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semischarmed · 3 years

Text

The Visit

I glance at my phone. 30 minutes. 30 minutes in this chair waiting for the doctor. 30 minutes in a freezing cold examination room wearing nothing but the disposable gown the nurse told me to wear. Now, I’m normally quite patient, but I begin to worry that they may have simply forgotten about me. I sit up straight, ready to leave the chair and ask for the nurse, when my new doctor comes into the room in a rush.

“Hey, Hey! Sorry, sorry. My last patient meeting went a bit over. That alright?“ He grins and verdant eyes sparkle. The man was dreamy. I could say nothing beyond nodding in agreement.

“Great! Glad to hear it” he beams. I feel an explosion of warmth within my chest and stomach and can’t help but smile back.

”Thank you so much for understanding. I’m Doctor Ryan! Good to meet you.” I readily shake his hand. Firm. Sturdy. Calloused.

“Okay great, so we’re just gonna run through your vitals, and… says here you noticed an odd mark show up near your penis?” I flush bright red in embarrassment at the mention. Unperturbed, he continues without skipping a beat “Hmmm.. we’ll definitely want to get that checked. Probably harmless, but could be something bad… I know the nurse probably covered most of these questions and took your vitals, but [he smirks] just wanna sure we get everything checked correctly, alright?” Damn it. Doctors always have a such way with words, I can’t help but melt in their arms. I feel a numb happy sensation wash over me and again nod in agreement. He was cute, too cute. God. Of course, whatever he thought this appointment was, he was completely off. Most likely picked up the wrong sheet or something, cause I only came for some immunizations.

Still, the man has me spellbound. I comply with his every whim as he continues running through his normal questioning. In every word, he further puts my will to sleep, with every phrase he draws me closer. To me, his every sentence has progressively slowed the world around us. Not that I’m complaining. I am adrift, motionless in his pool of questioning, sandwiched between warm ocean and sunlight. For a short few moments, I am at peace. I was practically sleeping by the time the second round of questions finished. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and break my spell slightly and I focus in on his beautiful face. “You okay there, bud?” More nods his way.

“Awesome. Let’s get started then.”

———

The physical was.. something else. We start with just an examination of my body. Pale, scholarly eyes remark on my every blemish, my every curve. It would be a nightmare in any other scenario, but in the secure glance of my doctor, I knew I was safe. Still, near his radiant heat, I could not help but get just a bit flustered. My answers are short, odd, my heart rate jumping to his vicinity.

He wiggles his stethoscope in the air. “We’re just gonna get your heart rate okay?” My mouth is hanging open and drooling slightly, but I nod. Really, it’s all I can do. Stunned to obedience. He just spoke so confidently, so assured in his examination. His tone was out of this world. It’s bright but resonant, like each word reverberated his command in my chest. His voice was no less potent. Sound-waves embrace the air with sweet honey, but an undertone of audible trust. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, still caught in this man’s spell. Now, a handsome man gets me feeling the same way a doctor often does. But he was both. I can manage nothing beyond a smile and continue nodding “okay.”

I moan at the touch of the stethoscope. It was ice. Penetrative, cold ice, but in his expert hands, it felt like gift from the man. I imagine the metal is a piece of him, precious metal, precious silver embedding itself in me. I want it in me forever- uh, the man, not the stethoscope.

He grunts. Fuck. “Sorry” I say sheepishly. That moan was definitely audible then. Further embarrassment floods me, only tempered by by the tingling sense of relaxation I felt in being examined by this man. He takes the odd outburst in stride, giving a half smile before continuing. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first”. The man was a professional through and through.

---

In the middle of making sure my reflexes were still functioning, his face winces, and his upper lip trembles, immediately breaking my illusion. He lets out a quick gasp “Ah.. I.. aahhh” barely audibly. I watch as his knuckles grasp the sides of the cushion in my chair desperately, going white in the process. For the first time in our entire session, the haze cast by this man’s being is broken entirely. I feel the dullness in my mind clear as I take note of the oddness from what had just transpired. His mouth goes wide and his face scrunches up into an emotion that I can’t quite place between pain and pleasure. Maybe both? In any case, before I can even investigate further, it relaxes immediately. Emotionless.

Then, his eyes twitch before going glassy. Doctor Ryan looked like he was about to throw up. Pleading eyes stare into my soul, but the rest of his face remains blank. I am shocked beyond shocked at this point to do anything beyond stare in disbelief while a shit-eating grin slowly paints his face. His eyes blink back to lucidity- now focused on me, and single tear pools on the corner of his left eye and drips down his cheek. He stops it with his thumb before it can drop further, before nonchalantly wrapping plump lips around it. In a slight suction noise, when he pulls the thumb out his mouth in what looks to be a deliberately seductive manner, staring intently at my face the entire time. What the fuck.

Immediately, he returns to examining me, making no mention of what had just occurred. This time though, his movements seem just a bit erratic, a bit unrefined. I also catch brief glimpses of that same cringing face every time he moves to the next step in his examination, like he was pulling long-forgotten memories from what should be a fairly standard procedure. He repeats the physical, this time going over my every part much more slowly. Any touch, any connection we had seemed to linger just a bit longer than needed. He almost seemed... Interested? Nervous? Whatever case, with every movement, and every step, his hands get a bit steadier, actions more confident. Whatever just happened to him seemed to be over. I am intrigued, if a bit scared. He was acting suspicious. Too many things seemed to line up for me to dismiss this as just normal checkup. In lustful wishes, I invoke whatever I can, hoping I’m correct. I try to sneak a peak at the outline of his admittedly large penis in his scrubs. Absolutely Flaccid. Odd. Disappointing, to say the least. Whatever this weird, hot doctor was doing, he wasn’t getting off on it.

When he gets to my lower body, he abruptly splits my knees open, spreading my legs wide. Another moan almost escapes me. Thankfully a veil of disposable fabric separates my doctor from my now semi-erect penis. Unthankfully, I can’t help but tent the gown full mast when his ice cold hands begin to trace and snake slowly around my inner thigh. I look at him in shock and he just beams back at me like the past few minutes had not just happened. “Hmmm… great legs…” My face goes crimson and I scream internally at my own inability to control my own body. “Okay, your -hNnggg-ah cha-chart, yes. Apologies for the outburst… your chart seemed to mention some concerns about your penis? Let’s take a closer look” He states, looking up at me with a half-smile.

“No- er, I think- ah, you got the wrong-” I can barely stammer out a response in the raw stimulation of Doctor Ryan grabbing and gently examining my cock and balls. Pleasure bloomed wherever his fingers glided over. This was a mental battle I could not win. Mind versus body. I was fighting myself, my own urges. He makes gentle cupping motions around my balls, back and forth. I look at him in bewilderment. There was no way this was just for a normal examination. He smiles pleasantly, “just checking for anything out of place… so far, so good”. Mystery solved, I guess. He slowly wraps thick fingers, encircling my cock in an embrace. Not solved. Not solved. I am rock hard. He gives a short chuckle. “Well, at the very least, your nerves appear to be working…. Blood flow looks good as well…Nothing out of the ordinary so far”. I am beet red at this point. Fuck me. I can’t even compose myself in front of this man.

Then, Doctor Ryan gives it a tug. FUCK.

“Holy shiiiiiit” I moan out. I turn my head away as my body quivers and gives in to a moment of divine pleasure. Betrayed by my own senses. A second, higher pitched moan escapes my now open throat, barely audible, while the a tiny bit of clear fluid spills onto the doctor’s unflinching hand. I can’t bear to look this guy in the eye. I need a new fucking doctor.

“You know, this is completely natural. Absolutely a normal human body response. Don’t worry about it” he says absentmindedly as he continues. “If anything, at least we know you can still produce, so it doesn’t look like there’s anything to worry about”. He mumbles happily. Outside my sightline, I swear I hear a licking, slurping noise. His hand, looked a bit wetter than before too.That being said, my brain has shut down from humiliation. At this point all I can manage is a blank nod.

“Well, good news- you’re perfectly hea- Oh! Actually, do you mind?” He begins to unbutton his coat and then proceeds set it on the table beside me. “You know it’s always a bit hot and stuffy in these rooms”. My eyes can’t help but visually eat at the feast before me. Bare chest and stray hairs poke out from his scrubs. The sleeves are taut around his massive biceps. Despite the objectively unflattering material, it can’t help but conform slightly to his muscular physique. It was pretty clear before, but it was definitely fact now. My doctor was hot as fuck. Something about his last question eats away at my my brain. It wasn’t hot at all. The room is cold, dry, sterile. Hell, this whole hospital is. It’s like he has me back in a trance though. Words smooth as silk, body like sculpture. He had a power over me, so I nod in compliance without even acknowledging how absurd the previous statement was.

“So, as I was saying... the good news is your vitals are all in line.” He laughs kindly, patting my stomach “Maybe eat a bit more protein every now and then”. The voice is warm and reassuring. My brain relaxes to the end in sight to this half dream-half nightmare. I start to get up to get changed before I realize the entire reason for the visit.

“Hey-er, wait! My Immunizations! I needed to get some immunizations done for my-“

“Oh?” He cuts me off, eyebrows raised. Intrigue paints his face.

Then he leans in close, head right up to my ear until the parts of chest peaking from the hospital gown touches the stray hairs poking out from his scrubs. Until we share warmth in that cold examination room. He breathes alongside me in rhythm as he exhales.

“You…don’t need any immunizations. I do… well, I did, anyway. It’s too late for him now...But we do have something planned, for you-we’re gonna try an experimental processss. A brand new… test…just for you...” He whispers. He pauses as he continues to breathe and I feel the hot, damp air emanating from his mouth coat my ear. “We need to test you for... stimulation.” Dear God. That last word he draws out in a far, far different tone than before. It neither clinical nor polite, and it hit like a brick. There was raw emotion in that last word. Raw lust. He cups the other side of my face pulling my left cheek to touch his. Like his chest, it’s quite warm. I’m flush with redness and confusion. I gulp nervously.

His tone returns in its warmth and politeness, contrasted by the intimate position we are in. “Hmmmmm salivating...mmmm... Quite a bit actually. You’re either haven’t eaten… or… you’re hungry for something.” I can’t manage out anything coherent amidst the sensory overload. He continues confidently, “C’mon... I’m your primary care physician? Let me take care of it. Let me take care of you...” He sticks his hand down his own pants, scratching to readjust. With our chests together, I am brought to our present moment. A moment in paradise. When he ebbs, I flow. Like a dance, my chest caves in with every exhale as his puffs out. He does in turn. We were partners. His scent pours out unconfined, unfiltered by distance, concentrated in our proximity. Like rainfall and crushed grass. I could live in it. With our cheeks pressed together, I feel his every movement. Every word spoken drawn in by my inhale. These would be mine to keep. This moment was ours and ours alone. He brings up the same hand, now a bit slimier to take a whiff before shoving that sweaty, funky smelling hand right to my face. I can’t control myself and start inhaling my hot doctor. I lick the man’s hand clean. Delicious.

I continue lapping it up in silence before he finally breaks it to speak. “Mhmmmmm... that’s the stuff... Maybe if we feed you enough of this hot doctor’s cum, you’d pick up on some of his residual intelligence and figure who’s really running this man.” My eyes light up, and the pieces finally all click together in my head. I chuckle.

“Good to see you too, Ben.”

———

“Leave it to humans to take something so beautifully sensual and twist it. He’s a bit too good at compartmentalizing. In many respects… It’s fucking hot. But, you know, when he’s in this work mode, he sees you as nothing more than sack of meat. We’re not getting anywhere with him without a little push”. Without warning, Ben pulls the doctor’s pants down and fiddles with his new dick- still flaccid. Jesus Christ it’s huge.

“Look, even this... appendage. Yes that’s an atypical response. I mean look at me, look at this new body we acquired. I’m swimming in this human’s hormones.” He wraps his hand around and begins pumping it. “But see here, it’s still all clinical in this head. I can only get inside him so far. We need something to end this human’s resistance. We need something extra to break him out of this trance. We need raw emotion.”

Just then, the door comes wide open. It’s Austin.

As he closes the door behind him, I see his face more clearly. It’s Austin’s body, but its pilot is undeniably Ben. Austin had a certain swagger to him that my little alien buddy just can’t quite replicate.

Ryan’s mouth opens wide and I watch as his true form exits from my doctor’s mouth and shoot strait into Austin’s welcoming nose. I watch as the doctor goes lucid. His eyes go wide and he stares at me in horror before attempting to escape. Before he can, he is pinned to the ground by the far larger Austin. “Cmon man, smell this fucking body. Feel something”

“If you can’t… we’ll do it for you. We’re going for a wild ride.. relax and enjoy it.” Austin’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and I watch as he gives a crazed grin, jaws open unnaturally wide. His tongue sticks out, his head is bright red, and pulsing silver courses through now-prominent veins. Damn. My Doctor looks at me with one last pleading glance, but all I can do is moan “I want you mine.”

Doctor Ryan lets out an involuntary scream when he notices the changes in Austin’s face, which only work to his disadvantage as a pulsating, semi-solid mass of silver falls into his open maw. Austin sticks their mouths together. Using his tongue, he maintains a steady passageway for Ben. Using his lips, Austin keeps the doctor’s pried open to forcibly receive the precious silver. Their heads bob back and forth as more and more of the slimy mass falls into doctor. I watch as a massive lumps outline themselves in his throat, then his chest, before disappearing into the depths of his body. I notice a little bit pool and spill out the corner of his mouth. When the process is over, Austin’s body falls limply to the side. I stare at the messy pile of silver goo still smeared over Ryan’s drooling mouth. Should I?

I lean over, giving my dream man a kiss. My eyes flutter at the prospect. Ugh, he’s perfect. I feel the every contour of the face of man who would soon be ours, before sucking up the excess silver an a bit of his drool in my mouth. No use putting this stuff to waste.

In a flash, I feel ecstasy. “Jesus fucking christ” I moan, as I feel a burst of energy from within. The parts of silver which were Ben settle into me, surging me with power and I feel his thoughts reverberate in my mind. In that split second, I also feel the vertigo of looking from two bodies at once. I feel the immense pleasure of controlling two bodies at once and the parts of silver which were Austin become immediately apparent. Goddamn what a fucking power trip. Austin was mine. A quick rush of stolen confidence from my previous tormentor floods my insides and I welcome my updated sense of self. Fuck yeah. Took a part of him for me. He’s never getting this back. I stare at his body and will it up. My dominion, now. While his head still hung unconscious, I move my fingers and tingle in delight as I watch his hands follow. The moment is fleeting though, and I feel the disappointment as my vision recedes back to my singular one.”Hope you liked that” I feel Ben state in my head. “Just a taste. This piece of us you’ve ingested... I think it’s best you keep it. I find this setup beneficial to us both. We can keep in constant contact this way. You might find some residual power left over Austin too, thought probably not in the way you think… at least… not yet.“

Before I can question him in my head, the doctor’s body shivers awake and then spasms before letting out a primal scream. Ryan’s looked... bigger? Almost swollen. His body occupied the same space they did before, but there was a larger presence to him. His muscles pump up, obviously riled into a frenzy. “Just a little attitude adjustment, and...Goddamn easy mode, Fuck!” He faces me. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head and silvery veins pulse all over his body. Seconds later, he settles and his eyes return to focus me. “Fuck yeah, you wanted this doctor, right? Bro, you know my bod’s way better. Fuck it though, I don’t care as I’m a part of the ride. Remember your fucking promise.” He states through gritted teeth. Unnatural coming out of the normally Angelic Doctor Ryan.

“Your Doc’s too nice though, right? You… Ben… you deserve better. I’ll make us better for you. Look how much fucking bigger, how much more of a fucking man we are with some Austin mixed in....” I am speechless, but he’s right. The doctor now exuded a dominating presence. In any other circumstance, I’d be frightened and compliant. In the presence of Ben, I felt safe.

“Thank Ben he brought us inside this man. Mmmmmm his brain is delicious… I feel so much smarter inside him. We’re gonna fuck him up. Make him better, like you did to me. Twist his head. Make him want your cum almost as much as I do. Make him want to spread more Ben around…. Mmmm speaking of, I feel him inside me. He’s squirming into us both out and goddamn it feels good.” Ryan’s body moans Austin’s moan. “I can’t wait for you to learn how to do this... to put yourself inside me-Please! Fuck! Learn it faster! That... part of me you stole… I feel good as part of you, right? You like it in you, right? Pure fucking jock. Take good care of it…more where that came from”. It was definitely my doctor, but between the behavior and facial expressions, undeniably Austin. Well, post-Ben Austin.

“I-Arrgh” I watch curiously as the doctor’s body shivers. “Ben’s... ready for you.” He winks as his eyes briefly roll to their sockets and roll back. Austin-er Ryan’s demeanor immediately changed ”Had to do a little arranging inside this doctor. We just need one final piece. Ryan’s body ready to receive its new masters. I need you to put as much cum inside this man as you can... I really like this one, his position is useful. But his mind... it’s so vast. He’s no Austin...It’s gonna take a lot more of our genetic material to tame it.”

Austin-er Ben does pushups on the floor. He clears a few hundred before wiping his sweat all over his scrubs. Of course, despite channeling Austin’s very essence, this body is not nearly as buff or as muscular as his so I watch as Ryan is forced to push up and down beyond his limits, tears streaming down his eyes, hands and legs shaking in protest, forced smiling all the while. Previously crisp scrub are now stained, damp in Ben’s body’s perspiration. The smell this weird, hybrid mix emanated was unique. Of course, it still had the cleanliness I’d expect from a doctor. Fresh cologne and nature- exactly what I’d expect from the healthy, professional man which had previous examined me. This man before me was not the same man as before. Because, interwoven was the musk, the testosterone, the pungent stink of our deranged puppet Austin. It was altogether divine.

“Look at this.” He states with a sneer as he does a bicep flex. His damp scrubs hug his muscle tightly, almost breaking at the seams. The bicep is throbbing. “I feel this body crying in pain and exhaustion. From his mind though... do you know how muscles are made? Tiny tears regrown stronger” A pulse of silver darts through his veins, immediately returning it to stillness. “What wonderful new information. We’re gonna use that. Fill into these layers with a bit of Ben, and a bit of you”. He starts laughing now “Doc Ryan here doesn’t call the shots…This isn’t his body anymore… It’s ours.”

With that, Ben lifts my gown and sticks his drenched head near my already-hard cock. Fuck he’s warm. Our sweat and scents mingle and I feel my inner thighs go moist in the perspiration in the air.

“Austin, to the forefront. Combined effort. We need him body and mind. Let us create a new Ryan,” he states. My doctor slowly wrap his thick, plump lips over my dick. Moment’s later, the man’s wet tongue slides forward. I shudder. A bit tickles in a spot just below the head and I squirm on the spot. Jesus fuck, oh- oh fuck, he’s good- he’s really good.

My shaking hands are sloppily held in place. I move them reflexively in the onslaught of pleasure. It’s like Ryan’s body was made for this. Absolute Heaven. I let out a loud moan as I continue to squirm in the confines of my position. Ben had commandeered some control of Austin’s unconscious body, and it stood there, just over me, holding my hands in place and body. Its eyes were rolled back, mouth drooling. Bits of spit dribbled to my forehead. I paid them no mind. Basically an extension of my own bodily fluids at this point anyway. Besides, whatever made Austin, Austin was mostly inside Ryan now, helping Ben add a wonderful new addition to our collection.

Ryan’s sensual motions, His body expertly bobbing, beckons mine. Erotic symphony. I can do nothing beyond quake in my seat. I hold for as long as I can but it’s too much. This was it. First, I moan. Then, I scream. FUCK. Goddamn bliss. Sweet Release. Pure Ecstasy. I am reduced to babbling internally as I release more and more of myself inside Ryan’s welcoming mouth. Using his powerful chest, he creates a slight suction, greedily taking as much of my cum inside as he can. The body begins to choke for air, but I feel Austin and Ben smile instead and continue inhaling my cum. Their eyes only relayed one word. More. There’s not much else I could have done anyway, because I continue to spew load after load inside the man. It’s the best I ever felt, the longest it’s ever been and the most I ever given. I sit in extended euphoria, paralyzed in bliss. Logic aside, ethics aside, this was my new order. Our new order. In my mind I strive to continue on, to bring more to this light. So many delicious fucking bodies in this town. So many new ‘me’s destined, yearning for my control- even if they didn’t know it yet. That last bit might have been some of Austin’s megalomania in me.

The phone rings at Ryan’s side and he picks it up. Someone patches in a call.

“Doctor are you alright? We heard some odd noises“. I watch Ben in alarm. He cracks his head to the side, cock still in his mouth, and veins coursing in silver fluid display prominently in his temples. He switches demeanor almost seamlessly back. In contrast, like strings cut, Austin’s body falls over me, unmoving. I didn’t mind. I inhale his jock essence as I listen in.

“Yewph- Iw- Ehem.. I’m quiw ahwigh, *gulp*… ahhh yeah.. Apologies, Nancy this appointment is taking just a bit longer than expected. I’ll be ready soon- just need a little more time with this one.” Every word again resounds warmly, calmly, politely in this man. When Ben channels Ryan, it’s like I’m hearing the same person who examined me earlier. He was ours. I glance his way and a bit of my cum is still on his lips as he continues his conversation. He happily draws it to his mouth with a finger and sucks it clean. My cock is drenched in the doctors sweat. Fucking hot. Ben found us a real catch. “Dr. Ben” ends the call and mentally, he’s back to our present situation, back to huffing in breathless pleasure, as he continues sucking the any residual mess in me clean. He gives me a wink as he finishes.

Ryan then stands over to Austin, and, in a reverse of the process from earlier vomits out the same silvery mass, now slick with streaks of white, back into its container. There was significantly less this time. From the still open mouth of Ryan, I watch the tiny man emerge, giving me a motion that indicated he was smiling. “I’m staying in this one a bit longer. Driving this particular specimen gives me a pleasure not wholly physical.” The mouth slowly closes and Ryan’s eyes show life again. He smiles. I look expectantly at the two of them. They begin making out. The sounds are sloppy and I can’t help but get a bit jealous. Taking note, they both stop abruptly before giving me a wink. The both speak at once while Ryan begins stripping stark naked.

“Can’t help it...You should come and stay in this room for a while. My next patient’s got quite a body we can utilize, based on this man’s memory. You still got some cum left in you? I can’t expand further without it” I nod happily. If Ben thinks he’s cute, we had to at least try. What am I saying? I can produce like a motherfucker, took part of my bully inside, made it mine. I may not look it yet, but I was alpha now.

“Austin, strip down, I need some new clothes, and yours are a better fit.” Austin’s face cringes and I watch as his normal personality returns. Normal was a stretch, because he was far more subservient now than he was before this all began. Ben then looks at me with a toothy smile as he walks over to my pile of neatly folded clothes and digs out my underwear. He nonchalantly strips stark naked and then proceeds to put on my underwear. “This is a tight- Hmph!” He struggles to get each thick leg through “-ah, your clothes...Mmm! So tiny”. This results in my hot, nearly naked doctor wearing my underwear tightly. It’s pulled to its seams as it’s forced to constrict and hold together the doctor’s massive package. I watch as his cock begins to get hard, only to be restricted by the fabric. He moans at the setup. “Ayyyyeeee fuck! Fuck yeah. It feels like you’re in here, squeezing this host’s cock and ass. I’m gonna make sure he wears this forever. I’m gonna make sure this imprints our scent into this man. Look at me. Look at this muscle. Ryan..mmmmm.... all the brains and brawn in the world couldn’t help you. Every time he gets hard on, I want him to be wearing this. I want his penis to scrape this, to be bound by it, forever a reminder of who the real Ryan is now.”

Ben’s new doctor personality switches back. He politely gestures to his pile of clothes, still freshly warm before looking at me. “If you’re gonna be my assistant, you’ll need to look the part,” he states with a kind smile. I eye the warm pile, almost steaming in the residual heat. Ryan’s body licks its lips. Ben again. “Wear it. This man is ours, forever. Take ownership of that. Of those clothes. There’s so much of your genetic material embedded inside this particular specimen, at this point these are your own as much as it is his.”

I rush over to put the scrubs on, to feel the residual heat in my doctor Ryan envelop me. I relish in it. Still warm and moist with his sweat. It was like I was wearing the man myself. Of course, it fits loosely over me, and I barely pass as an assistant. He leans over to me. “smell it” he whispers. “Smell yourself. I like you better this way”. He’s right. I smell so fucking alpha in this getup. Ben then begins putting on Austin’s clothes, which are a much better fit.

In contrast, Austin is forced to wear the remainder my clothes, which he creepily sniffs first and ends up with it fitting way too tight and revealing on him. I gesture to offer the scrubs I just put on instead, but he immediately declines in a huff, “No... I’m fucking better this way. More... complete” He moans “This was the way I was meant to be... yours... wearing this makes me feel like you’re here inside me, wearing your own clothes. I belong like this...This is your body, it misses you, and he doesn’t feel whole until you’re back home.” He pats himself. “I can’t wait for you to become this. And I’m not fucking taking no for an answer either. One day, I’m putting you where you belong- inside me so we can never be separated again. Moving around feels empty when you’re not in here doing it for me”. What the fuck did Ben do? The guy, my previous bully was horny just being near me. It felt amazing.

I silently thank Ben. Whatever Austin was rambling on about turned me the fuck on. I smiled. That piece of Austin I ingested earlier- I think his shitty vocab’s been rubbing off on me. Regardless, Austin was right- wearing him, controlling him from the inside was where I belonged. I deserved it. Deserved him. “Wait for us at home- we won’t be long” Ben instructs Austin through Ryan in a fatherly tone. Austin complies, leaving the room, staring longingly at me until he no longer could.

Ben puts on his coat. “Well then, that’s settled. I hope your cock is ready, human, we have a full schedule of bodies to possess.“

-End of “Ben Pt. 2″-

A smarter version of me would have split this into two parts. Also, preemptive apologies to anyone in a medical profession.

#Male possession #Alien possession #Male control #male puppet #male body control

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lacharcutiere · 3 years

Text

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

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minniepetals · 4 years

Text

a cup of love

— summary: some days they can forget to appreciate you but even then, you’ll never stop to show them that you care

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst, mafia!au

— word count: 2.2k

— warnings: koo yells at reader (but apologizes!), the boys aren’t exactly good boys until the end

— a/n: here’s another one hehe

"Are you alright?"

Namjoon grunts with a nod as he proceeds to scribble things down onto the papers in front of him. "Yeah, don't worry about it." His reply is curt, emotionless, with brows that furrows as he refuses to look up when you've walked into his office.

"Perhaps you should take a break," you suggest but the mafia boss only deepens his brows even more.

"I have no time for a break. The newbies have already gotten on my nerves for being stupid and clueless so please, if you could just leave."

You let out a small sigh at his response but understand the stress and pressure is getting to him so you don't blame Namjoon for being short with you. "I'll go but," your brows knits together, "please remember to rest when you can. I'm worried."

There is only a low grunt in response so you place the cup of tea on his desk, careful not to put it near a place where he can accidentally move it and spill the drink. You aren't sure if he sees you doing this, eyes too focused on the things in front of him, so you take out a little post it note and scribble a few words before leaving him be with a quick kiss to his head.

You hope your little treat can help him.

When you leave Namjoon's office, it seems not only is the big boss short and upset today but also the rest of your boyfriends.

They're off for whatever reasons even as you take some time to visit them, realizing you staying with them isn't helping much of the situation so you opt with stirring up some tea (and coffee for the ones who prefer them) and leave little notes of encouragement and love to let them know that you're here for whenever they need it.

It's a little dejecting knowing they wouldn't like to have you around during their stressful times because most times they'll come seeking for your attention, wanting you to hold them, to whisper soft words, to let you and only you see their pouty and true sides of when they aren't being all big and bad for the gang. And if they won't come fetching for you, you'd go to them and things would be less stressful on their ends.

But today isn't a good day.

It isn't good at all.

So you let them have their space, knowing they need it most, and support them from afar with a soft smile and a whisper of "I'm here if you need it."

Even as you find Jungkook in the training room holding a gun and missing almost every time.

He never misses.

Never.

So during the times he does, he throws a fit, slamming the gun down hard onto the cold surface of the floor with a frustrated grunt and allowing it to break into tiny pieces.

You jump at the sudden action, brows knitted with worry. "Jung–"

"God!" He shouts and punches the wall. Your heart breaks at the sight and when he turns at your presence, it hurts you even more seeing how angry he is. "Just leave, will you?"

"You're hurt–"

"Just go!" He demands and you stand there, frozen, because it's the first time he's ever yelled at you. You know Jungkook, he hates shouting at the people he loves because he knows he will regret it later on and he's once told you despite how much he does it to the members of the gang, that he'd never raise his voice at you.

So this surprises you.

And also hurts you.

But you know he isn't in his right mind. He's just angry and annoyed and frustrated. This isn't the Jungkook you know so you take a step back, though slightly afraid because you had just gotten yelled at, and try to steady your breathing. "I'm sorry," you tell him. You aren't sure what exactly you're apologizing for but it feels right. You made him even more angry after all. "I-I'm here for you, alright? Just remember that."

He doesn't say a thing and only turns his back to you. Though it breaks your heart, you know this isn't the Jungkook you know. So you turn around and walk out the door.

Coming back a few minutes later with a herbal tea, some ointment and bandages for his hand, and a little note as quietly as you can.

Though maybe you didn't need to do that because either way, whether he knows you're there or not, Jungkook doesn't acknowledge your presence.

The days passes on. No messages, no visits, no frantically looking for you as they usually do.

You sit in the library, reading, though your mind can't come to comprehend anything you've read because the only thing you're stuck on is worrying about your boys.

They aren't in the right state of mind but you aren't sure how to help so you end up just overthinking everything until eventually your mind gets too tired and your body curls up into a little ball, book hugging against your chest, and your eyes falls shut.

It's only until hours later do they finally find the cup of (now cold) coffee and tea and the little post it notes you've given them all to try and make things better.

"I love you," Taehyung stares at the little heart you drew, "please remember to love and take care of yourself as well! I hate seeing you so stressed." There is a sad little face at the end that tugs at his heart and his eyes look on over at the cup of chamomile tea you've brewed for him.

"God, I've messed up," the man groans as he leans back into his chair and puts his forearm over his eyes.

When Jimin walks into the training room, Jungkook's lying flat on the blue mat shirtless as he stares up at the ceiling, breathing ragged and hard from the continuous training he's forced himself to have.

"Kook," the older one calls as he spots your little gift for Jungkook on a barstool, "Y/N made some–wait, why did she put some ointment and a roll of bandages for you? What the hell did you do?"

He's quick to run over to the younger man and rest his legs on either side of him, sitting right on top of his stomach and letting Jungkook give out a soft "oomph" at the sudden action.

"What the hell, hyung?"

He's still irritated.

"Did you see what Y/N left you?" Jimin asks as he scans the younger one's body to see what exactly made you leave the medicine for him. "I was short with her today but babygirl still made me coffee and left me a little note of encouragement. She–ah, there it is." He sighs at the sight of the maknae's red knuckles and looks back at him with a disapproving stare. "Did you get angry and smash a wall again?"

Jungkook grunts as he moves, forcing his hyung to get off him. "Whatever. Why does it matter anyway?" He sits up and grabs his black shirt from the floor to put it back on as he heads over to the barstool. Eyeing the three things, Jungkook sighs as he takes the ointment to apply it on himself, ignoring the tea that's obviously cold at this point without caring to read the post it note.

"We're about to go home soon," Jimin tells him. "You know where Y/N is?"

"She hasn't gone home?"

"She'll usually text us if she does. Plus you know she isn't allowed to leave by herself."

He rolls his eyes and finishes wrapping the bandage around his hand before taking a moment to read whatever you had to say.

"Hey Kook, I know you aren't exactly yourself at the moment but that's alright, I know you never meant to yell at me."

Crap. He yelled at you.

"It's okay to let it out once in a while, you're human after all. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, you'll always be my sweet Jungkook who never forgets to shower me with love. Don't beat yourself up too much, alright? I love you and will always, always be proud of you no matter what."

"What'd she say?" Jimin asks a few seconds later when Jungkook seems to just be staring at the note for the longest time.

"I yelled at her, hyung," he whispers.

"What?"

"I yelled at our babygirl," he repeats a little louder. "Crap I...I yelled at her when she was just trying to help and-"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly proud of what I did today either."

"We have to find her." He's quick to jump back onto his feet. "God I'm such an idiot."

"Where's Y/N?" Seokjin asks the younger ones minutes later when they find each other in the hall.

Jimin's brows furrow. "You mean she wasn't with you?"

The oldest cringes. "I wasn't exactly...kind to her today."

"You're saying we all messed up today?" Yoongi asks as he emerges from the other end of the hall with Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok right behind him.

"You're saying we all made her feel worthless today?" Jimin raises a brow and Jungkook utters a curse under his breath.

"I yelled at our babygirl."

"Come on," Hoseok urges with a sigh, "let's go find her to make things right again."

It took a while.

A few minutes before someone ended up telling them they'd seen you walk into the library and the big bosses were quick to rush in, shouting for your name.

Only to immediately fall silent when they find your sleeping on an armchair with a book held closely to your chest. Your breathing is long and deep, chest rising and falling in a steady beat and their hearts fall at how innocent you look because they've literally done wrong all of today. Yet despite it all, the post it notes held in their hands and kept in their pockets are nothing but sweet words and reminders that you love them still and wish for them to take care of themselves.

They did you wrong yet you never grew angry at them for it, only more worried and concerned and it breaks their hearts knowing this.

Jungkook falls to his knees in front of you, brows knitting with guilt as he strokes your cheek. "Babygirl," he whispers softly and hesitantly. "Babygirl? Can you wake up, sweetheart?"

You could hardly believe the softness in his tone after being yelled at, almost forgetting about what had happened today until you're blinking awake to find the man staring at you with eyes filled with regret.

"..Kook...?" You call in a croaky tone, still adjusting to waking up.

"Oh babygirl," he sighs and wraps his arms around your waist and place his head down against your lap. "I'm so, so sorry, my love. I didn't mean to take my anger out on you. I was so wrong to yell at you when you had only wanted to help."

"We were all wrong today," Namjoon says as he purses his lips. "You were only trying to help and we shut you out."

"Hey..." you shake your head slowly, eyes still sleepy with a lethargic smile. "It's okay..you weren't yourselves today."

"That's not a valid excuse," Hoseok frowns.

"We were wrong. We shouldn't have shut you out," Taehyung agrees.

"You always manage to make things better," Yoongi says as he takes your hand. "We should have leaned on you instead of lashing out and making you feel worthless."

"It's okay, I promise you," you assure him with a light squeeze of his hand.

"You may have forgiven us but we aren't going to forgive ourselves that easily," Jimin vows and the maknae looks up, nodding.

You catch the small trail of tears brimming along his eyes and your heart softens. "Oh Jungkook, please don't cry."

"But I yelled at you and I promised that I wouldn't but I did." He squeezes you tightly. "You didn't deserve that."

"I understand you, I promise."

"It's not fair," the man pouts, "why are you so forgiving? We don't deserve this."

"You should be angry at us instead," Seokjin agrees.

Yet you shake your head again. "It's okay, I promise. But, are you alright now? Do you wish to talk about it? I'm here to listen, I promise I–"

"We'll deal with it babygirl," Namjoon tells you. "We'll deal with it rationally this time without letting the frustration blind us again."

You giggle and it makes them relieved to hear such beautiful music ringing in their ears. "Are we going home now?" You ask and Jungkook's quick to get up.

But he doesn't let you go, only opening his arms to invite you in. "Let's go home," he says and you let him easily pick you up. "But," the man pauses before he can proceed to walk out the doors. His gaze is serious as he stares at you and give you a kiss on your lips. "This doesn't mean we're done with apologizing, alright?"

You giggle again. "Alright then," you allow, "I guess I deserve that today, hm?"

"More than anything."

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pedrosbish · 3 years

Text

cinnamon girl

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, mentions of drug use, lil bit of fluff

“Are you nervous?”

You smile softy at the way his laugh falls out of his mouth, like a melody that rises before slowly falling - yeah, he’s really nervous. Glancing at him standing in front of the mirror, you notice him struggling with his bowtie, something the boys laughed about when he said that his wife-to-be had insisted he wear it on the big day - you had not laughed.

“This fucking thing,” he turns towards you with his hands in the air and a frown on his face that you can’t help but chuckle at. “Could you please help me?”

“Maybe I could get one of the boys to d-”

“Please?”

Ignoring the way your stomach erupts in butterflies at the way he stares at you, his deep brown eyes calling you to drown in them, you tentatively move to stand in front of him. Taking a deep breath through your nose your hands move of their own accord, placing themselves on his chest and you sneak a glance up at his face, his beautiful and gleaming face. Your eyes burn slightly as you touch his bowtie, the black material soft as you slowly tie it below the collar of his shirt. He looks so happy and it breaks your heart.

You can feel the way his eyes are trained on you and your heart flutters in your ribcage but you don’t dwell on the feeling for too long otherwise it would cause hope to blossom in a place where it was sure to fizzle out. You couldn’t even look the man you loved in the face.

“There you go Frankie,” it’s a quiet whisper as you pat his chest, once then twice, squishing the ache to hold onto him for just a little while longer.

“Thank you,” he faces the mirror, fixing his recently trimmed hair and straightening the bowtie. “Right, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you force a laugh out of your mouth but it falls flat. “I should probably go join the rest of the guests now.”

Before you can leave, a calloused hand grabs your wrist and gently tugs you into the warm body of Frankie who proceeds to wrap his arms around your waist, his face falling into the crook of your neck, his breath causing goosebumps to rise. You close your eyes, savouring the way he feels against you as your own arms wrap around his neck, squeezing tightly before releasing him. You pat his shoulders and his arms falls to his sides, a small smile on his face as he watches you leave the room.

You close your eyes as the door falls shut behind you, a few tears escaping and rolling down your face and you hastily wipe them away as you hear footsteps moving in your direction. Santiago appears in your blurry vision as he hurries towards you, gently taking you by the elbow and steering you around the corner just as a sob works its way up your throat.

“It hurts so fucking much Santi,” you manage to gasp out and the man before you nods his head, a small frown on his face as he pulls you into his chest, your tears instantly leaving its mark on his chest. “God, I love him so much it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

Why were you doing this to yourself?

You already had the answer to that. Because you loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and seeing him this happy, even if it meant you had to break yourself and attempt to mend the broken pieces, even if it meant it wasn’t with you, it was worth it.

~~~

“She’s beautiful Francisco.”

You gently trace the soft face of the baby in your arms, nestled in her pink blanket and eyes shut. Little noises escape her mouth as she dreams, her tiny hand wrapping around your finger tightly which causes a small giggle to escape you.

“She’s got quite a grip!” You glance up at him only to notice him looking out the window overlooking the garden outside, lost in his own thoughts.

You took the time to look him over, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you noticed the bags that stood out on his unusually pale face and the way his shirt hung loosely on his body, more so then when you had last seen him. Eyebrows scrunching in worry, you place the baby back in her chair, the tenseness in your shoulder disappearing for a second as she wiggles before settling back into her sleep.

It all returns when you start walking towards Frankie, slowly reaching a hand out and placing it on his back. He jumps slightly before settling back to watch outside when he notices that it’s just you.

“Frankie,” you try to get his attention and you ignore the way your heart tugs when he makes no move to acknowledge you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

You know that he didn't mean to snap at you but you still retract your hand from its position quickly and it falls at your side, nervously fiddling with a loose piece of string from your jeans. His eyes soften when he notices and he rubs at his forehead, eyes closing for a second before he looks at you, really looks at you this time instead of just looking through you.

“I’m just tired,” his laugh is humourless as he glances around the house, taking in the blankets and pillows in a pile on the couch and the baby next to it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are- are you guys...fighting?”

“Yeah,” he sighs and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes slowly become shinier with every second. “Just...couple problems.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you rub soothingly with your thumb, taking no notice of the way they hunch towards you, begging for more comfort. His eyes look over your face but you don’t notice, only taking in the fact that his skin feels oddly clammy under your hand and the bone of his shoulder protrudes.

“Have you been eating properly?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes and body now shifting away from you as he returns to his spot by the window. Fuck, you shouldn't have said anything. You instantly regret speaking until an idea sparks in your mind.

“We could maybe show the kid our favourite diner? I could really go for one of their burgers and milkshakes right now.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and you smile in return, knowing you said the right thing. The two of you had accidentally stumbled across the small diner - how you don’t exactly remember as you were looking for a completely different place- and you had eaten, falling in love with the place. As often as you two could you would meet up for a meal there, finding solace in the food and in each other.

But, but then it falls as quickly as it appeared and he shakes his head.

“Not hungry.”

“Frankie, please. You look like you’ve barely eaten! It’s not good for you and it’s not good for your baby.”

“I said I’m fucking fine! Just fucking leave me be!”

Silence.

And then it’s broken by the cries of the once sleeping baby. You rush over and immediately rock her back and forth, hiding your tears from the gaze of Frankie who, once again, turns to look out at that fucking window as if he hadn’t just yelled at you. Once her cries fade out, you place her back in her chair before moving towards Frankie.

“I just wanted to h-”

“Just get out.”

“What?”

He whips around to face you, fire burning in his eyes and face now red.

“I don’t need your help. Fuck, I don’t even want your help. I’m fine, my wife is fine and my baby is fine. Now please get the fuck out of my house.”

Your mouth falls open in shock at his outburst, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as you watch him, his chest heaving at a fast pace and his face red as he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. He makes no move to comfort you, doesn’t open his mouth to apologise and explain what’s got him worked up and it breaks your heart. This wasn’t the Frankie you knew and loved.

“I can’t do this with you Francisco. I can’t watch the man I love fall apart like this,” you manage to say and you don’t wait for his answer as you quickly kiss the baby goodbye and walk out the door.

~~~

Hours turned into days and days turned into months with neither you or Frankie making any move to talk to each other. Santiago had visited you several times after you had ignored his comments about how his friend, your friend, was doing, begging you to come out for drinks, to the movies, even softball games with the boys. You had declined every invitation and Santiago had never pushed, eventually getting the hint that you were ignoring a certain somebody.

He hadn’t given much detail but had said that Frankie was doing better, he had “gotten clean” after his wife had left and threatened to take his baby away from him. Santiago had left after that conversation and you had cried. You cried until your lungs hurt and the tears had dried up. Your friend had been hurting so much that he couldn't come to you for help.

A week had passed since that conversation with Santiago and so many times you had opened your contacts, finger hovering over Frankie’s number but every time you had put your phone down, your argument playing in your head over and over again. You were too scared to make amends, scared that he would yell at you again for meddling in his life.

A knock sounds at the door and you rush over - whoever was out there in this weather was either very brave or very stupid. It was raining heavily as you opened the door and a wave of cold and wet air hit you, making a gasp escape your mouth. Squinting your eyes against the onslaught of rain you take in the hooded figure of-

“Francisco? What the hell are you doing here?” You raise your voice in order for him to hear you over the rain. “Quickly come inside!”

Closing the door behind him, Frankie attempts to shake off the water that collected on his jacket as he had tried working up the courage to raise his fist and knock on your door. His breath catches in his throat as he glances at you, still as beautiful as the day he last saw you, the last day he yelled at you.

“I’m so sorry,” he looks down at the ground and whispers it so quietly but you manage to hear him. “I’m so sorry for what I said, for what I did to you. You didn't fucking deserve it. God, you deserve a better friend than me.”

“Frankie...”

He closes his eyes at the wave of emotion that washes over him at the sound of his nickname falling past your lips, whispered so softly that he almost collapses to his knees in front of you. You deserve to be worshipped. You deserve every good thing in this goddamn world.

You slowly move closer to him until you stand directly in front of him and ignoring the way his wet clothes make you shiver, you cup his cheek in your hand. He leans into your touch and opens his eyes which trace every feature on your face as if it was his last day to do so and you ignore the way your heart flutters within your chest, threatening to escape into the hands of the man before you.

“Did you mean what you said that night?”

His question knocks you off guard and your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you work through what was said that night, giving him the sudden urge to trace your eyebrows, your eyes, your nose, your lips, every part of you with his finger. You open your mouth to answer but he beats you to it.

“When you said that you loved me?”

“Oh Francisco,” you say gently, eyes filling with tears. “How could I not?”

Without hesitation, he leans forward and captures your lips in a kiss that would have knocked you off your feet if it had not been for his arm circling around your waist. His lips are as soft, as they have always looked to you, his scruff ticking your skin, and with that thought you wrap your arms around his neck, ignoring the way his wet clothes stick to your dry ones.

You break away for a second to catch your breath, smiling at the way your lips tingle with his kiss and he smiles back down at you. This was your Frankie. He leans down to plant a fleeting kiss on your lips, instantly making you want more, more, more.

“I love you too.”

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darlingpetao3 · 3 years

Text

House of W (Multiple!Wells x Reader, Chapter 5)

Rating: T

Summary: After having to deal with the deaths of an infinite number of Harrison Wells in the Multiverse, you, a magic-wielding meta, have a breakdown and unwittingly create a happy, fictitious sitcom life with some of your favourite men. In a world of comedy and cameos, can Team Flash and an out-of-town magician break through your powers to save you? And what if you don’t want to be saved...?

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @crissymadlock @firstofficer-tilly @disneyoncerlover815 @marvel-lady10 @thecaptainsgingersnap @noctvrnalmoth @alexxlynn @dontbedumb3 @heyl0lwhatsup @ryou-cosmos @arianalilyblack @sonnensplitter @imagine-yourself-happy @stuckysdaughter

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

“Honeyyyyyyys…?” you call out in the house. Naturally, four handsome men come running.

“What’s happening?” Nash, in his jean shorts and Hawaiian themed shirt, asks you urgently.

“What’s happening is I am the worst mother ever!” you yell. Cue four sweet and simultaneous denials of your belief. “But I am—I can’t find the twins!”

How can someone lose two tiny babies? You had only looked away for thirty seconds and poof—Liberty and Belle were gone! They couldn’t even so much as crawl yet!

“Everyone, spread out,” a suspenders-wearing H.R. conducts the family, “they can’t have gone far.”

Harry moves closer to you to rub your back with small circles. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a wonderful mother. We just have a couple of troublemakers on our hands, it seems.”

You give a slight nod and begin to scour every place you haven’t already checked in the house. Everything is going to be fine, everything is going to be fine…

A pair of foreign giggles come from the closet by the alcove. How strange. You follow the sounds, and sometimes you’ll hear a “Shhhhh!” followed by more snickering. When you open the door to the closet, you’re entirely shocked to find two little girls who look to be five years old—one in overalls and the other in a dress.

“Libby, Libby, Libby! I told you to be quiet!” Belle scolds her sister.

“But your hair was tickling my face!” Liberty tries to explain.

Meanwhile, you’re still stunned to see your babies have grown in such a short amount of time. It really should be such a surprise considering the shortness of the pregnancy, but still!

You try to find your voice by beckoning your husbands. “I-I found them!”

“Hi, mommyyyyy,” they say in such adorable unison. Their perfect little faces look up at you and you feel like you’re staring into a mirror-time-portal. You crouch down and open your arms.

“I was so worried,” you tell the girls. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Sherloque, H.R., Harry, and Nash soon appear behind you and gawk at their rapidly aged daughters.

“How are they five?” H.R. whispers his question to no one and anyone.

“A very good question…” Sherloque, in his white trousers and blazers with a sharp purple shirt underneath, strokes his chin.

You wipe a tear from your eye and clear your throat. “Why don’t you two hooligans help your Pops with something in the garage?”

“You got it, dude!” Belle shoots you adorable finger guns before grabbing her sister’s and Nash’s hand. And then, in a flash, they’re gone. Indeed so quick that your voluminous hair flies every which way—books and papers suddenly strewn all over the house.

“Did Belle just…?” Harry starts to ask but falters.

“Run Mach one in my house? Yeah, I think she did…” you reply, figuratively and almost literally blown away. “Oh!”

H.R. holds your hand in comfort at the sound of your weepy noise. “What is it, Honey Bear?”

“I can’t believe it. I missed their first steps, their first words. So many firsts. They’re five!”

“There will be plenty more firsts that we won’t miss,” Harry soothes, “together.”

“If ma Belle ‘as the ability to run vitement,” Sherloque wonders to the rest of you, “what does this mean pour ma Liberté?”

This makes you think—remember things that you’d rather not remember. But, what if…?

You take quick strides towards the garage through the kitchen, your remaining husbands following closely behind. Peering out the window, you spot Liberty using her glowing purple hands to float a socket wrench over to Nash from his toolbox. His eyes are wide, but happily so, at the magic presented by his daughter.

“Little chips off the old block, aren’t they?” H.R. notes, putting an arm around your shoulders and Harry’s (the latter picks up and drops his doppelganger’s arm off of him).

“Yes, I suppose they are.” You sigh in contentment. “What do you three say to a little quiet time on the couch?”

The men don’t even need to voice their approval of the idea, only follow you devotedly out of the kitchen. Sherloque pulls up the rear but stops short at the refrigerator. The appliance is strangely already covered in artwork, with barely any free space available on the appliance. And then… there’s something else that sticks out amongst the vibrantly coloured scribbles.

He leans in a little closer to inspect a piece of paper. Sherloque notes the hurried scrawl of the letters:

You’re on a TV show. This isn’t real. We’re trying to help you.

The puzzled detective continues to analyze the strange message. What does this mean? he wonders.

He tries his best to remember what his life was like before he married you. What was life like? It takes every ounce of brainpower to attempt the recollection, but Sherloque unfortunately comes up short with answers.

Something he is both not known for and hates.

He checks around the room to see if anyone is watching him, but no one is in sight. Regardless of his lack of findings, he waves in the direction of one of the kitchen walls as if someone was watching. Sherloque then marches into the living room where you’re snuggled up with Harry and H.R.

“What is this?” he demands of you, flashing the note in front of your face. You, of course, have no idea and voice as such.

Harry snatches the piece of paper and proceeds to study it. “This is a joke, right?”

“I think someone must be playing a prank on you, my love,” you tell your suspicious French husband.

“And I think you are lying to us, ma petite,” he replies. Sherloque turns his attention to the other men on the couch. “Dites-moi, what is your earliest memory?”

Harry and H.R.’s foreheads scrunch in thought.

“The first thing I ever remember is showing up here for dinner a few nights ago,” H.R. says slowly. “But it feels much quicker than only a couple of nights…”

“And you, (Y/N),” Harry adds, “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life, and yet my first memory was the same as this jackwagon.”

“Aww, Harry, I feel like I’ve known you my entire life too,” you say sweetly. “All of you!”

Sherloque squints at you. “Stop that. You are hiding something. Eet is the way you swallow with difficulty and perspire. Aussi the tapping of your foot.”

“I am not hiding any-”

“-You lie!” Sherloque raises his voice. H.R. and Harry stand up from the couch and face you with crossed arms, pulling his blue plaid shirt tighter against his chest.

“Is it true?” H.R. asks you, looking ever so much like a puppy dog. It pains you to see him look so hurt. They both seem to take Sherloque’s word for it. And over yours?

“Is any of this real?” Harry finishes his opposite-self’s question, then points in the direction of the garage. “Are they real?”

“Of course our daughters are real!” you find yourself shouting at the notion otherwise. “They’re parts of us!”

“Then what have you done to our memories? You’re keeping secrets!”

At this point, Nash enters the room with Liberty and Belle, clearly not expecting an argument from their idyllic family unit. His hands on their shoulders. They must have heard the fighting…

“Listen,” you try calmly, “I did this for us. You don’t want to know what happened before our lives together here. You just don’t.”

“You do not get to choose for us,” Sherloque counters sternly.

The tension can be cut with a knife, and the proverbial knife that does the cutting comes in the form of a sound—the doorbell.

“Who is that, (Y/N)?” Harry asks you.

“I don’t know. That’s not me, I swear it,” you tell him, very much confused yourself. Each of your husbands stands with their arms still crossed, waiting. It hurts you to see them so upset with you. This was supposed to be perfect. This was supposed to be easy.

Your feet that feel like lead somehow manage to carry you over to the door. Twisting the doorknob, you open the door to reveal another extremely familiar face…

“How’s it hangin’, Miss (Y/L/N).”

What? No… It can’t be him?

Looking the epitome of cool—dressed in stone washed jeans, a yellow button-down shirt with a black leather jacket thrown over top—stands the man you never thought you’d see again. Especially in your own safe little world.

Eobard Thawne.

The man walks right in the house like he owns the place with an incredible amount of swagger.

“So, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

#reader insert #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imgaine #harrison wells fanfiction #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #nash wells x reader #nash wells imagine #sherloque wells x reader #sherloque wells imagine #hr wells x reader #hr wells imagine #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

What if the entire human cast were turned into vampires? (those who stay human throughout the saga)

Well, the first question we must ask ourselves, is who’s turning them? Who would do such a thing?

It’s a very stupid thing to do, after all, and a surefire way to earn yourself a visit from the Volturi.

Now, who in the post-Breaking Dawn world would want to turn all the humans near the Cullens into vampires, ensuring another confrontation between the Cullens and the Volturi?

Answer is, drumroll-

The Romanians.

As of Breaking Dawn, the Volturi are extremely vulnerable. Jane, Alec, even Chelsea have all been neutered. Renata is Schrödinger’s shield. She might work, might not. The more time they’re given to regroup after this, however, the worse news for their would-be usurpers.

Now is the time for a rebellion, but there’s no rebellion without Bella. Bella, unfortunately, is in a coven led by ultimate pacifist Carlisle, and Carlisle isn’t going to greenlight storming Volterra with an army. It’s time to get creative.

This could go many places, but the path of a biting spree in Forks and La Push is certainly one of them.

So, Vladimir and Stefan bite the entire human cast, and open Pandora’s box.

One of the first things to happen, I think, is that Billy, Quil senior, Emily, Kim, and Rachel are killed, maybe even before their transformations can complete. They would not want to live as vampires, to them vampirism is a fate worse than death. A mercy killing before they can hurt anybody would be the only way out.

As for the rest...

This would break the secret.

In this globalized age of internet, viral videos, and live TV, several hundred people all falling mysteriously ill with the same inexplicable symptoms, screaming and begging for death for days, slowly turning into something else as baffled doctors watch, before becoming massacring demons that tear the hospitals they’re in to pieces within minutes and proceed into the streets, killing everything in sight-

Aro hasn’t had a headache like this since ever.

This doesn’t even have to do with the Cullens anymore, though they’ll have to testify that they had nothing to do with this. Caius will be out for blood, though, any blood, and his ire will fall upon them.

This, of course, is the part the Romanians did it all for, because everyone knows that the Volturi are corrupt and would execute them regardless of guilt, so the Cullens will have to bring a new set of witnesses to this confrontation. And this time, of course, the Volturi are showing up to get massacred. Stefan and Vladimir high five each other.

And this time the odds are entirely in their favor.

In Breaking Dawn, standing by the Cullens was a suicide mission. No one knew Bella would be able to pull off what she did, none of the arrivals even knew she even had a gift when they agreed to come. Carlisle gathered only his bravest and most devoted friends.

In this scenario, now that everyone knows Bella’s gift neuters the Volturi, every single vampire who’s ever wanted the Volturi gone are going to want to be there. From random nomads to Maria with her newborns, everyone who’s anybody is going to want to be there, and they’re likely already squabbling over who gets to be top dog as soon as Aro’s a pile ashes.

And Aro can’t avoid this.

He can’t barricade himself in Volterra because there are hundreds of newborns loose in Washington. If he does nothing this will mean that the Volturi rule is officially void. They can’t enforce their law anymore, they may be alive down there in Italy but the era of the Volturi is over in all the ways that count.

If he goes to Washington, he can’t avoid the Cullens for the same reason as above. If he doesn’t collect their testimony to ascertain their innocence it’ll mean they’re now above the law, which in turn means that the Volturi don’t have the strength to punish them.

He has to go to Washington, and he has to deal with the Cullens.

Now, Carlisle may think the best of everyone, but even he would know the plot of the movie 300 when he sees it. The Romanians showed up at his doorstep, they totally didn’t create all those vampires wink, oh and here are eighty thug vampires who are already drawing straws on who gets to kill which Volturi.

More, what happened in Forks and La Push is only a taste of what’s to come.

Not only are the Volturi needed to help stop this madness, but if they should fall then what happened in Forks and La Push will only be a blip on the radar against the chaos that will be unleashed. It’ll be a genocide of the human species.

And Carlisle will have a culpability in that. The reason why this mass vampire creation tragedy is happened in the first place is precisely to see the Cullens go to war against the Volturi.

Last problem, it would be a massacre of the Volturi. Carlisle is a pacifist who cherishes life, even if it there would be no repercussions to the Volturi falling, forty-something vampires would still be killed.

I think at this point it would be unconscionable for Carlisle to allow this confrontation to happen. Question is, how to prevent it?

I have no doubt that the Romanians would be filling Bella’s head with conspiracy theories and what have you, for starters, explaining how her family will never be safe while Aro lives. It would be effective, even if Bella is told by Carlisle what this means for humans she’s not necessarily going to internalize just how bad that would be. Bella also has the problem that she romanticizes her love for Edward, to the point where she i Eclipse would let his family die if it meant she could keep him. Letting civilization fall to protect her lover would be acceptable to Bella.

More, the Cullens like humans well enough, but they’re not altruistic.

Likely, they would be convinced by the Romanians and the other vampires there that this was a fight for liberty, the human population would be fine, this is really no worse than Heidi fishing 40 people a week, we’re just more honest about it! The Cullens would want to be convinced, because the Volturi are scary and have proven evil in the past. If they’re not overthrowing them, they’re not just agreeing to live in danger, they’re agreeing to be slaughtered. It’s been established, to them, that Aro’s just itching for an excuse to kill them.

Carlisle can make his plea that they fuck off to Isle Esme while he alone stays behind to testify to Aro, so there’s no Bella at the confrontation. They’d refuse both because there’d be nothing stopping Aro from killing their allies and then coming after them when they’re alone, and because there’d be a real chance they were leaving Carlisle to his death.

Besides, with Bella’s gift they can hold the Volturi hostage, act nice or she’ll let these 80 vampires kill them. Nevermind that the vampires would just attack the Volturi anyway, and Bella couldn’t not shield them.

Bella and the rest of the Cullens aren’t going to go along with Carlisle.

Now, if Carlisle were Aro, the hard but effective solution here would be the Didyme route. Kill Bella, one life to spare the many.

Carlisle is not Aro.

What options does he have, then?

He could sneak away to intercept the Volturi, speak with Aro, hope to in some way initiate talks. It’d be a desperate, futile gamble, one where even if he gets Aro to listen it still won’t make their army-shaped problem go away, because Bella will never believe it if Aro says “we’re friends now! No quarrel! I’m definitely not going to kill you at first leisure if you let your army go.”

It’s an empty lead.

I think, given everything, Carlisle would swallow down the bitter taste of irony, call up his old friends whom he can still rely on, such as the Irish and the Amazonians, and ask very nicely if they would - sigh - like to witness that the newest Cullen-Volturi encounter goes over peacefully. The shapeshifters should be on board as well, after what happened to their loved ones and the countless other innocent humans killed or turned, they’ll never forgive the Romanians and not Bella for standing with them either.

So Aro shows up, and there’s Bella and the Romanians with an army of thugs, and there to the side is Carlisle with his tiny squad of witnesses. Who, should a fight break out, will try to defend the Volturi and get themselves killed in the crosshairs.

There’s a long silence.

Everyone is giving Carlisle their most exasperated eyerolls, his own squad included. Carlisle wishes he was rolling his eyes too, but the situation is a bit too serious for that. He just stands there feeling very uncomfortable.

Quite damningly for Bella, if she now allows the fight to happen that means the shapeshifters will be killed. None of the Cullens are particularly keen on the fight now that Carlisle’s likely to die.

Frankly, I think this would be an unbearably awkward encounter where absolutely nobody acknowledges aloud the reason why they’re there, or what was supposed to happen, and act as if it’s a normal trial, for the several first few minutes.

The Romanians know this is it, this is their chance, so right about the time where Aro is saying “How excellent that we’ve established the Cullens didn’t do it! Who, then, could the culprits possibly be?” they launch their attack.

All, at this point, depends on Bella’s reaction. If she keeps up her shield, then a glorious battle occurs, and most if not all Volturi die, the Carlisle squad are also goners, and most if not all of the Romanians’ army die as well.

The thing is, to win the Romanians don’t have to win - they just have to make the Volturi lose. So, even if they’re wiped out, if they can take out the key members of the Volturi then the Volturi will still have lost.

And this is where Aro’s planning enters into the equation.

Would he bring his key players to what was certain to be a slaughter? Would he even come himself?

Is it not perhaps wiser to send the twins, who in a fight without their gifts would be the first and easiest to be killed, to a secret location? Hope that, should the Volturi fall, then they can at least hope to take Bella down with them so that Jane and Alec will be able to keep the world from succumbing to a fiery hellpit?

And Jane and Alec couldn’t do this alone. They’re kids, for one thing. More, there are no men like Aro. His gift and personality both have been how he kept the vampire world under control for over a thousand years. It is a romantic notion to go down with your ship, burn with your empire, but it’s an impractical one. And Aro is nothing if not practical.

If he doesn’t show up to the trial it’ll just be sending his Volturi to be slaughtered, and as I explained above, not going at all isn’t an option either.

I think the twins would be safely whisked away to some faraway place, while Aro arrives with plans for an effective escape for himself and the core members, and as many vampires Chelsea was able to get to redshirt themselves.

This, in turn, means that even if Bella doesn’t use her gift, it’ll still be a slaughter. Alec and Jane aren’t there.

In the scenario where Bella doesn’t use her gift, this forces the Cullens to fight alongside the Carlisle squad and the Volturi. The odds are not so uneven as they originally were. Could be Aro still escapes, or given the tipped balances he could try and luck it out, to increase the odds of his side winning.

There are many outcomes this battle could have, but the Volturi would not escape unscathed from this. No coven would, the fighting would only end when there was only the victor remaining.

I, personally, like the outcome where Carlisle and Aro both survive, and find themselves living with a new world order. The secret is out, the Volturi are a shadow of what they once were, and the Cullens can never live as humans again. The two form a tentative alliance (because at no point has anything been cleared up between them) to keep this new world from descending into interspecies war.

Edward, now a Volturi, wonders where it all went wrong.

(There’s also the outcome where Renesmée joins her grandpa’s squad as a teen rebellion thing, and since no one wants to harm her the fight is cancelled.

Aro repeats his ramble about nukes and missiles, the vampire community needs him to smooth things over and have Chelsea make all world leaders adore vampires or it’s over for all of them. Carlisle supplies in that poorly scripted random member of the audience says exactly what the magician needs him to way, “Yes absolutely the humans have weapons that can take us out!”

It’s awkward for everybody.)

#Anonymous #ask #long post #this was an oddly difficult one #too many variables #and it's never easy to predict the actions of people more intelligent than me #not in a scenario like this one where they'll be at their most strategic #aro #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #bella swan #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta

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neokollection · 4 years

Text

Reaction To Their S/O Feeling Ugly While Pregnant

WayV

‘hi if you get the chance could you please do a wayv version of “s/o feels ugly while pregnant” reaction? i really enjoyed the first two parts! thank you 💕💕💕’ NCT 127/U ver. is here~

Kun:

He’d be such a good dad-

You let the pads of your fingertips trace down the stretchmarks among the side of your stomach- You’d tried a variety of lotions & oils known for reducing scar visibility and yet they were still very much present. With a sigh you rubbed the oil in as you examined yourself in the mirror. Would you ever be able to get rid of them-? It donned on you once again how nearly impossible it could be regain your previous body.

The ajar door opened slowly, revealing your fiancé, his eyes questioning and brows raised.

“Yes?”

He gave his usual gentle smile, “I was just checking in on you- You’ve been in here for a while.”

“Oh-”

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been in there, having showered, shaved, and lazily towel dried your hair, you stood in front of the mirror for a matter of minutes in your joggers and bralette. He also took notice of your appearance, skin glowing with moisture, lips rosy, hair damp, droplets of water decorating your soft shoulders, the valley of your breasts calling to him, the large swell of your stomach reminding him you were the mother of his child. Words couldn’t express how he felt just looking at you- He slipped in, his grin growing as he positioned himself behind you, his hands sliding along your very bloated waist to the front of your balloon of a stomach. His hands were so much warmer and larger than yours.

“You smell good,” he noted, pressing his cheek to your damp hair, his breath tickling your ear.

His hands continued to roam along your stomach, his rougher fingertips glossing over the stretchmarks at your side repeatedly, the patterned indentations rapturing his attention.

“I can’t get rid of them,” you informed, lips pulling into a frown.

“You don’t have to,” he informed softly, his mesmerized hands tracing over them once more.

“Even after-” you choked up, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to normal.”

The wells in your eyes spilled over, causing you to bring your hands to your face.

“Shh,” he coaxed, his hands going to your own as he turned turned your head gently, causing your feet to take tiny steps until you faced him, immediately letting your head fall to his shoulder.

“You’re perfect now- You were perfect before- And you’ll be perfect after,” he reminded, referring to your body, “You’re so beautiful, you have no idea-”

Ten:

Any chance he could, Ten would have his cheek pressed to your stomach, the small bump having enraptured his attention for the past months. He listened intently for signs of life, his hand going to rest of the expanse of your stomach, patiently awaiting a kick. At first it was quite endearing, but with time you felt more self-conscious as he’d lift the front of your shirt up.

Today he was feeling quite lovey, having been wrapped around you since he came home. His damp hair tickled your skin, his scent vanilla- You were glad he’d showered before climbing into bed with you, but wish he’d dried his hair. He pressed a tender kiss to your collar before nuzzling into your neck, drawn to the warmth as his hand slid from the mound of your stomach to your chest, giving one of your clothed breasts a gentle squeeze-

“Ten,” you whined slightly, shying away from the droplets of cold water that greeted you.

Reaching down as he hummed, he started pulling the front of your shirt up. With a kiss to your jaw he drew back- Before he could feast his eyes on the glory of your tummy you pushed your shirt back down, attempting to sit up slightly. Confused, he held your gaze for a long moment of silence, trying to decipher if you were mad at him, if he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not in the mood,” you informed, breaking eye contact for a brief moment.

Registering your words, he open but shut his mouth before breaking into a beautiful smile, collapsing toward you with a light chuckle.

“That’s okay,” he replied, wrapping himself around your arm as he snuggled closer childishly, “I just want to be with you~”

He expected a reaction, a smile or giggle, even a roll of your eyes would suffice, instead you sighed quietly, turning your gaze from him.

“Um,” he began, “Am I being annoying or something-? You seem upset...” he trailed off.

You couldn’t think of how to express yourself, replying with a simple, “No,” with a voice crack- You now turned your face fully from him, knowing what would come next, tears.

“Baby,” he called, his tone serious, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so ugly,” you whispered- “I’ve gotten so fat-”

Ten wore an incredulous expression, judging you.

“What are you talking about?”

You couldn’t reply, you didn’t want to be a crying mess.

He wrapped himself around your body, leg draping over your hip, you were surprised he had the strength to pull your body into his own.

“No, you’re not-”

You still couldn’t reply, taking deep breaths to calm yourself and dry your eyes.

“I love you,” he reminded, pressing a kiss to your temple as he held you.

WinWin:

“Some girls you just can’t tell if they’re pregnant or just fat,” your friend ranted, stabbing another french fry with her fork before enlarging her eyes, “But like you- I can obviously tell you’re just pregnant,” she added in attempt to not be offensive. Yikes.

A dinner with friends was fun for the most part, but there were certainly characters who had rather strong opinions- Lately you simply felt you were matured, in different places in life- Less of a connection.

Distracted, she began to ramble about something else and you noticed Sicheng refill your glass of water. You hardly had an appetite, taking small bites of food before downing your water.

“Why don’t you eat more?” Sicheng prodded gently, leaning into your side.

“I’m not hungry.”

He pursed his lips in response, struggling for a moment for how he should proceed. Perhaps you didn’t like the meal, with his fork a stabbed a piece of your calzone, seemed fine. Using his fork to push your food aside he scraped some pieces of steak from his plate.

“Sicheng,” you fought, not wanting him to waste his food on you.

“Try it-”

“You should just-”

“Eat,” he ordered, more authoritative this time.

With your fork you toyed with your food as Sicheng engaged in a new conversation.

As were pulling on your coat you could tell Sicheng was in a mood- Likely because you didn’t listen to him, idly pushing the food around your plate. You knew once you were in the car with him he’d expect an explanation.

“You have to eat more-”

“I feel sick when I eat too much,” you retorted.

He gave a small sigh- You knew your body better than he did, but he still was worried for both of you, casting a quick glace at your belly.

“Is it because of what your friend said?”

“No!” you argued defensively, crossing your arms- He’d caught you.

“Babe,” he spoke, his voice low.

You couldn’t help but look at him for longer than you should have, the blurring lights of the city behind him fading as his masculine profile ensnared your attention, a hand on the wheel.

“Forget what she said- You’re beautiful,” he praised, eyes on the road, “You have to eat well, for both of you.”

His free hand stretched out to feel your bump- Mentally he promised himself he’d keep an even closer eye on you.

Lucas:

“Boy or Girl?” the elderly woman behind the register cheerfully asked.

Taken slightly aback you unconsciously placed your hand upon your stomach.

“Not sure yet,” you informed politely with a forced smile.

Lucas stood proudly next to you, a dumb smile playing on his face as he fished out his wallet.

“Well, you must have some prediction,” she yammered, “Mothers’ intuition!”

“I’m not sure,” you chuckled.

“A boy,” Lucas cheered quietly from beside you causing the elderly woman to smile.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, collecting the bags momentarily before your big strong boyfriend took them from stand, shooting you a look so as to ask why you even thought about carrying heavy grocery bags. A few strides in front of him and you were turning to him as the automatic doors parted.

“Is it that obvious?”

Though you were showing some, you thought the relatively loose sweater hid you enough- You still weren’t completely comfortable with the idea of being so... pregnant. Time was going so fast you felt yourself bloat day by day, suddenly you were walking around with a big bump to match the big oaf you were with.

Lucas’ eyes flitted around as he tried to figure out what you meant, a blank expression present as he waited for a car to pass.

“That she could tell I was pregnant...”

He gave you a once over followed by a nod and a hum of affirmation. You pursed your lips slightly before they puffed out in a small pout.

Pulling the seatbelt over yourself you were once again reminded of the large bump. You suddenly felt much fatter than you’d previously thought... Every so often Lucas cast you glances, noticing your quiet demeanor. He remained quiet for a long while, just taking in the atmosphere, mulling over what he should do or say- If he’d done anything to cause the situation or if was simply baby-hormones... Once home to two of you quietly put the groceries away, Lucas trying to make idle conversation, but your mood was just down...

Finally, he asks what’s wrong. You shake your head, but he knows something’s up so he keeps pestering about it, asking if it was him or-

“Nothing! I just don’t feel ready or good or anything!” you burst.

He tries his best to piece together what you mean, scratching his head slightly.

“Not ready for the baby?” he asks, stepping closer to look down at you closely, his large hands going to the front of your bump.

“I wasn’t ready to be pregnant and now I- It’s going so fast and- I feel so ugly and I didn’t think I was showing so much, but now everyone knows and I-”

He quieted you by moving his hands to either side of your face, pulling you into his chest gently. He didn’t say much, just held you, letting you whine into his chest in frustration.

He’d let you get it out and later try to cheer you up by being dorky and sweet then shower you in compliments like ‘uR the MoSt BeAUtiFuL gOrL N dA w0rLd BABIEE!’ Eventually I think he’d take on a more serious tone as well and tell you seriously you’re doing amazing and so beautiful, he loves you so much.

XiaoJun:

okay, this one is less planned & romantic tbh, but this is like my worst nightmare as a vain hoe..

No, that couldn’t be right- You were NOT pregnant. You’d always used condoms... There was still a chance, but so small you never thought it’d be you... You’d go out and buy another one. Maybe this test was just a dud- Yet there was a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, you’d missed your period and felt pretty sick, which was why you’d chosen to take the test in the first place. What if you were pregnant? What would you do? The father could only be DeJun (or should we call him XiaoJun), your boyfriend of two years. What would he do? What would your parents do...? Neither of you were ready for that. You weren’t ready for that... Imagining yourself bloated and pregnant made you want to shrink into a ball. That couldn’t be you. You weren’t ready for your life to end so quickly. You saw the man you’d been waiting for, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag as he perused the library in search of you.

“Xiao!” you called out in a rather loud whisper, trying to be discreet. Perhaps it’d been a bad idea to take the pregnancy test in the university bathroom

Once he saw you he bounded over to you, his thick brows knitting together once he saw your frazzled expression.

“So, where did you want to go? I was kind of craving Pho-”

You’d called him over but now you weren’t sure what to say... You couldn’t just tell him point blank right here- Should you?

“Or...” he pondered, taking in your silence, “Pizza?”

Yep, if you were with him you’d definitely get fat- Knowing him he’d want to do everything for you and pamper you even more than he already does- Definitely one to give into your cravings. It was still so early on, yet you were already too deep down the rabbit-hole.

“I- don’t want to- Do you know how many calories that is-?”

“So... You never cared before,” he teased, “Are you on a diet or something,” he asked hesitantly, his expression flattening.

You were still thinking what to do.

“You don’t need to,” he added, clasping your hands in his own, swinging them idly by your hips as he puffed out his lower lip.

OMG so, doesn’t exactly fit the scenario I guess, but it’s really hard to not make it repetitive,,, but you KNOW he’d be so caring and supportive. He’d tell you over and over you’re still just as pretty as before and that you’re overthinking, but if it’d make you feel better he’d assist you with dieting or light exercise, just to make your mental feel a bit better.

Hendery:

“Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

You nearly choked on the M&M between your lips at his sudden question.

“I think,” you paused, imaging him with a child in his arms for a moment, “I think you’ll be an amazing dad! I wouldn’t have let you get me pregnant otherwise-”

He guffawed, his chest vibrating against your back on the sofa as his forehead fell to the nape of your neck, his hand stilling on your hump as he collected himself. You giggled with him for a moment, eyes trained on the television as you dipped your hand into the bag of M&M’s once more.

“And I think you’ll be a great mom,” he informed, causing a blush to dust your cheeks.

At times it still felt unreal, that the two of you would be parents in just a few short months- Though technically you already were.

“I can imagine it,” he murmured, resting his cheek upon your hair as he spooned you, the television simply background noise as the two of you attempted to picture your futures.

Though you knew there were more important things than appearance, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself next to Hendery, married with a child... Though before being pregnant you still felt your body wasn’t good enough, you now realized how much you’d taken for granted - You couldn’t even wear pants comfortably... You wanted to envision yourself as your previous weight and body, but what if you could never- What if you could never feel confident again...?

“What are you thinking about?” Hendery prodded, just from his voice you could tell he was smiling.

“Nothing.”

Even though it gnawed at you, you felt stupid- It wasn’t important, but it was something you tended to selfishly hyper-focus on. You knew if you told Hendery he’d brush your worries aside, he was rather biased in that regard. You wondered if he saw envisioned you as back at your former weight or-? What sort of expectation did he have?

“I love you,” he murmured, almost tickling you with the way his fingers crawled across you, his bare feet toying with your own.

He had a way of putting all your worries to ease without trying- Without even telling him your concerns you felt relieved and loved. Turning a bit clumsily in his arms you faced him, his smile growing as your bump knocked into him.

idk im just super soft for him okayyyyyyyyyyy and trust him with my life

YangYang:

He’s so baby, I can’t imagine it-

You had a hard time seeing your own feet, craning your neck to see the numbers on the scale. With an exhale you stepped off. It was the heaviest you’d ever been; it was to be expected that you’d gain weight carrying a child and all, but seeing the digits didn’t feel great either.

“Oh- 2 kilograms (4.4 lbs) since last week- Our boy is growing big and strong,” YangYang smiled excitedly, his hand going to your stomach out of habit.

You weren’t so sure it was the baby growing- It was probably just you- The late night binges you’d had over the weekend making you feel nauseous just thinking about-

“Woah!” he exclaimed, steadying you for a moment.

“I’m fine,” you assured, voice bland.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, expression etched with concern.

If you fell, there’d be no promise he could come to your rescue- You felt you’d probably squash him.

“I’ve got you,” he assured nonetheless.

At your side he held your hip, his other holding your hand as he guided you from the bathroom. You just wanted to climb into bed, your eyes felt heavy.

“Easy,” he coaxed, positioning you to sit down on the side of the bed slowly.

Your own strength was zapped, unable to even push yourself to the pillows. He hesitated to even leave you, but quickly side-stepped to your other side, his back facing the headboard as he reached down, scooping you into his arms princess-style, sliding you upwards into a comfortable position as he knelt on the mattress. Your hand gripped his denim jacket deathly, scared for a moment he would drop you or fall into you due to your imbalance of weight.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, having no trouble.

He knew you were probably just scared in the moment, but he wanted you to trust and rely on him.

“I’m heavy-”

“Not really,” he retorted, comfortably positioning the pillows behind you for a moment.

“Actually,” his actions stilled, “I’m worried about you- You’ve become thinner,” he explained, pinching the flesh of your upper arm softly. He was just worried for both your health and the baby’s.

#yea can u tell i def ran out of ideas lowkey #wayv #wayv reaction #wayv fluff #nct #nct reaction #nct fluff #wayv angst #nct angst #?maybe #dad nct #dad wayv #lucas reaction #xiaojun reaction #kun reaction #winwin reaction #ten reaction #yangyang reaction #hendery reaction

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pinepickled-jujutsukaisen · 3 years

Text

The Three Dilfs plus the Twink Fathers if they had to joint parent the JJK kids.

Gojo

So just be conscious that I imagine the trio to be baby/toddler ages

Definitely the most jealous out of the four.

He won't say it, but hearing about how Yuji had the time of his life with Nanami and how Nobara adores Touji makes his blood boil

But when Megumi gives him those puppy dog eyes, he can't stay mad

So very jealous but also very whipped

The type of dad who tries to act all cool and hip with the kids but in reality is boomer

No clue how to care for a young child though. Rest in pieces, Babygumi.

Really dependant on Getou for the more dirty parts of parenting.

He refuses to change a diaper for the longest time until he does it once when no one is home bc Yuji was crying up a storm and he gets over it

Doesn't baby proof the house. At all.

I'll say it again

Rest In Pieces, BabyGumi.

Doesn't know where kids like to hang out. He takes them to Starbucks and then the mall, where Nobara proceeds to suck his cash directly from his bank account

Toji taught her well, after all.

Gojou has two ways to discipline them- let them see the consequences of their actions and then obnoxiously help them fix it (primarily when the kids were younger) or dangle them off a cliff while singing songs like a cracked out gremlin.

Gojou doesn't need to punish often, since in this universe I've made up he primarily watched over Yuta and Panda, who are nice little ones.

Still insists on kissing them all on the forehead and tucking them in at night

Getou

It takes a while for him to warm up to child rearing

He's still struggling with his "monkey" mentality, and young children are rife for it.

Though maybe as he's watching a baby Nobara sleep, watching carefully the way parents do as though to make sure she breathes through the night, he snuffs out all curses in the area.

After that night, the taste of curses- like a rag, used to clean up vomit- isn't so unbearable anymore.

Not when he feels such conviction in his soul

So slowly, as he holds Yuji's hands to help him take his first steps, as he tells Megumi what "miscellaneous" means, as he shows Nobara how to make cursed dolls...

Monkeys don't seem so bad anymore

But the zookeepers do

If you catch my drift

Getou doesn't believe in physical punishment, but he is a strict parent when it comes to life-decisions

Not in the way you'd expect though.

I.e., if Megumi was torn between leaving the jujutsu world or going to college, Getou would be there to help him find a third solution

And punishment was never his style. Swallow enough vomit-stained rags, you begin to feel disgusted over such things.

Instead, he guides. A distant hand that points in a direction and tells you where it leads.

Also hopeless with what kids like. He let's Yuji wander around Tokyo and whatever catches his eye, Getou suggests.

Nanami

Seems like a distant father at first

But his face is just like that

Genuine sucker for his kids

They have him wrapped around their tiny little fingers

The best out of the three of them with young children

And minors in general

Because- and sit down, this might shock you- he treats them like normal human beings

Nanami didn't have the best childhood, not to mention that many of his close friends didn't either, so taking care of children is something that's very close to his heart

So he likes to keep the kiddos close to his heart too

It made quite a sight, to see Nobara being lugged around in a baby bjorn, drooling all over his jacket while he exorcized curses.

The only parent out of the three mentioned that uses Vicks Vapor rub

If you know you know

Getou is more of a straight medicine kind of guy, and Gojo's never gotten sick in his life.

Nanami definitely got stuck with daiper duty when both Gojo and Getou refused

But he loves them

Tells the three of them that he's proud of them and loves them every chance he gets

Definitely one to have his heart melt when they fall asleep on him.

It's like the rule of cats. He is now legally obligated to stay completely still until the child awakes

That's his initial reaction, but then he remembers his rationality and picks them up and tucks them into bed.

Has definitely slept kneeling on the floor next to Megumi's bed when the boy grabbed his sleeve while sleeping.

Yuji was also a colicky baby, and Nanami found that putting him in a pot of water on the counter was an easy way to get him to be quiet

Nobara was mischevious. The second she could walk, it was over. Nanami burns 500 calories a day chasing her around.

And all of these memories are lovingly stored in his 6,000 baby albums.

Sukuna

Surprisingly good with babies

Extremely good with young children

And very nice with teenagers when he puts his mind to it.

Back in Sukuna's day, in his little social circle, being bad with kids was taboo.

You either are good with kids and love them to death or fuck you

So naturally, Sukuna took the "good with kids" route

He'll say a bunch of bluster about power and ruthlessness if you ask him

But the truth is that he adores children, and wouldn't have put in the effort to be good with them if he didn't already want to.

BabyGumi is such a tsundere with him

Always pouts and looks on the verge of crying when Sukuna is nearby or talking to him, refusing to respond without a wobble in his voice to Sukuna's questions

But the second Sukuna leaves, it's chaos.

He gets all sad and mopey, holding on to the tiger plushie Sukuna gave him like his life depends on it.

Sukuna has learned to just ignore BabyGumi's pouts and teary eyes and cradle the toddler close

And Megumi has no complaints being held in Sukuna's arms

He feels safe there.

The same can not be said for Yuji.

Sukuna scares him, but poor baby gets too distracted with other things when Sukuna is around to remember.

He'll be seated in Sukuna's lap, happily pulling flowers from the ground and giving them to the cursed spirit

And then when Gojo asks him how his playdate with Sukuna was, he bursts into tears and said it was terrifying

Makes for very awkward encounters, as Gojo saw for himself that Itadori was having fun

Nobara loves him

Genuinely wants to get his tattoos one day

And become a powerful sorceror like he was

He gives the best hugs (four arms!!!) So

Always indulges her when she rambles about her cursed dolls

And spoils her rotten.

Touji

Ah yes

The crusty anarchist (affectionate)

Megumi is also a big tsundere bby with this man.

The only one of his fathers he actually projects affection to is Gojo, and that's because Megumi knows his ass is one big jelly bean

As in mushy on the inside, hard on the outside, and very very jealous.

But Megumi will pout and claim not to like anything Touji does

Which really weighs on the man

He knows he's failed Megumi a bunch of times, and knows he deserves to be rebuffed

But it still hurts

Thankfully, Megumi is a sensitive kiddy, and even if he goes too far and Touji completely retreats within himself, Megumi tries to make it right.

Touji is so very whipped for his son.

The slightest bit of love Megumi shows makes his week.

And he's a very gentle father too

Is a staunch advocate against hitting children

His own shitty childhood paired with having a kid as quiet and reserved as Megumi, even if the kid wants to let loose but wont, stresses him out greatly.

Yuji also concerns him

Because he's very innocent, naive, and kind.

Touji knows he's gonna be trampled on.

So he does his best to sort of introduce more darker topics and harsh realities to Yuji without breaking the poor kid.

All in all, he's a depressed, cynical dad, who's trying to give his kids a better life and more tools to survive than he had.

DEFINATELY not the type of parent to hold the child's better life against them.

Tries to be loving, smothers the three kiddos in smoochies and lovingly made meals.

He doesn't really know what he's doing, but he prioritizes the kiddos safety and happiness first and foremost.

But he's definitely not as wealthy or stable as the others, and he knows it.

Whenever Nobara wants to go wander the mall, Touji struggles to swallow his pride every time.

He has the girl set a date, and between that day and the day they need to go to the mall, Touji works his ass off to save up.

He usually only needs to worry about money to keep himself afloat and leisure money for the kids

Since they usually eat at one of the others houses and stay the night there too

Yuji is the one he finds the easiest to be with when money is tight

Yuji doesn't have a habit of asking things from Touji- leftover instincts from when his Grandfather, also poor, took care of him.

So less stress is on Touji to take Yuji somewhere nice when it's just the two of them

Megumi is similar, but not quite.

Megumi isn't really interested in material things or going out to eat very often

But he adores going to temples and being with the monks.

As Touji used to do.

It's bitter and painful to take Megumi to the temple where he used to worship

But he does it.

His love is sacrifice, humility, and acceptance.

But slowly, slowly, he's accepting help from the other dads.

I hope you liked it! This was just a spur of the moment thing, not a lot of hard thought and intricate story telling was put into this, but I hope you enjoyed anyway. This is a mix of my personal headcanons and canon lore, so feel free to drop your own headcanons in the comments!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushigoro toji #fushigoro megumi #ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #kento nanami #getou suguru #fushigoro touji #gojou satoru #geto suguru #jjk father #jjk headcanons #pine writes #mine

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the prompt fill, number 3 for Indruck seems pretty fitting!

Here you go! Prompt 3 was “sweet” , Indrid’s design is based on a barracuda and I went with SFW on this one.

“Duck, can you do me a favor when you lock up?” Leo dumps orange taffy into a glass jar.

“Sure, what d’you need?”

“Got some locks for the garbage cans; put ‘em on after you set the alarm out back. Somethin’s been getting into our trash every damn night for the last week. It makes a god-awful mess and I’m worried we’re gonna get a fine for littering.”

Duck nods, turns his attention back to the flock of tourists approaching the window. The afternoon is swallowed up in a pit of sugar-sticky air and blasts of welcome cold from the freezer. There are worse places for a summer job than Tarkesian’s Sweets--he’s right by the water, can watch the wildlife on his lunch break, and Leo is low-maintenance boss--but after eight hours on his feet getting splashed with soda or burned on the popcorn machine, he’s ready to head home. The trash locks have other ideas.

It takes ten minutes of cursing and fumbling to get the first bin secured. He doesn’t even know how the damn things are getting overturned; they seem too heavy for a raccoon or seagull to knock to the ground.

A tiny splash behind him, probably a fish jumping.

Then a crooked, shiny pole slowly enters his periphery. In dim yellow of the streetlight, he can tell the end of it is curved. It pokes inelegantly at the wall, then the locked can, then the wall once again, and then Duck’s leg.

The hook pulls back, pauses, then pokes him again.

“The fuck?” He grabs it when it goes for another jab, pulls up only for his arms to be wrenched towards the water. Not to be outdone, he tugs harder. His opponent retaliates with enough force that he almost tumbles off the pier. He growls, braces his foot on the railing, and hauls the hook and its owner up onto worn wood with him.

It’s a guy about his age, angular face framed by a mess of silver hair and pierced ears. Figures it’s some sort of artsy punk swimming around poking people in the leg. That explains why he’s shirtless too.

It does not, however, explain why he has a tail.

“Rude.” The guy sits up on his hands, silver and black tail flicking droplets of saltwater everywhere, “I don’t go around stopping you from eating.”

“Look man, I just wanted you to stop jabbin me and knockin the trash over.” Maybe if he doesn’t mention the tail it will go away.

“How else am I supposed to get at those odd, pulpy tubs full of ‘cookies and cream’ or ‘bubblegum’?”

“The fuck--wait, you were tryin’ to get the ice cream containers out of the trash?”

“Yes? I also want more of the caramel apples” he pronounces the last word “applees” causing Duck to giggle in spite of himself.

“Look, I have to piece words together from the signs on your store. And you obviously know what I meant or you would not be laughing, so do you have any in the cans or not?”

“Nope” Duck gets his laughter under control, “sold out of caramel apples today.”

“Drat” the visitor starts scooting across the pier towards the unlocked trashcan, “I’ll see what else I can find.”

“Wait don’t fuckin knock that over, Leo’ll be pissed at me if he comes back to a mess, and I don’t feel like pickin up trash because you want a snack!”

“But I’m starving!” The merman, because at this point there’s no way he can deny that’s what’s been rooting through the garbage, whacks at Duck with his tail.

“I know for a damn fact there’s food down there.” He points at the bay.

“Only if you can catch it, and only if it is not in another mer’s territory. Which much of this area is; I am new here, young, and thus have no claim to any patch of sea.”

“You ain’t got any family?” Something pings in his chest. It’s the part of his heart that made him pick out the runt of litter when his mom let him get a cat on his thirteenth birthday, that means he always splits his lunch with Juno because she’s running track and needs it more than he does, that makes him tear up when he thinks about everything a sapling has to survive to become a tree.

“Merfolk leave home at sixteen.” The merman shrugs.

Duck sighs, grabbing his keys, “If I bring you somethin to eat, will you leave the trash alone?”

“Yes.”

He shuts off the alarm, grabs a cone and fills it with bright blue ice cream. The merman is back in the water when he returns, arms resting on the pier.

“Oooh, my favorite!” He takes the ice cream, biting huge chunks out of it as Duck re-arms the door.

Crunch

“...The container is edible!!”

He sits next to the merman’s arms, “Guess you wouldn’t have had an ice cream cone before, huh.”

“No, but it is lovely. I wish humans threw these away more often.” He polishes off the treat, licks his fingers clean with moans Duck hears in his dreams later, and smiles, “thank you for the meal. Goodnight.”

There’s a final flash of silvery tail, and then Duck’s alone in the breezy night air.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s a sandwich, correct?”

“AHfuck” Duck knocks over his water bottle in surprise. He’s eating behind the candy store like usual and not expecting an aquatic dining companion.

“Apologies. I have seen you eating here before and thought you may like some company.” He sets a sea urchin on the ground and proceeds to bang on it with a rock.

“Found some lunch?”

“I followed some otters; I was mainly trying to draw them, but they led me to a kelp bed no one else was in.”

“...Wait how do you draw underwater?”

“Let me finish cracking this open and I will show you.”

Duck spends the rest of his lunch break on his belly, the merman showing him a sketchbook and enchanted pen that conjures whatever colors the illustrator envisions. The mer is genuinely excited to talk to him. He assumes the nuzzling is due to him smelling like cotton candy; he doesn’t mind, the mer’s skin is cool and he makes cute little noises whenever he touches Duck.

Before the stands, Duck asks, “You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“Duck.”

Indrid’s eyes flick to the nearby estuary.

“Yeah, like the bird. It’s a nickname.”

“I like it.” Indrid smiles, dives, and flaps his tail once in farewell.

------------------------------------------------------

“Cutting school again?” Indrid’s voice bubbles up by his feet.

“Yep.” Duck watches the spring clouds roll by from his favorite spot on the beach. It’s secluded and far from town, meaning no one will give him shit for skipping class and nobody will see Indrid.

He worked at Leo’s until this past summer, only quitting at the start of his senior year of high school when Indrid pointed out that much of Kepler was surrounded by water and that, if Duck wanted to see him, he did not have to keep working at the candy store in order to do so.

“Not that I mind the free food.” Indrid winks.

“Just gonna bring you bulk ice cream from Safeway; no way am I missin out on that chirpin you do when you eat it.”

Duck slides the grocery bag towards the surf, “not like KCC is gonna rescind my offer. Ain’t a fuckin Ivy League or some shit.”

“And you will be happy there?”

“Yeah. They got a decent work-study program with the park, so I can still get a job as a ranger if I want to.”

“Oh. Good.”

Indrid sounds sad, and Duck sits up on his elbows. His friend’s torso is fully on land, his tail fidgeting in the foam.

“What’s up?

“I...Barclay told me his human is going to a school further inland, and I know there are many places you could got to learn. You...you did not choose to stay in Kepler because you feel the need to look after me, did you?”

“Course not.” Duck is sitting up now, aching to stroke Indrid’s hair, “I mean, I’m glad we’re still gonna be able to see each other, and I really hopin I can get a room near the beach so it’s easy to come talk. But this is the right choice for me; if I really want to, I can transfer to a different school in a few years, and I can learn a lot here without takin on a shit-ton of debt. Besides, ain’t like I think you’re helpless; I love bringin you stuff and rubbin your fin when it’s sore, but that’s because you’re my friend. Don’t think you’re helpless. I never have.”

“Not even when I was stealing trash?”

“Thought you were a fuckin nuisance, not helpless.” He playfully nudges his shoulder with his toes.

Indrid turns his head and nips his calf, “How’s that for a nuisance?”

“Not much, felt kinda nice. Uh, I mean, uh, fuck, so, where’d that worry about my stayin come from?”

The mer crawls and wiggles until they’re shoulder to shoulder, “I think my future sight is finally developing; my fathers arrived around the time he turned eighteen, so it makes sense mine would arrive at a similar point. The trouble is, I am having a hard time telling the futures from my own imaginings and worries.”

“That fuckin sucks.”

“I’ll manage. All seers struggle at the beginning. I just wish I was quicker at learning whether certain timelines are really more likely or if they are just ones that I want to be likely.”

“Like what?”

Indrid glances at him, opens his mouth, then shuts it and faces the sea.

Duck smirks, “‘Drid, there somethin you wanna ask me?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I, I just don’t want to pressure youOOOHhhh that’s not fair” he flops on his back with a groan as Duck scritches his upper tail, “you know I’ll do anything when you touch me like this.”

“Damn right I do. And what I want is for you to tell me the truth.”

Indrid whines, covers his face with his hands.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

“Rude” Indrid lowers his hands enough that his red eyes peer over the top, “is that any way to treat a mer who wants to kiss you?”

Duck gives his answer by pouncing on his friend, pinning narrow shoulders into the sand as he devours his mouth in kisses.

“You like that treatment better?”

“Goodness, yes.” Indrid pulls him back down, slipping his tongue between his lips and nibbling his neck when he finally stops to breathe. Then his hand flails sideways, grabbing the plastic bag and chucking it further up the beach.

“The, the tide is coming in and I, ah, foresee us working up quite the appetite.” He tugs Duck’s collar down with his teeth, nuzzling and licking across his skin with little hums of pleasure, “so I want to save those for afterwards. Who knows” he grins, “maybe we’ll need energy for round two as well.”

Duck cups his cheek, inhales the scent of the sea and the sight of his future, “I like the way you think, sweet thing.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

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airiustide · 3 years

Text

If I Could (I’d Kiss Your Fingers)

A Water Witch Tale

Summary: Taking place after Katara returns to the Fire Nation to stay with her new family, Zuko wants to give her a gift as a way to show how much she means to him. With Izumi's help, father and daughter pick out the perfect chocolates for Katara. Meanwhile, Katara works on something precious of her own. Part of the The Water Witch Tales

A/N: I asked myself if I wanted to do a additional piece for The Water Witch of Biei Village or write a Valentine’s special fic? My brain: por que no los dos? I've wanted to write more about this zutara family since ending The Water Witch of Biei Village two years ago. My hearts been set on it and today was a perfect.

also posted on AO3

***

“Chocolates. Chocolates. We’re going to pick chocolates!” Izumi sang, skipping around several staff entering the Fire Lord’s study carrying gold trays of serve ware covered with lids.

Zuko shoos them in, peering from left to right outside the study until the confectioner himself is the last to enter and Zuko can now close the door behind him. “Quickly, lay them there.” The Fire Lord points to the long table stationed in front of the open balcony doors. He grabs a hopping Izumi by the waist and swings her over his shoulders, eliciting a squeal. “Calm down, love. We’ll get to try them all, I promise.”

“Then we give to Mommy?” The four-year-old grins, panting from all the excitement.

“Then we give them to Mommy.” Zuko confirms, reflecting his daughter’s smile.

Zuko had been considering the perfect gift to give Katara after she had returned, after having forced the captain of the airship that was supposed to take her home to the rural lands of the Fire Nation countryside to turn around. It was a moment of joy and tears. Katara proclaimed Izumi her daughter without asking anything in return other than to care for the Fire Nation princess as her own. Any attempt at giving Katara jewels or expensive dresses were turned down. Katara’s humble rejection was sweet but was leaving Zuko a little deflected.

He wanted to impress her. The one kiss wasn’t enough and they talked little of it since then despite Katara’s return being well over a month ago. It was then that Izumi brought up how Katara had never eaten chocolates before, a discussion brought up while the waterbender did the nightly routine of brushing her daughter’s hair.

It was then the idea sparked in Zuko’s head. Chocolates. No one could possibly turn down chocolates. A simple yet desirable candy.

Once the trays are laid out, the confectioner snaps his fingers for his staff to remove the lids. Zuko lifts Izumi off his shoulders and sets her on her feet, the little girl’s bright gold eyes looking at the great display of chocolates laid before her in wonderment. “Wow.” She breathes.

“Only the best chocolates in the whole Fire Nation, your majesty. We’ve traveled all this way per your request from Ember Island. May I present my finest work.” The confectioner, Chou, bows.

Zuko and Izumi approach, stopping at the first tray sitting at the left end of the table.

“The first I’d like to present is a common treat. The bark is made from milk chocolate, quite sweet, I warn, but much lighter than the typical chocolate.” The confectioner explains.

Zuko breaks a piece for himself and Izumi to try. “Hmm.” The Fire Lord hums, finding his jaw lock from the overly sweet candy. “What do you think, princess?”

“It melts in my mouth!” Izumi exclaimed. “But too sweet.”

“Of course. This here, is a truffle.” Chou points to the second plate. “Though, today we’ll try many of these kinds of chocolates, this one’s a dark ganache blended with a touch of champagne.”

“Mmm.” Izumi sighs, popping the truffle in her mouth. “I like this one.”

“That’ll go in the yes pile then.” Zuko chuckled, nodding for one of the confectioner's staff to put the tray aside.

The young Fire Lord had to admit, the amount of it all was too much. Some portions had to be given in small doses to prevent a stomach ache. Izumi was so eager to try them all that the first six or so trays resulted in tossing handfuls into her mouth. Not so much because she wanted to eat them all, but because it was so important to her that Katara had the best.

Cordials, hazelnut, rum, caramel. It was all so delightful. It was not only a means to give a gift to share with someone they loved but the father/daughter time they had lost when Izumi had fallen ill was made up with a simple moment such as this.

There was still more to go. Zuko deemed it unnecessary to try the rest when his daughter’s face became smeared with chocolate and her eyelids began to flutter. They had already settled on three flavors, some which will be boxed prettily for the master waterbender; passion fruit, mint, and champagne.

“Good choice, your majesty.” Chou compliments. “The lady will surely be pleased.”

“Hmpf.” Zuko frowned. Chou would not be saying that if he knew that Zuko planned on gifting the chocolates to a waterbender. The Fire Lord was ashamed to admit that his people viewed waterbenders as conjurers of magic, they’re dwindling race created stereotypes and rumors far beyond what the truth actually beheld. “Do not worry, she will. Thank you for your journey to the capital. You will be highly compensated and even more in the future if Katara wishes for it.”

“Of course.” Chou bows, snapping his fingers for his staff to collect the leftovers and head out quickly.

“Someone’s sleepy.” Zuko turns to Izumi, sweeping her in his arms and cleaning the chocolate off her face with the sleeve of his royal robes. She had gained some weight since her lungs healed, no longer the tiny thin figure she once was when he had thought he was on the verge of losing her.

“Mm...not sleepy, Daddy. I want to see Mommy.” The princess looks over at the neatly boxed chocolates sitting on the long table. She couldn’t sleep yet. She had carefully selected everything for her mother, Izumi wanted to give them to her now.

“You will after a nap. Then, we will see Katara.” He coos, watching Izumi finally close her tired eyes as he holds her gently in his lap while he proceeds to sit in his cushioned pillow so that he could continue his work.

***

This is starting to feel like a distraction. When Kioko had shown up at Katara’s chambers that morning with an urgent request that required them to head to Caldera’s marketplace, the waterbender felt as though she had no choice but to oblige. She wished to see Izumi, if not for a little bit, before her and Kioko departed but the head healer demanded that they make haste.

“What, exactly, is it we’re looking for?” Katara questioned, looking around the busy streets with the older woman’s arm linked to hers.

Guards surround them on all sides, a apparent perk the master waterebender wish didn’t come with officially adopting Izumi but Zuko would have it no other way. His argument, that people were against her legal adoption of Izumi albeit Katara knew the real reason- it meant Zuko was not willing to remarry. Every unmarried noblewoman and Zuko’s advisors made that clear with a single glare directed at her alone. It did not matter that Izumi was a living, healthy heir now. No, they needed more security than that, and marrying a Lady within the Fire Nation meant ensuring this.

Kioko assured Katara that they were jealous nobodies that only dreamed of getting close to the Fire Lord if only to benefit from him.

“Zuko would give you the world.” Kioko told her once, the two ladies held up in Katara’s room with wine and light chat. “He would bow to his knees for you, if you would permit him, and proclaim everything that is his, is yours.”

That came as a surprise to Katara, yet it made sense considering that she had healed Zuko’s daughter from certain death. She ignored that small whisper in her head that Kioko’s statement meant something deeper. The waterbender brushed it aside.

“I thought we might do some shopping. I haven’t seen my poor husband in months since his travels and I want to present him a gift when he returns next week.” Kioko answered her question.

“Are you not the gift, Kioko?” Katara smirked playfully.

“Oh my heavens. That is only between me and the captain I call husband.” Kioko winked. “We had missed our anniversary this last winter and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Sounds easy. What does he like?”

“Hmm, well, I was thinking I’d fashion up a new robe or maybe purchase new cuffs for his uniform. Oh, and while we’re here, why not get something nice for his majesty” Kioko said the last sentence so fast, Katara barely caught it.

“Zuko?” Katara whirled her head. “Oh. I guess I never did anything nice for him before. He did take me out that one time, after all.” A deep blush surfaced on her cheeks and Katara bit her bottom lip from smiling. She remembers where Zuko's hands were. His sultry voice and his low breath that tickled and teased her skin when he had openly flirted with her. The way his eyes glazed over when she had danced with him.

Kioko raised an eyebrow at Katara’s sudden silence.

“Yes.” The waterbender cleared her throat after noticing the head healer was staring at her. “A gift. I see no harm in buying one for him.”

That’s what you believe. Kioko smiles, knowing full well Zuko was caught in Katara’s web and the poor girl had no idea what power she had over the Fire Lord. He loved her and she, likewise. The old woman hoped they’d realize it soon or else she would have to resort to locking them in the same room together, if it meant finally professing their feelings.

The problem was, what does a Fire Lord like that he doesn’t already have? Yeah, Katara had enough to buy a pretty solid gift for someone of her status but Zuko was head of a nation. Katara didn’t have anything to her name that would remotely impress him.

“Child, you’re thinking too hard.” Kioko interrupts her thoughts.

“Am I? I’m not exactly feeling confident here.” Katara panicked. “S-sorry I snapped like that. I don’t think anything here would be to Zuko’s liking.”

“That’s because you’re thinking of his status rather than what he is as a person. His majesty wasn’t as sheltered as you think. He’s traveled the world, he’s encountered struggle and defeat and when the tyrant, Lord Ozai, dies within the third year of Lord Zuko’s banishment and his daughter was seized for his death, Lord Zuko was called back to take his place as a mere child himself, marry, and raise a daughter on his own after his beloved’s death. He’s more humble than he lets on and we have the former general to thank for that.”

Iroh. Zuko often talked about him. “I know he’s like a father to Zuko. I didn’t mean to insult Zuko.”

“You did no such thing, dear. I wanted to remind you that his majesty is more than just a leader. He’s a man and a father first. Look to that when you go about searching for a gift for him.”

Katara halts, a large grin stretching on her lips. “I’ve got just the thing. Kioko, we need to stop at a few places.”

***

Where is she? Kioko refused to let Zuko visit Katara’s chambers, stating that the waterbender was busy and that she would meet them for dinner as soon as she was available. Izumi whined that she wanted to see Katara now and her impatience was starting to weigh on Zuko, who had to try and entertain his daughter as best he could until her mother arrived. They had taken dinner to his chambers this time, so that he and Izumi could give the present to Katara in peace.

Zuko had asked that Kioko distract Katara while he and Izumi snuck in the confectioner and his staff, he had no idea that they would be gone well into midafternoon only for Katara to run back to her room and shut herself away with so much as a greeting.

“What has Katara holed up in her room?” Zuko asked during dinner.

“You’re majesty, I’m afraid this is an important time for Master Katara. She will see you and Princess Izumi as soon as she can.”

Something’s fishy. “You aren’t withholding anything from your Fire Lord, are you, Kioko?”

“You’re majesty.” Kioko feigned shock, resting a hand on her chest. “You would not use your position of power to pry personal information regarding your dear daughter’s mother from me, would you?”

Zuko’s good eye widened, his cheeks blushing profusely. “I- No. Of course not.” He grumbles, finding his food unappetizing because the anxiousness was eating at him. Izumi, the same, poked her steamed slug with a heavy sigh. Katara hadn’t gone a day without being next to her. Had they truly grown that attached?

The three are disturbed by the sound of the door opening and the master waterbender entering the room. “Late-” She pants, her wild hair loose over her shoulders and pieces of random fabric stuck to her dress. “Didn’t mean- I’m here now.” Katara smiles while she gains her composure.

“Mommy!” Izumi cried, jumping from her seat and rushing to her mother’s arms. “What took so long? I missed you.” Her voice trembled.

Katara felt guilty. Izumi had already been through enough when Katara left, she didn’t quite think through how a long separation might affect her again. “I’ve missed you too, love, and I’m here now.”

“Come here, come here. Daddy and I have something to show you.” Izumi pulls her mother along.

“Really now?”

Zuko grips the box in his lap, licking his lips to hide his nerves as Katara sat next him, her arm brushing his arm as she places Izumi on her lap. Agni, give me strength, he prays.

“What’s that you got there.” Katara leaned into him sideways, the box shaking in his hands.

Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Zuko’s throat swelled up, his palms were sweaty.

“Me and Daddy got you a gift!” Izumi replied.

“A gift? For me? Zuko, I thought-”

“I know.” He said, finally mustering the courage to speak. “But this is different. Please accept it, Izumi and I worked really hard to select them for you.”

They both gave her pleading eyes. Spirits, how can she resist such cute faces. “Okay. Can I open it?”

Zuko hands the box to her and Izumi claps excitedly as Katara pulls the ribbon and lifts the top half of the box to reveal something she’s never seen before. “What are these?”

“Chocolates!” Izumi giggled.

“They’re edible sweets made of cocoa.”

Katara eyes the pieces curiously. Unsure of where to start. “They’re all so different.” She comments.

“Here, Mommy, you’ll like this one.” Izumi picks out a passion fruit, lifting it to Katara’s mouth.

Her eyes sparkle as she takes her first piece, her taste buds overtaken with a mix of passion fruit, chocolate and white chocolate. It’s decadent but the flavors are pleasant. “Spirits, that's delicious!”

“Hehe. See, I told you she’d like it, Daddy.”

“So this is what you two have been conspiring this whole time.” Katara teased the Fire Lord.

“We only wished to do something special.” Zuko explained sheepishly.

“Well, this was certainly special.” Katara smiles.

“Why don’t you try the other flavors.” He suggests.

“Only if you guys eat them with me. This is certainly a lot.”

Katara pops one into Izumi’s mouth first. “Your turn.” She says to Zuko.

His heart throbs in his ears. Before he could protest, Katara presses a piece of chocolate to his lips and he reluctantly opens, enclosing it in his mouth along with Katara’s index finger and his brain short circuits. As he chews the piece he can only assume is mint, refreshing much like Katara’s presence, her fingers still lingering on his lips; they’re gazes stayed only on each other.

Zuko leans in slightly, drinking in Katara’s face as she bites the corner of her lip. She likes the look he’s giving her- heavy, glazed and adorning. She wants to see more of this, more of him looking like her just like this. “Do you want more?” She asks in a whisper.

“Well, this has been lovely.” Kioko announced, catching the Fire Lord and Master Waterbender off guard, shame written on their faces. “I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

It takes a while for the heat to die down in the room and the tension to fade before Katara tells Zuko she has something for him too. “For both you and Izumi, in fact.” She reaches for the pouch attached to her sash and opens it, fishing out two weaved bracelets with charms on them. “It’s not much but I thought of you two and I wanted to make something that would always be with you.”

“Pretty.” Izumi brightens. Katara ties the bracelet to her wrist, three little charms dangling from it; one of the moon, the second the symbol of the painted lady and the third a sparrowkeet.

Next was Zukos, which Katara delicately tied to his wrist as well. The first charm was of two dragons tangled in a dance, the second a replica of the carved stone on Katara’s necklace and the third the mask of the blue spirit.

“It was all done at last minute, so it’s not perfect-”

“It’s more than perfect.” Zuko corrects. “Thank you, Katara.” He wraps an arm around her neck and brings her to him, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Mine is perfect too, Mommy! I want to kiss you too.”

Katara laughs, puckering her lips and letting Izumi peck them. The waterbender then snatches Izumi to her chest, displaying kisses all over the little girl's face as Zuko does the same until she begs for her parents to stop in a fit of laughter.

I love you. Zuko wants to say. The moment passes, he realizes, watching Katara rock Izumi in her arms with pure love in her eyes. He’ll tell her. Someday.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #fanfiction #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #izumi #firelord zuko #zuko and katara as parents #zuko and katara #fanfic #the water witch of biei village #if i could(I'd kiss your fingers)

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rmnamjoons · 5 years

Text

The Truth Untold [KNJ]

➳ summary: You’ve been trapped for months in a loveless, toxic relationship, too afraid of what would happen if you ever tried to leave. Your boyfriend gets so jealous, especially of your best friend Namjoon, who you’ve missed more than your heart can stand. Now, seeing Namjoon for the first time in weeks, you decide that it’s time to tell him everything, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst with a happy ending

➳ word count: 10.1k

➳ tags: best friends to lovers, escaping an abusive relationship, infidelity, best friend namjoon, emotional sex, first time together after secretly being in love with each other for so long, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, seemingly unrequited love, oral (f receiving), praise, squirting, overstimulation, SOFT soft dom namjoon

[read on ao3]

➳ a/n: This oneshot was inspired by everythingoes, mintjoonlep’s fic Safe With Me, and all those tweets that are like “I want Namjoon to fuck the sadness out of me.” There are strong themes of abuse, all of which happens before the plot of this story, so please proceed carefully if this topic is triggering for you.

“You deserve so much better than him.”

Time stood still after the words left Namjoon’s mouth. You watched him take in a deep breath, as if bracing himself, all but flinching away as if expecting you to yell at him or tell him how wrong he was. He grimaced as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to, but you knew he meant those words and his feelings behind them. You’d known Namjoon a long time, and you knew he always meant what he said.

He wasn’t wrong, and that’s what made you suck in a harsh breath, as if punched in the gut by his words. You hadn’t realized your hands were shaking until you tried to run a hand through your hair. You dropped your hands to your lap in an attempt to hide that fact from Namjoon. He was always so observant, though, you figured he’d already noticed. If he was observant enough to realize what a piece of shit your boyfriend Mark was without even knowing about half the things Mark did to you, then surely he noticed something as obvious as your nerves.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon quickly added, and you knew he meant that he was sorry he upset you, not sorry that he meant what he said.

This was your first time seeing Namjoon in weeks. Mark got so jealous, you figured it was better to just avoid an argument than do something to provoke him, like hanging out with your best friend of more than fifteen years who happened to be a man. Mark and Namjoon both didn’t know that you were in love with Namjoon, and you knew that was for the best.

This was the longest you’d ever been apart from Namjoon since first meeting him as a child, and when you’d asked him to come over, you were pretty sure he’d sprinted from his apartment to yours, knocking on your door only ten minutes later, out of breath and nearly breaking a sweat. He’d hugged you so tight the moment you’d opened the door, squeezing so hard your feet left the ground.

“I missed you so much,” he’d murmured against your neck, squeezing even tighter as he spoke. One of his hands had moved up to your hair, resting on the back of your head. “Are you okay?” It had been a long time since you’d felt someone be this gentle with you, or ask you a question like that, free from pretense or selfish motives. You knew Namjoon cared about you, even after so long apart.

His concern, though, made you want to push him away, as backwards as it sounded. You both knew your relationship with Mark wasn’t healthy. Namjoon didn’t know about the time Mark had hit you or how cruel he was or any of that, but he did know that Mark cut you off from your friends and didn’t treat you with the kindness Namjoon felt you deserved. He’d been very vocal about his dislike of Mark from the beginning, and for that you’d pushed him away, falling right into Mark’s trap.

But today, in a moment of clarity after months trapped in the fog, you’d called Namjoon and asked him to come over. You wanted out. You knew that it wasn’t going to get better, that being hit once was a sign of being hit again later on, or worse, and that the sliver of good you sometimes saw in Mark wasn’t worth sticking around for.

You’d told Namjoon most of this, the two of you sitting on your couch together in your tiny little loft apartment, his hands holding yours, his thumbs stroking your skin as you told him almost everything. You avoided the part about being hit, and everything about the awful sex. God, what would Mark do if you tried to leave him? You’d only been with him a few months, but he was possessive. Violent. Controlling. You knew you couldn’t leave without a fight. You didn’t say that, but Namjoon seemed to just know. He always seemed to know what you were feeling, what you needed, just what to say to make you smile.

Namjoon had listened to everything you’d said, and then he’d said it and you’d tensed up, frozen in fear, shock, and some other emotion you didn’t know. His hands holding yours squeezed gently, and you pulled your hands away.

You deserve so much better than him.

You knew he was right, that you deserved better. You didn’t know why his words hit you so hard, though. Maybe it was the full culmination of the last few months, everything you’ve been through with that fucking asshole treating you like an object and a punching bag, suddenly coming down on you like a knife chopping off an infected limb. You opened your mouth as if to breathe, but nothing happened.

“Y/N?” Namjoon said slowly, his deep voice so gentle and caring, as always. You looked up at him as he bit his lip, tilting his head for a better look as he searched your face for your current emotion, concern evident in his warm brown eyes.

As observant as Namjoon was, there was one thing you were always thankful you’d kept from him. You’d been in love with him since the two of you were young, growing up together, dreaming about him every night as you entered puberty and adulthood. He was your best friend, and you were certain that he was the love of your life, and he had no idea. Mark was your first actual boyfriend, the perfect distraction, a rebound for the relationship you’d never had with Namjoon, and it had all turned so horribly wrong so quickly, the excitement and joy decaying into the fear and isolation you now felt.

And now Namjoon was here again, and you’d missed him so much, been apart for far too long, and you still loved him just as much as you ever did. You didn’t even know how many times you’d found yourself laying in bed after Mark had used you, fantasizing about Namjoon bursting in like some Prince Charming, kicking Mark’s ass and carrying you off into the sunset. You’d cried yourself to sleep alone in your bed, imagining Namjoon’s arms around you, his soft lips murmuring into your hair that everything was going to be okay, that he’d protect you and keep you safe forever. You felt pathetic wishing for that, knowing that you should be able to take care of yourself, but it was your only solace on your worst nights. Namjoon was your safe place, your source of hope, your moon in a starless sky.

You’d spent the last few months in your head like that, and now Namjoon was here, hinting at that care and devotion you’d only fantasized about in your darkest, most terrified moments. It was too much for you. He was too much. How had you forgotten what it felt like, to actually be cared for by him, even in just a friendly way, in such a short time? Your face felt too hot, your lungs too tight, your tears overflowing before you realized they were even there.

You took in a shaky breath, and Namjoon’s lips parted, his eyes horrified as if he thought he was the one making you cry. He moved to hug and comfort you, but stopped himself, his hands up as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Joon,” you said, your weak voice breaking as you held in your tears. God, you sounded so pathetic. “I…”

You wanted to tell him everything, the full truth, the entirety of the hell you’d been through, and you wanted him to hold you and never let go. You were scared he’d see you as weak or pathetic or a charity case, but you needed him to know. You needed someone to know, to help you escape, and Namjoon was all you had. You took in a deep breath, holding in your emotions before finally pushing your words out.

“He hit me.”

You focused just on breathing as Namjoon’s face paled, his lips parting and brow furrowing. You saw a thousand emotions play out on his face in an instant, from anger to confusion to fear to something you didn’t recognize.

“When?” he said suddenly, his voice a low growl. Was he angry at you?

You blinked a few times in surprise to his question, a tear escaping on each side from your blinking. “Um,” you started, your throat feeling almost too tight to speak. Your head hurt from all the tension and held-in tears, and from your fear of Namjoon’s reaction to this. “Maybe a month ago.”

Namjoon nodded, setting his jaw in that way he always did when you knew he was deep in thought. You saw his lips quivering, as if he too was just barely holding back his own tears. His face was almost turning red, his expression pained, his eyes showing what you thought might be betrayal. His hand was beside yours on the couch between you, only inches apart. You wanted him to hold your hands again, like he had been before you’d pulled away, but you didn’t want to cling to him.

“Around the last time we saw each other, right?” he said slowly, and you nodded.

“That same day, after I got home from seeing you,” you confirmed, and Namjoon’s jaw set again, eyes red and watering.

“When else? Was it more than once, Y/N?” he said, his voice cracking as he said your name, and you shook your head, sniffling. He let out a sigh, maybe in relief, though you could still see the pain and concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Joon,” you said, your voice cracking too as you finally broke, your tears spilling from you as Namjoon quickly moved to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to him.

He held you like that for you don’t know how long. When you shook, he held you tighter, pulling you into his lap bridal style as the two of you clung to each other, your fists holding onto the front of his shirt like you were afraid he’d slip away from you. His face was buried in your hair, yours against his chest, and he hugged you tighter as you sobbed, your breathing now fast and shallow, your head barely above water.

“It’s you and me, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his deep voice lulling you. “No matter what, I’m with you. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m going to keep you safe.” His eyes squeezed tight as he held you. You could feel his warm breath on your hair, his big arms secured around you.

You hadn’t cried like this in what felt like years. You’d let yourself cry a little sometimes, like in the shower or alone in your bed, but you hadn’t openly wept, especially around another person, since you were a child. As hopeless as you felt, crying this hard felt almost cleansing to you, even as your emotions overwhelmed you. It was like a release, a great flood coming to wash away all of your misery. Even as you gasped and hyperventilated, face red, tears streaming down your cheeks and wetting Namjoon’s shirt where you pressed your face, you realized this was the best you’d felt in weeks. You could express how you felt in a way you’d been too scared to do before now.

Your body shook and Namjoon only held you tighter, as if squeezing his love into you. His large, warm hands were gentle where they laid on you, his arms wrapped so carefully around your small, shaking form. You realized then that he was kissing the top of your head, over and over and over, his soft lips pressing so gently into your hair. You could hear him humming to you, the noise a low rumble, and you found it comforting, your sobs finally breaking as your breathing steadied. You still shook, tears still fell from your eyes, but you took in careful breaths, no longer whimpering or weeping. Namjoon was your rock, and as you hugged him, sniffling and calming yourself down, the storm around you began to pass.

You pulled back from his chest enough to look up at him. Namjoon’s eyes were red, the lines of dried tears running down his cheeks. He parted his lips as the two of you made eye contact, his brown eyes searching yours. You always loved his eyes, how his irises were so dark, they blended in with his pupils. Right now, his expressive eyes looked heartbroken, the pain drawing his eyebrows together.

You’d never been in his lap like this before. Not even when you were innocent kids playing together. His body was so warm, his presence like a fire in a cold, dark cave. Before you realized what you were doing, you raised your hand to his cheek, touching his burning skin, feeling the way he took in a sharp breath at your touch. He was watching you so carefully, not moving or reacting to your hand cupping his cheek, but you saw the way his skin flushed red, felt his heart racing and pulsing where your other hand rested on his chest.

“I love you, Joon,” you said, your confession barely above a whisper. You needed him to know, even if he didn’t feel the same way, even if he misunderstood and thought you were talking about friendship. You needed him to know as badly as you just needed him.

Namjoon’s eyes bored into yours, the molten intensity making you unable to look away as both of you just breathed and looked at each other. Time stood still in that moment, your faces only a few inches apart, his arms still tight around you, your hands resting on his cheek and his heart.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said carefully, looking back and forth between your eyes. His breathing was slow and deliberate, his plush lips parted, and you wanted him to know how badly you needed him. He continued speaking, though, and you held your breath when you heard the first words out of his mouth. “I always have, angel. I love you more than anything, more than life. You’re my everything, and it’s been killing me to be apart from you. I just wanted you to be happy, but now that I know that you aren’t and that he’s hurting you, I’m never letting you go. I promise I’ll keep you safe no matter what. I’ll do whatever you want, just, please, please… please don’t push me away again. Please.”

He teared up again as he pleaded with you, his deep voice almost sounding like just speaking was becoming hard for him as he pushed his words out. His face contorted as if he was in agony while he begged you not to push him away, and you nodded eagerly, attempting to stop yourself from tearing up again, too.

“I won’t, Joonie, I promise. I love you so much. More than just friends.” Those last four words left your lips before you could stop yourself, and Namjoon froze when he heard them. He looked like he was processing what you’d said, turning the words over in his head, calculating and examining the situation from all sides as his wide eyes looked into yours. God, what had you done? You couldn’t even make yourself think of the consequences of him hearing those words, your emotions too exhausted from your tears.

Namjoon leaned in then, slowly, watching for you to pull back or show any other sign of not wanting him close. He leaned in until his forehead touched yours, and you held in a sigh at the thought of him being so close to you, the heat of his skin radiating off of him, his scent that you’d missed more than anything intoxicating you and filling your senses. The tip of his nose nuzzled yours, his warm breath kissing your lips, less than a few inches away now, and you moved your thumb on his cheek, stroking his skin and making his eyes fall closed as he let out a broken sigh.

“I love you too, princess,” he said, making you still your thumb on his skin as you looked at him. “In every way it’s possible to love another person, I love you.”

You took in a deep breath, feeling Namjoon move his hand on your back slowly, his fingers spreading out to touch more of you. His eyes were still closed, his forehead still pressed to yours, and he leaned in to where you cupped his cheek. For a moment you thought he couldn’t possibly mean what he said — it was too unrealistic, that the man you love more than anything felt the same way, that your fantasies had a chance of becoming real. But here he was, saying that, touching you like this, and you wanted so badly to believe him.

“Will you say it again, baby? Please, just once?” he pleaded, opening his eyes to look at you, and you nodded slightly, as best you could with your foreheads still connected.

“I love you, Joonie,” you said. The moment his name left your lips, his mouth connected with yours.

He kissed you like he thought you’d be ripped from his arms at any moment, like this was the only chance he’d ever get to pour his affection into you, to show you how much and how deeply he cared for and loved you. Kissing Namjoon felt like finally being able to breathe after being held underwater far too long. You gasped into his mouth, feeling him as he moved his lips with yours and pulled your body somehow even closer to his, not feeling close enough even like this. He groaned into you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you opened your mouth for him when you felt his tongue tracing your lower lip and licking into your mouth. His hand raised to cup your cheek, the other wrapping tighter around you as he kept your body pressed to his. When you moaned into his mouth, he moaned back, like a dialogue, tilting his head to the other side to kiss deeper still.

You could hear the quiet wet noises of his mouth and tongue moving with your lips, the little noises he made as he tried to hold in his moans, the sound of both of you gasping for air in the split seconds between deep kisses, and you wanted more. You wanted to hear these sounds forever. He felt and tasted so good, his touches so perfect, you already knew you’d become addicted.

You shifted in his lap then, moving to straddle his legs as he wrapped both arms around you again. He moaned into your kiss, losing himself, his warm tongue swirling in your mouth as his soft lips still moved with yours. He was better than you ever imagined, his big hands gentle yet firm, his kisses overwhelming you. He was a force of nature — purposeful, cleansing, cathartic — and you let him take you, though you knew you were already his. Now that you knew he felt the same way, you didn’t want him to ever let go of you. You didn’t care about the consequences or what Mark would do to you; you just wanted Namjoon, the love of your life, forever.

You moved your hips against him instinctively, unconsciously grinding down enough to feel his already half-hard erection, and that was what made him pull away.

“We can’t do this,” Namjoon gasped against your lips, moving back just enough to press his forehead to yours again. The two of you breathed in each other’s exhales, lips still almost touching as he spoke. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your emotions. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, okay?”

“I feel fine,” you murmured to him, nuzzling your nose against his and feeling his whole body tense up. “Please, Joonie. I love you so much.” That was the name you’d called him when you were young, before either of you even knew what this kind of love was. You’d grown up calling him that, and you were the only one who’d ever used that nickname. Hearing it now, when you were in his lap and your lips had just been on his, made him moan, his eyes falling closed as he took in a shaky breath.

“Please,” you begged, your lips tracing his. “I need you. I’ve always needed you.” You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, feeling his grip on your hips tighten for just a pulse. “It’s always been you, Joonie. I’ve always been yours.”

He bit his lip, loving hearing those words from you more than anything in the world. He was trying so hard to be good and honorable, but you didn’t want that. You wanted him, needed him more than anything, and you could tell he was just as worked up as you were.

“Baby, are you sure?” he said. His pupils were blown with lust and bloodshot from his tears, his lips kiss-swollen and red, his honey voice a deep, quiet rumble. “Are you sure you want to… cheat on him? I want you more than anything and I know that he’s terrible, but I don’t want you to rush into anything or do something you’ll regret. You’re in a vulnerable state right now, we shouldn’t…”

Namjoon had hesitated saying the word cheat, and you understood why. You understood all of what he was saying and why he felt this way. Neither of you cared about Mark’s feelings, but Namjoon was still worried. Knowing him, his mind was moving a hundred miles a minute, thinking through every potential outcome to this moment.

“Joon,” you started, desperate now as you grabbed at his shoulders. “I want to cheat on him. I hate him so much. He’s so awful to me, and sex with him is… it hurts, Joonie. It’s all about him, and it’s painful because I’m not into it and he does nothing to change that, and I hate every moment of it.”

Namjoon took in a harsh breath as he listened to that, setting his jaw as if holding in his anger. You knew Namjoon had never been violent or volatile a day in his life, but part of you wondered what he’d do if he ever saw Mark again after today.

“Sometimes, to make it go by faster, or to make it better for me… I think about you, Joon. I imagine it’s you making me feel good instead of him using me. When he leaves, I imagine you holding me as I cry. If that’s cheating, I’ve already been cheating on him for months.”

Namjoon pressed his forehead against yours again as he closed his eyes and breathed in hard, as if holding in a sob and just barely containing his emotions. He hugged you again, squeezing your body to him, and you could feel that he was shaking from what you’d told him.

You felt numb to all the pain you’d been through. None of it mattered anymore, because now Namjoon was here. You trusted him and loved him and knew he’d always be here for you, just like he’d always been, and all that mattered was that you were together. You wanted to be with him, you wanted him to make love to you right now, to take all the sadness and pain and heartbreak away and replace it with his love, the way only he could, and from the way he held you, you suspected he might want the same thing.

“I love you,” he said, and he turned his head and kissed your cheek. Another kiss to your cheekbone, then the skin between your hairline and the corner of your eye, then your temple, and then he was covering that entire side of your face in slow, gentle kisses, bringing his hand up to hold your other cheek as he worked. He was murmuring against your skin between each kiss, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over, so quiet you could barely hear him, never taking his lips off of you fully. You could feel the wetness of his tears, and you took in a shaky breath, holding back your own. You were done crying. You were here with Namjoon, and you knew he’d never bring you pain or tears. You were safe now.

He pressed one final kiss to the center of your cheek, much more firmly than the others, before stilling and resting his forehead against your temple.

“He’s never going to hurt you again, angel,” Namjoon murmured into your skin. “I’m going to take care of you, keep you safe. I’m gonna cover your body in kisses every day, worship you, spoil you rotten like the princess you are. You’re my princess, my baby, my love, my angel, my best friend, my everything. He’ll never touch you ever again, baby, I promise. I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

You nodded with his words, agreeing with him. You wanted that from him more than anything in the world, and his words sounded almost too good to be true. You had to be dreaming, because Namjoon loving you like this seemed so impossible.

You kissed him then, before the mirage could disappear, and Namjoon kissed you back immediately, firmer, more sure of himself now. His hand on your cheek held you perfectly in place as his tongue moved in your mouth again, deeper now as he claimed your mouth as his. Whatever shred of not wanting to push you too far too fast that he had been holding on to melted away as he moved his lips with yours so surely, perfectly, lovingly.

“Make love to me, Joonie. I need you,” you begged against his lips, writhing in his lap as you whined and pouted.

“I will, sweetheart. Every day for the rest of my life,” he said, giving you another firm kiss before you pulled back again. Namjoon’s mouth chased after your lips, not wanting to stop kissing you yet.

“Now,” you whined, not wanting to wait any longer.

Looking between your eyes and your mouth, Namjoon nodded, agreeing with your pleas. “Okay, princess,” he said, his eyes almost dazed from his lust. He scooped you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he stood carefully. His hands held you at your thighs, squeezing to secure you. Out of instinct, you expected that to hurt — it had always hurt when Mark squeezed your thighs. But the pain never came.

Namjoon’s lips never left yours as he stumbled over to your bed, nearly tripping over a pile of clothes and a pillow that had fallen as you’d slept last night. You giggled into his kisses, bracing yourself on his shoulders and holding onto him tighter, until he made it to the bed and sat you down. He laid you back slowly, carefully, and you felt yourself sinking into your plush comforter, your hands and legs never letting go of him where you’d latched on.

Hovering over you, Namjoon moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, his tongue tracing circles over your pulse. His large hands moved down the curves of your body, like a sculptor shaping wet clay, and you moaned for him, right in his ear, and he let out a groan of his own in response to you. You felt and heard him sucking at your skin, tilting his head to get the perfect angle as he worked, and you hoped what he was doing would leave a big obvious hickey. You wanted it to, more than anything. You wanted there to be proof of this happening, for everyone to see.

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of Mark in that moment. However, for the first time in months, you were happy when you thought of him. You pictured the shocked look on his stupid smug face upon finding out that your best friend had fucked you while you were still in a relationship with him. You imagined what he’d say, how he’d react knowing that Namjoon, the man he’d been so jealous of, had come and stolen you away, and you felt yourself smiling at the thought, knowing Namjoon would always keep you safe.

It was petty and childish, but the thrill of having this secret with Namjoon, of being Namjoon’s lover when you were still technically Mark’s girlfriend, was exhilarating. You knew exactly what Namjoon would say to that — that you weren’t his lover or Mark’s girlfriend, you were just you, your own person, but you let yourself have this. You weren’t Mark’s anymore. In opening up to Namjoon emotionally and physically, you defied Mark and his control. You were yours as much as you were Namjoon’s, and you were free.

Namjoon kissed down your neck, suckling and biting at your collarbone as he pulled your loose t-shirt down as much as he could, stretching it against your chest. You brought one hand up to his hair, sighing and closing your eyes as you felt his lips moving on your skin. Everywhere he kissed and licked, he left behind trace amounts of his saliva, goosebumps spreading across your body from the cold air hitting that moisture.

One of his hands moved down to your stomach, his fingers teasing under your shirt but not going any farther than your ribs. His hand was hot to the touch, his whole body burning like a furnace. You could feel the hint of his weight on top of you, though he mostly held himself above your body, careful not to suffocate you. You wanted him to, though. You wanted more.

“Joonie,” you sighed, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. He came back up to your face, cupping your cheek as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I’m here, princess,” he murmured into your skin, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your cheek.

“Please,” you whined for him, squeezing your legs around him. You knotted your hand in his hair, and he moaned, closing his eyes, apparently loving that feeling. You’d have to keep that in mind.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked you. You were almost too distracted to answer, feeling Namjoon peppering kisses along your cheek while he waited for you.

“Touch me, Joon. Clothes off,” you said, and he didn’t wait for another word. Namjoon sat back between your parted thighs, sitting on his heels as he quickly pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it somewhere behind him. He started messing with his belt buckle, but upon looking up and seeing you just watching him, he smiled.

You were just laying there, legs spread, a lazy smile on your face as you looked up and down his body. You knew that he worked out a lot and focused on his chest, but god, he was too sexy, his chest large and firm, his shoulders wide, his muscles defined. To you, he looked like a protector. The perfect man, the perfect lover, the man of your dreams.

You reached out for him, making grabby hands as he laughed and came back to you, laying on top of you again and letting you run your hands all over him as he covered your face in kisses.

“You’re too cute, baby girl,” he murmured, drawing hearts with the tip of his nose on your cheek. Reaching down, he pulled your shirt up your body, and you shifted, wiggling to help him pull your t-shirt up and off. You weren’t wearing anything underneath it, and the moment Namjoon saw your bare chest, you swore his mouth started watering, his eyes glazing over with lust.

His hands and mouth immediately fell to your breasts, massaging firmly as he took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling as you arched your back and let out a long moan for him. He moaned right back, the vibration of the deep sound spreading through your chest and going straight down to your throbbing clitoris.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, bringing one hand up to rest in his hair, playing with the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck. He sucked and pulled with his teeth, never doing anything too hard or too much, his hand massaging in pulses lazily while his mouth worked so diligently.

He left your breasts then, kissing down your ribs, his hands running down your sides like he was feeling the shape of your body. He kissed your stomach, in a circle around your belly button, making you giggle when he nipped at your hipbones. His breath, his hands, his kisses were all so warm and gentle, you caught yourself closing your eyes and relaxing, never having felt more comfortable around another person.

“Mmm, you’re so soft, princess,” he murmured against your lower stomach, trailing kisses along the waistline of your pajama pants. “Can’t wait to kiss your pretty pussy.”

You moaned at his words, spreading your legs for him further out of instinct. He’d barely touched you yet, and already you were dripping for him, your core tightening around nothing with every press of his full lips and gentle squeeze of his large hands. You needed him so badly, more than you’ve ever needed anything, and you told him that, grabbing his hair with both hands the moment you felt him carefully sliding your pajama pants down your legs.

Namjoon kissed every inch of your skin as it was revealed to him, pressing his lips to your hips, your thighs, your mound over your panties. Once your pants were off, he returned between your legs, placing an open-mouthed kiss right where you were soaking through your thin panties, his lips suctioning and his tongue flicking against the fabric like he was trying to lap up your wetness.

You keened, grabbing hold of his hair with both hands and arching your back as you moaned his name. Nobody had ever done this to you, gone down on you or even hinted at it, but you’d imagined Namjoon doing this to you a hundred times, knowing in your heart that he’d take such good care of you.

Namjoon pressed his tongue against your clitoris through your panties, and you rolled your hips, moving against his mouth as you cried out for him. He kept his tongue pressed there firmly as you moved, groaning as you pulled his hair, and the noise he’d made vibrated against your clit in a way that made you bite your lip and whimper, your body shaking with need.

“Please, Joon,” you moaned, wiggling as you attempted to somehow spread your legs even further for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?” he teased, pressing another kiss against your covered slit.

Namjoon slowly eased your panties down your legs, his hands touching as much of your skin as he could on the way down. His eyes drank you in, his lips parting with every inch of you he took in. And then you were bare before him, your legs spread once again, core soaked and dripping, your wetness making your pussy glisten in the low light of your room, sparkling for him as far as he was concerned. You were the most precious thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, his princess, a goddess he intended to dedicate his life to worshipping at the alter of.

Namjoon was looking at you like you were an angel fallen from heaven, eyes lost in wonder as he looked at your body, and you blushed, biting your lips and covering your face with your hands. You wanted to close your legs under his intense stare — not wanting him to stop, but feeling too shy under his gaze. You felt the bed dip, however, as Namjoon braced himself on one hand beside your head, his other hand taking one of your hands where you covered your face and bringing it up to his mouth, kissing your palm while maintaining unbroken eye contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured, moving your hand he’d just kissed to rest on his cheek. He stroked your hair back out of your face slowly, tilting his head as he just looked at you with a small smile. He moved his hand down to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your bottom lip as he spoke. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess. I’m gonna kiss your sweet little pussy, make love to you with my tongue, hear all the sweet sounds you make for me. Do you want that, pretty girl?”

You whimpered, nodding and biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“I don’t think I heard you, baby,” he teased, leaning in and just barely biting at the roundness of your cheek as you grinned and giggled under him. “Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes, Joonie,” you said, and he pressed one gentle kiss to your cheek before moving back down your body, your legs spreading for him again out of instinct.

Settling in between your legs, Namjoon put both hands on your thighs, his thumbs massaging slow circles as he looked between your face and your wet slit. He sighed happily, a dumb smile on his face, and even just his exhale hitting your wet clitoris had you tensing and biting your lip.

“Are you sensitive, baby?” he cooed before leaning in, breathing through his mouth slowly as he hovered just over your clitoris without touching it. He puckered his lips then, blowing cold air on your clit, and you cried out for him, both hands jumping to his hair and pulling.

“Namjoon,” you moaned, lifting your head and looking down at him. Seeing Namjoon between your legs, his mouth only an inch from where you were willing to beg him to touch you, had you moaning again.

“You smell so good, angel. Your pussy’s so pretty,” Namjoon said, letting you feel the breath of his words against your throbbing clitoris. He was enjoying this, a playful smile on his plush lips, and you decided you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, Joonie. I need you,” you said, tugging on his hair, and you knew that was all it would take to break him. He’d closed his eyes when you’d pulled his hair, biting his lip at the feeling and from being so close to you and hearing you like this.

Namjoon leaned in then without another word, licking a long, wide stripe from entrance to clit. You cried out, attempting to spread your thighs wider for him and lifting your legs, presenting yourself to him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding your legs in place like that up in the air, and licked you again, this time burying his face in between your legs and dipping his tongue inside you, moving his mouth like he was making out with your cunt.

Nobody had ever done anything like this to you. It felt better than you’d ever imagined, and you moaned loudly, louder than you’d ever been during sex, even under your own hand. His lips sucked up your wetness like he was trying to drink you, his tongue diving into your pussy and licking at your walls, fucking in and out of you like he’d promised.

You were certain the tip of his tongue was so deep it circled your cervix, the width of his wet, firm tongue making you squeeze down around him. His lips pressed around your entrance as he tried to move deeper, an obscene wet slurping sound filling the air as he sucked you up. When you pulled his hair, he growled like a territorial animal, burying his face in harder, the tip of his nose pressing against your folds. He was so intense, but every touch, every movement, every swirl of his tongue had you shivering, your back arching as you held onto his hair for your life.

“Joon, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your weak voice nearly unrecognizable to your own ears. “Please don’t stop…” You trailed off with a long moan as he moved up to your clit, sucking it between his soft lips and rolling it lazily with his tongue. He moaned back to you just so you could feel it against your clit, and you swore the sky opened up, the universe stopping as he worked his mouth on you.

One of his hands left your thigh, coming around as he circled your entrance with one fingertip.

“You’re so soft, baby. So wet, so perfect,” Namjoon said against your clit, his fingertip dipping in less than an inch, making you arch your back. You were drawn like a bow, completely in tune with every touch he gave you, desperate for him. You were willing to do anything for him, as long as he kept touching you like this.

“Your pussy tastes so sweet, princess. Better than I ever imagined.” As if to illustrate his point, Namjoon ducked his head again, pressing his tongue to your entrance and licking up along your folds, letting you feel the texture of his tongue as he moved in one slow motion. As he reached your clit, he slid his middle finger into you fully, curling it in a ‘come hither’ motion that had you repeating his name and nearly pulling his hair out.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he said, his deep voice sounding almost strained. He was enjoying this as much as you were, dying with each whimper of his name and tug on his hair. You looked down at him and nodded, pleading him with your eyes, but your head fell back against the mattress as he pulled his finger almost all the way out before sliding it back in again, this time with his ring finger as well. He moved his fingers slowly, seeking out your g-spot and stroking it when he found it, your back arching dramatically up off the bed as you yelled his name. You yanked his hair, pulling his face back against you, and he smiled, kissing your clit where his mouth was now firmly pressed.

“I feel you squeezing my fingers, pretty girl,” he said against your clit, his fingers still stroking so deep inside you. “You’re so tight, I don’t think I’m gonna last when my cock’s finally inside you.”

You figured he was trying to kill you, because he pulled his fingers out, making you whimper for him, only to slide three fingers fully back in, your cry turning into one long, loud moan that almost sounded like his name.

“F-fuck, god, Joon,” you moaned, feeling so wonderfully full and stretched open by him, your walls squeezing down on him so hard you swore you could feel the bumps of his knuckles inside you.

When he brought his mouth back to your clit, sucking on it lightly as his fingers worked, you thought you might die from the pure pleasure he was giving you, your breathing shaky, your legs squeezing around his head until he held one of them down with his free hand. An almost-disgusting wet sloshing sound hit your ears with each curl of his fingers, your wetness covering his hand, soaking him.

“Come all over my fingers, baby. I know you’re so close,” he cooed, and the moment he reattached his lips to your clit and suctioned as hard as he could, you did exactly as he said.

Your orgasm ripped through your body, your pussy squeezing his fingers almost painfully, your legs twitching, a quiet clicking sound escaping from your throat as you tried to breathe but couldn’t, your mouth open in a breathless gasp as your whole body shook. He didn’t stop, moving his fingers and lips steadily as he worked you through your earth-shattering orgasm, moving with you, his mouth attached to you as you writhed under him. You held onto him by his hair, the only thought your mind was capable of holding being how good he felt worshipping you like this, pumping electric pleasure into your body with every curl of his fingers and movement of his wicked tongue.

You released your first breath harshly, a moan escaping you so loudly, you were sure it shook the walls. You cried out when you felt Namjoon pull his fingers away, and cried out again when his mouth went to your entrance, sucking up your release like a man starving. He nuzzled in harder, pressing his whole face against you like he was trying to suffocate himself, his tongue moving inside you and licking at your walls while his lips sucked you clean.

Namjoon moaned into you between his obscene, messy slurps, your legs twitching from intense oversensitivity. He held onto your thighs with both hands, bobbing his head with each movement of your hips as he kept his plush lips attached to your cunt.

“Joonie, too much,” you cried out, and he immediately pulled back, climbing back up your body and hovering over you again, careful to keep his weight off of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, cupping your cheek with one hand while he pressed gentle kisses to the other side of your face, your wetness on his mouth and chin making you giggle and squirm away from him. He held onto you though, kissing your cheek and all over your face anyway, and you squealed in fake-disgust, your adorable laughter music to Namjoon’s ears.

“You did so good for me, baby. My good, precious, beautiful baby girl,” he praised, finally catching you and pressing one firm, wet kiss against your cheek. You smiled, loving being close to him like this. It felt so natural, like you’d done this together a thousand times, not like it was the first time he ever laid between your legs.

“I want you, Joonie. Want you inside me,” you said, reaching up to stroke back his hair where you’d been pulling earlier, now sticking out wildly.

His smile fell, his eyes losing their playfulness as he studied your expression.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he said, taking in a slow breath as he looked back and forth between your eyes. “We don’t have to rush, sweetheart. You don’t have to say or do anything just because you think it’s what I want. I love you and want you more than anything, but I want you to feel comfortable and safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

You reached up and held his face with both hands. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten this lucky, to have such a wonderful man love you. You looked down at his mouth, seeing it glistening from your wetness, his lips slightly swollen from so many kisses. He parted his lips under your stare, watching the way you looked at him, and you leaned in and kissed him, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks as you closed your eyes.

“I want this, Joon,” you murmured against his lips. “If you want me.”

“Of course I want you,” he said, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “I’ll always want you. Always have.”

“Then show me,” you said, reaching down for his belt buckle, fumbling with it between your body and his. “I want you, Joonie. Please. I need you.”

Namjoon kicked off his pants the moment you undid his belt. Now in only his briefs, he pressed himself against your wet core, grinding his erection through the one final layer between you two as he claimed your lips in a deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you moaned at that and the feeling of his thick, hard erection, your wet core soaking his briefs.

“Condom?” he said against your mouth, his breathing ragged and hand firm on your hip as he started to let himself get worked up.

“Table,” you said, glancing up to your left at your bedside table. Namjoon reached up, pulling the drawer out quickly in his frantic search, accidentally pulling it out completely and dropping it to the floor in surprise. You giggled, burying your face in against his neck.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, moving off of you and sitting on the side of the bed as he picked up one of the condom wrappers and slid off his briefs.

Your breath nearly caught in your throat when you saw his cock bounce up against his stomach, so hard and needy from his infinite teasing. He’d felt big grinding against you, but god, he was huge. You could see a thick vein wrapping around the underside, the mushroom head dark red from his need. He was decently long, but fuck, Namjoon’s cock was so fucking thick.

“Fuck, Joon, you’re a monster,” you said, and he looked back at you, one eyebrow raised. He smiled when he saw you blatantly staring at his erection, actually blushing in his shyness.

You looked up at his face, swallowing hard. “Is it bad that it turns me on so much, thinking about how you’re better than him in literally every way? And I do mean every way,” you said, glancing down at his cock again, and Namjoon laughed, covering his face with one hand.

“Well, hopefully in a minute, you won’t be thinking about him at all,” Namjoon said, and you couldn’t help biting your lip in anticipation.

“Is that so?” you said, a smug smile teasing at the corners of your lips.

“It is,” he said. He opened the condom packet with his teeth, throwing the wrapper at the broken drawer on the ground and sliding the rubber down his length. Turning back toward you, Namjoon moved to his knees, laying back between your legs that spread and wrapped around him. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, my name will be the only thing you can think of.”

You giggled, finding his words cheesy, even though you knew he was more than capable of keeping his promises. Your laughter died in your throat, though, when you felt him rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, circling it before moving up to rub against your clit.

“Fuck,” you sighed, grabbing at his shoulders, bracing yourself and attempting to pull him closer with your legs.

“Are you ready, baby?” Namjoon said, his beautiful deep voice making your eyes fall closed and thighs spread further as he lined himself up with your entrance. You nodded, but Namjoon touched the tip of his nose to yours, stroking your hair back from your face with the hand of the arm he was bracing himself on. “Tell me out loud, princess.”

“I’m ready, Joon. I want you so bad, I love you, I need—”

He cut you off by pushing in, not even halfway, but the stretch had you crying out and digging your fingernails into his skin.

“F-fuck, god,” Namjoon moaned, pressing his face in against your neck, his breath warm on your skin. You felt yourself squeezing him in pulses completely unconsciously as your pussy adjusted to his thick size, stretching for him, taking him. “Mmm, god, you’re so fucking tight. Your pussy’s so perfect, baby.”

“You’re so big, Joonie. Feels so good,” you said, bringing one hand up to knot in his hair again, just how you now knew he liked it. Namjoon groaned at the feeling and your praise, rocking his hips slowly as he eased into you another inch, pacing himself glacially slow at first as you got used to him. His hand he’d used to line himself up with your entrance was now on your thigh, holding your body to his as he eased in further.

You felt his hips press to yours as he bottomed out, both of you gasping at how tight you were around him. You felt so full, stuffed to the brim; you swore the head of his cock was in your guts. You shifted your hips, attempting to somehow take him even further, but he stilled you, his hands holding your body perfectly still. You realized his breathing was fast, his forehead pressed against your neck, his whole body still as he tried to remain in control and not lose himself too quickly.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, kissing your collarbone. “You take me so well, baby. Feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.”

You stroked his hair, feeling as his breathing drew steadier as he calmed himself down and regained his composure. You could feel yourself and Namjoon both throbbing where your bodies joined, your heartbeats matching up, and you needed him to move.

“Joonie, please,” you sighed, squeezing him with your arms and legs as you tried to roll your hips under him.

Namjoon groaned, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, just hard enough to make your breasts bounce from the movement under Namjoon’s chest. He moved his hand to your back, wrapping his arm around you so that you arched up into him, changing the angle just enough that the next time he rocked his hips, he hit the spot inside you that made you cry out in ecstasy, the same spot he’d left his fingerprints on when fingering you so thoroughly. He chased after that spot, rolling his hips and picking up his pace until you could hear the audible, graphic sounds of skin smacking against wet skin and his cock thrusting so perfectly inside your drenched cunt.

Each time Namjoon entered you, it felt like he was somehow hitting even deeper and harder. You held onto him by his hair, your other hand scratching down his back as you moaned his name in his ear, over and over and over with each of his hard thrusts. He was sweating now, his skin glistening from it, sweat nearly dripping off of him, his hair feeling wet from it, and you wanted to lick him clean. You felt like you could smell his pheromones in the air, released with his sweat, and you swore you’d never been more attracted to him than this moment. He was pure, raw sex. He moaned and growled as he fucked you, holding your body to him, and you grasped at his shoulders, feeling his hot, flushed skin moving under your fingernails, the taut muscles in his back tensing and moving as he worked so hard.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he moaned, his arm wrapped around you pulling you up toward him harder. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N…”

You felt so small under his large, manly body, but in a good way; you felt like he could put you in his pocket, carry you around and keep you safe forever. You loved how sexy he was; his deep voice, his big hands, his large, muscular, sweaty body. You loved hearing him call you his baby, his princess, all the loving names he came up with. You loved how good he was to you, how he treated you with kindness and love and respect and care. He made you feel safe and loved, and he was yours and you were his.

Nothing else existed in this moment besides Namjoon and the pleasure he gave you. The whole universe was just the two of you in your bed, making love, your bodies fusing and becoming one. His hips smacked against yours, and you heard him as he breathed hard, letting out short moans every few thrusts, his breathing muffled against your neck. You were so close again already, your moans becoming desperate, needy pleas, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your mind entering near-delirium as you clawed at his back and pulled his hair so hard it tilted his head back.

His cock had to be hitting your cervix with every hard thrust. You felt him in your guts, his thick girth stretching you out, your thighs burning from your exertion just taking him. He was too fucking good, and you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to the knife’s edge. You’d never felt anything this good, pleasure building up inside you like a dam about to burst.

“Come for me, please, baby. God, please,” Namjoon moaned, and you realized he was begging you, smacking his hips to yours as hard as he could.

Namjoon shifted then, bracing himself on the arm underneath you now and bringing his other hand down to grip your thigh, raising it higher around his waist. He pounded into you, and you came in a silent scream, your body tensing under him as you held onto him, your orgasm so much more intense than your previous, more overwhelming that anything you’d ever felt. Your brain, lungs, and pussy felt like they were being split open in the most wonderful way, your body blooming like a flower under his radiance.

You felt yourself gushing, the feeling unfamiliar, warm, and wet, and Namjoon let out the loudest moan you’d heard from him yet, looking down between your bodies as he kept moving.

“God, are you fucking squirting? Jesus Christ, baby, that’s so fucking hot,” he groaned, his fingertips digging into your skin where he held you.

“What?” you said breathlessly, barely even aware of your surroundings at this point, your brain and body so thoroughly spent. You took in shaky breaths, gasping for air as you came down from your high, and you realized what he’d said and how your pussy was now a fucking flood zone, and you couldn’t make yourself care. You were both covered in his sweat and your cum, the feeling messy and filthy and so fucking good, and Namjoon held you to him so tight as your legs twitched in overstimulation, his pace steady as he chased after his own high.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he groaned, moaning with each whimper you released. “You feel so good, baby. God, you’re so fucking sexy, I’m so close.”

As he continued thrusting into you, you saw flashes of your life with him through the fog of your post-orgasm haze — when your parents used to let you have sleepovers when you were both little, sharing a single bed before it meant anything. Kissing his cheek in the treehouse your father built for you when you were nine, both of you being too shy to ever speak of it again. Sitting on the bus together every day on the way to school, sleeping on his shoulder because you always stayed up too late. Going to prom together when you had nobody else. Cuddling on each other’s dorm beds and watching movies late on school nights. It had always been Namjoon. Loving him was as natural to you as breathing, a choice you’d never had to make yourself, though you knew you’d choose him every time.

You felt his thrusts becoming sloppy, his body shaking as he groaned against your neck, and you knotted your hand in his hair again, squeezing your legs around him. “Joonie,” you called to him, your voice a soft whimper. “Come for me, Joon, I want to feel you.”

Hearing his nickname now made him cry out, his hips bucking as his mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he finally came. He spilled inside the condom, his hips jerking as he tried to keep moving, and you could feel his cock twitching so deep inside you. You wished you could feel the warmth of his seed spreading inside your core, but you knew that step was for another time, somewhere in the long future you had ahead of you.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he groaned between his deep breaths, his hips grinding slowly against yours as he tried to stay inside you as deep as he could. He kissed your cheek, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth as he kept speaking. “I love you, I love you, I love you, forever. Always have, angel. We were made to love each other.”

You pictured for just a split moment the awkward, adorable boy you’d grown up with, now the large, loving, perfect man between your legs, kissing your skin lazily as he just barely held himself up, his body heavy from his post-orgasm exhaustion. After all this time, Namjoon’s body felt like home. You were exactly where you belonged, where you were always meant to be, safe in his arms, sheltered from anything by his love. No matter what happened, you had him. You always had.

#btssmutclub #namjoon smut #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts smut #kim namjoon smut #bts scenario #bts fanfic #my writing

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chibivesicle · 4 years

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Golden Kamuy: chapters 255 & 256 - chaos at the brewery, superior private vs superior private, the death of the first Tsurumisexual

I was hesitant to write a stand alone 255 summary and I am glad that I waited until 256 was out. I also had a busier than expected work week which kept me busy. The fire that Jack set at the brewery was large enough that the local fire department is alerted to fight it.

The next few pages show how late Meiji era firefighters worked with a horsedrawn steam pumper.

The chief calls for a bugle player to call in the rest of the firefighters and they start spraying while the main pump starts.

This the allows us to see where some of the cast are. As usual Shiraishi is near the fire fighters, he always has a tendency to know where the person in charge is, Ushiyama, Hijikata and then we see Boutarou is somewhere outside.

My most hated convict is there watching that everyone has assembled to find Jack. He then has a fixation with the ladder.

I have no patience for Ueji, I really hope he’s not around much longer.

The action shifts to Asirpa still beating our convict until her sutu physically breaks. I have to admit this concerns me since it shows that Asirpa may not have just been acting in self-defense/’basic’ punishment. It indicates that she’s bolder or losing control of her own actions towards him.

Jack reaches out to grab her fur cloak and he holds here there as he reveals his ‘tragic’ backstory. He was supposed to be the child of a prostitute and a member of the British Royal family. Wow - riveting . . . . honestly, I found his backstory to be lame and I was like ‘on with it already.’ Still doesn’t really explain why a man would become a murderer . . . .

Asirpa then becomes more desperate and she threatens to stab him with one of her arrows if he doesn’t release her, while he insists he’s the product of a virgin birth. Since he was taken in nuns and raised in some sort of catholic setting . . .

What is important is that once she looks into his face after threatening she finally shows signs of PTSD from shooting Ogata.

Here face is sweaty and flushed and her pupils are tiny and she remembers Ogata collapsing on the ice floe. I have been waiting so long for this to happen. Asirpa is good at burying and denying her feelings and finally in a pinch her fears come to the surface.

Honestly, I am so relieved to have this happen in the story.

Sugimoto then arrives and tells Asirpa that killing Jack is his job. He looks dangerous as his scarf flies back and he’s got the bayonet on his rifle.

Asirpa meanwhile is in the foreground arrow in her hand. There are then several pages of Sugimoto stabbing and disemboweling and stabbing our convict before he kicks him out a window.

With luck, he falls out near Ushiyama who finishes him off with a skull smashing step. I’ve never been a huge fan of Ushiyama, but I do like his line about how prostitutes are divine beings to him, remaining on earth to help others.

This seemed a lot more fitting than Sugimoto telling him what you do with your life is important. I’m also curious how damaged his tattoo is after being slashed open across the belly.

Now it is unclear if Sugimoto and Asirpa will be reuniting with Hijikata or not, since the skin has been delivered to Ushiyama. I’m curious to see if they rejoin his group of if they break off again.

The action finally returns to the events that I am most interested in; the fight between Ogata and Usami. The english translation has Usami calling Ogata by his first name as he beats the crap out of him while he tries to hold him off with the rifle. Usami is upset since previously Ogata called him a ‘cheap piece’ on a chessboard and he did not like it.

We get a close up of Ogata’s bloody nose as the rifle moves. The next page makes it clear that Usami has grabbed the rifle and he proceeds to empty the remaining bullets and even kicks them away on the floor.

Usami is making sure that Ogata has no chance to fire at him and knows that if Ogata tried to fight back with the rifle alone, he’d have no chance. Of course, Ogata goes to grab another clip, but Usami judo rolls him onto the floor and Ogata turns over and begins to crawl back to the rifle.

It seems like Ogata has some sort of thought in the first panel as Usami stands over him and tells him that he’s essentially useless without a gun. I’m under the indication that when it comes to fighting and combat that Usami finds him useless since both of them have done things non-combat related.

Usami then boldly pulls the bayonet off of Ogata’s belt. Usami then falls into the trope of overconfident monologue individual.

Ogata doesn’t give a damn about Usami’s monologue to him, he’s got to beat him and we get a close up of Ogata picking up an individual bullet between his bloody lips. He’s got something in mind.

Usami then insults Ogata as being a son of a prostitute he can’t call Usami a cheap piece. We know that Usami was raised in a normal but poor samurai family with both parents and siblings. He feels that since he comes from a more reputable (though poor) background he has more legitimacy than Ogata which we know is the common perception of Ogata in the 27th. We will need to know who told everyone he was Hanazawa’s illegitimate son to know how long the bullying went on for.

Usami then has self-reflective moment about how badly he’d wanted to say this to Ogata for at least a year by this point. This has given Usami a pause to his advance and Ogata uses his tongue to push the single bullet into the open rifle. He still looks back at Usami and knows he can do this since he’s not paying close attention to Ogata crawling across the floor.

As Usami prepares the bayonet, Ogata flips the now loaded rifle towards him and Usami seems surprised.

The final page of the chapter shows what a point blank rifle shot does to Usami. He’s been shot at close range and there is a massive blood splatter behind him, bayonet still in hand. The chapter ends with Ogata calmly looking over his shoulder and smoke floats away from the barrel.

What a way to end the chapter! I had been waiting for something like this for sooo long. Usami fell in to the trap of ‘oh look at me, I’m going to let my emotions allow me to monologue’ . . . Ogata used the fact that he’s bad at close combat to crawl across the floor to the rifle. Usami thought it was good enough to empty the rifle but he completely underestimated the tenacity of Ogata and his plan to reload his rifle in the most horny way possible.

If Usami and Ogata are indeed pieces on a chessboard for Tsurumi, this has shown that Ogata is a much more valuable piece. Or perhaps are all of them of equal value and Ogata just said that to rile up Usami?

Something that really stood out for me was how Usami’s approach to stab Ogata with a bayonet was very similar to chapter 5 when Sugimoto was over him about to stab him and Asirpa stops him. Ogata then has the pause to poke Sugimoto in the face facilitating his escape. In that instance, it was the combination of Asirpa and then Ogata that allowed for him to escape.

With Usami, the only person in charge of Ogata’s escape is Ogata. It this telling us that Ogata has leveled up? He’s now taking ownership for saving himself? No one else came to his aid, he did it all on his own a change for him since when they were in Edogai’s house, Sugimoto had to save him from the random guy from the 27th. . . . Just something to ponder.

Either way lets get to 256 where the action continues!

The chapter stards with Usami falling back as Ogata on autopilot ejects the spent shell to ready the rifle to be loaded and fired.

Usami tumbles down the stairs and Ogata pulls out another clip to load the rifle. As wounded as Usami is, he moves quickly enough to get out of visual range of Ogata. He holds on the the railing of the stairs as he bleeds out his back and realizes his spat with Ogata isn’t important.

He needs to tell something to Tsurumi. Is it what he saw on Kadokura?

Meanwhile Ueji is messing around with the firefighters. He’s pulled on some of the hoses and begins to climb up the ladder as people wonder what he’s trying to do and Usami exits at ground level.

Usami finds the horses for the fire engine around the same time that Sugimoto kicks Jack out the window. This inadvertently catches Ogata’s attention. Ogata then looks out the window to spot Usami on one of the horses below.

Usami is pretty rough, holding onto his chest where Ogata shot him. Ogata takes his time to set up his shot, breaking the glass and resting his rifle on a crossbar in the frame. Ogata then tells Usami that if he’s that worried about being a cheap piece . . . he needs to know what Tsurumi’s face looks like at his funeral.

Ogata has made it clear that Usami is not making it to Tsurumi alive. His goal is to stop him.

I think that Ogata is drawing on his own personal experience and observations of Tsurumi. He knows that his mother was a ‘cheap piece’ to his father since he never came to her funeral. He also got to see Hanazawa’s dying facial expression which let him know what little he thought of him as the son he ignored. Ogata also knows Tsurumi well enough that he’ll reveal how he feels about Usami in death, so really if Tsurumi cares about him, he’ll get what he wanted. Ogata likely has mixed feelings on this; his own experience is that no one cares about others in death, and he likely wants Tsurumi to be cold and calculating not giving Usami what he wants.

To snipe Usami, Ogata levels up, Usami is able to round the corner of the building, but thanks to Sugimoto kicking Jack out a window it is now open.

Sugimoto then is walking away from the open window and another window faces towards Usami. Noda ramps up the tension of Ogata aiming at the open window where Sugimoto is. . . . but just as Sugimoto moves out of the line of fire Ogata takes aim and fires.

We get a unique bullet view of his shot! Oh no? Has Ogata decided to snipe Sugimoto instead? Pfffttt! Of course not. Ogata is the type of sniper who gets his mark. His shot enters Usami’s back and exits his chest likely near his heart.

This tells us several things. Ogata really doesn’t give a damn about Sugimoto. He could have shot him, but really why? There is no point, his target was Usami. He’s off to rely information to Tsurumi.

I also wonder if Sugimoto even heard the shot after he walked away from the windows? There was no indication as such in 255. All of these events highlight that Ogata’s goals have nothing directly to do with Sugimoto and his flawed reasoning that Ogata is out to get him really needs a reality check.

Back to the action, Usami falls off the horse and is dramatically caught in Tsurumi’s arms. Usami looks at Tsurumi while Ogata thanks him.

He then removes his bandage to reveal a glass eye and he declares that he is now completed as a sniper. This refers back to when he was retraining how to to use a rifle with Hijikata. He stated he would only be a sniper, if he actually killed a person not more ducks.

For comedic effects, his glass eye pops out and he catches it. It looks like Ogata now has historical overlap with the French Canadian sniper Leo Major.

The chapter returns to Usami dying before Tsurumi. He hands over he copy of a skin that he got from Kadokura. He then begins to speak about Kadokura, while Tsurumi looks down at him softly telling him he’s done well.

Usami reaches to touch Tsurumi’s face. There is then a very uncomfortable scene where Tsurumi sucks on his pinky finger before he bites it off. He tells Usami that this will allow them to live on together. He tells him that he’ll be living inside him as his number one friend.

So, unlike saving Olga and Fina’s finger bones he took from Russia, he’ll just digest and absorb Usami instead. . . .

Usami than smiles as he dies, telling Usami that he’s so happy that he’s going to come from the feeling as he starts to call him by his first name before he dies in Tsurumi’s arms. The next panel shows Tsurumi holding him in his arms.

As a nerd with a minor in art history, I immediately noticed that this was a reference to Michelangelo’s famous sculpture of Jesus laying in the arms of the Virgin Mary, the pieta.

First, based on how Usami’s death impacts Tsurumi, he can rest assured that he wasn’t a cheap piece. Second, Tsurumi has stood in for the Virgin Mary again in the context of scenes. I’m honestly curious where Noda is going with this Tsurumi = Virgin Mary bit.

The chapter then ends with Ueji standing on the smokestack of the brewery looking for everyone’s attention. I guess he wants everyone to try to attack him at once? Or is he going to jump to his death and result in the destruction of his tattoo making things impossible?

Overall impressions for the events of these two chapters.

1.) Jack was a lame convict. He did not interest me and his only importance was to get Asirpa to recognize her PTSD when she really tried to threaten him.

2.) Noda tried to tease the readers with Sugimoto-Ogata conflict but it shows that Ogata doesn’t look at Sugimoto the same way he looks at Ogata. Sugimoto thinks Ogata is messing around, an agent of chaos, but this is anything but that fact. It also shows again that Sugimoto thinks he’s more critical in the gold hunt than he is. Asirpa is key, he’s just going along for the ride and Hijikata has tried to eliminate him, as has Ogata, Tanigaki and Tsurumi.

3.) Asirpa is showing finally that she was impacted by when she shot Ogata. About time, then again, Asirpa and Ogata are very similar characters with strong internal compasses and repress their feelings.

4.) Ogata has returned to wild-type. The past few chapters he has been on fire. He out smarted Vasily, and was able to defeat Usami. Many of us wondered if his sniping days were over - he has proven otherwise, but him sniping Usami was both defensive and a highly tactical decision. It seems that Ogata has gained a new will to live, he fought his way out of very difficult situations and did everything alone (and with the help of his Yuusaku subconsciousness). It appears that Tsurumi’s statement of not wanting to have him fighting against you holds up and his own name that he is a single man but equal to one hundred. Ogata also shows even if he may have emotions and feelings about how others treat/perceive him, he doesn’t like it cloud his judgement or actions.

5.) Usami got the death he wanted. I’m a little annoyed that Usami got the death he dreamed of, he gained praise from Tsurumi and was told how much he cared about him. Usami died happy in his arms. Perhaps, this indicates a sort of guilt/responsibility that Tsurumi felt towards young Tokishige back in Niigata? If he didn’t have Usami judo fight his friend, maybe he wouldn’t have snapped and become a perfect and loyal solider.

That’s all I have for now.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #ogata hyakunosuke #asirpa #sugimoto saichi #ushiyama tatsuma #tsurumi tokushirou #Usami Tokishige #hijikata toshizo #boutarou the pirate

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i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7 - Good Mourning, Fluttershy

When Fluttershy left the castle, she decided she’d take her time for a bit before heading out to invite who she wants to. Besides, she had animals to feed both at the sanctuary near her cottage and in her home first. She shopped at the markets in Ponyville for vegetables and other kinds of pet food. Even visiting a fish store that while Ponies did not eat fish, they’re still sold as food for many ponies who have pets with carnivore diets. While fish are animals too, and Fluttershy enjoys seeing fishes when she’s swimming. She understands that she can’t force the carnivores to become herbivores. Depriving dogs, cats, bears, etc. of the diet they’re naturally attuned to would be wrong even if Fluttershy feels bad for the poor fish.

To be a nature lover like Fluttershy. you sometimes just have to understand that nature isn’t always kind. Even as the element of kindness, she can’t bend nature to her will. Though perhaps to the comfort of Fluttershy, for many of the fish that are sold as pet food, the very nature of those species is to be so plentiful as to allow the ones that avoid being caught or eaten survive to eventually give birth to more.

After finishing up her shopping, she flies over to the sanctuary and gives all animals she come across food to eat, to all kinds currently in her sanctuary. From amphibians, to birds, to insects, to mammals, and reptiles. The sanctuary gives Fluttershy a way to observe the animals she loves as they should be out in the wild rather then being confined to her home or for some of them, risking having to trek the Everfree in order to see them. Though Fluttershy still lets many of the smaller animals take shelter in her home, as many parts of her cottage include birdhouses, mouse holes, etc. She moved most animals she had to the sanctuary, but she still very much has her own little animal neighborhood to come home to whenever she walked in. Speaking of which, it was time to head in to her cottage to feed said little neighborhood.

She heads to the front door of her cottage, and opens the door to greet her many, many, small roommates.

Fluttershy: Goooooood morning! I have fresh treats for all of you.

Many animals comes out of their hiding places and approach Fluttershy to receive food and/or care from the loving pegasus that has let them seek shelter in her home. Suddenly she gets a few pokes on her flank from what definitely is an impatient bunny rabbit.

Fluttershy: Oh don’t worry Angel, I didn’t forget about you. Here’s a nice bowl of carrots for you.

Fluttershy leaves the bowl of carrots, and the feisty little bunny starts munching. Fluttershy gives a generally pleased look as a good majority of her animals are fed. Though she does notice a rather odd absence of a certain group in her household.

Fluttershy: Say, I don’t suppose any of you have seen any sign of Mr. Mousey or anyone in his family have you?

The animals listening to her either shrug or shake their head from side-to-side. Mr. Mousey is one of the ol’ veteran animals that’s been in the house around for years and barely ever missed feeding time even when he’s confined to a tiny wheelchair. Either his wife or his child who has grown up now helping him when it was time. Fluttershy walks on over to the mouse hole she knows Mr. Mousey and his family lives.

Fluttershy: Mr. Mousey? Are you doing alright? You’re starting to worr- *peeks into the hole* GAAAAASSSSSSSSP

Fluttershy screams, in the hole is… Mr. Mousey slumped in his chair having passed away in his old age, his light-grey wife Mrs. Mousey covering her eyes with her tiny claws and crying. Their grown-up white son holding on to his old mother in comfort and mutual grief for the death of his father.

Fluttershy: MISTER MOUSSSEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Fluttershy averts her eyes from the hole . Lays down on the ground and just starts tearing up heavily. Once again, a beloved animal resident has died in her home. Fluttershy’s been through this many times as an animal caretaker. But it never really gets any easier to see, she can never be numb to the death of an animal she raised in the house.

The other animals seeing the grieving Fluttershy immediately come to her to comfort her as best they can.

Fluttershy: t-t-Thank y-you a-a-all… *sniff* It’s j-just s-still s-so -s-sad… Mr. Mousey’s life was just a little bit longer then the friendship with my other friends here for the exception of Rainbow Dash! *sniff* I-i-i remember when h-he… w-was just a k-kid m-m-mouse that was looking for f-food… I-i-i gave him a piece of cheese… a-and t-then he started c-coming back for m-more. In time s-showing up one time with a m-mate. A-and t-that’s when I d-decided to g-give them a m-mouse hole h-home… had their c-child h-ere and e-e-e-everything *sniff*

Fluttershy putting her face back on the ground and continues sobbing. Eventually she’s going to have to pick herself up. Put the body of Mr. Mousey in a nice box and bury him in an area near the edge of the everfree where Fluttershy buries all her deceased pets. She’s wobbly and still weak in the knees from the sheer sadness she feels. But she proceeds to start to do so. She finds a box, pulls out some cotton floof from her pillows, puts it in the box and leaves it just outside the hole. Signaling Mr. Mousey’s family to bring the wheelchair out of the hole for the last time to bring his body for Fluttershy to put in the box. Fluttershy carefully holds the body and lays him to rest in the cushioned box that now serves as a coffin for her beloved old mouse pet. She takes one last look at the body of Mr. Mousey, noticeably she actually sees that Mr. Mousey has a smile on his face. Sort of actually comforting Fluttershy, as she at least views that he lived quite abnormally long for a mouse, and he died happy. Fluttershy closes the box and ties a ribbon around it. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mousey and her son get up onto Fluttershy’s back using their claws to climb Fluttershy’s long tail to take part in the funeral.

It was now time to take the long walk to her pet cemetery again.

((Story continues after the break))

Moments later, Fluttershy reaches the cemetery of all her pets of the past, she reaches for a shovel she leaves there, and makes a small hole big enough to bury Mr. Mousey. She places the box down, and proceeds to bury the box. Once that’s done, Fluttershy, Mrs. Mousey, and Mr. Mousey’s son put their hooves/claws together in a praying position. Paying their last respects for the old mouse.

A few minutes later, suddenly Fluttershy feels what seems to be rain.

Fluttershy: Is it starting to rain? I didn’t think the weather patrol had rain scheduled today… but I guess perhaps even the planet is crying for Mr. Mousey...

But then Fluttershy see something a little odd about the rain, it was brown, and when she gave it a lick it tasted like… chocolate milk! Fluttershy looks above her is a big pink cotton candy cloud. Cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain could only be the work of…

Fluttershy: Discord, I know that’s you up there…

Sure enough a neck cranes down from the side of the cloud and goes down to Fluttershy’s level on the ground.

Discord: Hello dear, Fluttershy, How are things with you today?

Fluttershy: I’m not sure I’ll be in any mood for your antics today, Discord. Mr. Mousey h-has.. p-passed a-away… you happened to interrupt during my f-funeral for him...

Discord: Mr. Mousey kicked the bucket today? Shoot, he made one heck of a cup of tea.

Fluttershy: Wait, you’ve drank tea with Mr. Mousey?

Discord: Yes, I actually taught him how, and then he proceeded to make better tea then I ever could. Granted he can’t make a lot of tea given he was a mouse. Though it certainly feels like more then it is, when I’ve shrunken myself.

Fluttershy: I wish I knew that sooner, I would of liked to shrink myself with you to Mr. Mousey’s hole at least one time… *sniff*

Discord: Well I think thankfully his wife knows how to make tea as well, so there’s always that some other time.

Fluttershy: I suppose that’s true, but it also would of been neat to be at Mr. Mousey’s size as equals for once before he passed.

Fluttershy briefly goes back into a praying position. Discord ponders for a little bit before proposing something to Fluttershy.

Discord: You know Fluttershy, I COULD probably revive Mr. Mousey and the other pets in this cemetery if you wante-

Fluttershy: NO ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Discord: You didn’t even let me fin-

Fluttershy: Discord, I know how your chaos magic works by now. I’m not letting you turn all my beloved pets from my entire life as an animal caretaker become a zombie army that ravages through Ponyville!

Fluttershy wasn’t quite giving Discord “The Stare” but she nonetheless was not having any tolerance for Discord’s suggestion

Discord: What? It’d be an exciting episode of this sh-

A ringtone rings.

Discord: Hold on, I think that’s my agent

Fluttershy: ...Your what now?

Discord picks up the phone

Discord: Yes….?

Wait, what do you mean the show ended after the 9th season?! I didn’t even get to have a chance to make up for what I was written to do in the finale! Apparently some hated that...

Well what am I doing here then?!

Oh? I’m in a blog or website fan fiction that continues where things left off?

Bleh, this is just going to be full of namby-pamby dramatic twists & reveals, and chock full of the emotional drivel that fans like to call “feels”.

I’ll stick around, but you better be taking calls for some better gigs right now!

Fluttershy just stands there confused

Discord: Ok Fluttershy, now I know what we’re in. What direction do you want to go in? Should we share a sob story each of what life we had with Mr. Mousey, perhaps an arc about his little son picking up the mantle? or perhaps... a plot twist that Mr. Mousey was actually murdered and we look for suspects!

Fluttershy: …I have no idea what you’re talking about

Discord: Really Fluttershy, it us all so simpl-

Fluttershy: DISCORD! Enough shenanigans, a dear pet to me just died and you’re making things worse when you’re like this as I’m grieving…

Discord: Oh… I guess you’re right, Fluttershy. I’m sorry, let me do something to try to make it up to you.

Discord makes a grave that’s ‘like 100x larger then the actual burial spot where Mr. Mousey’s body is. Fluttershy takes a close look and reads the epitaph “Here lies Mr. Mousey, a husband, a father, and the kindest, best tea-making, wheel-chair bound mouse who shall forever be eating his favorite cheeses to his heart content up in the sky”. She admits that it was at least a little touching.

Fluttershy: Thank you Discord, that’s much better.

Discord: You’re welcome, Fluttershy.

Fluttershy: I think I’m ready to get back home, wanna go with m- whaaaaaa!

Discord snapped his claw hand, and him, Fluttershy, along with what’s left of the mouse family are already teleported back in the living room.

Discord: Why walk, when you have me!

Fluttershy: Well maybe it could of been a nice stroll, you know? But oh well… I have something to ask you Discord.

Discord: Oh no, is this the moment of the fan fiction you confess your love to me and ask me on a date? And does the author of this want me to be happy about that or not?

Fluttershy: What? No, I was inviting you to a royal ball!

Discord: Where’ll we end up dancing in the ballroom together singing a song like a certain romantic fairy tale. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill.

Fluttershy: *facehoofs* Ugh, you’re impossible sometimes. I’m offering an invite to you just as one of my friends to take to Saddle Arabia.

Discord: Saddle Arabia? Wasn’t that the place you and the others almost were killed by an insane stallion who mind controlled Twilight?! Perhaps, I should actually come just for your security…

Fluttershy: Well, Twilight and the royal family there are taking extra precautions. But if you feel you could provide more security for us you’re free to.

Discord: Perhaps, though say what was the name of the bad person you girls defeated there?

Fluttershy: Zathir

Discord: Yes, I could also come over there to haunt Zathir’s dreams for daring to try to harm a single feather on you.

Discord suddenly wearing a black hat, red and green striped hat, and gloves with sharp knives protruding from them

Discord: This… is Chaos

Fluttershy: Heh, it wasn’t so funny at the time given it was a life or death situation. But I was the one that ultimately brought him down because I knocked the lamp down as he was battling with Spike.

Discord: Ah yes, perfect! I can have him replay that moment of his life over-and-over again. Mua hahahaha!

Fluttershy: *giggles* Well, anyway just to be sure. You DO want to go, right?

Discord: Of course.

Fluttershy: Good, now I can go find a few more friends to get here. I can use my gum portals to…

Discord: Why bother? You got me, tell me who you plan to invite and I can just snap them here, and snap them back once they’ve said yes.

Fluttershy: That sounds kinda rude… but uh if say I came across Bulk Biceps in Ponyville…

*SNAP*

Bulk Biceps: YEEAAAAAA- Oof

Bulk Biceps lands on the floor of the cottage.

Fluttershy: Uh hi Bulk, sorry for that. But I guess I get to invite you Saddle Arabia for a royal ball. You want to go?

Bulk Biceps: YEEEEAAAAA-

*SNAP*

Bulk Biceps is teleported back to where he was

Fluttershy: Um, Discord if you’re going to teleport my invitees here at least allow me some time to talk to them.

Discord: I mean, to be fair it’s his gag that YEAAAAA is all he says. So I’m not sure the conversation was going to be much anyway…

Fluttershy: Anyway… next is my parents and my brother.

*SNAP*

Fluttershy’s parents and Zephyr Breeze are teleported to the cottage.

Posey Shy (Fluttershy’s Mother): Whoa!

Gentle Breeze (Fluttershy’s Father): Huh? What are we doing in Fluttershy’s cottage?

Zephyr Breeze: Sis, just what in the name of Celestia is happening?

Fluttershy: Sorry, all of you. I’m inviting friends and family to an event I’m going to, and I guess Discord wants to speed things up a bit by simply bringing who I want to bring here. Don’t worry, he’ll bring you right back to whatever you were doing before.

Posey Shy: Where are you going?

Fluttershy: There will be a royal ball in Saddle Arabia all my friends are bringing their families as well as some of their own friends they’ve met around the world. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, just thought I’d offer.

Gentle Breeze: Well sure, I suppose. A nice trip to somewhere new could be nice.

Posey Shy: I’m interested

Zephyr Breeze: I’ll gladly go, another chance to make my move on a certain wonderbolt friend of yours… *wiggles his eyebrow*

Fluttershy rolls her eyes, she’s going to enjoy the moment Rainbow Dash bucks him in the face again.

Fluttershy: Ok thanks, all of you! I’ll see you later! Discord, you can take them back now.

*SNAP*

Fluttershy’s family disappears and are sent back to their home in Cloudsdale.

Fluttershy: Ok, now there’s only only one more invitee, Discord. I need you to get Tree Hugger here.

Discord: Heh, with her coming at least I get to say I was invited before her this time.

*SNAP*

Tree Hugger is brought to the cottage but it seems she was in deep meditation where she was, because she seems to have not noticed.

Fluttershy: Um, Tree Hugger?

Tree Hugger hears a familiar voice and breaks out of her meditation trance.

Tree Hugger: Whhoooooooaaaaaaa dude, did my meditation give me such enlightenment that I can travel the world now?

Fluttershy: No it wasn’t your meditation, Tree Hugger. That was Discord that brought you here.

Tree Hugger: Oh hey, yeah I remember you. You… sent me to some weird sock puppet dimension…

Discord: No hard feelings?

Tree Hugger: Nah, I ain’t mad, dude. That’s not my style, though I at least hope all your bad vibes from your jealousy are gone.

Discord: Nah I’m good, besides. Fluttershy invited me first!

Tree Hugger: Ah, so you don’t have bad vibes of jealousy this time. But now you have some pouring from a big ego.

Discord deadpans and crosses his arms. Fluttershy giggles.

Fluttershy: Anyway, Tree Hugger would you like to come with me, Discord, and many of my other friends to Saddle Arabia for a Royal Ball?

Tree Hugger: Sure thing Flutterdude, I’ve heard Saddle Arabia has some nice meditation techniques that I can see firsthand.

Fluttershy: Great! I’ll see you there! Discord, go ahead and get her back home.

Tree Hugger ohms and goes back into meditation just before Discord sends her back

Fluttershy: Ok that takes care of every pony, I guess thank you, Discord. Even if this method was a little forceful…

Discord: Hey, if it moves the story about. So what do we do now.

Fluttershy: We just wait for the others to finish.

Discord: Wait, you’re saying that like we’re not even the main characters of this fiction?!

Fluttershy: Wat

Discord: Hold on, I need to call my agent back…

Fluttershy: …….

Confuzzling as always, Fluttershy and Discord now simply await word for when the ball starts

UP NEXT: Chapter 8: The Pink Pony Party Preperations

#Secrets Of The Dragon's Tear #Fluttershy #Angel Bunny #Mr. Mousey #Discord #Bulk Biceps #Posey Shy #Gentle Breeze #Mr. Shy #Mrs. Shy #Zephyr Breeze #Tree Hugger

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