutting Dorian off. "Both of you signed paperwork that waives the right to your position immediately should you be considered to be breaching terms of said contract. As per those terms we have the right to dismiss you both on the spot."

It wasn't unlike her to be on the careless side, but Laurel was certainly not paying attention to her noise levels as her breath grew labored, grasping at the man's clothes as she did everything in her power to bring him closer. They were usually pretty good at keeping their hookups under wraps, but she'd been pretty desperate to get her hands on Dorian that day to get her mind off of a stressful training session. Her fingers were reaching for his belt when suddenly their attention was captured by somebody walking in on the two of them. This was a nightmare scenario for the both of them. They'd gotten away with this so many times but it was only a matter of time that they wouldn't get so lucky. Seeing the look in the eyes of one of their superiors, Laurel felt her blood turn to ice. The brunette peeled herself from off of Dorian as they were signaled for what was clearly going to be a serious discussion. "Shit– shit, shit, shit," she expressed as the weight of everything to come had still yet to hit her. "Fuck," Laurel stole a look at him before the two of them followed the management out and to their office for their reprimanding.

@doricntorrcs

[mooniefics]

— beck and call

pairings : yelena / fem reader

word count : 10.2k

tags : one-sided relationship, lowkey master / servant dynamic, eventual smut, mild body worship, dom / sub undertones, power imbalance

warnings : contains nsfw, mildly dub-con at some points, yelena being physically rough w you for disobedience

summary : serving as yelena's personal guard turned out to yield many unexpected consequences.

to say that you were unnerved by the task of guarding an anti-marleyan volunteer would be an understatement.

you hadn't quite digested the fact there even existed a world beyond the walls that had towered over you for your entire life, looming high in the sky like a reminder that you would be trapped, penned like an animal for the rest of your prospective future. that had been your initial motivation to become a soldier, to at least advance to a garrison position where you could have a taste of exclusive information regarding what lay beyond the stone and metal bearings. but in the final year of your basic training, everything had changed. there were talks of outlandish things, of traitors from another land that had hidden amongst the native people, talks of islands and foreign soil and something more than the confines of the walls.

upon graduating, you had ultimately chosen the scouting legion, seeing how the garrison was quickly being disbanded and the remaining soldiers that hadn't stepped into their early days of retirement were joining the aforementioned regiment. the benefits only seemed to become greater and greater with the extinction of titans, the whispers of allies and retribution and rebuilding a lost legacy of your people. but somehow, all that novel luster had become muted, completely darkened by the imposing presence of this singular individual seated before you. you had only been debriefed on their name and role in military operations before your assignment, leaving you worryingly unprepared for arguably the most important assignment of your career.

the sound of your name passing from your squad leader's lips grounded you, the formal introduction quickly drawing to a close as he relayed the information to the striking foreigner. "she will be your personal escort for the remainder of your stay. if you have any questions regarding the island, feel free to ask her at any time."

"wonderful." their voice was rich, smooth with confidence and underlined with something unfamiliar—it was the way their lips rounded out the first syllable, or perhaps the way they spoke from the depths of their throat.

you felt your back stiffen as they rose from their seat, somehow rising taller and taller, their stature reaching much higher than anyone you'd ever met. immediately, your right hand clamped into a fist, thudding over your heart as your left arm hooked behind your back, spitting out your full name and designation just as you had while saluting hundreds of times. "i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to occupy you. thank you for all that you and the volunteers have done for paradis."

you were shocked that your voice hadn't quivered with the way their eyes dragged down your body, grey and barren of any emotion besides a hint of intrigue, sharp features framed by short, fair hair. they were strikingly handsome, masculine yet feminine at the same time, an indiscernible sort of beauty that perplexed and enthralled you.

"no need to thank me, soldier." whether they were assuring or commanding you, you didn't know, only cognizant of how they nearly purred out your title. swallowing, you lowered your hands, standing at ease and forcing yourself to not look to your superior for encouragement.

"then i shall show you to your lodgings. please follow me."

you forced yourself to turn your back to them and take a step, then another, mentally counting them one by one until you reached the door. you could hear their heavy footfalls following behind you, the distance steadily beginning to close until you forced your own pace to quicken. on the silent walk out of the management building, you had found a speed that worked, one long stride of theirs equaling two of yours, leaving you straining to keep a comfortable yet polite space between the both of you. you risked a glance back, having to crane your head up to catch a glimpse of their face. they had been staring idly at the back of your head, meeting your eyes when you turned to briefly face them, the moment cut short by your own haste to fix your view back onto the path before you.

"how shall i address you?" you attempted to fill the cool void of discomfort that had suddenly settled in the air around you, shoulders tense and brow taut.

"anything works."

their answer offered nothing in return to your inquiry, the faint image of their face flitting across your mind. you hadn't looked at them long enough to commit their features to memory, but you had looked enough to remember their startlingly cold eyes, angular nose and full lips, sharp jaw and heavy brow.

"m-miss yelena?" you attempted, fighting the urge to nervously fidget or give away any sign of your unease.

"if it suits you." was their final reply before the two of you fell silent once again.

the lack of discussion persisted through the remainder of the journey, the only sounds occupying the space being the fall of your boots against the ground and the jingle of your keyring that you drew from your pocket to unlock the front door. you stood aside to hold it open as she walked in, feeling an odd sensation flutter in the pit of your stomach when she had to duck under the frame to enter. the housing itself wasn't extravagant, only a single open room with a desk, bookshelf, dresser, kitchenette, bed, and a small bathroom area to the side to occupy the space, the ceiling seeming much lower than it was due to yelena's formidable height. she looked out at the room, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, face neutral and inexpressive.

"how quaint," she turned to face you, a prick of unease making your posture pin-straight once again, "is there any reason they've put us volunteers away from the main soldier barracks?"

your mind suddenly went blank at the worst of times, unknowing of the exact answer but knowing you had to over something in response. "s-simply for your comfort. we wouldn't like it to seem as if we don't trust you to stay on your own."

"ah, so considerate of you." for the first time she smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips that made your heart stutter, "then i'll be sure to make myself at home."

she stepped slowly over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books with an apparent interest. you stayed standing where you were, unsure if you should leave then or wait a bit longer for just the right moment. something about her presence was unnerving, but there was also an undeniable allure that you almost gravitated to, despite her being a stranger.

"do you need anything else?" you piped up, letting your hands link behind your back, fingers twisting together.

"not that i can think of." each word seemed scripted, as if she'd practiced this entire conversation a dozen times before it'd ever happened.

"then i'll be on my way." you shakily smiled in an attempt to seem put together, hoping that she didn't immediately see through the weak front, "i'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to dinner."

you bowed and took your leave, almost desperate to escape her all-consuming gaze and find refuge outside her line of sight. but even after you'd shut the door behind you and stepped off the porch, well on your way down the path you'd taken, you could still feel how her eyes had examined every fine detail of your stance, analyzing every shift and subtle movement you made with a calculating look. deep down, you already knew that this position would be completely exhausting from the get-go.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you had fulfilled your typical nightly routine—fetch yelena from her quarters to escort her to the cafeteria, go your separate ways and sit at your usual tables after getting food, finish your dinner with five minutes to spare in the dining hour to go inform yelena that it was time for her to wrap up her meal so you could take her back. she'd followed you down the usual path, now lit with newly placed street lamps that turned on after the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. there had been nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the way the volunteer table had eyed you with a formerly absent intrigue when you came to speak to yelena.

that comfortable distance you'd kept between the two of you had slowly been narrowing over the last few days, a development which had peaked both your curiosity and your anxiety. while you still kept yourself a few paces ahead of her, you could feel how close her presence had become, an almost physical weight that settled itself over your back and urged you to walk faster and faster to escape its grasp. but you knew that she was all too good at reading your body language, somehow having familiarized herself with even the finest idiosyncrasies that incriminated you in just about a month, an understanding that had only grown deeper as more and more time had passed. although you felt as if you'd gained the upper hand for a few days when you realized that she always let a bit of emotion slip in her large, ashen eyes when you said something just enough out of the ordinary to catch her interest, any progress you thought you'd made was quickly squandered by her own advancements. today was no different, another morning and afternoon filled with dodging the occasional pervasive question from her about the simplest of things.

were you an only child? had you been closer to your mother or father when you were younger? did you join the scouts to explore the world or because you simply found no value in living out your life doing something different? they had started out with an ambiguous end-goal, but slowly evolved into even more unprofessional matters—attempts to provoke a discussion about your love life, what you might look for in a prospective partner, whether you wanted to settle down after you retired or stay unattached for the remainder of your life.

you always dodged, and she always let up for a while, lulling you into a sense of safety that was always broken by that same question again, worded differently but asking for an answer that was the same as the last. the more you ran from her company, the more she seemed to push it upon you, pleased when you would slip up and get flustered when she caught you off guard. so you held your ground this evening, even when your fingers quivered at the realization that she was practically peering over your shoulder, watching you unlock the door to her quarters with just barely enough space separating you to not feel her breath fanning down the back of your neck.

you quickly opened the door and began moving to hold it open for her like you always did, but felt a large hand resting at your shoulder, prompting you to quickly spin on your heel to face her. she was usually finished with her casual interrogating by this hour, which was why you were more than surprised to see that she was staring down at you, having lowered yourself to your level enough for you to not have to tilt your head completely back to meet her eye.

you took an instinctive step back, flinching at the sound of the door falling shut behind you, effectively caging you in between it and the woman before you. pale, dangerously alert irises traversed your expression, drinking in every small feature that had been drawn back into a confused look, stomach already knotting into a twisted tangle of warmth and icy panic.

"are you afraid of me?"

the immediate answer sat on the tip of your tongue, lips parting to deliver the lie you had ready for such an inquiry. but something in her eyes spoke to you, silently, warning you not to give into dishonesty. you couldn't possibly admit to still being fearful of her, not when you were meant to be the powerful one in this relationship. you weren't supposed to say yes, but you also found yourself unable to lie as you always did, not when the path you'd walked with her was still worryingly empty and you felt the hard wood of the door now pressing unforgivingly into your back with each minuscule step back.

"sh-should i be?" you cursed your stammer, betraying your evident lack of control, the only redeeming aspect being the non-committal implication that responding with another question held.

that seemed to throw her off a bit, owlish eyes slowly blinking at you as she thought. even up close like this, you couldn't identify a single flaw in her appearance—pale skin smooth like porcelain, unconcerned by any sort of natural imperfections, hair like fine silk and eyes piercingly bright, yet clouded like a stormy sky. you squeaked at a hand seizing your collar, right hand instinctively flying down to the scabbard strapped around your thigh, clammy palm shakily clenching around the hilt of your blade, the other clamping firmly around her wrist.

she only smirked at the presumed threat, pressing herself even closer to you, enough that you could feel the radiant heat of her lips just barely grazing your own. you suppressed the trembling threatening to shake through your every limb, beginning to feel lightheaded with the effort to contain your quickening breaths, swallowing down your dread, forcing yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke.

"if it suits you. it doesn't affect me either way, does it?"

you just barely shook your head side to side, not realizing you were rising up onto your tiptoes until she pulled you forward that last inch by your shirt, eyes falling shut as her lips melded easily against yours. an inexplicable warmth flourished in your chest, heart tripping up to match the frantic speed of your thoughts, fingers clenching around her slender, clothed wrist. you forced yourself back with a sharp intake of breath, backing yourself far enough into the door that you could feel the wood digging into the small of your back.

"m-miss yelena, you can't—!"

she didn't allow you to finish, tugging you back to your previous position with a low huff, the faint snap of a stitch popping somewhere on your collar going unregarded as you let out a small noise of surprise, wide eyes relenting and squeezing shut. a voice in the back of your mind screamed for you to draw your knife, push her away, force her into her quarters, anything but just standing there and allowing her to exert such a humiliating power over you. but it was so much easier to sink into her grasp, to feel her fingers slowly relax and hold you at a comfortable height rather than force you up, to allow the hot flush of an unknown intimacy to settle deep into your skin.

you'd been kissed before, it wasn't as if she stole your first chance from you, but it had never been like this. you had only brushed the surface of gentle pecks and lingering hands on the other's face until you both giggled and pulled away, never faced with such a certain confidence that almost frightened you more than it allured you, an unspoken order that left you at her mercy rather than on equal footing. and though you'd all but forgotten about your initial rejection, yelena had not, chastising you with a firm bite to your lower lip that drew a less-than-composed whimper from the back of your throat.

"i would advise you to not dictate what i can and cannot do in the future." she stated firmly, tone devoid of any personal inflection, barely pulling away enough for you to meet her stare, hand tightening around your collar once more, "understood?"

"y-yes, miss yelena." you barely whispered, nodding affirmatively. a flicker of amusement momentarily lightened her expression when you drew your tongue over the aching skin of your lips, the taste of faint copper and black tea clinging to your taste buds.

she slowly slackened her grip, not even so much as blinking as she straightened her posture and reached past you to open the door, allowing you a moment to scamper out of her path and pull your shirt back into place with trembling hands. "then, you are dismissed, soldier."

she didn't spare you a second glance before proceeding into her quarters, shutting the door behind her without another word. you stood dumbly for a moment, licking over your bottom lip once more, just then realizing how shallow and quick your breathing was. you steadied yourself enough to lock her door, shaking away the mental fog of such an abrupt change of scenery, pulling your jacket tighter around you to make up for the lack of her warmth pressing into you, confused as to why you had just allowed yourself to be ordered around by the individual that you were meant to be keeping in check. the walk back to your dorm was blurry at best, a few good-nights from your colleagues that prompted a hum of acknowledgement, thankfully nothing that required you to recount your daily fulfilled duties or anything past a few minutes prior.

even after you'd shed your clothes, pointedly ignoring how wrinkled your shirt front had become, cleaned yourself up and crawled into the isolated comfort of your bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. perhaps you could learn from this experience, remind yourself at all times to put even more distance between the two of you. maybe you would have to stop conversing with her so casually, or perhaps your best option would be to cut your losses and request an assignment change, consequences or record mark-ups be damned. but as you tossed and turned on your mattress, burying your face into your pillows and trying to rid your skin of any memory of her touch, a voice at the back of your head ceaselessly murmured, a rambled premonition of more turbulence to come.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this day marked five weeks since the initial incident, there had been no activity like it since—although you couldn't say whether you thought that was a bad thing or not. not to say that you hadn't been keeping your distance, the first few days were spent cautiously looking over your shoulder, making sure to keep her even further than arm's length but still close enough to guarantee that she couldn't slip away on her own. she behaved respectfully enough, although she herself seemed to be acting as if nothing had even happened, greeting you like normal and allowing you to escort her to meals and strategy meetings when necessary, despite how she'd affirmed that you weren't to give her any orders.

you hadn't reported the infraction to any superiors, knowing that you would get caught up in an unnecessary fuss that might even get you stuck at the bottom of the ranking list once again, an unthinkable outcome that only made you sure that the right decision was to keep your mouth shut. the previous afternoon was the first time yelena had made a special request, describing how unfortunate it was that she was lacking just a few proper amenities that would really make her lodgings "feel just like home". your persistent hesitance had eased after the first week of safety, and you fulfilled your responsibility of maintaining her comfort by arriving early this morning, toting a small bag of a dark ground powder and cups.

you were surprised to see that yelena was already awake upon your arrival, seated at a table that looked far too small for her, reading one of the many books from her provided bookshelf. you exchanged polite greetings, her not rising from her place until you'd lit the fire beneath the stove and set out a plate and cup for her at the counter, stowing away the rest in whatever free space you could find. you stood by while she took care of making whatever it was she wanted herself, noting the fragrant richness that had filled the air upon her steeping the powder in heated water.

"they only serve black tea in the cafeteria," she said, speaking to no one in particular, plucking a ladle from the utensil rack, "it's been ages since i had a cup of coffee in the morning."

the heat of the stove was beginning to warm the room, prompting you to shed your jacket and place it on the back of the chair yelena had not been previously seated at. your shirt beneath it was more forgiving, a thin material that had always hung a bit loosely from your shoulders, great for the hotter days when you were still expected to be in uniform.

"have you ever had a cup of coffee?" her voice interrupted your meandering stream of thought, the sound of liquid being poured into a cup faintly catching your attention.

"no, i don't think i have."

"would you like to try some?"

the offer stoked the spark of bothersome curiosity, the scent filling the air and mingling with the ambient sound of crackling wood and the feel of the hot air making you want to accept. perhaps this was her way of making amends, or just doing something pleasant for the worker that she was made to follow behind like their second shadow.

"if it's not too much trouble, then.."

"of course it isn't."

you felt a light sweat beginning to bead down your back, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket and dabbing at your neck. this space wasn't properly suited for a stove to be used, seeing as the unlatching mechanisms on the window had been removed for the sake of thwarting any sort of curfew breaking by the volunteers, meaning there was little ventilation aside from the small chimney extending out of the kitchenette area. you stole a glance at yelena, now opening the cabinet that you had strained to reach with ease.

the memory of her hand fisting your shirt, the collar that now hugged just the slightest bit looser at the base of your neck, the long healed-over bite that had left the soft flesh of your lips feeling raw for the following few days. the external heat of the still burning stove was only intensified by the flush climbing up to your cheeks, the desire to release a button or two on your shirt and free some of your skin to the open air becoming undeniable. it felt a bit ironic that the one time you'd properly stepped into her quarters for more than a quick minute to help her get something sorted was the one time the tension that always hung in the air between the two of you was replaced by something tangibly suffocating, the sweltering heat that made you kick off your blankets in the dreary silence at night when the recollection of her kiss relentlessly looped in your mind and chased away any thought of sleep.

you hooked a finger on the collar of your shirt, gently tugging it to the side to absentmindedly press the soft cloth over the skin, wiping away any bothersome perspiration that would leave you uncomfortable by the time you were allowed to change out of your uniform and shower it away.

"what's that?" your eyes darted up at her question, catching sight of the two plated teacups in her hands before you met her gaze.

"i beg your pardon?" you asked meekly.

"that. at your shoulder." you glanced down to where your handkerchief had previously been.

"oh, do you mean this?" she nodded when you pointed to the raised line of skin marring your shoulder, a thick scar that you'd stopped fussing over after realizing that it was an inevitable outcome. "it's a scar," you clarified, tucking your personal cloth back in your pocket, "just about everyone in the military has the same one."

she didn't respond, but held your gaze as she proceeded to the table to set the cups down. you'd become more accustomed to these silent requests, and you knew that she was telling you to continue.

"you work with the equipment engineers, right?" she nodded. "then you've seen our harnesses. all those leather straps end up digging into our skin and leaving scars pretty much all over. although, i did practice on the omnidirectional gear a bit more than all the other recruits during basic training to increase my proficiency, so mine may be deeper.."

you tensed as she approached, slow, deliberate steps steadily closing the distance between the two of you until she was right in front of you. she had started stooping down more often around you, only when she was directly addressing you alone, but it was something that you noticed all the same. a part of you wanted to feel offended, that she thought it necessary to lower yourself to your level as if you were beneath her in a way besides physical stature, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the exclusive treatment. she never seemed concerned with doing any sort of thing with anyone else—not with her colleagues, not with other soldiers of or below your ranking, not with any of your own superiors, only you. in a way, it made you feel acknowledged.

"could i see?"

"huh?" was your unprofessional response, but she didn't allow you any time to correct it.

"your scars. where else do you have them?"

"oh." you swallowed, forcing yourself to look up into her steely eyes, "well, i have them on the soles of my feet, and around my thighs, mostly around my torso."

a hand on your abdomen made your back go stiff, her touch pressing lightly over your shirt. "here?"

you nodded, small and timid before her, a trickle of sweat beginning to slide down your back. you realized that you had never had to look down at yelena, not until this present moment where she had knelt down on one knee in front of you, holding your gaze for just a moment before she undid a single button from the bottom of your shirt, glancing up at you as if to check for any sign of refusal before she undid another, then another.

there was nothing forceful about her motions today, nimble fingers patiently unfastening each clasp with care until your shirt revealed your midsection. one slender hand pulled aside the cotton fabric, the other reaching out, just barely grazing the skin of your stomach where the long, pale scar from your utility belt stretched horizontally across your body. her fingertips were warm from handling the kitchenware, but the shiver that crawled up your spine was cold, almost electric, a strange sensation squeezing around your heart and lungs, making each breath quicker than the last.

"was it painful?" she asked quietly, a tinge of earnesty lining her words, features entirely relaxed as they always were.

you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, voice barely reaching a whisper. "yes."

she focused her eyes onto the marred skin, following the raised line of flesh to your sides, brow cinching upwards the slightest bit at the sight of another carving down your waist, following the curvature of your ribs.

"what resilience.." she murmured, free hand returning to undo the remaining buttons of your shirt, "determination is such a beautiful trait, don't you think?" her eyes flitted up to meet yours, sharp and observant, fingers gingerly wrapping around your waist, thumb stroking down your lumbar. "for most, i have to hear it in their voice, or through their words—but it has always been different with you." she pulled a button free. "i see it in your eyes, the way you carry yourself, it's written all over your body." another undone button, you could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across your stomach, the graze of her fingertips tracing up your side and halting at the cloth wrappings over your breasts. "are there more under this?"

your knees felt a few flattering words away from buckling, each gentle touch making the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you nodded, lips parting to take in a much-needed deep breath, realizing that your shirt was now completely open, exposing the entirety of your scarred torso aside from what remained covered by your chest bindings. your fingers curled into your palm, trembling, just then noticing how soft yelena's hands were in comparison to your own, absent of callous and work-roughened skin. you bit at the inside of your cheek, blinking down at her as you watched a thin finger trace the seam of the cloth, finding the tucked end within moments and gently pulling it free.

a few loud knocks at the door were startling enough to make you jump, head snapping to the side to face the front of the house, a muffled call of your last name from the other side making an anxious knot twist painfully tight deep in your gut. you quickly stepped away, leaving yelena kneeling on the floor, struggling to button up your shirt without even bothering to fix your chest cloth. as soon as you'd gotten yourself situated, you opened the door to find your squad leader awaiting you on the other side.

"is everything alright? breakfast started five minutes ago."

you hoped that the disbelief on your face could be taken as the expression of someone who had simply lost track of time. "i apologize, sir! m-miss yelena put in a request for marleyan coffee yesterday, and i was simply waiting for her to finish before i escorted her to the cafeteria."

you forced yourself to stay composed, trying to focus on the impassive face of your squad leader. there was a stark difference between the emotionlessness of yelena and that of everyone else around you, she somehow made her lack of any sort of feeling or warmth a beautiful kind of coldness, unlike the unnatural stoicism of your superiors. you saw his mouth open to reply, but you were both surprised by a sudden presence behind you, a firm hand at your shoulder, his eyes moving from looking down at you to looking up at the woman behind you, a flicker of genuine unease flitted across his hardened features.

"please don't fault her for my lack of punctuality," she said, a false sincerity lightening her usual low tone, "i simply wanted to enjoy a taste of home, is all. is my presence imperative?"

"i was only making sure everyone was accounted for." your squad leader asserted, staring up at her in an obvious attempt to intimidate that you knew would fail, "as long as you're being properly monitored, do as you please."

"understood." her fingers curled around your shoulder, gently urging you back, away from the door, "then i won't dawdle any longer, i'll join you all in the cafeteria momentarily."

yelena shut the door for you as soon as you took a step back, waiting until the steps of your squad leader had descended off of the porch and disappeared down the path before speaking to you. "i do hope i didn't get you in trouble."

you turned on your heel to face her, feeling a slight flutter in your chest at the sight of her already having lowered herself to your height. "oh, no, you don't have to worry about that.. he's always been a bit on the uptight side of things."

the corners of her lips perked up into the faintest smile before she proceeded back to the table, pressing a finger to the side of one of the teacups. "the coffee's gone cold now. my apologies for the distraction."

distraction, the wry thought flitted across your mind. you guessed that word was suitably to describe allowing her to nearly undress you before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. this was becoming a dangerous game, an ever-lengthening round of cat and mouse, and each day that passed made your more and more certain that you were the one who was running despite your inherent position of power over her. there was something absolutely captivating about her, whether it be the air of mystery that no amount of questions could dispel, or the way that she could practically bring you to your knees with just a few careful words—the more thought you put into it, the more instances of appeal that you seemed to find that only made you want to sink deeper and deeper into the depths that was her subtle control over you.

"i just don't want us to arrive late and miss out on anything." you said lamely, empty words to fill the air as you moved across the room to grab your jacket.

"perhaps another time." she replied, removing the dishes from the table to deposit them in the sink, leaving you with that sole promise that insinuated much more than just another cup of coffee.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"miss yelena, i don't know if we're allowed to be in this section of the building—"

"no one has stopped us yet, have they?" yelena didn't turn back to address you, only continuing forward with that long stride that took two quick steps of your own to match.

she was correct in the regard that no one had questioned her presence in the west wing of the management building, and the few that had begun to object stopped immediately upon catching sight of you following obediently behind her. you felt a bit like a prop, being used as almost a badge of clearance by the one and only individual that you were meant to keep from unauthorized locations such as this one. but her flat assertion that she had important business that gave you nothing in the way of information of direction before she'd taken off for the barracks, leaving you only able to chase after her and hope that no one figured out that she wasn't supposed to be there in the event that she truly wasn't meant to be.

you didn't have long to ruminate on your circumstances before you arrived at a door flanked by a single soldier, a young man that you recognized as someone affiliated with the more well-known soldiers from the 104th graduating class. though you didn't recall his name, you nodded politely to him as he opened the door for yelena, trailing closely behind her while still trying to peek around her slender frame. it was one of the smaller meeting rooms, a large window providing a fair amount of natural illumination down onto the round table, the sole occupant being another one of the anti-marleyan volunteers.

"glad to see you could make it." onyankopon smiled broadly up at yelena, his warm gaze flitting to you momentarily before traveling back to his associate, "no trouble, i assume?"

"none at all." she replied as she took a seat at the head of the table, looking as if she belonged there more than any of the superiors you'd seen seated there, "this one made sure no one interrupted our trip."

you flushed at the praise, standing pin straight beside her chair, hands lowering from behind your back to at your sides, trying not to let the enjoyment of her commendation show on your face. he turned his attention to you, inspiring a quick skip of your heart, fingers tapping nervously at your thighs.

"it's great to hear that yelena has been treating you well." he said matter-of-factly, but a cocked eyebrow and tilt of his head seemed to request a verbal confirmation of his statement.

you blinked, your words catching in your throat as your eyes involuntarily glanced to yelena, an instinctive desire to hold your tongue in the face of speaking about her, an odd sort of insecurity concerning your character flaring in your chest. but that split second of silence was all that she needed to take up the task of answering onyankopon, planting an elbow down on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.

"i have been treating her well." she affirmed, almost sounding bored, tilting her head to address you as she reached out and took the hand of yours that was closest to her, drawing it close to her face as she examined your expression, "isn't that right?"

you swallowed, mouth dry, nodding at yelena before remembering that you were meant to be answering onyankopon. "oh, y-yes. miss yelena has been very easy to work with."

pale eyes glimmered at your positive answer, mouth twitching upwards into that rare, barely noticeable smile. you felt your heart jump into your throat as she brought her lips to your knuckles, planting a soft, brief kiss over the back of your hand before gently placing it down at your side. she looked at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could hear that unspoken worry of whether she should be doing this in front of her colleague, like she was giving the silent reply that she could do as she pleased.

"then, shall we begin?" onyankopon's voice brought you back to the present, shooting you another momentary glance before fixing his eyes on yelena.

"oh, right." she turned back to you, "be a dear and leave us for a moment to chat."

the mix of confusion at her request and surprise at the affectionate title halted your thoughts. "i'm sorry, miss yelena, but i don't think i'm allowed to do that."

your heart sank as you watched a look of annoyance draw across her features, large eyes narrowing, brow knitting together. she didn't speak for a moment, almost like she was waiting for you to take back your refusal and head on your way without any further discussion. when you did neither, she frowned, reaching out her hand once more, her fingers drawing up your palm to wrap around your wrist.

you nearly yelped as she clinched her grasp almost painfully tight, thumb pressing down hard over the bone at the side of your wrist, nails digging in your skin. her voice was low when she spoke, dangerously commanding and castigating, each word carefully enunciated.

"i said go."

only after you'd earnestly nodded did she release you, allowing you to scamper out of the room, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes from your stinging skin and the way she'd spoken to you. you took your place at the side of the door unoccupied by the soldier you'd seen before entering, fingers shakily tracing over the underside of your wrist.

though you weren't bleeding, the skin felt raw and irritated, your pulse racing fast in your veins. perhaps it wasn't so bad that you'd left them in there on their own, seeing as the older, more experienced guard was also standing by, well aware that there was no one monitoring them in the meeting room. so you obediently stood and waited, straining to make out coherent words from their muffled voices, contemplating why seeing yelena upset with you was so distressing.

why had you allowed her to order you around? why had you even complied with her demands instead of outright refusing like you were supposed to? why were you worried that she would still be angry with you by the time she walked out of that meeting room? you couldn’t understand what concerned you so deeply about what yelena thought of you, but somehow, the overbearing silence of the empty hallway made it even more difficult to wrap your head around your thoughts. you were so wrapped up in your panicked attempt at contemplation that you didn’t even notice the sound of their footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, only torn from your mind when the door opened from beside you. the two marleyans emerged, laughing affably together, exchanging temporary farewells until they could see each other at dinner that evening.

you looked up at her anxiously, wishing she’d spare you a glance for even just a moment instead of keeping her gaze fixed on the only other individuals populating the space. you hid your hands behind your back rather than in your pockets, knowing that it’d look horrendously unprofessional. but before you could worry about anyone catching sight of the reddened marks, the familiar soldier addressed you directly.

“i do look forward to working more closely with you in the future, i don’t believe we’ve met before. ” he said, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “floch forster.”

you quickly tugged the sleeve of your coat over your injured wrist, grasping his hand and giving a firm up and down, only offering your own name and a polite nod in return. you didn’t exactly know what he meant by working together in the future, but you assumed that it was in reference to your shared position of personal guards to marleyan volunteers.

you tensed at the familiar weight of a hand on your shoulder, feeling a firm squeeze that you knew all too well. “then we shall be going now. come.”

you immediately complied, giving a brief goodbye to the two men before proceeding quickly behind yelena, practically at her heels as the two of you walked further and further down the hall, shrouded in another bout of tense silence. you escorted her out of the building without issue, through the barracks and all the way to her lodgings, receiving nothing in the way of assurance or acknowledgment the entire way.

you wanted to speak up for yourself, ask if she was angered with you, anything to fill the quiet void, but you couldn't bring your mouth to push the words free. you hoped that she'd at least offer you her usual goodbye, as inherently lifeless and out of polite necessity as it may be, but it didn't come even as you unlocked the door to her quarters and held it open for her to enter, not even turning back before she sat herself at her desk and got to work on the clutter of papers occupying it.

you left her, feeling strangely heavy with defeat, unable to focus on anything for long before your mind strayed back to her upset expression, or the physical evidence of her displeasure with you. over the next hours, you constantly checked your watch, counting down the minutes to dinner, to when you'd be able to justify being in her presence and hopefully receive some sort of indicator that you were in the clear. you'd always been someone who did what was asked of you, a people pleaser—but there was something different about the inclination you felt towards yelena. it wasn't the kind of obedience that you gave to your superiors, she wasn't anything close to your superior in a technical sense, but somehow it felt natural, a servitude borne out of free will rather than one determined by ranking.

you knew you hadn't done anything wrong by denying her initially, but yet you still hoped for her forgiveness.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you quivered at the feeling of her lips sucking at the already marked skin of your neck, thighs squeezing tighter around her waist, her nails digging deep enough into them that they nearly threatened to tear the fabric of your pants. you swallowed down yet another moan, one hand working its way deeper into her short hair, the other clenching tightly to the fabric of her barely-buttoned dress shirt. your soft, shuddering breaths filled the space of the open air around you, the fear of knowing your squad leader was just outside the door waiting for a reply, adjacent to the wall that she'd pushed you up against despite your meek warnings that dinner would be starting any minute now, was almost tangible in your stomach.

she pulled away from the reddened flesh with a low hum, nipping at your ear as she demanded, "make him go away."

you barely nodded, eyes screwing shut when she began yet another bruising assault to your shoulder, not even giving you enough time to collect yourself and speak. "i apologize, s-sir. miss yelena wasn't f-feeling well, so i brought her meal h-h-here instead of escorting her to the cafeteria..!"

you nearly whimpered as her teeth sank into the soft junction between your neck and shoulder, silently praying to any higher power that may be listening for your superior to just leave already. "understood. please return the plates to the cafeteria before they close up and make it to the dormitories before curfew."

"y-yes, sir..!"

you could barely count his descending steps down the porch over the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears, only completely assured of his absence when she sighed against your skin, soothing the ache with a few apologetic licks, pressing her lips everywhere they could reach. you often found yourself recalling the first time this had happened, when the two of you were sitting at the table in her quarters and she had been apologizing for the day she'd ordered you out of the meeting room. you could still remember how her touch had trailed from stroking at your wrist, crescent nail prints still occupying your skin, to cupping your face, drawing you close to kiss her again and again—the heat of her proximity, how her hands had felt and caressed every inch of your body, whispering a breathless, endless stream of praises into your ear as you came apart under her.

though you had vowed to yourself that wouldn't allow it to happen again, that that night would be your first and only instance of giving into that weakness she'd slowly but surely carved into you, but you found yourself sinking into her arms when she beckoned you, sewing the buttons of your shirt back into place without complaint after the nights where she had become impatient and accidentally popped them free, staring at your naked body in the mirror after your long showers and tracing your fingers over the bruises she'd sucked and bitten into your tender skin.

she only marked you in places where you could hide them beneath your clothes, places which assured that she would be the sole individual to see them when she stripped you bare, only to add more and more. there was no set time between those late evenings, sometimes the interval would be less than a few days, and other times it would stretch out for weeks with no indication as to when the next occasion would come. but when it did, any semblance of self-restraint had completely diminished.

"you're such a good pet for me.." she cooed, her words sending a warm spark through every inch of you.

she'd become fond of calling you that, and a part of you wondered if that was all she saw you as, as only a pet or a possession. you'd accepted that she had the upper hand in this relationship, whatever it may be, but you couldn't help enjoying the feeling of being desired so deeply, being touched and admired in ways you'd never even imagined before you met her. your arms clasped tighter around her neck as she pulled you away from the wall, laying you out on her bed, taking a moment to strip out of her shirt before lowering herself on top of you.

her hands busied themselves ridding you of your chest wrappings, lips attentively traversing each inch of newly revealed skin, murmuring curses and sweet nothings that only made you squirm more beneath her, impatient and eager. you mewled when she'd finally settled her hands over her bare breast, large palms pressing into soft flesh, slender fingers pinching at your nipples. she turned her head up to kiss you, tongue outlining the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth, claiming it as her own.

you were left panting when she pulled away despite its briefness, hazy, low-lidded eyes finding her own, intoxicated by that carnal look, dark pupils nearly overtaking the piercing grey of her irises. she only smirked at your lack of composure, dipping her head back down to suck and bite at the valley of your breasts, your fingers reflexively tightening in her hair. your hips bucked up into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction, much to yelena's amusement.

"aren't you just the neediest little thing?" she paused to lave her tongue over a pert bud, drawing another heated sigh from you as you nodded, hoping that your agreement could persuade her to not spend so much time teasing you.

she granted you the slightest relief, taking your nipple between your lips and sucking at it, the hand not occupied with another breast trailing down the scar etched into your side, following the path down to your navel to begin unbuttoning your pants. each second seemed to drag on longer than the last, and though you knew that she wasn't purposely drawing out the process of undressing you, it was still not enough. you were practically kicking your underwear to the floor by the time they made their way around your ankles, skin still burning hot despite being fully exposed to the air.

"p-please, miss yelena.." you whimpered at the feeling of her hand tracing up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to stroke across the raised lines of skin that had been inscribed into your skin by the series of belts and buckles on your gear harness, but never proceeding that final inch up to where you needed it.

she pulled away to let out a low chuckle, peering up at you through dark lashes, bare chest pressed flush against your stomach. she drank in the way your face shifted as she rested the pad of her thumb over your clit, rubbing languid circles over it as her pointer finger dipped down your cunt, instantly slick with your arousal.

"you're so worked up from just that?" she taunted, speaking at barely a murmur, "or was it because somebody was listening?"

you felt the knot of anticipation drawing tight in the pit of your stomach, watching as she took her fingers in her mouth and licked over them, thighs shuddering when she returned to their previous position. "i-it was— i j-just— please.."

you could barely form a coherent thought, back arching up to urge your body as close to hers as you could manage, only cognizant of just how close you were to being relieved of that unbearable pressure welling within you. she only smiled, close-lipped and cunning, resting her head over your heaving chest.

"your heart is racing. i wonder how much faster i could make it go.."

you nearly whined as two fingers slid into you with little resistance, her mouth closing over a nipple, alternating between gently tugging at it with her teeth and flicking over it with the tip of her tongue. your hips rocked up into her hand, matching the pace of her wrist as your head dug back into the mattress, moans and incoherent pleas spilling from your parted lips.

you could feel yourself quickly approaching that rapturous peak, hands fisting the sheets under you, white stars blotting out your vision as she curled her fingers just right. you shuddered, gasping, eyes rolling aimlessly into the back of your head as the tension that had wound itself into every muscle finally released, coming completely undone beneath her. you pressed a shaking hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your winded breaths, letting out a small noise when she relieved you of her fingers. you felt her lips grazing over your chest, forcing your head up to look at her with bleary eyes when their feather-light touch proceeded lower and lower down your stomach.

you had expected things to come to an end as they usually did, with her pulling her clothes back on before you even had the chance to see straight and gathering your own garments from the floor to hand to you, leaving you to walk back to your dormitories on trembling legs in your wrinkled uniform. but there was no sign of that immediate withdrawal as she gathered your thighs in her hands, lifting your legs up onto her shoulders as she pressed a brief kiss over your naval.

you licked your lips nervously, already more than too sensitive at just the feeling of her breath over your soaked cunt. you opened your mouth to meekly object or ask for just a moment longer to catch your breath, but she shushed you, her heavy-lidded gaze sending a fresh bout of heat across your skin. each little quiver of your thighs only made her grip fasten, unable to keep still as she kissed at the scars and soft flesh, drawing a stifled whimper when she stopped to suck a deep mark at a spot of untarnished skin.

you could see the pale expanse of yelena's back, pristine and absent of any previous traumas, the complete opposite of your own. the first time you'd see her undressed, you couldn't take your eyes off of her slender frame, lined with muscle from her days as a soldier but still so delicate. you'd never left any marks when she'd allow you to kiss at her neck and chest, only enough to see the rosy flush settle over her body, but by that time she was more than eager to get back to playing with you instead.

you took in a deep, unsteady breath, jaw clenching and stomach tightening as her tongue drew flat up the length of your cunt, a small moan breaking from your parted lips. she pressed forward, flicking the tip of her tongue over your clit in a merciless rhythm, holding your thighs apart to accommodate her presence each time they attempted to squeeze shut. you writhed over the sheets, her name slipping from you between high-pitched whines and labored breaths, minutes melting past in an incomprehensible blur, leaving you only cognizant of her tongue and hands dragging you back over that edge again and again.

by the time she'd released you, you could barely hold your eyes open, thighs aching from her fingers digging into them, throat raw from crying out for her and gasping in what never seemed to be enough air, feeling too exhausted to even think about making the walk back to your own room. but rather than hand your clothes to you in a silent cue for your departure, you watched her make her way back up the mattress to lay beside you, pulling your heavy, sweat-slicked body against her own. you couldn't try to refuse the comfort of her warmth, face pressing into her chest, breathing in her soft, clean scent, still occasionally trembling as you tentatively allowed your hands to cling to her.

you told yourself not to get comfortable, to try to regain control of your limbs by the time her sympathy for overworking you had worn off and she ordered you away for the night, but the demand never came. you felt a large hand settle at the base of your neck, another splaying across the small of your back, her chin resting on the crown of your head, holding you close like a lover would.

"you could stay for the night if you'd like." her tone was even and collected as it always was, but hushed, like she was murmuring a secret to you.

you knew that sleeping her had already far overstepped whatever boundary had been abandoned that night she'd first kissed you, the morning where she'd marveled at your body and commended your courage, every instance you'd obeyed her rather than carry out the simple orders you were given. it was already too late to tear yourself away from this presence that you'd grown so familiar with—the one that you had feared, the one that you now craved despite how you knew you shouldn't.

"thank you, miss yelena." you whispered hoarsely, curling into her, allowing your heavy eyes to close.

that would be the first and last time you ever spent the night in her quarters.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the banquet to celebrate the completion of the rail system in trost was minutes away from commencing. the speaking podium was empty for the moment, soldiers and civilians chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the military officials to gather at the stage. you were authorized to be in the private area as yelena's personal escort, seeing as she had participated in the mapping of the railroad through the district and would be acknowledged as a contributor to the advancement of paradis.

but as excited as you were to celebrate, eat good food and hopefully get a chance to drink, you weren't looking forward to transferring your position to floch forster for the remainder of the night. although, your desire to stay by yelena's side had been momentarily dissuaded by the desire to please her when she'd requested the change a few days prior. you hadn't bothered to hide your disappointment, nor did you hold back your questions.

"change to forster? but.. why?" you had asked, in the privacy of her quarters, feeling an immediate disheartening at her words.

she didn't directly respond, the hand that had been at your shoulder rising to pet at your cheek. "you trust me, don't you?"

"y-yes, but—"

"then file a request to change with him."

you couldn't explain why you had felt such a cool emptiness burrowing into your chest, a sudden spite for the other soldier beginning to fester in the back of your mind, the thought that she would choose him over you inspiring an indescribable irateness. you turned away from her hand, not thinking of how you were pouting like a child, unwilling to meet her eyes or compromise with her. you'd been fretting over how she hadn't spared you any sort of affection in the nearly two months that had passed, the fear that she'd grown tired of you an incessant whisper in your ear. but then she had reached for you, treated you gently, persuading with that hint of sincerity she rarely ever showed you.

"it would only be for the evening, i have business to attend to that night. i'm sure you've been looking forward to the celebration?" a frown tugged at your lips, only offering a small nod in reply, meeting her eyes when she guided you by your chin to face her. "then transfer with forster, have fun for the evening—you deserve it."

you couldn't help but preen under her praise, meeting her eyes, heart stuttering at the sight of her barely-there smile. you finally caved after a moment of thought, relenting to her wishes. "i'll put in a temporary transfer request tomorrow afternoon."

"thank you, dear."

despite how you weren't exactly looking forward to forster's arrival to relieve you from duty, those final words lifted your spirits just the slightest bit. perhaps she had simply been caught up in the stress of such a grand achievement, too busy attending meetings with engineers and generals and event staff to make any spare time for you for the past weeks. you had waited for weeks before, you could continue waiting if need be. you were at her beck and call, and as long as it pleased her, you were perfectly fine doing as such.

you let out a soft sigh at the sigh of floch forster approaching, weaving through the scattered crowd with a stoic, dutiful look plastered across his expression.

"good evening, floch." yelena said from beside you.

he replied with a polite good evening to both you and her, adding your name as more of an afterthought than anything, but turning his focus back to you when you still hadn't stepped away. "you can go, i'll take it from here."

your gaze flickered over to yelena, feeling yourself relax as she nodded to you, a hand resting at your shoulder to gently urge you forward. "i'll see you tomorrow morning. enjoy yourself tonight."

so you took your leave, watching the ceremony in the company of your fellow soldiers, eyes always wandering away from the speaker and to yelena at the side of the stage. the speech concluded, the crowd cheered and applauded, and everyone was directed to the banquet hall where the remainder of the event would be held. you watched yelena and floch walk off the stage with the other officials, becoming distracted for just a moment speaking to someone but having lost sight of them by the time you looked back.

you didn't see yelena for the remainder of the night, but you did as you were told, enjoying the good food, talking to your friends, avoiding any alcohol in preparation for your usual early morning. it was all over quite quickly, and the next morning came and went, business as usual for the remainder of the next few days—then came the news of eren jaeger's disappearance, then the plans of the all-hands-on-deck operation that was to be the retrieval effort for the young man, the entire scouting branch thrown into overdrive.

and, though you never mustered the courage to ask, you felt a sinking feeling deep inside, that yelena's nightly errand with floch and eren's absence were somehow connected, that there was much more going behind the scenes that you couldn't even begin to fathom.

just wanted to give u guys a little gift for my birthday (´･ᴗ･ ` )

[sitp-recs]

hi there, i was looking for fics in which draco joins the good side, preferably him running from the dark lord and taking refuge with the order. sorry if you’ve answered this before, your recs are so helpful!! <33

Hi anon! I’ve read a few fics with spy or defective Draco but he usually goes about it in his own way instead of joining the Order (which I personally find so interesting!). The first fic that came to mind when I saw your ask was Walking the Line by silentauror, but I’m afraid it’s been taken down. I hope you can still enjoy these, and I’m sure my followers will be able to rec a few more! :)

The Thing You Shouldn't Do by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 1.2k)

The war drags on and on, and Harry is the one who has to end it. Why shouldn't he use Draco Malfoy to win it? It's okay to use him if they hate each other, surely.

Operative by @shealwaysreads (2021, M, 3.5k)

After the war, Draco finds himself in the familiar position of not getting what he wanted. But sometimes, what you need finds its own way to you.

Life in the In-Between by catrinella (2007, E, 4.2k)

In wartime, it's too dangerous to make promises.

Paper Dolls by cupiscent (2006, M, 5k)

In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Intelligence by aideomai (2018, T, 6k) - sequel to In the Hand

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said, voice low with venom and fury. “Did you know?”

“I knew there was a spy,” Hermione said.

Love Found by @peachpety (2020, E, 7.5k)

During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. 

Silence series by RurouniHime (2011, E, 10k)

It was his battle, yet he never hurt me, and he could have.

Statues Crumble by @xanthippe74, art by @fictional (2022, T, 13.6k)

Between one war and the next, Draco has lost his parents, his home, and his menial Ministry job. All he has left is the secret (and anonymous) work he does to help Harry Potter overthrow another government—oh, and that statue he stole from the Ministry Atrium.

Speak (and may the world come undone) by @shealwaysreads (2019, E, 26k)

The war is on in earnest, and the hunt for the Horcruxes has begun. Harry receives help from the least expected person, and must decide whether he can trust the enemy he knows best.

A Dream of Running Water by Lomonaaeren (2014, M, 35k)

Driven nearly mad by his bitterness against the Dark Lord, Draco becomes a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. The device they sneak him to aid in his reports has unpredictable side-effects—like allowing Draco to dream of a landscape with a river running through it. That would be soothing, if Potter wasn’t there.

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl (2013, M, 60k)

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (2004, M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Consequences of Redemption by bobbirose (2014, M, 120k)

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco--and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (2006, E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (2015, E, 180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

Secrets by Vorabiza (2005, E, 400k)

Beginning with Draco's unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry's summer after sixth year becomes filled with activity and many secrets. As his summer progresses, Harry generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (2017, E, WIP)

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic.

[ejunkiet]

seven minutes in heaven

this is a very silly fill for the prompt ‘things you said with no space between us’, thank you whoever requested this before!

pairing: detective olivia greene & mason notes: ~1k wordcount, rating teen.

Mayor Friedman makes an unexpected appearance at the station.

--

“If you make a noise,” she whispers into the space between them, as little as there is, “and he finds us, there will be consequences.”

read on ao3

--

seven minutes in heaven

“If you wanted to get me alone sweetheart, all you had to do was a-mmph.”

Her palm, quickly and efficiently applied, effectively silences him as she presses him firmly against the back wall of the closet. It’s a tight fit for the both of them, just shy of uncomfortable, but Tina’s texted warning of ‘INCOMING UR OFFICE NOW’ hadn’t left her with many options.

A low rumble comes from Mason’s chest as she settles her weight against him, his hands falling to her hips. His smirk widens beneath her palm as he adjusts their position, pulling her in closer, but before he can make another smart comment, the door to her office opens, and shit.

Heavy footfalls enter the office, followed by the distinctive click of a cane. Mayor Friedman’s low tenor is as distinctive as his gait as he comes to a stop and comments, “I could have sworn I saw Detective Greene in the station earlier.”

Shit, shit. Of course he would just waltz in like he owned the place.

There’s a muffled snort from beneath her palm, and she shoots Mason a sharp look, pressing her palm more firmly over his mouth. His grey eyes are gleaming, and she can see the quiver in his shoulders; knows it well enough to recognise that he is laughing at her.

Biting hard into her lower lip, she tries to smother her own smile, and fails, even as she narrows her eyes in warning. The unspoken message is clear: quiet.

A long moment passes before the steps continue, slow and meandering as the mayor makes his way back towards the door, although he doesn’t leave just yet, coming to another stop just before it.

She can hear the clatter of his cane, before a muted beeping, followed by a dial tone - and of course this would be the moment he chooses to make a call. Did he have access to her personal number?

(She sure as hell hadn't given it to him, if he did. At least her phone is on silent - or at least, she thinks it is.)

Mason shifts beneath her, a hand slipping up to curl around her waist. She can't help her reaction, never can with him - her breath leaving her in a sharp exhale as she arches into the touch, and the grin beneath her palm widens, as wicked as the glint in his storm grey eyes.

She leans in, closing the distance between them until she can count the freckles in the constellations that scatter his cheekbones.

“If you make a noise,” she whispers into the space between them, as little as there is, “and he finds us, there will be consequences.”

His eyes are dark as they flick between hers, pupils wide, a single brow rising. There’s a gleam in his eyes that she doesn’t like, doesn’t trust as his mouth moves beneath her palm, and she doesn’t need to hear the words to get their meaning - she can gleam it from the look alone - is that a promise?

The hand left on her hip flexes, before slipping down the length of her thigh, tracing the seam of her jeans before pressing inwards, slowly moving higher as her heart rate stutters before doubling in pace.

She takes a shuddering breath, just as the Mayor’s loud voice resonates through the space: “Rebecca!”

Mason’s brow furrows, and she can feel the shape of his grimace beneath her palm before his hand pulls away, and she lets her forehead fall against his chest.

Outside, completely oblivious, the conversation continues: “I was trying to find your daughter. Wasn’t she meant to be at the station?”

Mason huffs out another laugh beneath her palm and she bites at the sliver of skin that peeks out from beneath his collar, pressing a soft kiss against the spot to soothe the sting as he stiffens, his grip flexing against her waist.

The mayor hums, “I see. No, no, these meetings with the agency are important, and should take priority. Please let her know that I called.” His footsteps resume as she collapses forward with relief, her grip easing as the tension within her falls away.

Once the hallway is quiet once more, she glances up to meet his gaze, a smile pulling at her lips as she drops her hand, letting her fingertips trail along the sharp line of his jaw before pulling away completely.

“Nicely done, sunshine.”

In a whirl of movement, she finds herself pressed against the back wall of the closet, his mouth skating against her throat as his hand slips back down between them, tracing the seam of her jeans again.

“Is there a reward for good behaviour?”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, capturing her mouth in another kiss just as her phone buzzes in her pocket - once, twice, three times. It buzzes once more to indicate that it’s gone through to voicemail, and she breaks away from his mouth with a groan, shivering as his lips chase down her throat, his fingers looping around her wrist- “ignore it, sweetheart.”

With the way his mouth works at her skin, soft lips and grazing teeth, leaving a mark she knows will be visible above the collar of her shirt, she almost does.

Almost.

Splaying her fingers against his chest, she gently eases him back, his breath falling hot and fast against her cheek as he looks up to meet her gaze. His eyes are dark and glittering in the half light, flickering between hers before falling down to her mouth again, and she really, really doesn’t want to leave.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she offers, her heart skipping a beat at the way his mouth curves into a smile, catching the gleam that enters his eyes. “Later.”

He dips in for another kiss, lips soft and warm against hers, swallowing her sigh before he pulls back, just enough to whisper his response into the space between them: “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

“Why do you lie?”: A look at a gay Mike Wheeler

This is a sort of a companion post to Will Byers and Growing Up Gay in the Pre-Internet Era, which I posted last year. I looked into what could have possibly been going on with Will as someone with a gay identity at a time when there was little support. Now I’d like to look at Mike, who would have his own unique challenges towards accepting a positive identity. This isn’t meant to be a post for why Mike is gay, as I (and several others) have already addressed that. Instead, I want to look at some of the psychological processes that may be at work in how Mike develops through the series. I will be treating Mike as if he were a real person, rather than a fictional character, and, so, I will attempt to ignore narrative devices (foreshadowing, parallels, etc.) as much as possible.

“Friends don’t lie” is one of the prevailing messages in Stranger Things. It more or less becomes El’s personal motto, so it ultimately became associated more with her than the person who taught it to her: Mike. Despite attempting to instill this value onto El, Mike himself is shown to have a lot of trouble living up to it. While Mike spends quite a lot of time in Season 3 lying to El, she is not the biggest victim of his lies. No, the one he lies to the most is himself, and he seems to have been doing that since Season 1.

According to the Cass Identity Model, a journey to a positive gay identity requires several steps: confusion, comparison, tolerance, acceptance, pride, and synthesis. This is not a perfect model, but it is one of the better attempts to create a general framework for how it worked for many gay individuals, at least in the time it was created (1979). A general way to look at it is that, at least at the time, individuals would work their way through this process as they engaged with the gay and lesbian community and started to see it as less of a bad thing and more as something to be proud of until it finally becomes just another part of who they are.

As I mentioned in my Will post, there is little opportunity for a kid in Hawkins to engage with the gay and lesbian community. There is no internet, nor is there any (known) place for local gays to gather in Hawkins. This results in the only real mention of homosexuality being the slurs thrown around by school bullies and people like Lonnie. A town like Hawkins would be a very difficult place for a young gay person to grow up. This makes it hard for even the initial stage, confusion, even occurring. Mike has deep feelings for Will, but the confusion stage requires that he acknowledge his feelings as homosexual in nature. Instead, I think Mike has been hiding from his own feelings, and it may not have been until the finale of Season 3 that he finally acknowledged them for the first time. So what comes before the first stage? 

Lies! Well, sort of. Defense mechanisms are how our minds protect us from the anxiety and social consequences of unwanted thoughts and desires. We all use them, unconsciously, to some extent. The next time you come home from a hard day at work and yell at a family member, ask yourself why you’re angry. Odds are it’s nothing the family member did. Getting angry at work can be a risk to your employment, so, instead, you unconsciously find a “safer” target. In this case it’s still bad, but getting forgiveness from a family member is easier than talking a boss into rehiring you. Mike has similar processes going on to protect him from his budding attraction to Will.

It’s impossible to tell when exactly Mike started thinking of Will as more than a friend, even if he doesn’t label the thoughts as such. He already shows an intense concern for Will in Season 1. When the boyish-looking El shows up and provides an opportunity to find Will, Mike risks his friendships to make use of her powers. He also goes over the top in disguising her as, well, a girl. It probably would have been easier to disguise her as a boy, but Mike decided to put a wig and dress on her, and then apply makeup to her. This could be a combination of displacement and reaction formation. Mike is redirecting his feelings for Will onto El, and also making her as obviously female as he can. 

Mike’s bond with El came very quickly, and even caused a rift within the Party. While Dustin and Lucas would come around and value El as a trusted friend, their process with her is more natural than Mike’s rushed, forced relationship with her. Dustin and Lucas had no weird feelings to hide from. Their search for Will contained no unwanted implications, they simply wanted their friend back safe and sound. Still, we would see Mike on the opposite end of this type of interaction in Season 2.

Max is the first “normal” girl to show interest in the Party. Mike reacts to her presence and attempts to join the party with hostility. There is little reason for this, as he was more than willing to allow El to be their friend. He doesn’t truly hate her, and in his own words he can’t hate her as he doesn’t even know her. He simply wants nothing to do with her. His only given reason is that the party is full as it is, which seems to fall flat. It could be that the presence of a girl reminds him of El, but we don’t see him acting hostile to girls in general. It seems, instead, to be his friends’ interest in her that gets Mike to dislike her. While the theory that he is jealous at Will’s interest in Max is intriguing, there isn’t much to go on aside from Will showing a curiosity about her and then letting Dustin and Lucas bring her along for Halloween. Instead, Mike may be projecting here. He shows incredulity that Dustin and Lucas could be so interested in Max despite never having talked to her, suggesting that he thinks getting to know someone is important in regards to being romantically interested. This runs counter to his interactions with El in Season 1. He resents his own behavior, but takes his anger out on his friends and Max instead when he sees them doing something similar.

Mike is very protective of Will throughout Season 2. He also spends a lot of time reaching out to El via his SuperComm, though he admits it’s likely a fruitless effort. His guilt over what has happened to the both of them is another sign of his mixed up feelings for Will and El. On Halloween, Mike and Will open up to each other about how crazy they feel, and they share a smile at the end of a conversation that is arguably a masked love confession. However, as Mike twice brought up El as a part of their conversation, it further reinforces the displacement of Mike’s feelings to her. However, soon after this, Mike finds himself caught up in another Will-related crisis, and El is out of his thoughts until her return at the end of the season.

Mike also shows a lot of willingness to allow himself to be vulnerable with Will in Season 2, something which isn’t seen in his interactions with anyone else. In these moments, Mike’s body language shifts. His tone becomes softer, his head dips slightly, and he peers at Will through his lashes. His aforementioned conversation on Halloween is just one example, but it is also seen when Will is asked if he remembers Mike, when Mike recounts meeting Will as they try to break through to him, when they’re at the movies, and when Will is packing at the end of Season 3. The moment in the shed is perhaps Mike’s most vulnerable moment. He shares a cherished memory, and unashamedly cries while doing so, perhaps even so lost in the moment that he forgets other people are in the room. His feelings, driven into overdrive by the fear of losing Will for good, are beginning to overwhelm him, but he still maintains his “Will behavior.”

This shows an uncharacteristic degree of trust and/or submission. In interactions with other characters, even El, Mike often displays assertive, or even aggressive, tones and stances. Mike doesn’t realize he does this, but we do see him sometimes use similar body language with El, further suggesting that he is redirecting his affections.

Perhaps the biggest moment we see him act this way around El is at the Snow Ball at the end of Season 2. Mike had been having a great time at the dance until Will had gone off to dance. This is strange considering Mike seemed to urge him to go with the girl in the first place. He appears shocked as the pair walks to the dance floor, his mouth agape, and wide eyes staring off into space. This isn’t the body language of someone expressing pride at a friend’s unexpected boldness, but rather it suggests a disturbing revelation. It is at this point that Mike could potentially have moved into the Confusion stage of the Cass model, as he sits on the sidelines (despite Dustin briefly there for company) watching Will dance. Any progress he may have made is instead halted when El arrives unexpectedly. This allows for him to continue using her as an outlet, and gives him a convenient escape from where his thoughts would likely take him.

Season 3 is the first time Mike had to deal with having both El and Will in his life at the same time, and it’s where his defense mechanisms begin to break down. In therapy, the goal is to shine light onto defense mechanisms in order to deconstruct them, so the patient can see and deal with what is actually going on. 

We find out Mike has been largely ignoring his friends and spending most of his time with El. He makes a big show of his relationship with El, including leaving early after Dustin had returned from camp under the false pretense of a curfew. The others don’t buy it, and Mike likely knew this. He wanted them to know he was going off to make out with El. When we actually see them alone, they do indeed make out, but, curiously, Mike twice takes steps to make it less intimate. He stops to sing along to the music, for example, despite El not enjoying it. He also removes El’s hands from her face, leaving them both simply leaning forward at each other without additional contact. There is a suggestion here that Mike is not enjoying what he is doing and limiting just how intimate they get. 

We continue to see his lack of a desire to be close to El. For her part, El shows behavior that could only be considered clingy. It is she who initiates nearly all of their physical contact, and, at one point, she even literally clings to Mike as Dustin is showing off his gadgets. A close inspection shows that Mike is standing with his arms crossed during this, making no active attempt to return the physical contact. None of this physical intimacy is for his own benefit. While being with El means he doesn’t have to worry about his feelings for Will, it does not really allow him to express those feelings to his satisfaction. This may be why he goes on movie “double dates” with Will, Lucas, and Max in between spending time with El. 

The occurrence we see at the movies is clearly not the first due to Steve’s frustrated reaction and their familiarity with his threat. They are late, so there are not enough seats, but there is no hesitation as Mike goes with Will to sit apart from Max and Lucas. Mike is so comfortable with reaching into Will’s bag for the snacks that it suggests it’s happened multiple times before. We also see that, despite his reclusive behavior with El, Mike still has Will on his mind when he asks if Will is ok. His tone again soft, head slightly dipped as he peers up through his lashes. He glances briefly down, possibly at Will’s lips, suggesting he needs to remind himself that it’s not El he’s with at this moment. He is otherwise very content to be “alone” with Will at the movie. 

Mike ultimately needs the relationship with El to protect himself against his feelings for Will, and it all comes to a head when they fight after Will’s attempt at a campaign. Mike’s continuous theatrics lead to not only Hopper forcing him to spend less time with El, but to him getting busted as he allows Lucas to lead him through a plan to get El an apology gift. We later see that he has no difficulties apologizing when he feels he should, so his grand gesture is another sign that his relationship with El is more of a show. He puts up no fight when El dumps him, acting annoyed and accusing Max and El of conspiring against him. He’s hiding from his own complicity in order to avoid acknowledging that it doesn’t really bother him as much as it should. He wants El to come back to him to continue his show, but he can’t do anything about it without confronting his feelings. El leaving didn’t hurt him; it just made him angry. This complicates things for him. It was easier for him to shift his feelings to El when he didn’t actually need to do anything about it.

Will loses it at Mike’s disinterest in his campaign, particularly his attempt to abruptly end it. Mike seems to be trying to be just another too-cool ladies man, and he is disallowing himself to enjoy the game. Still, he can’t bare to have hurt Will, and he chases after him when Will tries to leave. Mike struggles to maintain the lie while trying to placate Will. When Will accuses him of ruining everything to make out with “a stupid girl,” we see Mike lash out, saying it’s not his fault Will doesn’t like girls. While this hurt Will, it was likely another case of projection. Mike hates himself for spending all of his time with El because he doesn’t actually like girls. He can’t even stay angry at Will when he sees how hurt Will was with what he said. He tries to explain that this is just how it needs to be, and he appears sad as Will leaves. Unlike with El, Mike is hurt when he loses Will, and he chased after him to apologize. We don’t actually get to see him apologize, however, as the threat-of-the-season kicks into gear, resulting in Mike needing to get El.

Mike thus is able to bounce his feelings back to El. He maintains a physical proximity to Will, but also tries to avoid interacting with him. The apology he never gets to make to Will ends up clumsily being offered to El. Mike’s vulnerable, genuine behavior is absent as he goofily attempts to make nice with his ex-girlfriend. He awkwardly attempts to invoke previous conversations with Will, suggesting an increasing desperation to re-establish El as the safe target for his affections. Cracks had already been forming in his carefully constructed subconscious defense mechanisms as a result of the contrast in how El and Will dumping him made him feel. Mike is starting to see the truth, and he needs to fix it.

Ultimately, the Byers decide to move away. A few months pass between the end of the season and the epilogue where they actually move. Mike seems to be on good terms with both El and Will, but we don’t really know what happened in the interim to get him there. Mike has conversations with both El and Will. His demeanor in each again demonstrate that, despite what he wants others to think, it’s Will who Mike can’t bear to part with. With Will, Mike again shows his vulnerability when Will goes to give away his D&D books. Mike is clearly afraid at the implications, that Will will move on from him, but Will is able to allay his fears, assuring him it’s “not possible” for him to find a new party, and that he expects to just use Mike’s set when he returns. Mike shows no vulnerability with El. In fact, he seems quite at ease as he explains how they’ll talk all the time, so everything will be ok. El suddenly attempts to bring up his previous attempts to talk about feelings, and he feigns ignorance, seeming uncomfortable. There’s a suggestion that they never re-established a romantic relationship. She says she loves him, and he seems perturbed. She kisses him, and he stands there, unresponsive. As she leaves, Mike stands confused and disturbed. He was not expecting that, nor did he enjoy it. Previously, after such a vulnerable moment with Will, Mike would have jumped at the opportunity to shift his feelings to El. Now it seems that he is finally accepting the truth. Defense mechanisms, being elaborate unintentional lies, only work when the individual remains unaware of them. Insight results in the truth being revealed.

As the Byers leave, Mike stares longingly at the cars. His friends all bike away, but he hangs back momentarily, looking back at Will’s house one last time with a pensive look on his face. All his walls have come crumbling down, and he can’t deny it anymore. He can’t pretend it’s El that he loves. He rides home, walking into his home in a daze. We last see him seeking comfort in his mother’s arms, seeking that unconditional love he craves so much. Mike is now confused, consciously aware that he loves Will, dealing with not only losing him, but also the acknowledgement that he’s likely gay. He’s no longer lying to himself, though it remains to be see how he reacts to the truth.

From here it’s all speculation, as we have little to no knowledge of Season 4. Based on the Cass model, Mike needs to explore his gay identity by meeting other gay people. He needs to see that not only is he not alone, but that being gay isn’t a bad thing. This process isn’t easy, and he will need to deal with the social implications of what it means. He may well choose to attempt to maintain a straight image. El being away means he can claim her as his girlfriend without them needing to be intimate. On the other hand, with support, he could work his way through the model and learn to love himself as he is. 

Note: I tried hard to stick to a conceptualization of Mike, but this does not mean this is how the writers see him.