#the weight and enormity of this makes me feel like I’m going insane

[howdoyousleep3]

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[growth-crazy-girl]

Extreme Slime Expansion

Warning: Extreme Rapid Weight Gain Fantasy Scenario 😜

Ok I normally don’t do long form writing, but I wanted to put this somewhere lol. One of my biggest fantasies is myself being a slime girl with the ability to pump up humans with my slime. I’m not into NC so only if willing, but I’d wanna pump up a skinny girl hundreds and hundreds of pounds in a matter of minutes, and then some 🤤

I’d start by thickening her up all around, watching her skinny thighs fill out, her rear showing more definition, her breasts slowly becoming fuller and rounder, the rest of her body developing a layer of supple fat. My slime works as a biological imitator, so my cells instantly mutate to whatever host cells I want to replicate. In other words, her body is genuinely gaining all of this weight, and I can mold her in any way I want

First I’d concentrate my slime straight to her lower half. Rapidly her hips widen, her thighs thicken, her cheeks swell with pounds and pounds of fat and flesh, and her skin keeps up the pace, the volume and surface area of her ass increase exponentially. I push her up against the mirror so she can see how bottom heavy she’s becoming, going from “thick” to “bbw pear” to “cartoon mom” and beyond, dense fat packed into her hips and thighs and enormous cheeks

Next I’d focus on her belly, slime pumping into her pound after pound until her gut sprawls out before her, love handles turning into dense fat rolls, belly button swelling up on all sides and getting deep. I grab her hanging belly as it sags lower and jiggle it around. Still though it’s stuffed so full of fat and adipose that it extends out straight in front of her, and she moans feeling the vibrations jiggle through hundreds of pounds of new tissue across her body

Suddenly her boobs explode outward in size as I finally concentrate my full power on them, surging with glutted fat and newfound breast tissue. Rivers of slime can be heard forcibly gushing their way into the now ocean of titmeat. Of course I have to force a ton of slime into her nipples as well, swelling them up huge and hard, the size of an average girl’s dildo. Each boob rolls to the side of her gut, still riding as firm on her chest as possible at this size

As she blows through the entire alphabet of bra sizes and into the unknown, I can’t help but squeeze a few dozen collective pounds into fattening her fupa and entire vulva, giving her a wobbling, gravid pussy bigger than her head, and a clit bigger than a soup bowl

She must be, what, 600-700 pounds now? I can only imagine the mixture of fear and excitement she’d be feeling, knowing she let me make her as big as I wanted. Surely we must be done right? She can’t even see the mirror anymore! Little does she know we’re just getting started…

I broadened my slime flow to the rest of her body and begin pumping. Her only request was to maintain some semblance of mobility, and I planned to happily oblige.

Too much weight to carry? Slime poured into her muscles to beef them up, and she modifies her stance to accommodate the enormous amount of new muscle needed to keep her mountainous ass cheeks lofty and firm, to keep her legs from buckling under the sheer weight. Not enough structural integrity? Slime reinforces her bones, strengthens her joints and ligaments, adding even more fat and skin in the right places to maintain balance. Heart going to stop from pure insane obesity? The chambers of her heart suck up my slime like a sponge, becoming like biological steel. I’ll shape and mold her body in any way necessary to maintain every bodily function, maintain some human resemblance…. All so she can take more.

More fat. More slime. MORE.

I finally realize that she’s going to need more height and a larger frame overall or else the laws of physics will catch up with us, and so the massive pile of woman begins growing up as well as out in every direction.

Awww but now she’s not visibly getting much bigger! 20 pounds a second looks like nothing on her, and that’s no fun 😏 So I take a deep breath, enter her every remaining orifice, and make one final push

*GLUUUUUURGLRGLRGLRGLRG*

Her body sounds like a fire hydrant in reverse as hundreds of gallons of slime force there way into her mountainous form, instantly turning into flesh and bone and fat. Soooo much fat.

Finally I stop when I hit that magical number- 2000lbs. I can’t wait to tease her, “you literally weigh a ton, you’re literally as big as an elephant, it might take some getting used to, but you can walk waddle short distances!”

I stepped back to admire my handiwork. This gigantic blob of a once skinny woman had me drooling over her every roll and curve. I was particularly proud of her gargantuan ass cheeks that were each the size of a refrigerator, and yet miraculously didn’t touch the ground, instead perpetually wobbling and jiggling acting as a counterweight to the insane amount of flesh forced into her boobs, belly, and pussy.

“MMMMMMMMMM” I heard her moan as she tried to lean forward to rest on her boulder of a belly, “I’m soooooo hungryyyyyy”

I stood behind her, admiring that I could now see her enormous blubbery vulva, glistening and dripping as a testament to how horny and sensitive I’d made her

“Me too babe, me too 🥵🤤😋”

***Dont expect long form written content or stories from me like this in the future, this is a super rare occurrence 😜😜😜

[avillicit]

idea: I come home to find you've somehow grown even heavier and fuller than you were just a few hours ago, desperately humping a pillow like a slut since you're too full to reach yourself, and I make you watch me get myself off first before I give you yours.

ooooh 😳

i'm lying in bed, rubbing my pregnant belly and waiting for you to come home from running errands, when it starts. out of nowhere, a pressure mounts in my already-full womb, making me moan quietly. i can feel my skin tightening and stretching under my hands, and when i look down, my belly is growing before my very eyes. i’m progressing through months of pregnancy in mere minutes. in a distant corner of my mind, i'm aware that i should probably be concerned, but... all i can think about is how good it feels.

for the next few minutes, i do nothing but pant and squirm as my belly expands, heat pooling between my legs. by the time the growth stops, i'm a whiny, desperate mess, moaning your name and running my hands all over my gargantuan belly. fuck, the skin is so sensitive. my stomach has always been an erogenous zone for me, and pregnancy definitely made it more intense, but this... this is a whole 'nother level. every touch is dizzying, clouding my mind and making wetness drip onto my thighs.

i roll onto my back with a groan, my womb squishing my lungs and spine. from this angle, it's clear how much bigger i've grown. i was already huge, but now i can barely see over my bump, its mass towering nearly two full feet over me. gods, it’s like something straight out of my fantasies. your brood thrashes in agitation, and i swear, their limbs feel bigger than before as they pummel me. the tight, thin skin of my belly distorts from their kicks, making me whine and clutch the sides of the swollen mound. even the pain of their movements makes me wet now. i whimper with need, my knees knocking together as i squirm.

my hand snakes around my enormously swollen belly, trying desperately to reach my tdick, but i’m just too big to touch myself now. a whine bubbles in my throat. you don’t even allow me to masturbate usually, but it feels like if i don’t cum soon, i might go insane. 

huffing and panting, i try to pull myself up to a sitting position. it takes nearly a full minute and several failed attempts to heave myself up like this, the dome of my middle weighing me down much more than it was just this morning. finally, though, i manage to sit upright. my hands continue exploring my belly almost automatically, and i’m letting out all these cute little moans as i stroke the sensitive skin. i buck my hips, wishing you were here to help me. i need to bounce on your cock, to have you worship my belly as i ride you. 

in my desperation, i end up straddling a pillow. my breath is ragged as i grind against it, your babies squirming from the sudden motion. i’m so heavy, every thrust is a struggle, and my hips and back ache from the weight hanging off my frame, but the discomfort only makes me wetter. a little damp patch starts to grow on the pillowcase, right between my legs.

i rub my overfilled belly and moan as i rock my hips, imagining i’m rutting against you instead. my tdick rubs against the wet pillowcase, making me see stars. before long, i start to feel myself getting close, and i try to move faster. i’m right on the edge, i’m so close, but it’s just not enough stimulation to make me cum. i whimper, grinding against the pillow as hard as i can. frustrated tears sparkle at the corners of my eyes. my legs and hands are shaking, and my head is so fuzzy that i’m barely aware i’ve started babbling in desperation. “please, please, please, wanna cum, please, daddy, i need it...”

and that’s how you find me when you finally get home--a whiny, dripping mess, humping a pillow like the pathetic slut i am, my belly massive and rippling with your babies’ movements. at first, i don’t even seem to register that you’ve come in the room, too lost in chasing my relief. my eyes are glassy and unfocused, you notice as you approach me. but when you lay a hand on my lower back and coo, “what happened, baby?” i turn to you with an expression of pure need. 

“i got bigger, daddy...” i groan, rubbing my belly. “dunno why... feels so good, though... i need to cum, daddy, but i can’t reach... mmmh... so big...”

normally you’d punish me for trying to cum without permission, but i’m so pathetic and needy right now, you can’t bring yourself to do it. “aww, poor baby,” you purr, stroking my belly with your broad hands. “you’ve gotten too big to reach your cunt, huh? poor thing, you’re dripping onto the pillow... my sweet little breeding slut, when you realized how huge you’d grown, you couldn’t resist trying to get yourself off, could you? it’s okay, love, daddy forgives you.”

“w-will you... help... me... daddy?” i ask, my voice strangled.

you sit down on the bed beside me, unzipping your jeans, and i automatically let out a whine. but rather than bending me over or pulling me onto your cock, you simply pull it out and begin to stroke it slowly. you watch me, transfixed and drooling, both hands still on my belly, my eyes glued to your erection. a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“please...” i whimper. my hips stop moving--i’m too focused on the promise of actual relief to continue.

“keep going,” you command. “hump that pillow like a desperate little whore. show me how bad you need it, put on a little show for me, and i’ll help you cum. okay, baby?” 

i nod, trembling. “yes, sir.” 

as you stroke yourself, i go back to bucking against the pillow, a little more erratic this time. i can’t take my eyes off of you, nor my hands off my bump. my fingertips drift across the sides of my belly, following the curve to my sensitive popped bellybutton. i circle it lightly, biting my lip.

“you really love being this big, don’t you, baby?” you croon. “such a good broodslut, getting wet just from rubbing your belly.”

i moan in response, my hips thrusting harder into the pillow. my stomach quivers with the babies’ kicking, and every harsh movement draws a groan to my lips. i can feel my legs starting to tire, but i can’t stop myself. my tcock is hard and throbbing against the fabric. 

you seem to enjoy my pitiful display. low, quiet grunts rise in your throat, and you start to buck into your hand, almost mirroring my own movements. “fuck, you look so good like this, sweetheart, all filled up with daddy’s babies... i’m already getting close, watching you squirm.”

“please, daddy...” i whimper as i keep fuck myself on the pillow. my pace grows more and more reckless, my belly bouncing enticingly. i gently rub the places where the babies jab me--they’re clearly annoyed by all this movement, but i don’t plan on stopping until you let me cum. it feels like i’ve been teetering on the edge for hours, my boycunt aching from how badly i need to climax. the noises i’m making are barely even human anymore, but i’m not lucid enough to notice. all i can do is keep moving, keep trying to get myself off.

the next thing i’m aware of is you pushing me onto my back, knocking the wind out of me as you force my thighs apart. “i can’t fucking take it,” you growl. “i can’t watch you hump that pillow like a pathetic little slut and not cum in you.” without any warning, you slam your cock in me all the way to the hilt, making me squeal and arch my back. gripping my hips tight enough to bruise, you rut into me without relent. my eyes roll back into my head, and i clutch my belly with both hands. 

“daddy...” i moan, after only a few minutes. “i’m gonna cum...”

“already?” you chuckle--but i can tell by the way your cock is twitching that you won’t be far behind me. your breath is raspy and ragged as you speed up, ramming against my cervix with each thrust. “cum for me, baby,” you command me.

i let out one more cry as i finally, finally reach orgasm. my vision goes white for a second, and my entire body shakes. tears bead at the corners of my eyes. “thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you...” i babble.

“that’s it, good boy,” you purr in my ear. “such a good little breeding slut... hah...” pulling my hips flush against yours, you cum with a bestial groan, filling my cunt until your semen drips out onto the bed beneath us. 

“thank you...” i say again.

you roll off of me, panting, and pat my belly proudly. i flash a dazed smile. within my womb, your babies are finally calming down. you pull me against you, rubbing my rounded stomach. my eyelids start to grow heavy. i shift onto my side with a groan. you hold me from behind, stroking my bump in broad circles. we should probably clean up, but i can’t bear to move right now. you keep lavishing attention on my mysteriously-expanded belly, and in mere minutes, you’ve soothed me into a deep sleep.

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi.  this guy has it all.  looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.  

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day.  you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

*************************

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another.  That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face. 

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch.  It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb. 

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.  

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?” 

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand.  That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face.  Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.  

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.  

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck.  He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.  

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”  

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves.  “I’m a resident.  And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back.  Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled.  “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side.  You’d smelled fucking amazing.  The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly.  “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air.  But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye.  “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away. 

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.  

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine.  That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.  

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds.  You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.  

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated.  Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

***************************

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits.  He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals.  Use fake names.  Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention.  Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone.  That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.  

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city.  Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball.  Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy.  Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.  

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city.  He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you. 

*************************

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ”  you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand.  You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually.  “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts.  You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain.  The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions.  But you don’t.  

You play along.  

Again.

“Right.  Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”  

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.  

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand.  I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur.  “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot.  You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.  

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.  

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm.  He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me.  I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay.  It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet.  “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready.  I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.  

You could be off to flag a security guard.  Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes.  Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.  

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

*********************

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return.  “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain.  Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods.  “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages.  “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles.  “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand.  But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly.  You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles. 

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue.  “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears.  You seem to relax after that.  He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city.  Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.  

“It’s not far from here.  Open twenty-four hours.  I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely.  “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really.  That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done.  How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits.  “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern.  Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.  

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

**********************

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one.  Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.  

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night.  You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending.  Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line.  You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.  

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what.  He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter.  “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone.  “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee.  He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person.  You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction.  “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

***********************

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen.  Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.  

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat.  You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.  

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.  

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy. 

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

***********************

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really. 

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.  

This week has been the worst, by far.  You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted.  If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?”  Nurse Ko asks with a grin.  “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe. 

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs.  “Here, I brought you something.”  

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.  

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open.  You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats.  “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you.  Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused.  She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.  

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too.  Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before.  You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

**************************

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.  

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest.  You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly.  “Sword-swallowing accident?  Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.  

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face.  You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder.  Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night.  One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.” 

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.  

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits.  “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he chuckles.  

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket.  You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell.  Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.  

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher.  You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder.  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes --  and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.  

You remind yourself to get back to work. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses.  “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again.  “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.  

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now.  Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies.  The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.  

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans.  The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.  

Textbook.  

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.  

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply.  “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine.  The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens.  Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes.  The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place.  Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash.   You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.  

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore.  He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit.  Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence.  Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly.  “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer.  You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.  The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story.  But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly.  “And don’t come back.”

*****************************

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

*****************************

Tag List!

@heroesfan101 @kpop-saved-ruinedme @mono-kookie @ctvrty @bluewhale52 @thenopekid @uhgood-dooghu @youwannabelostandnotbefound @yiyi4657 @daydreambrliever @mstbeautifulmmt @darktsuki0 @mademysongtakeflight @fireflyinsummer @paperpurple @btseditsworld @outrofenty @taestannie​ @yeojaa​ @sahmfanficbts​ @snackhobi​

[alby-rei]

Hold On Tight (Dazai x Reader)

a/n: AAAAA Thank you so much, my lovely 🥺🥺💕💕 *sips iced tea to hydrate* Sending you lots of hugs!! I had a lot of fun with this one and went about it a little differently than I initially planned, so I hope you enjoy >///< 

(I hope you’re not afraid of heights) Happy Reading!

Wordless “I love you” Prompts #49: Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

summoning the dazai simps ✨ @celmanics​  @dazaiswindow​​ 

[Full title]: Hold On Tight (Unless You Want to Fall)

[Genre]: Humor, fluff, pre-relationship

[Word Count]: ~1300 words

[Warning]: Heights, Unsupervised/unsupported house climbing

[Requested by]: @daisiesandshakes​

 ~*~

“Dazai, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course, Toshiko-san. I climb up the mansion all the time.”

“And how often do you climb while carrying another person on your back?”

You didn’t hear a response right away. Dazai hummed to himself as his hand searched for the next overhang to support his weight on. You tightened the grip of your arms and legs around his figure when you felt your body sway with his movement. You’ve never been this close to any of the residents before, and your face was definitely heating up (though you could blame that on the heat, too). You called out his name again, the fear in your voice loud and clear. 

At last, he replied confidently, “To tell you the truth, this is a first for me, but—”

“WHAT?!” Both of your arms tensed from the grip of your hands around his neck.

He steadied himself before he turned his head to shoot you his best relaxed smile.

Except you were anything but relaxed! This is insane and dangerous! What would le Comte or Sebastian say if they saw the two of you like this?! You were certain at least one of them would faint from the sight.

(The latter would be busy excitedly writing down the events in his notebook.)

You thought back to how you ended up here: Clutching Dazai’s body for dear life while he climbed the side of the mansion to “get you to your room faster”.

It all started in the garden.

You were watering the plants beneath the hot summer sun. On your way back inside, you happened to spot Dazai and waved at him.

The next step you took didn’t land on the cool grass, however, but rather fell right down a hole disguised by the grass. After overcoming the initial shock, you looked up to see Dazai in front of you in a flash with concern laced in his eyes. Fresh tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when you tried to pull yourself up. He crouched down to help get your foot out and let you hold onto him while you hopped on one foot to regain your balance.

One could say Dazai felt guilty for distracting you or not warning you ahead of time, and maybe that was why he insisted on helping you out. But…

“—don’t worry, Yoshie-san! I won’t let you down,” he grunted with effort when he reached upward for the next block, “literally and figuratively.”

“A-a-huh…” your response came out much shakier than you intended, the fear of falling rising the higher you reached.

“We’re almost there, just don’t look down,” he sang.  

Normally, Dazai would climb much faster than he was now. Not only would he be lighter, but he was always down to experiment with different routes. With you, however, he made sure not to make any sudden moves, and he would warn you before he makes his next move. He kept conversing with you as well while you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. How he could sound so calm and composed while pulling the two of you up the windowsill left you baffled, to say the least.  

“Remind me again why you couldn’t just walk me through the front door?”

“What kind of man would I be to let you hop your way up that enormous staircase. Of course, I would offer to carry you.”

“Yes, I understand that, but why wouldn’t you carry me up the stairs, instead?”

“A sprained ankle is a serious injury that needs immediate care. Carrying you up the staircase at the main entrance would take far too long.”

“At least we’d be on solid ground!”

“Hmm? Do you like the idea of the other residents seeing you being carried like a princess to your room by me? Oh, the things they would imagine,” he mused. “Take this as our own secret adventure~”

Your eyes remained closed when you said, “I don’t know how climbing the side of the mansion in broad daylight counts as any form of secrecy, but…”

You paused when you felt yourself being turned around.

“And here we are.”

“Eh?”

True to his word, when you peeked one eye open, you were met with the pink shades of your room’s décor. Dazai sat comfortably on the windowsill with his legs dangling from the edge. All you had to do to get down was unhook your legs around his waist to meet the solid floor. Your legs wobbled as you gingerly shifted your weight off of him and into the room. Next, you unclasped your arms around his neck—which you realized were maybe a bit too tight.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“A little dizzy, not gunna lie,” you reached for the stool by the foot of your bed and clutched your head, “I’m so sorry if I was hanging onto you too tight, did it hurt in any way?”

“Not at all, I quite liked the feeling of your arms around me,” he admitted over his shoulder with a carefree smile.

“Oh…” You had to look away when you felt your face heat up.

You dragged yourself with the stool towards the window to sit in front of him while your eyes remained on the ground. Dazai stared at you expectantly while you searched for words to respond with.

“Well…” You started.  

You wrapped your arms tightly around him again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear.

“Thank you for everything, Dazai.”

His eyebrows raised in shock, and after a long moment he twisted in your embrace to return the hug. He rested his head on your shoulder casually. You leaned against him to avoid applying pressure on your injured foot, and he could feel your heartbeat calm down from the adrenaline. Subconsciously, he’d tightened his grip as he remembered the panic and distress he’d seen when the pain of your fall had set in.

“Dazai…?” You tapped his back.

“Ah, my apologies,” he pulled away, flashing you his usual calm smile.

He swung his legs back out the window, looking ready to depart.

“I’ll call a doctor for you, so make sure to keep your foot elevated until he arrives, okay?”

And out he went. A light breeze flew through his bangs as he waved goodbye.

[Bonus Scene]

As soon as Dazai left, you heard knocking at your door though the guest didn’t wait for you before he hurried in.

“MC!” It was Arthur. “What’s this about you and a sprained ankle? A clumsy bird today, are we?”

Arthur grinned, as he set his doctor’s bag on the table beside you.

“When’d you hear about that?”

“Dazai told me.”

“Wh—? How—?” He had just left out the window! Did he speak telepathically with Arthur on his way down? 

“Well, not directly, but I definitely heard him talking about your ankle from my open window. It’s a shame I wasn’t fast enough to catch a glance of your—”

You slapped his arm before he could finish his sentence. Doctor or not, he’s still an incorrigible flirt.

“Ow! Now, is that any way to treat the doctor who rushed all this way to treat you?” He bent down to grab your ankle with utmost care.

“We live in the same mansion, doc,” you huff, but you don’t pull away when he wrapped it up for you.

Your thoughts drifted back to Dazai.

“…I quite liked the feeling of your arms around me.”

He and Arthur seem to share that trait: Getting a reaction out of you through words alone. One thing’s for sure, your mind was going to keep replaying today’s events for the rest of the day until your heart decides to stop racing from the thrill of it.

[harrywritingsbyme]

Story: y/n feels sorry for being herself. sometimes she has trouble accepting and loving herself..even tho she has no problem loving Harry, with all his flaws. he definitely helps her with that ;)

Beautiful

Anonymous Said: 11 and 20 from the prompt list

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I got a request for 11 and 20 from the prompt list and they fit perfectly with this. I definitely wrote this with myself, my own struggles, and the struggles of the other beautiful ladies out there in mind. I also wanted to make it a lil bit deeper by incorporating some post-pregnancy y/n had Harry up in there. Also, I wanted do something real fluffy bc what I have planned for Friday is insane. Enjoy🙃

11. “Fuck you have no idea what you do to me.”

20. “Such a beautiful body, why would anyone hate it?”

You were really going through it this morning. For starters, when you woke up you were immediately drawn towards going back to sleep and recouping some of the sleep you’d lost recently. On top of that, your nipples were incredibly sore from breastfeeding and your body was still drained and recovering from giving birth three months ago. But luckily for you though, you were blessed with an amazing husband who didn’t hesitate to take care of you guys’ baby boy. You didn’t even have to ask him, as soon as he saw the exhausted and overwhelmed look on your face when you two woke up to the loud cries of your son, he immediately sprung into action and ordered you to stay in bed and take care of yourself while he tended to the baby and gave you your space. You were able to get a bit more sleep and feel way better than you did earlier on in the morning. Another hour and a half of sleep did wonders for you at this point in your life. That small window of time allowed you to feel rested enough to get up out of bed and get yourself together.

You wasted absolutely no time stripping your sleep clothes off and hopping right into the shower. The water was the perfect temperature and you just stood under it. The hot water pouring down onto your body felt absolutely amazing and you could hands down feel your stress and tension just melting away from it. You were relaxed. Even though you loved your son with your entire being and then some, it was hard. You were so grateful for Harry and you felt like you shouldn’t have any complaints at all.  But it’s just that you weren’t used to having anyone depend on you the way your son just about solely depends on you. So times like these where you were granted a little time to regroup were cherished and seized.

After a nice long shower that was filled with pampering, you turn the water off and you step out to get yourself dried off and dressed. You wrap the fluffy towel from the counter around your body and you head back into the bedroom to grab some clothes. After picking out your daily attire of a t-shirt and sweats, you station yourself on the bed to get ready. But unfortunately for you, you’d stationed yourself right in front of the full body mirror. The second you unwrap your towel from your body, the good feeling that was flowing through you vanished and was replaced with a sad and embarrassed one. This feeling hadn’t reared it’s ugly head in a good while. You hadn’t had the time since the baby was born to take a good look at yourself; and you were starting to feel like you were better off that way.

You always struggled when it came to you having a positive viewpoint of yourself, and in particular your weight. You were constantly battling against the negativity that was coming at you from almost every part of your life. You were in an uphill battle with losing weight and getting to a place where you felt comfortable all the way around. Whenever you took strides to get to that better place, you were always pulled back down. That force was the little comments from family members, people online, and yourself. Whenever you saw or heard what people had to say, you let yourself be overcome with that negativity and in turn it was harder to keep going and push forward. You felt like all your efforts were going to waste and you were never going to see results, inside and out. And at some point you just stopped loving yourself. You managed to love Harry despite his flaws but you couldn’t seem to do it for you. You pretty much gave up on loving yourself. And to make it even worse, you put all of the love inside of you that was supposed to be dedicated to yourself into loving others. The only way you got out of that enormous rut was because of Harry. He made sure to consistently and constantly reassure you that you were beautiful and worth loving. He did daily affirmations and did everything in his power to help you get back on track and work towards your goals.

And for a year you were able to have success in doing that.

After a little over a year of loving yourself, working towards your weight goal, and just feeling good, you got pregnant. When the news broke, you and Harry were over the moon. The two of you were extremely happy and in love that you both could’ve just burst from joy. You were head over heels for Harry and for yourself, and Harry was head over heels for you and the fact that you were head over heels for yourself. Everything was the way it was supposed to be and it was only getting better now that you guys were expecting a bundle of joy. Fortunately for you both, you were able to glide through your pregnancy with only minor hiccups along the way. Since you were always exhausted and you were actively changing, your solid workout and extensive selfceare routines fell by the wayside. You were so tired and just not in the mood that you couldn’t even do the low intensity workouts that your doctor said were okay. The only things you had were your mental wellbeing which was fine, and Harry. You felt bad that you weren’t keeping yourself up the way you’d been doing for the past year and you came down on yourself for it at times. But of course, Harry nipped it right in the bud and brought you back. You couldn’t imagine what you’d do without him throughout all of this.

So seeing yourself in the mirror and taking in your body now was incredibly disheartening and to you it was like a slap in the face to all the hard work you put in along with the tremendous amount of support from Harry. You fully understood that your body wouldn’t be the same after giving birth but you were hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad as it was. That is, as bad as you thought it was. Because you were constantly fighting with those negative thoughts and trying your hardest to love yourself the way you deeply love Harry, everyone else, and now your son, you tended to over exaggerate in your mind how bad something was. If you saw something you didn’t like, you didn’t like it all. And as a result of that, you spent a good amount of time standing there in front of the mirror critiquing your body and asking yourself over and over again how in the hell am I supposed to get back to normal?. You were so engrossed in overanalyzing and critiquing that you didn’t even notice Harry come back into the room.

While you were having some alone time, Harry went into full dad mode. He was able to get bubs to quiet down and let his dad take care of him. He did a quick diaper change so that bubs could be comfortable while Harry made himself something quick breakfast. He played with the baby for a while before giving him a lukewarm bath to get him cleaned up for the day, and he fed bubs, lulling the little boy right into a milk induced sleep. And hopefully, it’d stick for an hour or two so that he could spend some time with his wife. When he makes his way into the room, Harry’s feeling good. He got the baby squared away and taken care of, and his wife was taking some much needed time to herself. He knew that it was a big adjustment for you and he wanted to take as much off of you as possible because you deserved it. After your struggles in the past with your weight and loving yourself, Harry could only imagine how difficult it must be to keep yourself in a good headspace and just enjoy motherhood to the fullest without focusing on the “negatives”.

That’s why when he saw you looking at your naked body in the mirror with a downcast and almost disgusted look on your face towards your reflection, Harry knew exactly what was going on and he had to step in. You were doing so well and the last thing he wanted was for you to fall back into that deep hole of negativity that you worked so hard to get out of. He immediately makes his way over and stands right in front of you so that he’s blocking your view of the mirror. When he does this, your head still hangs low and you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him.

“I look horrible.” You whisper sorrowfully. At this, Harry extends his hands out to cup your cheeks and lift your head up to look at him.

“Baby…” He coos, seeing the saddened look in your glassy eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, you always have been. You’re even more beautiful now.”

“No I’m not. Everything is worse and I won’t be able to get back from this.” You sigh pessimistically.

“Yes it’ll take time, but you can do it and I’ll be right here by your side to help you through.” He begins, lovingly reassuring you of his full commitment to you. Harry then lets go of your cheeks and moves so that he’s behind your body and so that you can see the mirror again before wrapping his arms around your naked waist. “When I look at you, I see a badass and a strong woman. I see the woman who carried and delivered our son. I see the beautiful mother of my child. I see the woman I married three years ago. I see you Y/n, the love of my life.” He whispers, trying his hardest to hold back his own tears. Seeing you be so harsh towards yourself was not okay with him and it tore him apart. You are his rock, and to see you falling apart was causing him to break down himself.

“I just- I hate it.”

“Such a beautiful body, why would anyone hate it?” He whispers, trying to reason with you. “You’re beautiful.” He reminds pointedly. “Now say it with me.” He instructs further.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m beautiful.” The both of you say in unison repeatedly, every time Harry gives you a kiss to your neck. As this continues on, Harry couldn’t stop himself from stiffening up in his pants. The two of you hadn’t been this intimate in a good while and he missed it. He knew that you were still feeling insecure and that his purpose was to reassure you that you’re not what you’re saying you are and that he loves you so much. That’s why Harry was absolutely loving the idea of making love to you so that you could really see how amazing you are and the effect you have on him.

While his kisses and affirmations continue, Harry’s hand slowly strays away from your lower stomach. He slowly but surely makes his way down to the area between your legs, cupping you in his hand with his fingertip resting on your button between your folds. He then begins to circle his finger around your button. You hadn’t felt his fingers in a good while, and you had to admit that they felt really good against you right now. When your pants and small moans begin to hasten and you begin to enjoy him more, Harry swiftly turns you around to face him before lifting you up and lying you down on the bed. Once you’re lying on the bed, Harry quickly undresses himself  before lying on top of you.

“Fuck you have no idea what you do to me.” Harry admires, taking in all of your amazing features. He then begins to work your body, starting with your neck and working his way down. He peppers kisses all across your skin and he continues with his affirmation as he kisses down and up your body. “Wanna make you feel good, wanna make love to you. Can I baby?” Harry asks softly, bringing his lips to yours.

“Please?” You sigh needfully up to him. You really needed to feel good. When you give him this answer, Harry is quick to keep himself propped up on one hand as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. When you feel him nudging at your hole, you reach up to pull his face down and connect your lips with his before lifting your hips up a little to give him the signal to keep going. As he pushes into you, you both keep your mouth’s against each others, moaning into one another as he enters you. It felt a bit weird, but it felt really good. You felt full and Harry was filling you. Everything was perfect.

Harry continues to slowly and deeply rock his hips into you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear through his moans and  keeping two fingers on your clit. The both of you were on cloud nine. You were being fully pleasured by Harry and he was pleasuring you and you feel special the way you deserved while receiving amazing pleasure as well. Since the both of you were a bit more sensitive due to the fact that there were so many emotions involved, you and Harry reached the edge pretty quickly. The pleasure was outstanding and you both needed to let go and fully experience it all.

“Wanna cum with me darling?” Harry coos through a moan, continuing to rock into you and rub at your clit.

“So bad.” You whine, feeling his cock hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

“I love you so much baby.” Harry grunts down to you, deeply pushing in one final time  as he begins to let go inside you.

“I love you too!” You gasping response, feeling your own release wash over your entire being. It was amazing to say the least.

“Y’so beautiful.” He says again as he rides the wave of his release. When he says this, he is subliminally signaling for you to repeat it.

“I’m beautiful.” You say softly, still feeling the major shocks of your release.

One round of loving wouldn’t do the ultimate trick in changing how you felt, but it was definitely a good place to start.

Masterlist

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Fate” - Paul Lahote

Request: The reader (shy!fem!reader) meets Paul (twilight) in the woods while he is in wolf form and he imprints on her. Coz the reader is shy and has no friends (lol) she befriends the 'wolf'. So when they have been friends for a while Paul finally transforms into his human form and explains everything and then fluff? Thank you 😊❤️

The crunching of leaves. That’s all I can hear now. I continued walking forward, loving the noise and the smell of the pine trees around me. 

This was my daily routine now, for the last week. The woods were always my safe place, where I went to clear my head. It’s where I always spent my free time, my time for my personal thoughts.  

I had just moved to Forks about three week ago, I came from Oregon. I wanted to be closer to the Olympic National Forest, and for some reason, it just called to me. It called to be my new home. 

I spent the first couple of weeks unpacking and settling, but the newfound freedom and time to explore the great forests around my small town were beyond enticing. 

The loneliness was setting in, pushing me to go into the woods more and more. Even though I was still lonely out here, it was much better than being alone in the house. I missed my family and friends, but living here was something that just felt like I was doing something… right. 

The loneliness out here wasn’t as deafening than in my small home. I felt better surrounded by trees, listening to the sounds of nature, or the lack of normal everyday sound; it was music to my ears. 

As I pressed forward, I found the new clearing I chose the other day. This one a little bigger than the last, more calming to me. 

I put my blanket down, played some soothing music; a beautiful composition. I took out my sketchbook, drawing my surroundings. 

That’s when I heard the grass shift across the clearing. The leaves crunching, a shift in the atmosphere. The feeling washed over me, I was no longer alone. 

I felt my breath hitch as I tore my eyes away from the sketchbook, looking across the clearing. 

I saw a wolf. An enormous wolf. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve seen wolves, and they’re not anywhere near the size of this. I wouldn’t even come up to the shoulder on this one, it had to be about 6 feet tall on all fours. This couldn’t be real.

I blink hard, but when I open my eyes, it doesn’t go away, my sight was not deceiving me. 

That’s when it happened, our eyes connected. I couldn’t break the eye contact, neither did the massive creature. 

The wind got knocked out of me, I felt something in me shift. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t fear. 

No, fear was the last thing from my mind. What I felt was peace. I couldn’t imagine why I felt so at peace with a creature that could kill me faster than I could blink, but it’s all I felt. 

I broke the eye contact away, hoping that I didn’t make the situation worse and frighten the wolf. 

It walks a bit closer, head low. I still feel that feeling, the feeling of someone sitting on my chest-- but in the best way. 

“Jesus.” I mutter as it moves closer. 

The paws were easily the size of my head, thumping along the path to me. I felt the ground move as it got closer. 

A look of curiosity and caution painted the enormous face, eyes never tearing from mine. 

“Holy shit.” I mutter again.

It stops in its tracks, about five feet from me, looking at me as if it was asking for permission to approach closer. 

I gulp and swallow the lump in my throat. The sense of peace and calm is still radiating through my body. I stood up from my spot, feeling as if it was the best thing to do at this moment. 

The wolf nods its head towards me, in which I nod back. 

It walks closer before bowing its head, eyes still looking into mine. I see my reflection in the iris. Its eyes were that of a beautiful chocolate brown. I admire the rest of the wolf up close, noticing all of the different grey and silver tones in its beautiful fur. I cautiously reach my hand out, knuckles out, offering it to smell me before I even thought about petting it. 

As I outstretch my hand, I feel the enormous head under my palm. I begin to graze my fingertips along the top of its head, daring to dance my fingertips upon the center top of its snout. 

Its ears laid back against the massive head, leaning more weight into my touch. The fur was so soft, I found myself growing more and more comfortable with the presence of this being. I was way too close now, I lost all sense of caution. 

I smiled at the wolf as I returned the eye contact. It moved even closer, standing against my side. I laid my head upon the side of where its shoulder began. I never felt so small before. I felt a little grumble come from the wolf’s chest before it backed up, and laid down next to my blanket. I plopped myself back down. 

I caught the wolf’s eyes wandering over to my drawing of the clearing. 

“You like art or something?” I chuckled softly, knowing how silly it may seem to be talking to this wolf, though deep down I felt we had some kind of understanding.

The wolf nodded, before placing its head on my leg. The head was heavier than I imagined, but I enjoyed it. It was a soothing weight. The nod must have been coincidental, I tell myself. 

I then begin to scratch behind its ears, and laying the rest of my body down, head still on the front of my thigh. 

“This is the best, well only, company I’ve had in a month.” I smile to myself, once again trying to converse with the creature. 

I heard a large huff of air and felt the warmth on my thigh grow, the breath passing through my jeans.  

I check the time on my phone, seeing that it was later than I thought. The wolf and I sat here for hours, though they passed quickly. 

“I should leave now, sunset is approaching. I gotta get out of here before dark. After all, who knows what’s in here.” I chuckle as I begin to sit up, getting my things together into my backpack. 

The wolf looks at me, puffs again, and almost seems to roll its eyes. I could’ve sworn it looked just like it did. 

As I begin walking, I notice the wolf walking beside me. 

“Ah, walking me to my car? A gentleman, I see.” I laugh softly to myself. 

As we approach the end of the forest, the beginning of the treeline and my parked car in sight, the wolf looks down at me. 

I return the eye contact, and scratch behind the ear again, earning the leaning of the massive head into my hand. 

“This is an everyday thing for me. Same place tomorrow.” I say laughing at how ridiculous I sound. 

I earn another nod from the wolf and can’t help but feel that it truly understands what I’m saying. 

I walk over to my car, the distance between the wolf and I growing. I felt empty as the space grew, a newer feeling. I walked over to my car and looked back to see the wolf standing where I left it. 

I wave goodbye, earning a nod from the massive being. I get into my car and watch it run away, faster than I’ve seen anything move. 

The drive home was quick, as it mostly consisted of replaying the days events. 

I knew for certain that I was either insane or blessed. 

Sleeping tonight came easier than ever before. No nightmares, though the eyes of the beautiful creature filled my dreams that night. 

I woke up the next morning feeling at ease, but also if something was missing. I was almost counting down the minutes until I got to go back to my little clearing. Hopefully doing some work will make the day pass faster. 

I ferociously finish my work for the day, hoping that it would make time pass. Though my mind continuously wanders back to yesterday. 

Was it even real?

What if the creature didn’t show up today? Would I just have imagined the understanding that I thought we had? Was the connection just an imagination? 

No, I know what I saw. I am not insane, I am not making any of this up. 

As the agonizing hours passed, I sat and drew. I found myself drawing the eyes of the creature.  They were all I could see all day. 

I look over at the clock and basically spring off of my couch, grabbing my keys and backpack to head back out to the woods. 

I walk over into the clearing and sit in my previous spot on the blanket. This time I had some snacks with me, as I didn’t eat today from being so distracted. 

I began to peel my orange when I heard the snapping of a branch behind me. I took a sip of my water as I turned to look at what was behind me. 

The deep, chestnut brown eyes looking down at me. I felt such a connection to this wolf, I felt safe. 

It then moves next to where I sat, laying down once more. 

I place my orange down back onto the brown paper bag.

“Blueberries?” I outstretch my hand with a few berries in it, offering it to the creature. 

His snout found my hand, hot breath finding its way into my palm. The rough tongue and soft scraping of teeth against my palm as it took the berries from my hand.

I smile before getting some more, offering again. The wolf once again took the food from my hand. 

I truly enjoyed the company, though it did confuse me more than anything. I couldn’t describe the connection I felt to this magical being, but it was there. 

I began to make some small talk to the wolf, though I know I would not get a response. 

“You’re my first and only friend, bud. I moved here a little less than a month ago. Still unsure of what brought me here, but I think things are starting to add up. I just miss having people around, ya know?” I look over to the creature, noticing that their eyes never left my face. 

The wolf nods, putting his head back into my leg and nuzzling into me. I scratch behind their ears. 

“Anyway, I left Oregon to come here. I miss my friends and family, but I think I’ll be happier here. So far, I’m loving the new scenery. I used to spend a lot of time in the woods back there, it’s where I have my personal thoughts, where I unwind. Now that I’m here, I already have a buddy so soon. I always did it alone, but here you are. Even though you can’t talk, I enjoy your company.” I spoke softly to the being. 

Its eyes never broke from mine, just like always. 

“Your eyes are magnificent.” I softly chuckled. 

The wolf nuzzles closer to me, and I lay down on my blanket. 

This is how I spent my days now. This continued for weeks. Getting closer to this beautiful creature, befriending the most beautiful being that ever existed on the planet. 

Until one day, when I showed up to the clearing at the usual time. My new friend nowhere in sight. 

I sat down in our usual spot, waiting for the arrival of the creature. 

I waited for about ten minutes before I finally heard the relieving crunching of twigs and leaves behind me. 

“It’s about time you showed up, I got worried.” I bit back my smile. 

The wolf had a telling look in its eyes today, almost nervous. 

I scratched behind the large ear, once again being leaned into. I grew to really love this. 

As soon as I sat down, I noticed the wolf didn’t follow suit as per usual. 

It looked me in the eyes, nodding its head to the treeline. My eyes followed as the wolf walked behind the brush. 

I stood up, but didn’t follow the being out of the clearing. I watched from the treeline as it disappeared just out of view. 

Then I heard it. 

The shifting of bones. The brush disturbed from movement. 

I back up cautiously. 

A moment later, a tall, muscular man walks out of the tree line. 

I back up a bit out of surprise. I observed him in his entirety. His cutoff jean shorts, t-shirt, and beat up old shoes. Beautiful russet skin, cropped black hair, and... deep chestnut brown eyes. 

Those eyes. The ones that engulfed me into a state of peace with every look. I would recognize those eyes in a sea of people. 

The tall man smiles at me, walking closer. 

I don’t back up this time, confused yet comforted by the look in his eyes. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, I was drawn to him. 

“(Y/N), it’s me.” The man says. 

“How do you know my name?” I question. 

“Well, you told me a few weeks ago. Well, my other form.” He chuckles. 

“Okay, maybe I am nuts.” I laugh softly. 

“No, you’re not. Well, after listening to you for weeks, you might be. But, I have a lot of explaining to do. I’m Paul by the way.” He chuckles. 

“Hi Paul.”

We walk over to my blanket and he sits with me. 

“So, I guess I’ll explain to you what I am.” He says, slightly smirking at me. 

“I think you should, I’m very confused right now.” I smile back. 

“Well, I’m what you would call a shapeshifter. I shift into a wolf. You met me in that form.” His chestnut brown eyes peering into my soul, pleading for my attention. 

“But how? Why?” I manage to speak. 

“Well, we’re not the only magical beings. But it’s a Quileute legend, well clearly a lot more than a legend… I’m a protector of the land and people. But these are tribal secrets.” He says, still never breaking eye contact. 

“Protector? From what?” I was now concerned. 

“Well, vampires.” He answered, laughing at how crazy it sounds to say out loud, to explain to an outsider. 

“Vampires are real? And they’re here?” I ask, slightly getting fearful. 

“Yes. There’s been some coming into the area for some, not for anything good. There’s a coven here, though they’re what you call ‘good ones,’ only feeding off animals instead of humans.” He explains. 

“Wow, this is insane. But, how did you find me?” 

“Well, one of the other members of the pack picked up your scent, as well as one of the vampires we were looking for. So we took turns watching to make sure they didn’t hunt you. Which by the way, you should not be spending so much time in the woods alone. Have you ever heard of bears? Or murderers? Have you learned anything from horror movies?” He laughed. 

“Yes. I have. But it’s just, it’s what feels right for me.” I admitted. 

“I understand. You seem like one with nature.” He laughs.

“So you guys protected me?” I jump back a step.

“Yeah, well we took turns while the others went other places.” 

“Oh, so why did you stay for weeks? And why did you hang out with me?” “Well, when it was my turn, something happened. And then I couldn’t leave you. I needed to be the one who watched over you. I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to meet you. We connected.” 

“I know, I felt that. I feel like I’ve known you for ages. But what happened? How are we connected? Why do I get to know the tribal secrets?” I asked, I needed to understand. 

“Well, you’ve taken this so well. So there’s this thing. It’s called imprinting.” He finally looks down at his hands. 

“Imprinting?” I question.

He looks back into my eyes. 

“Well, it’s kinda like soulmates. Like love at first sight, almost. Although, it doesn’t have to be romantic. It’s kind of like-- when it happens, whoever a wolf imprints on, becomes the world. There is no gravity, it’s them holding you down to the Earth. You would do anything, be anything for them. A brother, a protector, a lover. It’s super intense, but it happens to some of us. And well, you’re my imprint.” 

I looked at him and nodded. I was trying to take this all in, it all made sense as to why I felt so strongly connected. Why I felt so at peace, why I loved being so close. 

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. I understand. But just know that it is dangerous for us to be apart. It’ll hurt us both-- emotionally, physically, mentally. However, you hold the reins here.” He gave me a soft smile. 

“This is a lot. You’re right. But, I feel so connected to you. I wanna be around you, I love being around you. I’m so glad you’re actually a real person. However, I do want to take this slow. I want to get to know you as a person, not just the wolf. I want to meet the real you. I want to expand the friendship before any kind of romantic relationship blossoms too fast.” I say honestly. 

“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe you can come to the bonfire at La Push tonight. I think it’ll help you understand more. Plus then you’ll meet the rest of the pack. We could work on the friends thing, too.” He smiles from ear to ear, probably excited at the mention of a romantic relationship. 

We talked for hours, more about us personally than the imprinting thing, wolf thing, or vampire thing-- we saved that for the bonfire. 

The bonfire went well. I met the whole pack. A lot of banter and rough housing between the guys, especially when the imprint jokes came around. 

I took a liking to Leah, though she was rough on the outside I felt that we would be great friends. 

Over the next few weeks, Paul and I spent almost all our free time together. Things were great. Of course the friends thing didn’t last too long, how could I not want to have this amazing man as my partner? He was caring, sweet, protective, and even handsomer than anyone else I had ever seen. Our relationship was one purer than anything I could’ve ever imagined. 

Getting closer to the pack was great, I always had friends around. I loved Emily and helping her cook for the bottomless pit-stomached boys. It was like I was meant to be around, I guess that’s fate for you. 

Most of all, I cherished every moment I had with Paul. Stealing hoodies and having more fun than I’ve ever had before. 

I loved Paul Lahote more than I could put into words. No words were needed. 

This was happiness, this was pure bliss. 

We spent our days on hikes, fooling around and rough housing at the beach, and doing whatever we could do together. 

He whispered sweet-nothings into my ear at any given chance, causing me to smile, blushing like a maniac. His warm hugs and cuddles, sleeping next to him only brought me peaceful sleep I desired my entire life. 

Fate truly is something. 

_____________________________

Word Count: 3280

Yes this was long. No I’m not sorry. Yes I enjoyed it. Might have been a swift transition, but it’s super long and idc. Thank you for coming folks 

[heli0s-writes]

It Is Knowing*

HI THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. It’s been a wonderful ride. Here’s the last part of Bag of Tricks. It’s tender and smutty and stupid. All mistakes are my own.

Please stop reading if you are not over 18!

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

He’s terrified.

Suddenly he’s looking at you one way, and then in a flash, the same dumb grin you always give him— the crooked one on the cusp of an ill joke— turns bright white.

It goes brilliant like star fire and during a storm inside a standard-issued cabin hideout, Bucky thinks he must be losing his mind.

And maybe he’s been losing it for a few weeks now, but he’s done a great job dodging the reality of your confession so far. Doesn’t matter what you mumbled—cracked out on exhaustion and sleep-talking—because in the end, you’re his friend and you love him the same way you love everyone else: annoyingly. Nothing’s changed about that.

He hazards another glimpse.

“Help?” You ask from the table, angrily scratching out blocks of an attempted crossword puzzle.

Do it in pencil, he tried to warn earlier, but you only called him chickenshit because you’re—yep—annoying.  

“Foudre,” Bucky says carefully and you perk up at the sound of his voice. “It’s a… six-letter French word for thunder.” He clears his throat, gesturing toward the window splattered with rain.

“Oh-ho-ho,” you snort, “Smart boy, aren’t ya? FOO-DRUH.” An incredible bastardization of the term, and you sing around a chewed-up pen cap between your teeth. “My name’s Smart-Boy-Bucky and I know French, Russian, and Updog.”

“What the hell is Updog?”

Your face steels.

“Nothing much, how ‘bout you?”

And instead of going over there to kick your ass, all he can do is stare wordlessly as you break into a laugh—his entire body electric like a live wire.

-

He keeps telling himself there are only a few days before someone drops in to collect. He just needs a little bit of distance, some time alone to clear his head and get over this—thing.

But his brain feels like it’s melting while he waits, his stomach is probably developing an ulcer, and his heart is so fast and fierce that he can almost see the pulse in his sternum throbbing errantly.

Too many things are wrong. You’re his friend— and Bucky wants to throttle himself a little bit for ever letting you be his friend. You’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass and he doesn’t like that at all. You cry over animals and when he gets hurt because you’re an insufferable drama queen, too. He hates that. He does.

The sound of something enormous slamming on the ground makes him dash into the shared bedroom and—oh god, Bucky thinks he’s going to throw up.

First, the mattresses are on the floor.

Second, you’re. wearing. that. stupid. shirt.

The blue one. The one he used to love, hated for a bit, came back around to wearing, and now—yep, he officially hates it again.

“I think you’re too tall for the bunk.” You’re pushing the beds together, unaware of his clenched fists. “So if we sleep diagonally your feet won’t hang off—and can you believe it—” you point to the hem of cerulean brushing against your skin, “I packed three raincoats and no pajamas.”

At the sight of your creeping smile, Bucky loses it.

“Why are you going through my stuff?!” He shouts, gripping the doorframe with enough force to take the molding clear off. “Why are you touching my shit!?” And he probably sounds insane, flying off the handle like this, but he’s got a million grievances against you and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Mind your own fucking business!” He’s still unloading, unreasonably frantic at the sight of that terrible color hanging from your shoulders.

Bewildered, you plop down clumsily on your knees, gawking like a deer in the headlights.

Your bare legs, your fingertips on your thighs, the thin sleeves oversized and loose on your forearms, that smear of toothpaste on the collar, the hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath—it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you dizzy.

It makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you.

He’s sick. He’s dying. He’s so, so fucked.

“What…” Bucky quietly trails off, gasping helplessly as realization sinks in, “…what the hell is wrong with you...”

“Me?!” You shriek back, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m over here worried about your crusty feet hanging off at night and you just swing in and take a dump on me?”

Bucky groans, miserable and guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Shit. I’m—I don’t know.”

“Eat my ass, dude!” you sneer, already tucked under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep. Turn off the fucking light you’re going to stand there looking like a dumbass.”

A feeble sigh as Bucky pushes his hands into his face, gripping his hair, pulling his own head back until he’s glaring at the ceiling, listening to the patter on the roof.

“You’re the dumbass,” he whispers.

You’re the dumbass with the emotional regulation problem. The idiot with the temper. The head full of sawdust. But, if it only took three careless words from your blundering mouth to make Bucky fall entirely apart, you must be right after all. He is the dumbass.

He feels split open like the sky—torn up completely, unable to make out anything in his own turbulence.

Fuck.

The sheets shift until he hears them slide off. Then, a pattern of bare feet across hardwood. He must look disastrous in the doorway, bent out of shape in uncharacteristic disarray.

“What is going on with you?” You find his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrists, tugging until they peel off his wretched face. “Why are you so upset? I wear your clothes all the time; I’m always in your stuff.”

He chuckles defeatedly because you really are always in his space. Throwing yourself into in his room. Eating chips in his bed. Squirreling away in his brain. Everywhere. Always.

Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, grimacing as he looks at you. Wordless and vulnerable, he can feel his brow sinking lower, throat narrowing around a swallow as he attempts to fix himself. A stutter falls out, then another, crackling syllables like surfacing thunder but never quite forming a sentence.

The earth groans, shaking the cabin and his precarious soul.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like—”

And then, under a streak of lightning, recognition splits across your face.

“Don’t,” he pleads to the silence, “Don’t say it.”

The seconds stretch into horrible eons of slow passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes going from his face to his hands, limp at his side with your own fingers still grasping on.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you say gently, “You’re—my best friend.”

Bucky shuts his eyes. “I know. I’m not trying—"

“Bucky,” you interrupt, faster now. “Bucky,” suddenly elated and laughing. “Bucky—shut up.”

And then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorching trails everywhere they touch, and Bucky burns up like a solar flare trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, kissing him again. His cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “A real idiot.”

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million possible outcomes and failing painfully each time. Relationships never quite work out for him; he’s dated a few girls and liked them a lot, too, but they’ve never turned out how he wanted them to. And this one—this one, he really can’t fuck up.

He’s got a bad track record, and with you, never knowing is much better than losing.

“Hey, you’re going crazy in there. I can hear it.” A sweet smile as your lips hover over his. The sweetest your face as ever looked. “Stop thinking, Bucky. Kiss me.”

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The dip of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your neck and the way your hair moves— wispy strands framing your face. Sounds of happiness tumbling out, hand firmly inside of his.

“It’s just me.” Joyful. Comfortable. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer—a familiar color calling him home.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was the more competent linguist in their old days. Rolling French r’s, dropping ending consonants, silky smooth in pronunciation. Bucky’s tongue had always been more supplant to the Eastern European languages but, he knows enough of French—remembers enough from the war to recognize this:

Coup de foudre.

It’s the thing romantics exalt, the thing that half-strikes him now. The thunderbolt.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all.

It’s not infatuated or starry-eyed. Not blind. Not feeling.

It is knowing.

And yeah, Bucky watches the way you pull him to the floor, euphoric and aglow, Jesus H. Christ, he knows.

This is it for him: your chaos, your entropy, your impulse. Your lack of personal space and foresight and good fucking sense. But—your kindness, too. Your care. Your heart.

Calm and patient as you settle down into his lap, the warm weight of you seems to be the only thing keeping him on earth.

“Can I touch you?” You ask shyly.

His voice is barely audible, hands unsure of where to rest, heart swollen in his throat.

Bucky flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself do it, you coward, just fucking do it—and god help him, he does.

He presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collar and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs and instinctively pulling everything off.

You’re both surprised and excited, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too.

His shirt gets flung behind your back. Both pants disappear somewhere else. One hand goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

Bucky stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

He feels perfect in your hands. A silly grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and glide yourself over his length, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Bucky begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s unquestionably powerless.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Buck.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Bucky holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second--"

Using the position you’re already in, he lifts you up and brings you back down, a bit at a time until you’re landing on his hand with a gasp. He uses his fist as a stopper, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Thor?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a hook up. One time—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Bucky wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking on top, tipping him backward into the cushions, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Bucky, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck. 

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Bucky could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

-

It’s rougher in the morning. In the shower, soaking together. Faster.

On the couch, next. With him asking you to put your hand here, move your leg there.

He wants to learn everything you like, too.

You eagerly change positions, giggling when your knee slips and you pitch forward onto his chest. The two of you take a moment to compose yourselves, pinching each other, kissing in-between. He commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you. The way everything moves easy and wonderful, sometimes lazy, sometimes harried, but always fun.

Yelping when you bite too hard. Biting you back even harder. Positions neither of you have surprisingly tried before, but why not start?

Cursing. So much cursing. A lot of it good—fuck me, yes, more, don’t stop—but truthfully, most of it stays about the same.

Barnes, you got a juicy ass.

Will you shut up!

And he never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or if maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Bucky’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the front door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Sam swings it open and Bucky is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” Sam hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Sam!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a sweater, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Bucky is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers again, “Oh… my god.” He sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” he hisses, before screaming, “Oh hell no! I’m here picking y’all asses up. Landed the damn jet like two miles away, walked my happy ass through the rain— you butt-ass-naked in here—” He stands ram-rod straight, hands on his hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on y’all.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Sam!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m wet! And well— you wet too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Sam snickers, high-fiving himself before crossing his arms, “Really though, believe me when I say this for everybody who’s ever met you two: finally. Now get y’all freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Barnes’ dick.”

You pat him on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Sam dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Bucky locks the door to a now silent cabin, damp with sweat and the smell of earth. It’s torrential still, two days bucketing and the ground is so wet mud goes up to his ankles. Luckily, and he wants to laugh at that, you packed two extra raincoats.

Thunderclaps shake the very ground he stands on. Bucky turns to look at you, marveling when electricity bounces off your eyes, lighting up your face. He reaches over.

A squeeze to your hand that says I’m yours.

One more, tighter. I love you.

You slot your fingers between his. I know.

You smile at the next streak in the sky. Me too.

[makoodlesarchive]

learning curve

Yes hello we’re back with another installment of dragon dick kiri lmao sorry if ur getting bored of this but i’m obsessed

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, dragon dick kiri, uhhhh lots of cum?

Tip Jar!           ||      dragon dick kiri masterlist

this takes place in between part one and part two!

                        »»————-　♡　————-««

Intimacy with Kirishima comes with somewhat of an adjustment period. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering his inexperience with sex in general and your inexperience with sex involving cocks that look as though they’ve been pulled from the pages of an overzealous erotic fantasy novel, but your first time together had gone so well and had been so effortlessly sexy that you had come to the conclusion that every time would be like that.

You were, tragically, wrong.

The second time you two try to have sex (four days after the first time, because you had been walking funny for days afterwards) had been cut short because Kirishima had gotten it into his head that he came too quickly the first time, and he was determined to hold out for as long as possible the second time so he could make you feel good. It was incredibly sweet, in theory, but in practice it resulted in him straining so hard to avoid his oncoming orgasm that he accidentally bit through his lip. The sight of blood had set you panicking, and any sexual action was quickly cut short in favour of scrambling for tissues.

The third time, you had thought that it would be a cute idea to join Kirishima in the shower when he had returned from a long day of work. It had started out innocent enough, but then the inevitable hand-wandering had started and before you knew it Kirishima had hauled you up against the shower wall. What you had expected to be an effortlessly steamy experience turned into the two of you snorting with laughter as you realised that every time you rubbed against each other resulted in the most unsexy squelching noises thanks to your wet skin and the spray of the water. Determined to compromise, you slid to your knees and grinned up at him from your position between his legs. You were probably squinting pretty unattractively so you could see through the shower spray, but Kirishima was so excited that he didn’t seem to notice. 

He was, in fact, too excited -- within moments of you wrapping your lips around the head of his dick he shivered hard and swayed a little on his feet, only to slip on the slick wet ceramic tiles in the shower. Having the entirety of your boyfriends vast, heavily muscled body weight come crashing down on you while you were in such a vulnerable position was terrifying, made even worse by the fact that his enormous dick damn near pistol whipped you across the face. You’re not sure who was shrieking the loudest as you both writhed in the perilously enclosed space of the shower, limbs tangled together and blinded by water, but either way the crash from the fall and subsequent screeching was enough to summon Bakugou, who showed his concern by hammering on the bathroom door and roaring at you to shut the hell up.

In the days following that particular incident, a tender bruise blooms across your cheekbone from where Kirishima’s dick had slapped you. It’s pretty sore to touch, but it’s not the biggest deal ever and honestly you find it kind of funny -- plus, it’s not like it’s Kirishima’s fault that he’s got a cock like a lead pipe.

Kirishima, on the other hand, does not find it funny. Every time he catches sight of the bruise on your face his expression twists up into a guilty little grimace and he can’t quite meet your eyes. It doesn’t help that people keep asking about it, and even though you’re able to wave off any questions that come your way with a grin, you notice Kirishima shrinking a little every time. You try to convince him that it’s no big deal and it didn’t even hurt that much (which was a lie, because at the time you seriously thought that it was gonna take an eye out), but he still frets constantly and his new reluctance to touch you is obvious. You can’t lie, it’s disappointing. But as disheartening as your apparent inability to fuck your boyfriend without incurring bodily harm is, you can only imagine that it’s so much worse for Kirishima considering that the amount of times he’s gone all the way with anyone can be counted on one hand, and the amount of times he’s been successful in that can be counted on one finger.

“It’s seriously no big deal, Eiji,” you insist, trying to sound encouraging and positive but instead just sounding wheedling. You can’t be blamed, really, when you’re lying on your boyfriend’s bed in your underwear and desperately hoping he’ll be willing to try again. “Everyone has sex mishaps!”

“I could have knocked you out!” Kirishima shoots back from where he’s standing in front of his closet with his head stuck in a mountain of clothes as he tries to pretend to be busy sorting laundry. You’re not a total idiot though, you can see the little peeks he keeps throwing you over his shoulders.

“Oh please, you could not have knocked me out with a little slap from your dick.” you scoff. You wonder internally if he could, in fact, have knocked you out, and you reluctantly come to the conclusion that he probably could if he hit you in the temples or something. Then again, his dick was insanely sensitive, and you’re pretty sure that the impact of it slapping your face hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“I gave you a black eye!”

“It was a bruised cheekbone, stop being dramatic!” You sit up so you can look at him properly, but his back is still stubbornly turned towards you. “Hey. Eijirou, come on. Look at me.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, but he finally puts down the socks he was pretending to be preoccupied with and turns to face you. “The first time- it was so, so good, and I don’t want to disappoint you with how… bad I am at all this-”

“Hey, stop.” you slip off the bed, kneeling down beside him in the mound of laundry. “You’re not bad at sex. I mean,” you amend thoughtfully, “You don’t have much experience. No one expects you to be a sex god right off the bat! You’re being too hard on yourself. Plus, I guess with what you’re packing there’s bound to be a learning curve, right?”

Kirishima snorts, and finally turns to look at you. “A learning curve.” He repeats, a grin beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” you say stubbornly, “We’ve learned lots already. I can’t have your dick in my mouth too long or I’ll dislocate my jaw. You really like it when I suck on the swollen part at the bottom of your dick. Your teeth are really sharp and you should avoid biting at all costs. And shower sex is a no go. Oh, and I should avoid getting clocked in the face by your cock, because that shit hurts.”

That pulls a short little laugh out of him, which is exactly what you had been hoping for. You grin, energised by that particular success, and when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek you happily wind your hands into his hair. “Thanks for being patient with me.” he murmurs, a little bashful and so, so sweet.

You kiss the tip of his nose in return and wonder if your heart will ever get used to seeing him like this, all soft and smiley and blushy. You hope not; you hope you get to keep these fluttery feelings forever. “Of course,” you say quietly, afraid to break the moment, “We’ve had a few little accidents, but even if I could go back and redo them I wouldn’t. Not every time is gonna be perfect, but who cares? I like you, and I enjoy my time with you. That’s all that matters.”

Kirishima’s eyes blow wide and he clutches at his chest dramatically, lower lip trembling. “Baby… that was so romantic.”

“Oh, shut up.” you pull away, rolling your eyes defensively. Being all earnest and emotionally vulnerable is embarrassing; you have no idea how Kirishima can pull it off like it’s nothing.

“I mean it,” Kirishima insists, following after you, “That was really romantic. And I needed to hear it.”

You smile, pleased. “Good. Now stop being so hard on yourself. We’re in this together, and we will figure out how to master sex with your dick.”

He huffs a laugh even as he scratches at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Need to get on top of that learning curve, huh?”

“The only way to learn is by doing.” you coo at him and then playfully wiggle your hips. You probably look more ridiculous than seductive, but your primary aim is to get Kirishima feeling comfortable.

It works, and a bright smile begins to work its way over Kirishima’s face. When he reaches for you, you press into his touch eagerly. “Wow, you’re really that eager for another sex disaster with my weird dick?”

“Don’t jinx it,” you insist, snaking your hand down the front of his sweatpants until you reach his dick. He’s gone without his usual jockstrap today since it was just the two of you in his room, so you can feel every ridge and bump through the soft jersey fabric. “Besides, I love your weird dick.”

He laughs at that, but presses his crotch into your hand nonetheless. As usual, his dick is filling out pretty rapidly, and there’s a growing wet patch where the head of his cock is beginning to leak precum. “Bed.” he suggests quietly, helping you to your feet and tugging you over to lie down on the sheets with him. When you’re settled comfortably on the bed he pauses, hovering over you and just smiling. 

This is always one of the best parts; the transition from chaste little kisses to heated touches, and the moments in between where Kirishima will look at you with the softest expression of pure reverence. When you reach up and touch his cheek he turns his face into your touch and nuzzles three quick kisses onto your fingers, smiling all the while. You grin back at him, delighted by the relaxed set of his shoulders; you have a good feeling about this. Surely this time will be successful and break the string of bad luck you’ve been having.

Apparently encouraged by your excited smile, Kirishima drops down to give you an open-mouthed kiss. You lean into it, looping your arms around his neck and hiking one of your thighs up over his hip to try and encourage him closer. The soft intimacy of the moment makes your breath catch in your throat just a little; it feels like every square inch of your skin is tingling from the anticipation of waiting for his touch, straining towards him as his fingers skim along your bare thigh so gently that the touch sends goosebumps rippling along your arms. The hand on your thigh adjusts, gripping firmly and pulling your leg further up on his hip so that both of your crotches are pressed together.

The outline of his cock through his sweatpants is hot and heavy, and when he starts up little rocking motions of his hips the hard length of it rubs up against your clit. Even through the fabric of his joggers and your panties the stimulation sends frissons of heat arcing up your spine and leaves you wound up and impatient for more. Luckily, you know you won’t have to wait long -- Kirishima loves winding you up, but his dick is so sensitive that once he gets started he finds it difficult to hold back.

With his free hand, Kirishima reaches up to play with your tits. Rather than waste time trying to unclasp your bra, he just pushes it up so that the bra cups no longer hinder his access to your chest. You try not to laugh as his fingers press into your breasts, because you know that he just likes the feeling of the squish when he squeezes them. He ducks his head and kisses each one, then licks a stripe over your nipple and sucks at it. You’re starting to feel tingly and very sensitive when he pulls back, your tit dropping from his mouth. The air against your wet skin feels too cold in the absence of his mouth, and your nipple is hard and sensitive to the point where it almost feels raw. “Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to his face. His eyes are fever bright, his face practically glowing with anticipation. “I want to eat you out.”

“Yes please.” you say rather stupidly. In all honesty, Kirishima could have asked to do anything at all to you in that moment and you would have been hard-pressed to say no. He looks so cute like this, his expression so open and soft and excited, any lingering unease or nerves being replaced by his desire to please and be pleased. He grins at you as he slides down your body, pressing a kiss to your belly button as he goes. Your panties are removed with one swift tug, but then he pauses just to look at you. “Quit staring!” you complain, clamping your thighs around his head to try and distract him.

“Ow! Hey, I’m just admiring the view!” He laughs, shaking his head free from your legs. “I’m not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Gawking is not the same as admiring!”

“Gawking?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m gonna be inside you in a few minutes, but you’re embarrassed by me looking at you?” Kirishima sounds genuinely confused, but shakes it off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, fine. Want me to close my eyes?”

“No,” you laugh, still grinning down at him as he kisses the crease in your thighs, “Of course not. It’s just embarrassing to be stared at.”

“I like looking at your pussy,” he says with a shrug. His tone is conversational, as if he’s chatting over a cup of coffee rather than gazing up at you with his head between your legs, “It’s nice.”

You fold your arms over your face, fighting hard against the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to overtake you. “Right.” you manage to say, “Well. Okay then.” You hear him chuckle, but you stubbornly keep your eyes covered. Even without seeing, you know he’s taking you all in. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you fight the urge to close your legs; seriously, you can’t figure out why he’s enjoying the view so much. You know there are better pussies out there. 

When his fingers trace over your outer lips you jerk, the touch catching you by surprise. The sudden movement causes him to make a rumbling sound in his chest, almost like a warning, and you still. You can feel his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shiver just a little when he kisses along your outer lips. It's the anticipation that’s getting to you more than anything, every nerve firing as you wait for his next touch. 

You sigh happily when he starts getting into eating you out for real, your hips twitching into his mouth. He’s just so good with his tongue, it makes your breath stutter and rattle in your chest. When he sucks at your clit, you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him. He meets your gaze and throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you, and you just know that he felt you physically react to it by the way he laughs a little into your cunt. “Shut up.” you grumble without any heat, grinning helplessly at him.

The smile he shoots back at you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks so dopey and happy that you feel your heart and your pussy clench at the same time. It’s a particularly disquieting sensation, but even through it you recognise the heat of an oncoming orgasm building in your lower belly. When he dives back in face first, he laps and sucks at you so eagerly that you fist your hand in his hair reflexively as you twitch against him. All you can do is hang on for dear life as he devotes everything he has to eating you out. 

Some part of you distantly wonders how his tongue hasn’t cramped up yet, but that thought vanishes when you catch sight of the way his hips are moving as he humps the mattress. He’s gone down on you like this countless times long before you found out exactly what he was packing, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually actively engage in seeking his own pleasure while doing so. It’s hotter than you could have expected, and when he grinds down hard and whimpers into you, you very nearly lose it.

“Eijirou,” you gasp, tugging at his hair. You’re trying to pull him off you before you come, but apparently he really likes having his hair pulled because he moans delightedly against you, “Eijirou! Wait, stop, I’m gonna cum-!”

“Stop?” He parrots, pulling back to stare wide-eyed at you. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do,” you hurry to assure him, struggling to catch your breath. “But I want you to fuck me first.”

Kirishima’s face goes on a journey of expressions before settling on one that’s distinctly delighted. “Yeah. Yes.” he says, “We can do that.”

You settle back against his pillows eagerly as he reaches over to his bedside table for the lube. You’ve been stretching yourself pretty much every day in the hopes that this exact situation would happen, so when Kirishima brings two fingers to your entrance they slip in with ease. He breathes out sharply and adds a third, using his thumb to rub at your clit as he presses his fingers all the way inside you. You take the opportunity to quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side, and then lie back as Kirishima finger fucks you. He hones in on the spongey area at the front of your inner walls like there’s a homing signal there, and your toes curl as he massages at it and your clit at the same time.

“Eijirou-!” you gasp, growing impatient. His fingers feel so good, but they’re not enough.

“Yeah, I got you, baby.” Kirishima murmurs, then sits back on his ankles. For the first time since he started eating you out you manage to actually get a look at him, and the sight has your thighs clenching together as you swear you nearly cream yourself on the spot. The front of his sweatpants are ruined -- he must have been dribbling copious amounts of precum the whole time he was going down on you and humping the bed, and without his usual cup he’s soaked through the grey cotton.

When he notices you looking he flushes, obviously embarrassed, and opens his mouth, but you speak quickly before he gets the chance to apologise or try to put himself down. “That’s so hot. Shit, you’re so hot. Fuck.”

Your words are simple, but it’s impossible not to notice the subtle straightening of his shoulders as he shucks his pants and shuffles over closer to you. “I, um. I really like eating you out.”

“Yeah.” you breathe with a grin, reaching out to stroke his dick. It’s sticky and messy with his own precum, lying impossibly hot and heavy in your hand. The base of it is already flushed and swollen with cum, and the entire length of it strains up towards his belly in a truly awesome display of gravity-defying physics. “I can see that.”

He shudders and presses into your touch as you rub over the raised bumps and the bulbous head. You kiss his shoulder, sweet and fast, then spread your legs to give him some room as he settles in between them. The tip of his cock skims along your pussy lips and prods at your entrance, but doesn’t go any further despite your squirming. “Ready?” Kirishima asks, as though you’re not writhing against the tip of his dick like a cat in heat.

“Yes!” 

The chuckle Kirishima gives at that is breathless and excited, and it cuts off as soon as he starts to press into you in favour of a drawn out groan. The stretch and the sheer size of him isn’t as much of a shock as the first time, but you still lose your breath as he pushes inside in increments. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overwhelming stretch, the subtle curve, the ribbed bumps and swirls rubbing against every part of you. Even when you feel impossibly full he keeps going, and soon he’s over you and around you and inside you and it seems like your whole world has narrowed down to the points of contact where you’re touching.

His fists clench in the bedsheets by your head and his shoulders hunch over you as he visibly fights the urge to just rock into you all at once. “Fuck.” he grunts, biting his lip as he tries to hold back. Hit with immediate flashbacks from the second time you two had tried to have sex and he had bitten through his lip, you quickly reach up and kiss him in a desperate attempt to avert another disaster. When you pull back, he seems to have collected himself somewhat, despite the slightly glassy look in his eye. “You okay?” he asks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched tight as he holds himself back.

Honestly, with his cock splitting you open like this you feel as though you’re about to crack in half. Every couple of moments his cock twitches and flexes inside of you as it dribbles more precum, and you can feel it inside of you. It’s all just on the border of too much, and you’re desperate for so much more. “Yes,” you say at last, throwing your head back and trying to push further down onto his dick, “But baby, please move.”

Kirishima must have been waiting for that, because as soon as you ask it of him he begins rutting into you with a rough pant of “Oh, yeah.”

Every time his hips drive home the tip of his cock presses into your cervix and the subsequent achey jolt that shoots through you borders on pleasure and pain. It feels good, but you just need to- you need-

You shift under him and tilt your hips up, and the next time he ruts into you has you nearly yelping like a kicked dog. The swollen head of his cock hits against the spongey part inside of you, and the ridges rub deliciously along it every time he pulls out. You think your eyes might actually cross from how good it feels.

Kirishima doesn’t even seem to notice, nearly mindless with need. If you’re being honest with yourself, this is your favourite part; feeling him completely lose his mind just from being buried inside of you, watching his eyes lose focus at the heat and tightness of your pussy as he whines and moans even as he rails you into whatever surface you’re lying on. Kirishima whimpers as his cock jack-hammers inside of you, the soft little sound completely at odds with the strength of his thrusts and the way he’s holding your hips in place with his hands as he fucks into you. His movements are frantic, but he still manages to hold his strength in place, never moving hard enough to hurt. “Oh, oh, I love being inside you so much, baby, oh god, you make me feel so good-”

One of his hands comes to rest on your lower belly, and when he presses down you feel like you’re about to break apart. The subtle pressure of his hand makes every thrust so much more intense, as though you can feel him grinding in your belly. Every time he ruts into you it forces the air from your lungs, but you try to reply anyway, pushing the words out even as they almost catch in your throat, “Feels- feels good-!”

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing eagerly at your neck. His hand wanders down from your belly to your clit, and starts rubbing quick circles into your clit. His coordination is totally off but if anything that makes it so much hotter. You can feel how desperate he is with every clumsy jerk of his hand and every frantic snap of his hips.

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and heat growing rapidly in your belly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter as your orgasm draws closer, and your breath begins coming in rapid pants. The pressure in your abdomen feels a little different than usual, and you take it as a sign that you’re about to come really hard.

You just manage to get out the words “Oh, yes-!” before the pleasure growing in your belly crests and your back bows as you start to cum. It feels like the most cathartic orgasm ever, like all of the pressure that’s been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Kirishima keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time. 

It feels like an oddly wet orgasm though, and you just have time to wonder disappointedly if you had missed Kirishima cum when he looks up at you, bewildered, and yelps “Are you peeing on me?”

“What?” you sit up so fast that you nearly headbutt him, and moving your body so quickly comes with the unintended side-effect of contracting the muscles inside of you. The abrupt squeeze of your internal muscles proves too much for Kirishima, and he starts to cum even as he pulls out of you, his hips humping furiously into the air as thick ropes of cum begin to splatter your skin. 

You’re busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that you apparently just squirted -- it had never happened to you before, and though the surprise of Kirishima’s question had lessened some of the intensity, the aftershocks of the orgasm are still shaking their way through your body -- so it takes a solid moment for your brain to get back with the program. It takes yet another moment to realise that Kirishima is cumming a lot. Like, more than usual, which is saying something.

His face has gone slack and his eyes are unfocused as his cock practically streams cum in jets, the swollen base pulsing as his whole cock twitches. You can’t deny that it’s unbelievably hot seeing him lose himself like this, sweaty and wanton and twitching, but he’s also getting cum everywhere - it spills all over you, all over him, all over the bed.

“Oh, shit” is all you can think to say, trying to catch his cum with your hand in a failed attempt to minimise the mess. It strings stickily down your arms, viscous and thick, and you’re pretty sure that if you hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms ever this would have you creaming yourself. “Holy fuck, babe, stop-!”

Kirishima doesn’t stop. His hips keep jabbing into thin air as his cock flexes with every dribble of cum. You reach out and grab his cock without any real thought, but your touch only seems to drive him wilder because he moans wildly and tries to fuck into your hand. It must be because he had been grinding himself into the bed while he ate you out; you don’t think he’s ever actually worked himself up before, considering how desperate and mindless he gets when he’s about to cum. At a loss for anything else to do, you just try to stroke him through it. Every pull on his cock results in more cum stringing over your wrist, the glide of your hand against the thick length of him wet and slick.

It seems like he cums forever, but at last it tapers off until his cock is twitching fruitlessly and his whole body sags as though he’s gone suddenly boneless. The two of you sit and stare at each other, shell-shocked, covered in various bodily fluids. Even the silence sounds confused.

At last, you blurt the only thing you can think of to say. “I did not pee on you.”

Kirishima’s laugh sounds like it comes from deep within his chest, and then suddenly he’s best over and laughing so hard he goes wheezy. “What-” he gasps in between exhausted and breathless giggles, “the fuck just happened?”

You join in on his laughter, unable to help yourself. The two of you are sticky and damp and sitting in a veritable puddle of cum, but you crawl over the mess and climb into his lap, sighing happily as his arms come to wrap around you. “I’ve never seen so much cum in my life.” you point out stupidly, “You’re gonna have to get new sheets.”

He grins as he flops back limply on the bed, taking you with him. “So, so worth it.” he sighs, raising your knuckles to his face so he can kiss them. His face twists up when he realises that your hand is still covered in cum and that it’s now on his mouth, which makes you erupt into cackles again.

“No injuries, so I’d say that’s a win.” You kiss his chest and stretch out on top of him. You’ll have to move soon, because the cum is starting to dry flakily and feels kind of gross on your skin, but for now you’re happy to ignore it in favour of being close to him.

“Hell yeah,” Kirishima playfully punches the air with one hand as the other strokes your back. “We totally crushed that learning curve, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “Crushed it.”

[red1culous]

Sweat part 1

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

One of the things you hated about working with the Avengers was how insanely fit everyone was. You wouldn’t exactly call yourself a shapeless potato but you were nowhere as sculpted or as svelte as your other team members.

You had just joined the band of heroes two months ago and were working under Maria Hill as a Shield agent. She had taken the time to show you around the place because you were one of the few applicants Fury himself recommended. Being new to the team you were eager to impress.

Maria herself was of slight build but you knew she was tough having one day crashed into her after turning a blind corner. Her elbow caught the side of your face as you both collided and it left you with a nasty shiner that lasted a week.

So you made it a point to become fitter and stronger. That meant visits to the gym. Your anxiety however got the better of you and visiting the gym when everyone else was there was certainly out of the question. So you purposely set your alarm for 2 hours earlier so you could get a full workout before anyone else was even awake.

The first time you entered the gym was daunting. All those big machines seemingly mocking your puny existence. You pushed past the fear and soon you were brave enough to play your music loud from your phone speakers and you started to relax a little and enjoy your early morning sessions more.

Then something you never could have dreamed of happened turning your world upside down.

After a 10 minute cardio warm up you headed to the chest press machine. You were feeling good this morning. Stretching and limbering up a little your playlist started on a new song, one that you particularly liked. It had all the right beats in all the right places. You soon got lost in the music and started to do a little dance on the spot as you stretched your arms and legs out . You were so caught up in the music you almost screamed when you felt a gentle tap tap tap on your shoulder. Turning around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash you were stunned by the sight in front of you.

Natasha Romanoff.

WTF.

“Hi. I’m Natasha. You ok?” she cocks her head concerned at your dazed expression.

“Hi! Sorry I just didn’t think there’d be anyone here. I’m Y/N” you hoped she hadn’t heard the enormous swallow you just did with how dry your throat suddenly became.

“Yea I know. Fury has said some impressive things about you. And that man says nothing about anyone so that’s a huge compliment” she smiled tying up her hair into a neat ponytail. Your eyes were inexplicably drawn to her biceps as they flexed and bunched up at the simple action.

“Uh ok” was all you could muster shaking your head trying to clear your mind.

“Sorry, do you mind if we share the gym? I promise to stay on that side” she points to the other end of the gym and you instantly felt like a monster.

“What no! No don’t do that. Sorry I just wasn’t expecting anyone here so early. Plus I’m not used to doing this whole gym thing” you ducked your head feeling a blush blooming across your chest and rising to your face.

“Oh you really don’t look like you even need the gym” she counters.

Wait. Was that a compliment?

She continues, “how about we spot for each other? I haven’t trained with another girl in ages. It’ll be nice since this place is usually a playground for the boys and their dick measuring contests”

And that’s how you found yourself working out with Natasha Romanoff, or Nat as she insisted you call her. This was insane. What was even more insane was the outfit she had on. She was wearing a black tank top that ended just under her breasts exposing her abs. All the abs. The way it twitched with every movement she made was even more distracting than her leg and calve muscles that were clearly visible under the ridiculously tight spandex pants she wore. If you knew you would be partnering with her you would’ve probably not worn your moth eaten college t-shirt and 100 year old track pants.

Right this moment she was stood in front of the chest press machine counting your sets. She was making light conversation and whenever you struggled she would assist slightly. Her words of encouragement did help a little. You were actually having fun.

“I like that you’re always smiling when you’re working out” she says in between counting you to 10.

“Nat, this isn’t me smiling” you pant out, “this is me gritting my teeth holding back my swear words” this got her laughing which caused you to laugh and drop the weights unable to hold them up yourself.

“Ok 10 more smartass let’s go” she straightens up wagging a finger at you.

If working out with the Black Widow was stressful, not knowing where to look with her standing right in front of you was worse.

Should you stare at her abs? No that’s awkward.

Stare at her face? Nope, worse idea ever.

Stare at the floor at her feet. Yes that might work.

“Up up! Keep your head and eyes up so your posture is straight” she tuts reaching for your chin and pushing it up.

Well that idea went to hell fast. Next up was the bench press machine.

She excitedly says she wants to go first and of course you’re not going to argue. Your arms were still burning from the 50 reps she had you do. So now you’re stood to her right looking everywhere except where she has lay down. Suddenly you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with your arms.

These appendages are they meant to hang loosely by your side?

Should I hug myself?

“Earth to Y/N. Hey quit dreaming and help me out here partner” she breaks you out of your reverie.

Did you think this was not going to get any more awkward? Seemed like the world was adamant on proving you wrong today.

Natasha has you standing with one leg on either side of her torso as she effortlessly lifts and lowers the bar. You’re assisting but you think she could do this without you and probably just as well with one arm. Still you can’t complain. When else would you ever find yourself in this position with Natasha Romanoff.

“Your turn” she cheerily says and she starts to get up. Sensing your hesitation she gently pushes you onto the machine taking the position you occupied only minutes ago.

“You didn’t even break a sweat, Nat” you pout.

“You’ll be fine I’ll help” she says more confident of your abilities than you are.

“I’ll break my neck more like. You better not let this…oooof” you grunt as you feel the full weight of the bar unable to finish your sentence.

“Ok trust me I’ll hold it too” she shimmies further up your torso and bends slightly so she can support more of the bar with you. This has her close to your face and somehow the bar feels heavier than before.

She went easy on you and let you off at 30 reps instead of 50 because towards the end of the count she was lifting more than you were. Your arms truly felt like jelly. Working out with Natasha would be the death of you no doubt.

“What do you want to do next rookie?” she says still looking the way she did when she walked into the gym that morning. You were pretty sure you looked like you had just walked to the moon and back.

“Is dying an option?” you say as you lay on the floor with a towel over your face having just completed a set of leg raises, push ups, crunches and Russian twists.

“How about some stretches? It’ll help with the aches” she lifts a corner of the towel covering your face and peeks at you as she smiles.

So now you are prone on the floor and the Black Widow is practically on top of you stretching out your hamstrings, quads and glutes.

“HOW IS THIS RELAXING!?” you’re practically writhing under her hands, “I FEEL LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING TO SNAP”

“It is relaxing! You’ll thank me tomorrow” she’s smirking at your childish antics. Honestly your idea of stretching was incense, low lighting and soft music. This felt worse than working out.

“Ok let’s swap you big baby” she coos.

“Urgh thank god I was about to pass out already” you jump to your feet and give her space to lie down.

“Uh you’re going to have to help me I don’t know what to do” suddenly feel the awkwardness return as you watch her laying on the floor.

“Ok squat here and put one hand here” she pulls you down in between her legs and places one of your hands on her upper left thigh, “now hold this down and press this leg up” she guides you so her right leg is resting on your shoulder.

“Uh…like this?” you asked blushing again. Why does this feel so intimate?

“Yea but push harder” she says as she lays back down on the mat, “harder Y/N I’m not going to break” it sounded like a command now.

“This is a weird angle are you sure …” she interrupts you by tugging roughly on your round collar so that now your face is inches from hers, “I did ballet I’m flexible don’t worry I like the deep stretch” she’s smirking again still holding onto your collar.

“R-right I’ll be sure to remember that” you whisper stutter your response. You’re starting to think she’s doing this on purpose.

You’re thinking back to all the touches. A hand on your upper arm. Her squeezing your shoulders a few times when you said they were sore. Her standing behind you with her hands on your waist to show you how to properly execute a squat without causing injury to your back. Or her taking your hand and placing it on her stomach to better illustrate “which muscles will be activated when you’re doing core exercises properly”.

Sure it could be her genuinely trying to help….but what if it was something more.

After a few more positions where you find yourself either laying across her or straddling her, Steve walks into the gym and coughs awkwardly behind the both of you. You jump off of Natasha and stand ramrod straight fidgeting with your fingers.

“Hi Y/N you’re here early. Are you done already?” he asks sweetly.

“Yeah Y/N and I are done here Steve” Natasha answers for you picking up her stuff.

“See you tomorrow morning same time Y/N” she says as she saunters away towards the shower rooms.

“Right yeah tomorrow” is all you manage to get out as she makes her way out of the gym.

“What was that about?” Steve asks you as he starts unpacking his gym bag and grabbing his water bottle and towel.

“I guess I have a new workout buddy” you say smiling ear to ear.

“Hmm…”

“Hmm? Steve don’t leave me with a ‘hmm’”

“No it’s just that Nat hates working out with anyone. I guess she likes you” he says hiding a knowing smile as he fake wipes non-existent sweat off his face.

“Hmm” you say picking up your phone and towel, slinging it over your shoulder and making your way towards the exit.

“Hey, now what’s that supposed to mean Y/N?” Steve calls to you.

“Nothing Steve” you continue with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face, “means nothing at all”.

Tagging: @natasharomanoffismywife​

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.V

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A new chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the amazing @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

See the second art piece by @gen-syz-art right here

____________________________

After they finally leave the dining table, Jaskier takes the witcher on a tour of the gardens, telling him about all the trees and bushes and flowers he can think of, and by the time they reach the far end of the fence, the mansion is lost in the greenery. 

The last time Geralt was here he knew that the gardens are big but had no idea just how enormous they actually are. 

He wants to ask about how many people it takes to keep an estate like this in perfect condition but that feels impolite, so he doesn’t. 

On their way back, they take a different route, and at about a halfway point come across a small pond, just as perfect as everything else. Lucio’s ears perk up but Jaskier gives him a little glance and the dog stays by his side. 

“Washing them after they get wet is a nightmare,” Jaskier laughs. “That fur requires a lot of work.”

His eyes light up every time he talks about his dogs and most people would probably find that childish, Geralt assumes, but not him. He knows perfectly well that an animal can be so much more than a pet, so he listens with interest, following Jaskier half a step behind. 

He should probably go, he knows it. It’s been hours since he’d arrived and he wasn’t supposed to stay in the first place, but Jaskier doesn’t mention it, doesn't seem uncomfortable, and so Geralt allows himself just a little more self-indulgence, deciding that he’ll leave at sunset, so that he can be back in the little town before midnight. 

He doesn’t really have a plan, after this. 

He could head to Gelibol, look for a contract or two there, it’s only a few days away now, but when he thinks of it, he realises that on his way to the mansion, he didn’t think about his next destination at all. Like all that mattered during those days on the road was getting here, and what came after was mostly irrelevant. 

And that’s… not right. 

Not the way it’s supposed to be, not the way he’s used to it being. He’s a witcher, not a simple wayfarer that can afford not knowing his next destination. A life on the Path is a life that has to have all the next steps planned out, drawn on a mental map. In late autumn, he’ll have to head to Kaer Morhen and if he’s not careful enough, if he allows himself to get so involved in something that isn’t work, he might not get to the keep at all this winter. It’s only a matter of days that Kaer Morhen gets completely cut off from the rest of Kaedwen by snow. 

No, he shouldn’t do this anymore. Shouldn’t concentrate on anything other than the monsters that need to be killed. 

He will stay until sunset and then leave. Leave for good this time, if he wants it or not. Making connections is just too much for him to afford. In the end, he will always only bring pain, he knows it a little too well, because what else can a witcher give someone? 

Jaskier seems to notice that he’s gone quiet, because Geralt is pulled back into reality by the feeling of the younger man’s warm fingers on his wrist.  

“What are you daydreaming about?” he smiles, suddenly standing very close. 

Geralt blinks, shaking his thoughts off, and for a second just stares at Jaskier’s hand on his wrist. He’d taken his gloves off when they were in the library, and now the feeling of skin on skin almost startles him. 

“Nothing,” he finally makes himself say. “I was just thinking about how useful some of these plants could be when making elixirs.”

That seems to light another little fire in Jaskier’s eyes, because he asks almost immediately:

“Do all Schools use the same elixirs? Or do they wary, like armour and swords?”

It looks like it’s Geralt’s time to talk now, and, well, he’s not opposed to satisfying Jaskier’s appetite for knowledge. 

“It’s all the same,” he says, almost tripping over his words when Jaskier’s fingers slip down from his wrist and brush over the back of his hand. It’s just a heartbeat, how long it lasts, and then they’re walking again. “Different Schools could have a different reaction, though, because the Trials and mutations differ.”

He tells Jaskier about the most predictable elixirs - such as Swallow or White Honey - and the most unpredictable ones, like Thunder. Tells him about the way Cat works, allowing him to see in complete darkness, and about the way Black Blood helps fight vampires, though it tastes worse than most of the elixirs combined. 

Jaskier listens without interrupting, just wrinkles his nose when Geralt tells him that some elixirs call for components like nekker hearts. 

He walks closer to the witcher than before, and though they’re still separated by Lucio, who partially has Jaskier’s attention, Geralt can almost feel his warmth and that makes him think about what would happen if he was the one to reach out and touch. Would Jaskier flinch away, like all people always do? Or would he allow for it, even though Geralt has no right?

By the time they get back to the mansion the witcher manages to drive himself half-insane with those thoughts.

“It will take us the entire rest of the day to make our way through the mansion, but if you want to, I’ll show you around,” Jaskier says when the front door closes behind them. 

Geralt hesitates for a moment. 

If he agrees, he’s going to have to leave right after go through all the floors, but if he doesn’t, they’ll settle down somewhere and he’ll have to do something with this itch under his skin that makes him long for just one more touch. It doesn’t go away when they walk, but it’s easier to ignore. 

And, after all, he does want to see the mansion. 

“Well,” he says, smiling just a little. “I was wondering how do you not get lost in these labyrinths.”

Jaskier laughs, ruffling his chestnut hair, and the sleeves of his chemise shimmer in the light that pours in through the windows. 

“I do, actually,” he says, adjusting the cuffs that wrap tightly around his wrists. “Sometimes.”

***

Geralt counts twenty-six empty bedrooms as they make their way through the five floors of the mansion. There are also music rooms, study rooms, balconies, three more libraries, though much smaller than the one on the ground floor, a studio with canvases and paints, a ballroom, a little in-door garden filled with light from a glass ceiling, and a separate room with everything one might need to take care of Asra and Lucio. Aside from all that, there are dozens of other rooms that Geralt can’t find the right name for or simply can’t keep track of. 

All the rooms are impeccable, not a single cobweb or even the thinnest layer of dust, and Geralt can’t even imagine how many people must work here to keep it that way. 

Geralt tries to keep count of all the paintings and other pieces of art that he sees but loses track somewhere on the fourth floor. They’re all beautiful, though, he can’t deny Jaskier that. 

The mansion doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore, at least not in the way it used to, and by the way they get back to the library which seems to be Jaskier’s favourite room of the entire estate, Geralt feels like some sort of weight has been taken off his shoulders. 

It is, however, just a little before sunset, and the room is painted in bright golden light that makes it seem, though for only a few short minutes, like the time has stopped. Jaskier’s eyes, when they catch the light, are even brighter than usual, and Geralt catches himself looking at that cornflower-blue for a little too long. 

He wonders what Jaskier would say if he were to tell him that he looks beautiful like this, but instead if being thrilling, the uncertainty feels terrifying, so Geralt bites his tongue and keeps his thoughts to himself. 

He does, after all, have to leave. 

“It’s getting late,” he says carefully. “I think it’s best if I get to the inn in town before minding, so I should--” 

Jaskier doesn’t quite let him finish, turning around from where he’d been basking in the sunlight by one of the windows. 

“Oh, don’t you start with that again,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can stay here. Arthur had arranged for the room that you chose last time to be prepared hours ago.”

Geralt falters. 

He shouldn’t stay. He shouldn’t allow himself to stay again, to go back to that room, to that bed with its silks and velvets and cushions. He shouldn’t allow himself to stay here with Jaskier because this is not what he’s meant to do. 

He’s a witcher, his life is destined for the Path and the monsters that he comes across while travelling it, not mansions and this aching, suffocating feeling somewhere deep in his chest, like he belongs. Like there could be more to life than just hunting and contempt. 

His emotions must show, because Jaskier takes a step closer. 

“Oh, come on,” he persuades. “There is a wyvern in the nearby forests, I’ve told you. It’s already getting dark, if you leave now, I’m gonna be worried about you.”

Geralt wants to tell him that wyverns aren’t nighttime predators. That he’s going to be perfectly safe on his way back to the town and that even if the creature was to strike, he knows very well how to deal with one of those. 

He wants to tell Jaskier that he shouldn’t stay because he’s not meant for any of this, but before he can, Jaskier takes another two steps towards him. 

“Stay,” he asks, reaching out to take the witcher’s hands into his own.

And against that, Geralt is powerless. 

He looks down at their hands, Jaskier’s perfect skin standing out against his own, rough and covered with thin, barely visible scars. The warmth of the younger man’s touch radiates through his entire body, now that there is no leather of gloves to separate them. 

He shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t allow himself this but he can’t bring himself to take his hands away and turn towards the door, not with that gleam of hope in Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Alright,” he nods, finally. “Wouldn’t want you to worry for me, would I?”

***

It’s only after midnight that Geralt finally bids Jaskier goodnight and makes his way to the same bedroom that he’d stayed in the last time. 

He undresses and quickly slips under the fur blankets, escaping the night cold. Now that he doesn’t feel like an intruder in the mansion, the bed seems even more comfortable.

Geralt settles among the pillows and cushions, listening to the trees behind the large windows rustle and whisper in the breeze. 

It feels both right and wrong, being here. 

Jaskier is so… kind to him, but whatever he does, Geralt can’t figure out why. 

After he’d agreed to stay for the night, they stayed in the library until nightfall, just talking and keeping themselves warm with the sweet herbal tea that Arthur had brought them, and then, when the moon was already high in the sky, went out to check on Roach and other horses. Geralt supposed that they’ll go back indoors as soon as they leave the stables, but instead, Jaskier chose the porch of one of the garden-facing doors to settle down on, and pulled Geralt onto the wooden steps alongside him. 

The gardens held some special kind of beauty to them at night, and for a few long minutes, they just sat in comfortable silence, not close enough to touch but enough for Geralt to feel the warmth radiating off Jaskier. 

He wondered then, in the very back of his mind, what would happen if he was the one to reach his hand out, feel that warmth closer, but of course, he couldn’t. Whatever the younger man’s motives were for all of this, Geralt was still a witcher, and Jaskier didn’t need touches from him. 

But it was nice, just sitting there together, looking up into the dark sky, filled with shimmering stars, and not thinking about anything else, if only for a few moments.

Geralt sighs, turning to lay on his side and pulling the covers up to his shoulders, the furs pleasantly warm against his bare skin. 

It’s quiet, like the mansion is entirely separated from the outside world, and it’s such a contrast to the noisy inns and taverns, or the forests where everything comes alive at night, that Geralt, for once, almost feels peaceful. 

Peaceful, if just a little lonely. 

After spending the entire day with Jaskier and his seemingly constant attention, being alone again, in such a big room, almost feels… cold, somehow. 

Geralt knows he shouldn’t think about it, shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but he still wonders if he’ll ever return to this room again, if he’ll ever spend another night in this bed. 

He should leave in the morning and not come back anymore, because being here makes him feel in a way he’s not supposed to. In a way that probably wasn’t even close to reality. 

Jaskier had told him that he’s interested in witchers, that it’s been that way ever since the Academy - which, Geralt assumed, was about eight or ten years ago - so this is probably all he was to him - an academic interest. 

What other reason would he have to invite Geralt into his home not once but twice? Why else would he insist that he stays until morning? 

But even as Geralt thinks that, he still knows - somewhere in the back of his mind - that that’s not true. Not entirely, at least.  

Jaskier barely asked him any questions about his training or anything else that could provide him some insight into the life of a witcher. He didn’t even ask about his hair, just looked, and Geralt answered the unspoken questions on his own volition. Because Jaskier looked at him with genuine curiosity rather than contempt. And it wasn’t because Geralt is a witcher, but rather because he simply… looked different. 

Silver, Jaskier said, my dogs are white and your hair is silver. 

No one has ever said anything like that to him before. 

Silver, he supposed, was a beautiful colour. Certainly more beautiful than grey, which he’d heard his hair referred to much more than once. 

It wasn’t that he cared that much about the colour of his hair, for he’d grown to accept it as it was decades ago, it was that Jaskier saw it differently than everyone else. Saw him differently.

Silver. 

Like one of his swords. Like the medallion on his neck. 

Geralt turns to lie on his other side, his thoughts making him restless in a way that he can’t call unpleasant. 

He thinks back on all of those little touches and smiles that Jaskier had given him, thinks back on the blush on his cheeks when Jaskier asked him whether or not his shoulder is healed yet and Geralt, for reasons still not entirely known to him, had decided to tease him about his choice of words. And even then, Jaskier had won that little battle.

“You had me half-naked in this very chair half an hour after meeting me last time, and now it’s inappropriate to talk about my physique?”

“It’s not like I was looking! I’ll let you know that I’m a very responsible man and I was only focused on the task at hand.”

“Of course. Very focused on me and my built shoulders.”

“Well, if that’s what you want to believe.”

Oh, Geralt thinks, sitting up on the bed with the force of the sudden realisation, Was he flirting with me?

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 15

******

Silence settles over the building. Aside from the pained breaths escaping Bruce’s lips no one makes a sound.

After the stones had been set in the gauntlet, and there was a brief discrepancy over who would snap, Bruce decided to do it. Despite it being painful, he’d still managed to do it. Now you all wait for some sign of it having worked.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s the faintest sound but you recognize it, birds chirping. Scott walks over to the window. 

Natasha’s hand squeezes yours when a trill ring sounds. All eyes snap to the plastic device ringing on a nearby table.

Moving like a snail, Clint inches towards his cell phone. Tears spring into his eyes immediately and he scoops it up.

“Honey? Honey?” 

A smile breaks across you face. Natasha throws herself into your arms kissing your lips repeatedly. 

“Guys! I think it worked.” Scott calls.

But the joy is short lived. For you before anyone else.

Rushing wind. You listen closer. An aircraft of some sort? It gets louder.

You panic and quickly press the Black Widow symbol on your wife’s belt, just barely watching the black nanotech cover her body.

A weight presses on to your left arm. Pain bursts through your ribs. Water drips on your forehead.

When your eyes snap open there’s nothing but darkness, minus the sparking of electricity coming from your wrist. Cursing, you tap the band and almost jump when the nanotech suddenly spreads from the bands and over your body.

The dark toned suit covers you and gives you the additional strength to un-wedge your arm from the rubble.

You roll your shoulders, adjusting to the additional armor.

Tony was right, an iron suit would come in handy.

Suddenly you remember.

“Tasha!” You exclaim into your comms.“ Natasha answer me! Is anyone with Natasha?”

Assist finally boots up and you frantically search for Natasha’s vitals through the A.I.

“Tasha, baby, please tell me you’re okay.” 

Under different circumstances you wouldn’t have wanted everyone on the comms to hear your panic and distress. But this is your wife, you don’t give a single damn who hears if it means making sure she’s okay.

Just as your blasting through another wall of rubble, you hear the static in your ear, followed by her voice.

“Y/N, I’m-” she breaks up,“ I’m okay.”

“Where are you?” You ask, eyes searching the opening you stumble into.

Assist finally displays her vitals. Her heart rate is a little high but you expect nothing less. On a whim, as you hadn’t designed it for this, you ask Assist to find vitals on the baby. 

It’s highly possible it won’t work. 

So you’re breathing a sigh of relief when Assist displays the babies heart beat. They’re still alive and until an actual check up can be made that’s enough.

“I don’t know, but I’m with Clint.” Natasha answers after a minute.

Hearing that calms you. At least a little.

Still, you won’t truly settle until you see her, until you have her in your arms.

The three of you aren’t the only ones trapped. Eventually you hear Rhodey’s distress call, he’s under here somewhere in danger of drowning. 

You move as quickly as possible, searching for wherever Rhodey is. He’s with Rocket and Bruce. As you search, you catch bits and pieces of Tony, Steve, and Thor’s voices. 

A broken statement from Thor, of killing someone, comes through and you’re filled with dread. 

Thanos. 

It has to be. But how?

Everything that’s happening confuses the hell out of you. It’s clear that Tony, Steve, and Thor are fighting Thanos. Rhodey, Rocket, and Bruce are taking on water but Scott says he’s there. You’ve yet to hear from Clint or Natasha again, sans some unidentifiable grunting. 

You know you’ve reached Rhodey’s location when you step into knee deep water. 

Not wasting a second, you go under the water. It’s easy to find Rhodey and Rocket, they’re holding their breaths but struggling to get free. Swimming over, you lift the bits of rubble that have Rhodey pinned down before grabbing him and Rocket and bringing them to the small space you’d come from.

You dive back under in search of Bruce. 

Whatever is happening above is making the rubble down here fall faster. 

Finally you reach him. Despite the suit it’s still difficult to get the large man to the surface. But you manage to.

“Tha-thank you.” Bruce speaks through water filled coughs and deep breaths.

Simply nodding, you survey your surroundings. Assist lets you know that there’s a thick layer of debris above you. Too large a shift will result in your inevitable demise. 

“Guys we’re trapped down here. There’s too much rubble above us for me to break through.” You speak into the comms.

More static hits your ears and you know you’re too far under to get the signal to anyone above.

Just as you’re about to give up, a rapidly growing Ant-Man emerges from under the water. He scoops you all into his hand and bursts through the wreckage of the compound. 

As you rise, a big blue and red metal capsule flies over. It breaks apart before forming around Rhodey’s body. A suit.

Looking down you take in the many light circled portals. Familiar faces stand outside of them, the people you’d fought beside in Wakanda five years ago. Others you’ve never met. 

Scott lowers you to the ground and you jump out of his hand. A glance to your side reveals your wife, clad in her own black iron suit, and her best friend. 

War cries sound behind you. 

“AVENGERS!”

Everyone turns to face Thanos and his large army. You quickly produce two standard pistols. 

“Assemble!”

When you fight this time it’s harder than the last. Determination to beat Thanos drives each move you make. Every time you take down one of the many aliens, you feel as if you’re getting stronger.

The first time Thanos came you were solely motivated by protecting the universe. Now though, now you fight for your family, you fight for your wife and unborn child. You fight for the future that is so close you could taste it.

A groan falls from your lips at how many of these creatures there are. Ones you remember from Wakanda and new ones as well. 

Managing to clear the enemies in your immediate area, you pause to take a breather.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired lyubov moya.”

Natasha stops beside you, the mask of her suit disappearing to reveal her face. Apart from some dirt she looks fine.

“We both know I have stamina for days baby.” You retort cockily, also revealing your face.

Before you can see the flush of her cheeks, her mask reforms. 

“You two should really learn how to read a room.” Sam’s input in your conversation makes you laugh.

A smirk clear on your face, you shrug, speaking a noncommittal sorry into the comms before resuming the fight.

The fighting seems to last hours with no clear view of who’s to win. It all shifts though when Clint asks Steve what to do with the gauntlet.

Steve is unsure at first. The original plan was to return them after the snap but the bombing destroyed the portal. Scott is quick to remind you all of his van.

Except it’s in the middle of the sea of Thanos’ army. So everyone begins to work together to get the gauntlet to the van.

It literally becomes a game of hot potato. The gauntlet is passed through multiple sets of hands. Even getting from the King’s hands to yours to Peter’s.

Faintly through the comms you hear the gruff shout of the mad titan, but you have no clue what he said. It becomes clear though when his ships start to fire relentlessly.

Being completely out in the open, you scramble to find cover. Only for your wife to appear at you side. She throws her arm up, the shield from her suit covering the top of you both.

No, you hadn’t put the shield interface in your suit. You hadn’t had the time.

The blasts do more damage to Thanos’ army than it does to your side. He’s thinned his army by an enormous amount but doesn’t let up firing. That is until it suddenly stops. 

Everyone looks on as the ships aim to the sky.

A literal ball of fire shoots through the clouds. Crashing through the biggest ship and completely disabling it.

The second you recognize it as Carol you smile wide. Not just at seeing your friend but also at the obvious shift in the battle. It finally seems as though you have a chance.

Now to get those stones to the portal.

Both you and Natasha head toward where Carol landed, arriving to see Peter Parker handing her the gauntlet. 

“I don't know how you're gonna get it through all that.” The kid states, looking from the advancing wave of enemies to Carol. 

Wanda lands right behind the space traveling woman,“ don't worry-”

“She's not alone.” Your wife finishes.

Wanda smiles over at Natasha. Every woman apart of the battle assumes a spot around Carol, readying their weapons.

“Is it just me, or do you ladies feel insanely powerful right about now?” You ask, smiling approvingly at the female power surrounding you.

Pepper chuckles and Carol agrees.

From there each of you kick as much ass as possible to clear the way for Carol.

Natasha, Valkyrie, Wanda, and Pepper handle covering the air. They take down the giant flying creatures while also shooting at enemies on the ground. 

Despite trying to stick close to Carol, you end up getting caught in an onslaught of ape like aliens and the creatures from Wakanda. 

It takes a minute but you are able to take them all out. Chest heaving, your eyes snap over the field, lingering on the battles being had, and focusing on the most important part of everything.

Carol speeds through ships and enemies toward the van. From your position you see Thanos charging at her, only to be stopped by Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey. 

He stumbles back, but doesn’t lose focus of Carol and the gauntlet. You watch as he throws his weapon toward the van and you blast it with a repulsor beam that is milliseconds from missing but hits it’s target.

The sword is knocked off course, flying in the opposite direction as Carol gets the gauntlet to the van.

Pure euphoria spreads through your chest as she hands the gauntlet off to Scott before he and Hope vanish into the quantum realm.

Thanos rages, concentration switching from you to Carol, essentially locking on to you, the reason he’s failed.

“Uh, angry titan, angry titan!” You exclaim into the comms, shooting a repulsor beam at the giant, pistols forgotten all together.

It knocks him back, but only a little. You look around for a possible plan of action, only to stop short when the problem is resolved.

A lightening covered axe sails towards you, cleanly slicing through the neck of the titan, stopping inches from your form, and then returning to the hands of the god.

Beheaded, the titan’s body falls to the ground. The so called children of Thanos have long since been dealt with, leaving the few seemingly mindless creatures behind. But they’re quickly being dealt with.

Still you hold your breath, eyes falling to the ugly brown van stuck in rubble.

The quantum tunnel still pulses with light and you watch it closely. Only to mentally fist pump when Scott and Hope reappear in front of it, empty gauntlet in hand.

With the mad titan dealt with and the stones returned, the threat to the universe vanishes. Everyone deals with the remaining aliens until the field is littered with their bodies and rubble from destroyed ships.

Yet you don’t breathe easy. Instead you look all over the field, panning over superheroes and warriors, familiar faces meet your eyes but not the one your looking for.

Next you search the ground. Maybe she’s just unconscious or underneath a bit of rubble. But nothing.

Dread floods your system, thoughts whip through your head as you process that she’s nowhere to be seen. She can’t possibly be gone. You’d done everything you could to ensure you didn’t lose her.

What could’ve possibly gotten through the suit? How had you managed to screw that up?

Tony and Pepper, in each other’s embrace, look over to you. Their concerned gazes grabs Steve’s attention who looks at you as well. The lack of your wife’s presence beside you has them searching the field as well.

Your vision starts to blur, panic blinding you to whatever they start to say.

You quite literally start to crumble in on yourself, until you feel the soft hands on each side of your face, a familiar warmth accompanying them, but you struggle to focus on her.

“Breathe lyubov moya.” Her sultry voice slips into your ears and soothes your mind.

She strokes your cheeks with her thumbs, coaxing you into security.

With her whisper of “I’m okay” you’re finally breathing properly. Blinking back unshed tears, you pull her into your embrace. Your suits clink together but you couldn’t care less.

Instinct has her face resting in the crook of your neck, warm breath fighting the sudden chilly wind. You kiss her neck, just above the retracted metal of her iron suit.

You remain in her embrace for a moment longer, needing the assurance and grounding. After pulling away, you can’t help but smile at the sight of everyone that you’d watched disappear five years ago, plus the additional faces of the people you’d yet to meet.

A nonverbal agreement is made to reconvene to celebrate at a later time, when things have settled, and you all aren’t standing in a crater moments from flooding.

Hand in hand with Natasha, you exit the hole in the ground. 

“Please tell me you’re taking me home.” 

Getting a good look at your wife, you see the adrenaline slipping away and revealing her exhaustion. She’s still incredibly gorgeous behind the thing layer of dirt on her face and minor cuts.

How she managed to get cuts on her face through the mask is unbeknownst to you, but you’re determined to make sure she’s taken care of.

“Hospital first, home second.”

She gives a tired sigh, but agrees nonetheless.

Knowing they may not have anywhere to go, you offer the keys to your lake house to Steve, telling him that they are free to use the place to get clean and rest up.

You don’t leave with Natasha until after she’s said a couple ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @messuhp@izalesbean @bvb-bk @username23345 @sighsam@confusinggemini612 @natasha-danvers @rileigh519@higherfurther-romanova  @dynnealberto

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 8 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: The night of the vampire orgy arrives and brings with it a boat load of angst!

A/N: I decided to just run with it and let my angst flag fly. Bon appetit!

Warnings: Female reader, Angst, dumbassery, idiots in love, infidelity I guess

---

The cameraman steps up to the barred window of the cell and points his lens inside. You’re curled up with Guillermo on a hastily installed couch, leaning into one another for warmth in the cold, damp room. A mouse scurries across the floor and something drips from the ceiling over your heads.

“You don’t think they forgot about us, do you?” you ask, trepidation clear in your voice. You tug the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to cover your frozen hands and press yourself further into his body for warmth.

Guillermo glances at the camera with a wince as he lies, “No. I’m sure they didn’t forget us.”

---

Earlier in the evening:

“The last orgy was a bit of a disaster and I never got to use it…”

Nandor stands in the middle of his room, doing a twirl for the camera to show off his outfit. Chains and leather straps crisscross his bare chest, and his waist and legs are studded with protruding dildos of varying sizes. 

“Life of the orgy!” he gushes.

There’s a beat of silence that follows and then a muted question from the documentary crew, “And will...[unintelligible]...be participating in the orgy?”

Nandor avoids answering, looking away from the camera and baring his fangs in a nervous smile.

---

Guillermo’s lying across your bed, absently scrolling on his phone while you dig through your closet, holding up and rejecting piece after piece. Your “style,” if you could call it that, consists almost entirely of work out clothes, derby merch and the odd sundress for special occasions. Not exactly ripe pickings for a vampire orgy ensemble. But you know you still have that pair of fishnets from when you first joined the league and you figure you can build a look around them.

“So, you’re not gonna wear the t-shirt?” Guillermo grins, rolling onto his side and showing off the highly fashionable “Do Not Eat” shirt.

“Nandor will protect me,” you reply automatically, your voice is muffled from the back of the closet. “I just moved in! How can it be such a disaster already?”

Guillermo gets up and comes over to lean on the door frame of the closet as he cautiously warns, “Uh...okay, but...Nandor isn’t--um--he’s not known for being very reliable in social situations…”

Guillermo’s mind flashes back to the time at Simon the Devious’s club, when Nandor would have gladly handed him over to a strange vampire just to avoid confrontation. Still, his loyalty tugs at him and he adds, “I mean, his heart is in the right place...most of the time. But he just gets so excited and he has this need to impress when he’s around other vampires.”

You back out of the closet, clutching the rogue fishnets victoriously in your hands and looking back at Guillermo quizzically, “I know he can be flakey, Guillermo. But...he loves me.”

You recall the words falling from his lips that night...my love...and an irresistible smile forms on your lips.

Guillermo stares at you, gobsmacked, for a moment before replying, “Alright, Smash. But...are you sure you even want to go? I mean--and don’t be offended--you lost your virginity like a minute ago and now you’re going to an orgy?”

Heat spreads across your face and you look pointedly away from your friend. You walk over to the bed and pick up the little card from your nightstand, smiling down at it and tracing your fingers over the glittery letters. After a minute you finally answer, “It’s not--I mean, I’m not going to...do anything with anyone else. I just have to be there because…”

Because you’re afraid your boyfriend is going to have insane vampire sex with strangers if you don’t keep an eye on him… Because you’re too chicken to actually talk with him about it… Because what if he thinks you’re silly and stupid and decides being with a human is just as boring as he always assumed?

Guillermo reads your thoughts on your face and he croons, “Oh, honey. Listen, I was here for the last orgy. And, even though it never really got going… Smash, it’s not something for the faint of heart.”

“I’m not faint of heart!” you insist, your voice pitched up in indignation.

“No!” Guillermo agrees, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “No, you’re not. You’re in love with an immortal blood-sucking fiend who has centuries of experience on you, though. And you’re very, very new to...all of this. I don’t want to see you get hurt. You should talk to him.”

You can tell from his tone that Guillermo isn’t optimistic about the likelihood of Nandor understanding your human worries and actually changing his ingrained behavior in response. But you know he’s right, you should still talk to him.

---

You find Nandor in his room, making a few last minute adjustments to his attire. As soon as you set eyes on him you stop in your tracks, making an involuntary choking sound as you take in the ridiculous number of enormous dildos strapped to his body.

Nandor looks up as you enter and he puffs out his chest, stalking toward you with his arms held up and his mouth open in a menacing hiss.

“What do you think, my mortal? Do you want to run in fear...or do you want to come?”

You can’t think of a single thing to say to that. All that’s running through your head as you stare, transfixed, at Nandor’s ridiculous costume, is that he clearly hasn’t planned this with his freshly deflowered lover in mind.

You finally clear your throat nervously and mutter, “That’s what you’re planning to wear?”

You look down at your PJ pants and hoodie, feeling suddenly, painfully ordinary. How could you have ever thought you were a match for someone as intense, seductive and dangerous as Nandor the Relentless?

Nandor misses your reaction and enthuses, “Isn’t it great? If I position myself just right--” he drops into a squat-- “I can accommodate two astride each knee and hip while still having room at my pelvis…”

He starts thrusting into the air lewdly and you hold out your hands to stop him.

“Nandor,” you’re at a loss for words, feeling a hollow ache in your chest already anticipating the hurt to come. “I thought now that we’re...an item...you might want it to just be you and me, tonight.” And forever.

Nandor stops mid-thrust with a quizzical expression, “At an orgy?”

“Well…” how to explain your seemingly very human sensibilities on monogamy. “You said you love me, right?”

Nandor rises and comes toward you, looming over your smaller frame and taking your shoulders in his large hands as he answers, “Yes, my sweet mortal. But what does that have to do with the vampire orgy? Didn’t Nadja explain to you--?”

“Yes, yes!” you interrupt, frustrated. “But I don’t want you to...have sex with anyone else! Not while we’re…”

The cameraman bumps into a heavy lamp by the door, momentarily drawing Nandor’s attention. Suddenly feeling the weight of expectation on his shoulders, Nandor bristles and straightens his shoulders as he answers your concern.

“But you are my human,” he says, slowly as if he’s explaining to a child. “I am not your vampire.”

You close your eyes for a second, holding a hand to your chest as if you can somehow stop the damage happening inside. You really didn’t think he could hurt you so much with just a few words.

Desperately you try one last approach, “But...if you’re going to be busy having crazy, acrobatic sex with all these strange vampires...how are you going to protect me? Or do you think Nadja’s t-shirt is really going to stop someone who’s determined?”

“Ahhh!” Nandor cries with a relieved smile. “That’s your worry! Well, fear not, my human. I have worked out the perfect arrangement to keep both you and Guillermo safe for the evening.”

---

Nandor, wearing a heavy, fur-lined robe over his sex gear, leads you and Guillermo down the narrow staircase into the basement. You haven’t been down here since your first night in the house, when Nandor locked you up in the cell to save for later. Though it’s late April, there’s snow on the ground outside and a chill in the air. As you descend the steps the temperature drops even more. But you hardly notice in your effort to keep yourself from falling apart after your disastrous discussion with Nandor. Your eyes are trained on the broad expanse of his back, as if you can somehow will him to turn around and really see how much you’re hurting. Guillermo takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze. 

“Here we are!” Nandor announces, stopping in front of the human cell with a grandiose sweep of his arm. “I’ve made it nice and cozy for you. You’ll be locked up safe and sound, so no wandering vampires can get you. And I’ll come down and let you out before dawn.”

You glance skeptically inside and see that one of the couches from the library has been moved down here for your comfort. Other than that it’s still the same damp, dark, depressing cell you remember.

“Nandor, this is...extreme,” you complain, looking up to meet his eyes for the first time since you left his room after he said those harsh words. You see his gaze flicker as he takes in your red-rimmed, tear-misted eyes, but his expression is inscrutable.

“I agree, master. We could just stay upstairs in Smash’s room…”

“Silence, Guillermo!” he hisses, not taking his eyes off of you. He reaches up to cup your face in his hands and his expression softens. “This is the safest place for you to be. Only I have the key to the cell. You will be...protected.”

“I don’t care about being protected!” you cry. “I just want--”

“Enough! My word is final on this!” Nandor cuts you off and his tone is closer to the one he uses for Guillermo. You shrink away from his touch and he looks crestfallen for a second, but then he straightens his spine adopting the warrior’s confidence that he wears like a robe to cover what’s underneath. “Into the cell, now. Both of you.”

The door closes with a creak of its hinges and the heavy thunk of the lock sliding into place. 

Nandor peaks through the barred window and waves at the two of you, “Alright, have a good night! Wish me luck at the orgy!”

His footsteps echo through the basement as he walks away, trailing the camera crew behind him. Once they leave, the cell is only dimly illuminated by the guttering flame of a single candle stick mounted on the wall outside. You meet Guillemo’s eyes silently for a long moment and then plunk down onto the couch and cry.

---

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Nandor curses frantically as he clambers down the basement steps, two at a time. 

It’s the night after the orgy. He’d gone to bed at dawn feeling drained--literally and figuratively--and covered in the slow-to-heal puncture wounds characteristic of vampire fangs. The orgy was a resounding success. Though, truth be told, Nandor spent much of the night going through the motions as his mind fixated on the look of hurt betrayal on his human’s face before the party. He couldn’t understand why you’d begrudge him a night of dark fornication, a celebration of his vampiric identity. Nor why you’d resent his efforts to keep you safe from the violent debauchery. All he knew for sure was that with each new sexual encounter of the evening he found himself missing you and wishing more and more that you were by his side.

That is, until he and Laszlo partook of some opium infused blood towards the end of the festivities. Nandor stumbled to bed with a pleasant buzzing in his head that completely drowned out the small voice warning him that there was something important he’d forgotten.

“She’s going to be pissed!” he hisses into the camera while rushing down the dark corridor toward the cell. As he approaches the door he says, louder, “Good evening! Wake up time! Everyone have a nice sleep?”

He turns the key in the lock and swings open the door, ducking inside with a grimace of trepidation. He finds you curled up with Guillermo on the couch. The two of you are shivering against the cold that feels like it’s settled permanently into your bones. You’ve spent an entire night and a day locked in a frigid cell without a blanket, food, or any amenities whatsoever. 

Nandor fiddles his fingers nervously and asks, “Guillermo...mortal...are you alright?”

It’s Guillermo who finally answers, “You forgot about us.”

“No, no...not exactly,” Nandor denies. “But you know how it is with guests over. Things get very hectic--”

“You forgot,” Guillermo repeats. “About. Us.”

Nandor’s shrugs helplessly, “A...bit. I forgot a bit.”

You can feel the intensity of his eyes on you, but you refuse to look up as you stand on shaky legs and make your way around him and out of the basement. 

Nandor stands there silently for a moment before turning to the camera and mouthing, “Fuck.”

---

Tags:

@festering-queen​ @kandomeresbitch​ @strangestdiary​ @glitterportrait​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows

[all-things-mlqc]

The five boys react to an overweight MC that works as a nutritionist but struggles a lot to lose weight? It might be strange but it happens sometimes. PLEASE!!! Btw, I love your work❤️

This was really fun to write about. Knowing that these guys are so supportive of MC and want to help her in any way possible with whatever she’s struggling with is just so sweet. 

Thank you for the love and support as well! 😭 I’m usually just memeing it up out here so writing HCs is very new for me but your support helps so much! I did meme a lot while writing this as well because what’s life without memes, so you can find all of my inner thoughts crossed out~ Hope you enjoy!

HC below the cut~

Gavin:

Gavin loves and supports MC through everything. He’s constantly watching and confronts her whenever he believes something is wrong.

After noticing her sulking at herself in the mirror, he asks what’s troubling her.

“Nothing really! You don’t need to worry about me.”

She gives him a small smile and turns away from the mirror.

He figured it had something to do with her figure given the way she was looking at herself.

He remembered her mentioning how even though she’s a nutritionist, she still struggled with her own weight.

She didn’t seem all that down back when mentioning it, but the expression she had in the mirror said otherwise.

He stood up from the sofa and asked if she wanted to go with him during his morning jog.

“Why would you want me to do that? I’d only slow you down.”

Gavin: I don’t mind. If it’ll help, then I’ll do anything I can.

This man isn’t one for small talk. He gets straight to the point. He observes, finds the problem and seeks out a solution. There was no need for MC to confirm his suspicions about wanting to lose weight; It was all in her expression.

“I don’t really want you to go out of your way for me... Besides, it’s important you don’t slack off with your training.”

Gavin: I wouldn’t be slacking off. Training with you would only make me work harder.

A NATURAL ROMANTIC BUT ALSO A FUCKING MORON WHO GAVE HER A BLOOD SOAKED LETTER. IM GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU YA DUMBASS

MC takes up on Gavin’s offer considering how adamant he was. He also didn’t seem concerned in the slightest about MC being a burden BECAUSE SHES LITERALLY THE LIGHT IN HIS LIFE AND WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER

After they go jogging, they stop for a healthy meal of MCs choice because Gavin doesn’t know what food is. Have you seen his kitchen? INSTA NOODLES EVERYWHERE. Boy is literally the type to throw a lunchables on the dinner table and give thanks for his beloved meal. Omg nononono I’m thinking of all these sad things now about how Gavin was literally homeless for a while as a kid so he probably just got used to eating something small and simple every day. BYE IMMA GO CRY NOW

While eating, Gavin comes up with a few more ideas to help and offers to take her to his gym every other day.

They come up with a plausible schedule that could seem efficient to MC’s wish of losing weight.

This also gives MC the chance to make sure Gavin is taking care of himself as well.

Kiro:

Kiro and MC meet up when he finally has free time and manages to escape from Savin.

Like their normal days together, they end up walking around Loveland City, going to some sightseeing locations. They just enjoy each other’s company.

When stopping to buy a snack, Kiro grabs two bags of chips and beams up at MC only to see her forced smile. He immediately gets concerned given how positive she always is.

Kiro: Are you ok? What’s on your mind?

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just trying to narrow down on the amount of junk food I eat.”

Kiro: Why is that? You’ve always told me to live to the fullest.

“Well... I’m trying to lose some weight but it seems more problematic than I had originally thought.”

With MC looking ashamed of how little progress she has made thus far, Kiro places both bags back on the shelf with a bright smile.

Kiro: Well if we both work together then there’s no chance we could lose this fight! Besides, Savin has been at my throat lately considering the mount of junk food I’ve been eating recently too.

“Kiro...”

MC stared at Kiro, dumbfounded, who seemed so positive. This gave MC a boost of confidence, herself.

She quietly thanked him while giving him a genuine smile.

They spent the whole day doing fun activities. In a way, this was part of Kiro’s plan to help MC. He knew how much this mattered to her so he wanted to keep a smile on her face while secretly help her from the shadows.

It’s honestly what he does best. It’s hard to tell in the game since we don’t get to see every expression he makes or how he reacts to things, but take a good look at his reactions in the anime. You can see how serious he really is behind his happy facade.

He continues to silently help her every time they spend time together as well as send her encouraging texts and reminders.

Nobody is more positive and encouraging than Kiro~

Lucien:

Lucien knows everything nutritionists know, let’s be real. This man was a child prodigy who skipped half of his school life, going straight to college.

He knows EXACTLY what MC needs. The one problem is, so does MC.

She knows what she needs to do but doesn’t have the kind of support she needs. She easily becomes discouraged when things don’t work out after trying so hard.

Luckily, Lucien is also a wonderful supporter minus when he just “what’s a magic? Don’t know em. No thoughts. Head empty. Only science and death”. Uhu then what do you call that flying cop outside the window? Where’s your science behind that? Lucien: “Well you see, there is a certain DNA mutation that—“ DO NOT ANSWER THAT YOU FOOL I KNOW ITS SCIENCE BUT MAGIC IS EASIER TO ACCEPT RN BECAUSE MY BRAIN GO BRRR

But considering it’s MCs health, he is very supportive and even explains that many people struggle with the same problem. There’s not exactly any problem with how someone looks unless it is overall affecting their health for the worse but he will gladly help MC if she wishes to lose weight.

Knowing that Lucien views it this way immediately gives MC more confidence.

An enormous amount of stress has been lifted off her shoulders which will ultimately help her reach her goal.

Lucien comes up with a solid workout plan and diet that is easy for MC to follow and even offers to make her some special meals to help with weight loss because Bill Nye over here has the solution to everything

I also highkey imagined him whispering in her ear like the first day they met that if she follows his plan without any casualties, he would give her special rewards and yes I do mean THOSE kind of rewards because this man is K I N K Y. I don’t even like him, I blame my friend who’s constantly giving me these ideas about him. You’re lucky you’re a bitch or I’d probably be on the floor for you too.

Victor:

Victor’s biggest struggle is vulnerability. He is very blunt and says what comes to his mind without always thinking it through.

Because of this, he upsets MC when talking about her weight.

He meant no harm from whatever he may have said but notices MC’s sorrowful expression after lifting his eyes from the papers on his desk to meet her gaze.

He immediately acknowledges what he had done and puts everything away for the day, offering to take her to Souvenir.

“What..?”

Victor: I’m done for the day. If you don’t have anything else to do, you can come with me.

“But why?”

Victor: You’re still you regardless of your weight, but if it’s something you want to change, I’ll help.

The man wanted to tell her she’s beautiful and amazing no matter what, but hahaha we all know this man can’t compliment for the life of him. Jkjk he can but like I said before, v u l n e r a b i l i t y. He struggles with expressing his true feelings.

MC responds with pure shock on her face,

“Really?? You’d help me?”

Victor: Only an idiot would ask a question like that. You should count on me more when you’re struggling with something like this.

Baka this baka that. If I don’t add it somewhere, than this whole HC isn’t accurate at all. All you thirsty Victor hoes go watch his baka clip if you want more *spray bottles*

He tidies up his desk and grabs his coat, heading towards the door while MC stumbles over her thoughts.

He only stops halfway out the door to look back over his shoulder at MC.

Victor: Well?

“I— I’m coming!”

She rushes over and follows him out the door.

Victor ends up making MC a delicious and healthy meal, one he knows is a special meal for a weight loss diet.

Cooking was never that important to him. He only learned because of the little girl he once knew. But now... Now he has a new reason to continue cooking.

That girl had come back to him and he would do anything in his power to make her happy.

Shaw:

He watches MC intently as she talks about how difficult it is for her.

Right before MC finishes, he places her on his skateboard and takes off without giving her time to protest.

She shouts in fear ofc. Why wouldn’t she. I’m terrified every time the game says he puts mc on his skateboard just—

Shaw chuckles with amusement in her ear and then tells her to push off with her own feet.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” yes, yes he is

Shaw: I won’t let you fall but I won’t stop until you push.

“Fine fine!”

With the help of Shaw keeping her steady, she’s able to smoothly push off the skateboard a few times.

After getting the hang of it, there’s a slight smile taking place of her feared expression from before.

Shaw’s expression, however, doesn’t change in the slightest. That teasing smirk rests on his face as she continues to push them down the park sidewalk.

As they reach the main road, she yells back to Shaw when the skateboard doesn’t slow down.

“Shaw—!”

It’s all she managed to get out as the fear she once had returned again.

MC shut her eyes with panic as the street grew closer and closer, only to feel an arm wrap around her as the cold wind hitting her face dissipated.

When her eyes opened, she saw Shaw giving her the same mocking smirk he always wears. However, his eyes showed signs of gentleness he doesn’t often express.

He offers her one of his skateboards for workout purposes as well as being her workout partner.

MCs chuckles out of amusement from the idea of HER riding a skateboard by herself. totally a reason why Shaw made this offer. He feeds off of entertainment.

She politely declines his offer of skateboarding but hesitantly asks if he would help her in other ways.

The question needs no thought from Shaw but he doesn’t want her to know he made up his mind to help long ago. ah yes, his one weakness as well, vulnerability

Shaw: I suppose being of assistance to you may turn out entertaining.

MC: Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?

She pouts at him half jokingly but he pays no mind to it as he kicks up his skateboard and continues walking ahead while suggesting a few things they can do to help with weight loss. Daring but not enough to scare her away. He actually wants to help but needs her to comply with his suggestions

Shaw is the type to help those he cares for without making it obvious. He believes personal relationships is a weakness for someone like him so he always keeps people at arms length; He always wants a possible way out for when he has to push people away.

While this is true, he’s also struggled with vulnerability his whole life. Considering the type of person his father was, growing up with a man like that not only puts pressure on Shaw, but also forms this broken and terrified personality under his overconfident facade.

Someone please just hold this man, he’s trying his best and needs healing

Their solution for MC is to try some fun activities together. Fun enough for MC to believe that Shaw isn’t going out of his way for her but also not as extreme to the point where MC won’t participate.

[whetstonefires]

Your post about romance was so spot on and this is from someone who really likes reading romances some of the time. I just wish there were more books where friendships (which after all make up the majority of people's relationships!!) were given the same weight and importance as romance gets unthinkingly. Like, I want books or fic which show the development of two (or more) new friends *as the plot and main part of the book*, and the same thing for the progression of pre-established friendship.

Human relationships are varied and complex and interesting and limiting writing to mainly concerning romantic or dating ones is infuriating! I enjoy reading character driven stuff, which is why I like some romances but I really want to see similarly detailed deep studies of friendship. Friendships are so important, and romantic relationships do not supersede them.  Obviously there is gendered bias against romance as a genre but that is not the only reason to be uninterested in romance damnit!

Sorry for ranting in your inbox about romance and thanks for the post

Hah thank and welcome. Very true!

Yeah, the problem is not just how ubiquitous romance is but the inevitability of it. So many people are so much in the habit of hanging their emotional investment on ‘couples getting together’ that not putting one in is a risk, as a creator, and the faint suggestion of a possibility that a romance might eventuate between two characters constitutes a promise that the audience will be outraged to see not followed through.

So making a story focus at all on a relationship between two people who are considered valid potential romantic partners means having to go through incredible backflips and contortions as a writer to get away with not pairing them up, or there will be outrage. There will be outrage anyway, but hopefully on a contained scale that doesn’t have people throwing your book away.

(The easiest way, of course, is to give one or both of them an alternate partner, but then you either have to build up that relationship as the central focus instead, because you aren’t allowed to love anyone that much and not be romantically involved or be romantically involved For Real with anyone but whoever you love most, or accept that you’ve plastered on a beard of some kind in a way that at this point makes your main duo look even more romantic to people who are looking for that in the first place, even if it lets you write a plot that doesn’t acknowledge this.)

This has contributed enormously to the cultural truism ‘men and women can’t be friends.’ They aren’t allowed to be. And this weird intense romantic pressure is now increasingly extending to same-sex friendships, and it’s like...it’s good that gay visibility and acceptance are growing! That’s great!

But it means that all relationships are increasingly exposed to this honestly fucked up set of expectations. That every single love of any intensity is romantic and probably sexual. That that’s the only love that’s real, or that really matters. With occasional exemptions carved out for parents.

And that’s cultural, I want to say. The inclusion of and an interest in the romantic lives of characters in fiction is definitely natural and practically inevitable, but the outsize role it occupies in our current media culture is abnormal and totally non-compulsory. The central role of romance in so much of narrative is just...a pattern, a narrative schema that currently holds sway, born of an assortment of historical accidents and trends, and I don’t think it’s a good one.

I think it would be better for us as a culture and all our individual relationships for that particular social construct to be broken down.

Because this cultural obsession with The Romance in media mirrors and continually recreates the obsession with The Romance in real life. You know how many people are making themselves miserable by either being in a relationship predicated on the need to have one, any one, rather than actual mutual affection, or about not having a love interest currently at any given moment?

Like, quite separately from the actual frustrated romantic feelings themselves, people feeling like they are less or failures or just...unfinished somehow, because they don’t have a romantic partner. It’s so harmful and absurd! We all know this!

And there are of course a lot of sociological factors that have led to that point as well, but it’s linked particularly closely I think to the atomization of modern society.

You’re not likely to retain any particular community for long--we move around so much over the course of our lives, anything you have is designed to be taken apart. School friends are only rarely retained after school, work friends are only until you get a new job, family is quite often something to be avoided or something you have to leave behind, and not usually an extended network anymore anyway.

We are always moving into new contexts, or knowing we might be moved, and holding onto relationships from one context into another is generally regarded as an unusual feat betokening particular, though not lionized, devotion, and leaning on these relationships ‘too much’ or pursuing them with ‘too much’ energy is regarded with deep suspicion.

This, too, is not particularly normal in the human experience. We are not psychologically designed for this level of impermanence. And we have developed very few structures as a culture thus far to make up for it, which is why the modern adult is so famously, dangerously lonely.

But we have all these social protocols for acquiring a person and holding onto them. A person who’s just yours, all yours, who it is promised will fulfill all those gaping needs all by themselves, and if they don’t it’s because you or they are wrong, and need either a different partner or fixing.

The fact that this is insane and not how romance works over 90% of the time is irrelevant to the dream of it, and the dream overwhelms and controls the reality. I agree that codependency is really fucking romantic, and having a kind and supportive mutual one is a lovely fantasy! It’s just...

A lot of harm eventuates from pursuing this fantasy in reality with a media-based conviction that it is 1) a reasonable thing to expect and 2) a necessary precondition for wellbeing and worthiness.

But we have poured so much cultural freight and need into this one single relationship format. At this point having need in any other direction is regarded as disordered and suspect and probably a misdirected application of sexual desire.

The law, too, has put a lot of energy into supporting the focus on seeking the romance as life goal, because the nuclear family is built on the codependent marriage, and capitalism likes the nuclear family very much. The nuclear family is extremely vulnerable to market pressures and bad at collective action, and tends to produce new tiny humans whose main social outlet has been within the school system, which is specifically structured to condition you to accept abusive workplace conditions as a normal precondition of existence, and not to attempt too much intimacy.

Ahem. Spiraled there. But! It’s all connected! Many of the privileges piled onto the institution of marriage were put there specifically because the nuclear family was considered desirable for the expansion of the economy. That’s clearly documented historical fact.

So yeah, the modern cultural obsession with the romance is a symptom of collective emotional disorder, and it chugs along at the expense of the more complex emotional support infrastructures most of us need and deserve.

It’s not just about me wanting representation, wanting an image in the narratives of my culture where I can see myself with the potential for happiness. Everyone needs this. We learn so much about how to be, how to relate to others, from media at this point, since the school system and other weird age-hierarchy stuff keeps us largely segregated from human society for a majority of our growing years and limits our exposure to live examples.

So the paucity of in-depth explorations of friendship, of mutual support, of widespread narrative acceptance that you can have a good life without a romance as its central support pillar, is harmful to people in general.

-

It’s funny, I get frustrated about this periodically, when a piece of media lets me down, or even when I’m following along a funny piece of meta and then the punchline is ‘and the ace character is obviously in denial about how they’re already dating their favorite person’ or whatever.

(The meta is annoying on a surface level and distressing on a deeper level because it’s a threat; so many times a good platonic relationship will buckle under public pressure and it doesn’t matter how asexual, how uninterested in romance, how emphatically platonic the affection has been established as being, The Romance arrives in the next installment of the story because it’s what people expect. Which reinforces the general perception that any other love is illegitimate, lesser, and as soon as it’s meant to be taken seriously it has to be crammed into that one valid shape, and invalidates future insistences in the same mode.

Seriously people stop doing this, we long since reached the point where a character saying in words ‘I have no romantic interest in [person]’ is perceived as a glaring neon sign that they’re destined to get together and that does not do good things for fostering a culture of consent. Obviously people are in denial sometimes but it should not be understood to be the rule.)

But I don’t get upset about it until someone starts in with reasons I’m bad and wrong for not liking these norms.

Like, whatever, media does not cater to my needs, I’ll cope, but when people start trying to get in my head and make me not only responsible for my own discomfort that I’m managing thanks but dishonest and malevolent I...get upset. There’s history there, okay.

‘You don’t care about this ship because you’re homophobic’ ‘you don’t want a love interest in the sequel because you’re racist’ ‘you don’t like romance in stories because you’re a misogynist’ fucking stop.

And occasionally it’s like ‘i guess you have the right to feel that way but how dare you talk about it where other people might hear’ which...well, is particularly common and particularly ironic in the context of people hung up on gay representation.

If we as a society had a healthy relationship with romance, there wouldn’t be negative side effects to that crowd’s pursuit of their worthy goal of applying that schema in places it has been Forbidden, but as it is we don’t, and there are.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter 8 - Embry Call x Reader

Training

By the time that morning came I felt like I had only had my eyes closed for a half an hour. I woke up to my father knocking on my door at 8 in the morning. 

“(Y/N), can you talk for a minute?” He asks. 

“Yeah, one sec.” I get up out of bed and make my way over to the door. 

Swinging it open, I see my father, smiling more than usual.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Well, I actually have to go away on a business trip for a week. I just got the call about an hour ago, which ruined my grocery shopping trip. I’m going to leave you money, go this morning, I have to leave for the airport in an hour. I’m sorry to leave on such short notice. I tried talking to my boss but I can’t get out of it.” He looks at me apologetically. 

“Dad, it’s okay. I understand. This happens, I’m used to it by now.” I smile. 

“I know, I just wish I didn’t have to do it as much as I do.” His smile is one hinting of disappointment.

“Dad, it’s alright. We’re still as close as we are for a reason. You’re like the best dad ever.” I hug him. 

“Thank you, (Y/N). We’ll do something fun when I get back, okay?” He pulls away, looking at me with hopeful eyes. 

While I always got sad to see my dad leave, a part of me felt an enormous weight lift off my shoulders. He won’t be here for the newborn battle. A wave of relief washed over me. 

I nod and smile, accepting the money he held out in his hand. Following him as he went into his room to pack. We talked about where he was going and what he was going to do, all the fun stuff you do before your dad has to up and leave with no notice for the fifteenth time that year. 

I send a text to Embry, explaining the situation and inviting him to come over on my journey on this fine morning before we have to meet up with everyone for training. He lets me know that he would be over in a half an hour. 

“Please be good. Don’t destroy the house. Make good choices. Don’t make me a grandpa, please.” My dad smiles as he walks out of the front door, giving me another hug. 

“Oh god Dad, please. I will be good. Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch.” I smile. 

“Ok good.” He kisses my forehead and runs out to his car. 

I shut the door and get myself dressed. By now it was almost 9:00 and I was waiting for Embry’s arrival. 

I took the time to start making pancakes for Embry and I to eat before we went shopping. I made the batter and began cooking the first one in the pan as I heard a knock on the door. 

“Hey there, Em.” I smile. 

“Hey, beautiful. It smells good, are you cooking?” He kisses my cheek and then walks into the kitchen, searching for the source of the smell. 

“Yeah, I’m making pancakes.” 

“Chocolate chips, right?” 

“Of course.” I giggle, as he presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. 

We walk over to the stove, flipping the pancake. 

“You know how great you are, right?” He says softly, leaning down, cupping my face with his hands. 

“Thank you, Em.” I blush, leaning in to kiss his lips. 

I pull away after, trying to prevent the pancake from burning. 

“This one’s yours.” I smile, putting the pancake on a plate and handing it over. 

We continued to make the pancakes, having fun as we goof off, and ate breakfast together. 

“Well, I have to go grocery shopping. You still down to come and help me?” I ask, putting the plates in the dishwasher. 

“Of course, bean. Let’s get going.” He stands up from the chair. 

We get into my car and make our merry way to the grocery store, listening to music way too loud. 

Pulling into the parking spot, I lower the music and shut the car off.

Embry turns and pulls me in for a kiss.

“Thanks, Em.” I chuckle.

“I’m just excited.” He laughs. 

“For what?” I ask. 

“Well, anything I get to do with you is fun.” He looks into my eyes, before looking down at his lap, hiding his blushing cheeks. 

“Awe, Embry. That’s so sweet. You make everything a great experience, too.” I kiss his cheek before getting out of the car. 

As we push our cart around the store, it was surprisingly fun thanks to Embry’s company. 

I stood there, feeling for the best oranges with Embry when I heard a familiar voice. 

“(Y/N)?” A young woman’s voice calls out to my left. 

I look up and see my old friend from high school. We sat together in a few classes and always had our little girl talk, helped each other with the work, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. We went to the mall together on occasion, she was someone I actually enjoyed from Forks High School. 

“Alyssa? No way.” I smile as I walk over and hug her hello.

“When did you come back?” She asks with a grin on her face. 

“I just got back not too long ago, I left Texas after graduation. I’m back for good, now.” 

“Oh that’s great. We should hang out sometime and catch up.” She smiles.

“Yes, please! I miss you.” I laugh, grabbing my phone out of my pocket to get her new number. 

“How’re things?” She asks, eyes flashing between Embry and I.

“Oh. They’re great. Alyssa, this is my boyfriend, Embry. Embry, this is Alyssa. We were good friends back in high school.” I blush excitedly. 

Alyssa’s eyes flash with excitement, looking into mine. She used to know about my dilemma with him-- being in love with my best friend. 

“Nice to meet you, I remember (Y/N) talking about you.” He reaches out to shake her hand. 

“Nice to finally meet you, too. (Y/N) told me a lot about you.” She winked at me. 

My cheeks turned an insane shade of red, slightly flustered. 

“Oh, I’m sure she did.” Embry teases, pulling me closer into his side. 

“Well, it was great to see you. But I have to run, let’s hang out this week?” Alyssa asks.

“Of course, I’ll text you.” I smile and wave goodbye. 

She walks away and Embry looks down at me.

“So you used to talk about me a lot?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh you watch it, Call.” I poke him in the side. 

“No, that’s cute.” He murmurs. 

“She and I had a lot of girl talk, she knew how I felt back then.” 

“It’s okay, Quil got a lot of it from me, too.” He laughs. 

“I mostly told Jacob, I think Quil just inferred.” 

“Interesting.” Embry whispers. 

“What is?” I ask. 

“How I never believed Jacob when he told me you liked me. I was too afraid to ruin the friendship. I didn’t wanna scare you away and lose what we had.” He frowns. 

“I was the same way, but in the end it all worked out.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. 

“You’re right. Let’s get the rest of the stuff and get out of here. We have to meet up with everyone in a couple of hours.” He pulls me into the next aisle. 

We walk around, getting the rest of what I needed for the week, of course including our favorite snacks. We get rung up and pack the bags into my car. 

Driving home was a bit quieter, as Embry seemed to be thinking deeply. I figured it was about the fight going down in three days, or at least training with me present. 

I pull into my driveway and begin grabbing bags out of my trunk, and Embry grabs an absurd amount. 

“We aren’t doing two trips.” He smiles. 

“Okay, well let me take some of yours.” I try to take a bag or so from him.

“No, you already have a bag.” “Yeah, I have one bag. I can take more.” 

“No, I got it.” He smiles goofily, holding ten shopping bags with ease. 

“Well, alright. If you insist.” I smirk and lead the way into my house. 

We put the groceries away and take a look at the time. Almost noon. 

“What time do we go?” I ask.

“We have to head to Sam’s for 12:30.” He smiles weakly. 

“So we should get going now, then?” I ask.

“I guess.” He looks down.

“Embry, I’m not worried. They won’t hurt me, you’ll keep me safe. You all will. I just wanna see how this all works.” I place my hand on his shoulder. 

His worried eyes meet mine, almost seeming to calm instantly. His sweet lips form into a small grin. 

“How do you do that?” He whispers. 

“What?” 

“Always make me feel better. No matter what.” He smiles. 

“I just do for you what you do for me.” I smile. 

The drive over to Sam’s was quiet, as I knew Embry was a worried mess. 

We pull in front of the house to be greeted by everyone. 

I walk over and begin talking to Leah while Embry goes to talk to Jacob and Sam. 

“Hey.” I breathe out. 

“Hey, (Y/N). You’re coming today?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to know what was going on. I just feel worried about the whole thing, I hoped this would give me some peace.” I shrug. 

“It might. But don’t get too close to the Cullens. I don’t trust them.” She looks at me. 

“You got it, boss. I’ll be by Embry and you the whole time.” I smirk.

“Good.” She gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

Like I said, Leah and I were always friends, just not too many big conversations. Though, it was a mutual understanding that we cared for one another greatly. 

“Leah?” I look over at her.

“Yeah?” Her eyes meet my worried ones. “Do you think everyone will be okay? Are you worried?” My voice cracks a bit at the end.

“(Y/N), I’m not worried. I mean, don’t get me wrong I worry about Seth because he’s my brother, but overall we’ll be okay. I’m not worried. Try not to freak out, alright?” She wraps her arm around my shoulder, giving another comforting squeeze. 

“Thanks, Leah. We can reschedule the girl’s day for after the fight. I know Sunday doesn’t work anymore.” I chuckle.

“Yeah, that works. Some time during the week works, since the battle is on Monday.” She laughs. 

We walk back over to the rest of the group, discussing how to show up to the clearing where we’d meet with the Cullens.  

“We’re not going in human form, not worth the risk.” Sam says authoritatively.

I look at Embry, wondering how the hell I’d get there, knowing damn well I couldn’t keep up with them. 

“You can get on my back, but you’re gonna have to hold on tight.” He whispers.

I nod before returning my attention to Sam. 

“(Y/N), I know they won’t do anything. But just be careful, don’t get in the way so you don’t get hurt.” Sam looks at me.

“Of course.” I nod.

“Don’t bleed.” Quil throws in with a chuckle.

I look at him with a questioning face. “He’s right, they don’t need any temptation.” Sam nods, looking back at me. 

“Alright.” I felt my nerves grow again until I felt Embry’s hand grab mine, rubbing circles into the back of my hand with his thumb. 

Relief washes over me. 

“Let’s head out.” Sam orders. 

Everyone except Jacob and I walks behind the bushes, taking their clothes off to phase. Embry walks back out to  get me on his back. Jacob lifts me up, helping me get on Embry’s back before he himself goes to phase. 

Embry started off slow to make sure I was able to hold on, and even then I was holding on for dear life. Feeling bad for holding onto his fur so tight, but also knowing I would fly off if I didn’t. He picked up speed to stay close enough to the others while Leah and Jacob stayed back to make sure we weren’t alone, just in case. 

I could barely breathe with the force of the wind in my face, we were moving faster than I thought any being could ever run. Though I knew they all took it slow for me, while I watched the others disappear into the distance, amazed at their speed. 

We finally reach the clearing. I tried to get off of Embry’s back without falling on my face, which proved to be quite difficult due to his size. 

“One of us could help her down if you would like.” Carlisle offers. 

I hear a growl escape from Embry, Jacob, Leah, and Quil. 

“I’d be okay with that.” I nod at Sam, who looks at me. 

“Emmett, go help her.” Carlisle says, resulting in Emmett slowly walking over. 

I hear a low growl as Paul walks closer to Embry and I’s side, making me remember the issues they had. Embry lets a small growl out, as well. 

“It’s fine.” I whisper to them. 

Quil merely comes over silently, just to make sure things stayed calm. 

“Hey, you ready?” The burly man asks, giving me a comforting smile. 

“Yeah, thank you.” I smile back at him. 

I felt Embry tense underneath me as Emmett’s ice cold hands touch me. The whole pack fell silent, focusing their attention on Emmett and I. 

Emmetts strong, cold hands carefully wrap around my middle and pick me up off of Embry, setting me down gently. 

“I’ll help you get back up there later, if you need help.” He offers. 

“Thank you, I might need it.” 

Emmett returns back to his family and Embry moves closer to me, standing protectively. 

“Em, it’s okay. Everything is fine.” I lean my head into his shoulder. 

I look to my other side, thanking Leah, Quil, and Paul for their support. All three of them nod. 

“My son Edward will use his gift to communicate.” Carlisle explains.

And so it begins. Jasper begins his teachings as we watch the Cullens fight. 

I was amazed at their speed, at how strong they were. My eyes could barely follow what they were doing. 

“Hey Jake.” Bella says, walking over to Jacob and petting him.

I look over and smile. 

“Hey. How are you?” She asks me.

“I’m alright, just nervous.” I admit.

“Me too. But they look like they know what they’re doing.” She gives a soft smile. 

“That’s true.” I reason. 

“Never let them get their arms around you, they will crush you instantly.” Jasper’s voice echoes throughout my head. 

Embry lightly nudges me with his nose as he notices my discomfort. 

“Hey, Em.” I lean my head against his shoulder.

We watched for hours, watching the Cullens throw each other around like ragdolls. Listening to Jasper’s knowledge both comforted and brought me worrisome thoughts at the same time. How was he so sure? Everyone seemed so comfortable with this situation.

I guess that’s what separated me from everyone here. I didn’t experience these things on a daily basis for a long time. This wasn’t my everyday routine, killing vampires. I guess now I would have to worry about this. 

Edward looks at me with a knowing face, one with sympathy. I suddenly connect how he’s been communicating between his family and the wolves-- he reads minds. 

I smile, unsure of how to feel that someone was poking around in my thoughts. 

“Thank you.” He says to me. 

“For what?” 

“I find your thoughts to be a relief. It’s pretty tense right now.” He chuckles softly. 

I nod with a small smile as Embry and Leah move closer to me, noticing Edward speaking to me.  

After we were done for the day, we agreed to do the same thing tomorrow. Emmett once again helping me, picking me up and placing me onto Embry’s back. 

“Thank you.” I murmur, smiling at him.

“Of course.” He smiles, his golden eyes flickering in the light. 

And with that, we were on our way back to Sam’s. 

The run back wasn’t as fast, as everyone was comfortable not going full speed. 

Embry holds back from phasing, letting Jacob come get me off his back before he ran behind the bushes to phase himself. 

“Thanks, Jake.” I smile.

“You got it.” He pulls me in for a side hug. 

“How was that?” Quil asks, walking over. 

Embry follows, not too far behind. 

“That was kinda crazy. I just, it feels so real now.” I shrug, looking at Quil. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. But it’s all gonna be okay.” Jacob gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze as Embry walks behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. 

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). You’ll be safe here with Emily and Kim.” Sam smiles. 

“I’m gonna stay here while it happens?” I ask.

“We figure that’s the safest place for you to be.” Sam says. 

“That’s fair. Sounds like a plan.” I nod at him. 

“You can all go home now, be ready for tomorrow. Sunday you can relax, spend time with your families, imprints, or each other. Jacob will be going up Sunday night to camp with Bella and Edward. Monday, we all meet at my house before going to the site. Remember the plan.” Sam announces. 

Poor Jake. He’s probably losing his mind thinking about that night.

We all nod and separate. 

“Well we can watch movies at my house or something tonight, my dad is gone all week.” I offer, shrugging my shoulders. 

“That sounds like fun.” Paul says. 

Jared says that he’s going to Kim’s and Sam states that he’ll be staying home with Emily, though I extended the invitations to their imprints. I understand they wanted their alone time, though. 

The rest of us meet up at my house.

We decide to order pizza and enjoy the night as best we can, given the daunting circumstances. 

We watch stupid horror movies, laughing at the cheesy graphics and scripts. One at a time, people kept falling asleep. 

It started with Quil, falling asleep on the floor in the mess of blankets. Jacob soon followed on the other side of the floor, Leah and Seth on their shared couch. Paul fell asleep on the other side of the couch he shared with Embry and I, kicking me with his legs. I fell asleep on Embry’s chest, as he stayed awake laughing at all of us. The last thing I saw before falling asleep was the light of the TV illuminating his beautiful face, him kissing me softly. 

______________________________

Word Count: 3158

taglist: @jjpogueprincess​

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