#twilight-x-reader

[twilightsagasworld]

Paul x Reader

Imagine

Requested by @littlemissvenom0

It disgusted you to a deep degree, and Leah had warned you long before you started dating that Paul was a loose guy, never being able to fully commit to something.

It wasn’t that your relationship even felt real. Paul was incredibly distant and avoided doing anything that put you two in the same space for too long. Like he was some royal who couldn’t even entertain the idea of mingling with poverty.

You were again reminded of this when you and Leah hung out today. The weather was cloudy and the remnants of earlier rain was still around, making everything wet. You and Leah were out in the forest near the river border of the tribal grounds.

“I don’t understand why you just don’t break up with him, (y/n). You guys haven’t even acted like a real couple for months”

You sighed while rolling up your vest sleeves, shifting your position on the damp clump of rocks you two were sat on. Distant laughter was in the background, coming from the Black residence.

Leah’s head turned to you, waiting patiently as you puffed your cheeks before letting the air go.

“Yeah, I know, I know… “ you took a pause, tossing a pebble down to the river below you, “I geuss I just hope he’ll come around before I do decide to break it off”

Leah rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe you’re holding on to some slim piece of hope that he’ll maybe turn into some prince charming or whatever, its not”

You frown slightly, “You obviously don't think I should''. Your cousin gives you an exasperated expression, “All I see is him flirting with every girl within a few feet of him, while you stay back all embarrassed all the time, it's getting frustrating and I keep having to listen to him think about it everyday. You have to do something about it”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to her talk. Truth be told you knew your relationship with Paul could only go one of two ways, either you break up with him, or he miraculously turns from his ways and realises how much he actually loves you, if he even does love you.

“You’re right Leah” you stand up, pulling your cousin up with you. “I think it’s time I have a serious talk with him”. You two make your way to the Black residence in a matter of minutes, just as the rain comes pouring down around you.

You and Leah made it just in time to see Paul getting it on with a brunette you absolutely didn’t think you’d see again. “Isnt that Jessica?!” You hear Leah from a few feet behind you. You couldn’t believe it, Paul knew you didn’t like Jessica at all, she was as pretentious and bratty as they come and seeing Paul make put with her under Billy’s porch roof just triggered something in you.

Your breathing got heavy, a heat like you’ve never felt before started spreading though your veins, Leah’s eyes got wide and she called for Sam who came rushing out of the cabin, Quil and Embry on his tail.

“Hey! (Y/n), calm down!”

Sam was standing a bit back. You couldn’t focus on him right now, steam was pouring off your skin and you winced and yelped as you felt your skin and bones move inside you. Leah rushed away from you just in time as you recklessly shifted into a medium sized salt and pepper toned wolf. You stumbled as you threw yourself off balance and landed disgracefully in the muddy grass. No one moved, Paul had already started making his way down when Embry held him back.

You didn’t wait to see or hear what was going on as you stumbled and ran into the forest, Leah’s hollering voice yelling for you to wait and come back.

•••

“ I thought she didn’t have the wolf gene in her?!”

“ I know, im pretty sure everyone here thought so”

The wolf pack, along with Billy Black all crowded Billy’s small living room. The rain was still going hard and you had left the grounds 10 minutes earlier. Sam and Billy were in a heated talk.

Paul threw his hands up,and pushed himself out of the chair, “I’m going after her-“ Leah grabs Paul’s arm, “No way! You think she wants to look at your ugly face right now? You’re the reason she turned !”

Paul got in Leah’s face, but she wasn’t intimidated, “What did you just say?!”

“Enough!”

Sam’s authoritarian voice broke them apart and a silence filled the room, albeit tense. Billy cleared his throat and spoke to Sam, “I think you should be the one to go look for (y/n), she trusts you, and you’re the only one who could handle another accident”

Paul huffed and stormed out, no one bothered to stop him.

•••

“(Y/n)!”

Sam had been searching the woods for hours, but it was futile, he didn’t think she’d have gone so far from the reservation.

Sam shifted into his wolf form as a last attempt to find her.

He stood still in the dark forest. Listening.

Help

His ears twitched to the front.

Paul

Help

Its so cold

Sam didn’t hesitate now as he ran forward towards the mountains. Wherever (y/n) was, she was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before he reached the base of a mountain, rain falling hard around him and mud splattered through his wet fur. He stuck his nose to the ground as he took a deep sniff, letting the aromas and smell of the forest drift through his senses until he latched onto a sweeter scent, perfume. He followed the scent, leading closer and closer to a rushing river where he finally found her.

(Y/n) was back human now, and unfortunately in the nude as far as Sam could tell. But he acted quickly, coming to his senses as he rushed to (y/n), laying half in the river and on the riverbank. As gently as he possibly could while in his wolf form, Sam pulled her completely put of the river. Her body had turned from a tanned olive to pale and sickly. He brushed past the fact that she was bare and pawed at her to wake her up. Moments later her eyes fluttered open slowly, she looked sluggishly up at him and struggled to push herself up as best she could. Sam laid flat to allow (y/n) to slide herself onto his back.

•••

Leah rushed out of Billy’s house as soon as she heard Sam’s thoughts. The rest of the pack behind her.

They all gathered outside as Sam came jogging through the treeline, still in wolf form. A pale body hung onto him and he came to a still infront of the group. Paul ran forward and scooped (y/n) from Sam’s back, pulling her protectively into his body as he and Leah entered Billy’s place.

Billy motioned for them to take (y/n) into Jacobs old bedroom as he rolled to a linin closet and took out heavy blankets to give to Leah. “Thanks Billy” Leah took the pile and pushed Paul out of the bedroom, he looked offended but didn’t push it and went back into Billy’s living room where only Sam was waiting, now human and dressed in jean shorts.

Billy sighed, “Leave her be for now, go home” Sam nodded and moved to leave, Paul stayed sat, Billy stared pointedly, “You too, Paul”. Paul stayed put, leg twitching, “No way, not until she wakes up, I have to see her open her eyes Billy”. Not wanting to make a scene Billy let Paul be.

•••

(Y/n) didn’t wake up that night, or the next day.

It took a week for her complexion to return.

And when she did wake up, Paul was by her side, tear uncharacteristically streaming down his face as he grabbed her hands and kissed them.

(Y/n) frowned, “Paul?… where am I?”

“You’re at Billy’s place, you were asleep for a week, I thought… “ Pauled rubbed his eyes, “Forget it, how do you feel?” He let go of her hands as she sat up, she popped her back, no longer bare as Leah had gone to fetch clothes for her.

Paul stepped back, guilt covering his face. “Whats that look for Paul?”. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, sluggish and confused.

“Im so so so sorry (y/n)…”

Her eyes went wide. This was a Paul she had never seen before. She kept quiet.

“I screwed up by doing what I did, but it was because I was scared”

“Scared?” She gave him an umimpressed look.

He nodded, “Believe it or not, I thought I could push you away because I was scared of what I was feeling for you, I never expected it to happen with you”

She frowned, standing up slowly and steadily, “What? What didn’t you expect Paul?”

His words froze her in her place.

“I imprinted on you (y/n)”

And apparently that was all it took for her to collapse back on the bed, tears coming to the front.

She struggled to find the words, but Paul seemed to hear what she was thinking.

Paul spent the better half of the night explaining to (y/n) what happened, why it happened and why he did what he did. He got a scorching red hand print on his cheek by the end of it, along with a heavy scolding. But not forgiveness. (Y/n) explained that she couldn’t forgive him right off the bat, although his intentions were understandable, he did wrong by her and to her by what he did with all those women, especially Jessica.

She needed time.

And Paul gave her that, without a word against it.

•••

It took (y/n) 3 months to fully forgive Paul.

Another 4 months to agree on dating.

And all the while Paul was respectful of (y/n)’s wishes and compromises.

Leah gave him an earful telepathically and verbally almost every chance she got.

But by the end of the year, they were happier than they were before. Although their relationship was far from perfect, and they argued still, they were happy. Paul no longer went out of his way to apite her and make her jealous and (y/n) put her foot down alot more.

Leah held a grudge against Paul a bit longer but eventually gave in.

Sam and the pack helped (y/n) integrate into the wolf pack and train her.

For now, all was well.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thank you dear reader.

And thank you to littlemissvenom0 for requesting this.

[wisteria-bae]

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. That’s like blindfolding someone, telling them that you’re gonna feed them an apple, and then making them bite into a banana - peel and all.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

[percabething]

when the fandom is so small that everybody knows everybody

[blac-ivy]

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

[ellzbellz18]

How I feel after crying over a literal x reader fanfic

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[bruisedboys]

trouble — jacob black

it’s raining and you’re bored. your boyfriend proves to be an effective distraction (if you can distract him, that is) OR in which jacob is busy and you like to cause trouble. based off this drabble!

jacob black x fem!reader, 2k words. suggestive content 16+ pls!!

The rain is unforgiving today. It’s not uncommon for it to be wet in Forks, the rain a persistent, stubborn thing, but today it’s horrendous. Heavy and icy cold, big fat droplets that seem sure to pierce your skin and freeze you to death. It hasn’t stopped since last night and doesn’t seem like it’ll stop for a good few days.

You’re bored out of your mind. You realise rain just comes with living in Forks, and you’re mostly used to it, but you’d really wanted to go shopping with your friends today and the rain squandered your plans the moment you woke up. Jacob’s busy working on his bike in the shed, and everyone else is rained in. You’re stuck on the couch at Jacob’s while the rain comes down in sheets outside. You flick through channels on the TV until you can’t stand it anymore. There’s nothing good to watch, anyway.

You grab one of Jacob’s jackets from the hook by the door and brave the rain, using the jacket as a makeshift umbrella as you jog your way over to the garage, shoes sloshing in the mud.

You find Jacob sitting on the beat-up wooden bench, hunched over his newest project. It’s a bike he found second hand at a yard sale — when he first got it, it looked to you an unrecognisable hunk of metal, hardly a bike at all. But your boyfriend has a way with his hands, and now it at least has two wheels and a proper seat.

Jacob looks up as you come in, though the sound of the rain completely covers your footsteps.

“Hey, trouble,” he says. Then, at the look on your face, “You okay?”

Your frown deepens. “No,” you shake your head. “I’m bored, Jake.”

Jacob chuckles. Trust him to laugh at you when you’re clearly suffering.

“Yeah?” He asks. “You want to come help me?”

You take one look at the frankly confusing array of tools around his feet, and wrinkle your nose. “No, thanks. Can’t we go for a drive?”

Jacob wrinkles his nose back at you. “I’m busy, babe. And the road’s slippery, it’s dangerous. Maybe later.”

You roll your eyes. He can be such a grandma sometimes. Jacob goes back to his bike and you wander around the shed looking for something to do and moping. After a half assed search for some way to entertain yourself, you find an old novel you or Jake must’ve left in here a few months ago — you remember starting it and getting bored, but you’re already knee deep in boredom with no way out, so you decide to give it another try.

You sit in the bed of Jacob’s truck where it’s parked in the back of the shed, legs swinging over the edge. The rain drums rhythmically above you as you start reading. It takes about ten pages for you to get bored again, and five more for your mind to start wandering.

You think about how you could’ve been out shopping right now. Looking at all the lovely dresses in the new store they opened near the cinema. Sorting through books at the second-hand bookstore. Choosing a pretty new bra that you know Jacob would love seeing on you, and taking off of you. The thought gives you an idea. Unceremoniously, you give up on the book and slide off the truck bed, crossing the room to Jacob.

He doesn’t lift his head as you come up behind him, but acknowledges you with a brush of his knuckle to your thigh. You stand over him for a moment, watching him work. He looks hot when he’s concentrated, eyes trained in on his work, jaw set in concentration, arms muscles straining as he twists a particularly stubborn screw. He’s got big, strong hands, which only fuel your desire even more. What’s the best way to drag him away from his work?

“Did you want to help?” Jacob asks without looking up, interrupting your thoughts. You’re lucky he doesn’t catch you staring, or he’d figure out your plan in an instant.

You shake your head. “No. I’m just watching you.”

Jacob hums and goes back to what he’s doing, which happens to involve a lot of strained muscles as he tightens another loose screw with a wrench. You’re holding your breath as you watch his tanned bicep strain beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, and yeah, you’re a minx, but he’s really hot, and you don’t think anyone would blame you for reaching out and touching him.

Jacob doesn’t startle under your touch nor does he acknowledge it. You play it off casual, like you’re only rubbing his shoulder, palm gliding over the hill of it. You can feel his abnormally high body heat through his t-shirt, a nice change from the cold air. You find yourself pushing your hand down the expanse of his shoulder blade and up again, pressing the heel of your palm into his muscle.

Jacob sighs a little under your touch and rolls his shoulder back, leaning into your hand.

“Feels nice,” he murmurs.

You grin. This far into your relationship you’ve learnt that Jacob is a lot like a puppy when it comes to physical affection — he’s a total sucker for it, he melts for shoulder rubs and back scratches, and he turns to complete putty in your hands when you play with his hair (though you won’t implement that just yet.)

Instead, you just hum softly, smiling to yourself as you press both hands to his shoulders. He’s equally warm and muscled all over, and at this point it would take a hoard of vampires to hold you back from touching him. You get a good grip on his shoulders and push your palms into his muscles, massaging him.

It’s mean, because you know what it’ll do to him, know exactly what kind of mood it gets him into. Still, it’s not until you start to push your hands further up towards his neck that he confronts you.

He turns to face you, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Did you want something, sweetheart?” He asks, and you can tell you’ve begun to unravel him by the way he says it, plus he’s called you sweetheart, which almost certainly means he’ll give in.

You feign innocence, though the look on his face almost unravels you.

“Nope,” you lie. “Just watching.”

Jacob raises his eyebrows at you. “You sure? You’re being awfully touchy.”

“You’re really warm,” you say, shrugging.

Jacob squints at you, then shrugs. “If you say so,” he says, and (looking like he’s exercising quite a bit of restraint) turns back to his bike.

You stay where you are and give him about five minutes of peace before you start being cruel. Keeping one hand at the base of his neck, you slide the other up the back of it, pushing up into his hair. You card your fingers through the short strands at the very nape of his neck, and Jacob goes very still. You think he’s holding his breath. When you push your hand further up into the longer strands, and let your nails drag over his scalp on the way back down, he folds.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he murmurs. He drops his tools, scrubs his hands on his jeans and spins on you, hooking one leg over the wooden bench, straddling it so he can properly face you. He‘s giving you a dangerous look that makes your heart race. Finally.

You blink at him, a picture of innocence. “What’s the matter?” You ask sweetly, though you know your smile gives you away. As if you weren’t caught red handed already.

Jacob huffs and rolls his eyes, before grabbing your hips and pulling you forward roughly. You go tumbling into his lap and he catches you, hands hot on your jeans, adjusting you until you’re properly sitting in his lap. Your legs fall on either side of his hips and you giggle, pleased and flustered at his manhandling.

Jacob gives you a somewhat disapproving look, though his thumb rubs fond circles into the fat of your hip.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says in a low voice. His eyes flicker to your lips. He looks a bit like he wants to eat you.

“Sorry,” you say. You are kind of sorry for disturbing him, but the heat building in your chest outweighs the guilt. “I was really bored.”

Jacob laughs through his nose. “Yeah, I know, babe.” He spread his hands over your hips and butt and pulls you closer still. Your hands end up on his shoulders again. “You always know how to get what you want, huh?”

Something about the way he’s talking to you makes you so dizzy you can’t speak. You’re silent as Jacob dips his head to press a kiss to one of your wrists, then takes it in his hand and guides your hand up his neck and back into his hair.

“Keep going?” He asks in a quiet voice, encouraging your hand around the back of his head. “Please?”

Well, when he asks like that, how could you say no? You curl your fingers into his hair and Jacob barely gives you time to breathe before he’s kissing you, mouth landing on yours in the sort of kiss you can only describe as desperate. You’re equal amounts of needy as him, pushing forward in his lap and grabbing at his hair with greedy hands.

The rain thunders overhead. Jacob tilts his head, kissing you until your lips part under the pressure. His tongue slips into your mouth and your stomach swarms with butterflies. You grip Jacob’s hair harder, ensuing a sound from him like an angry dog, half moan half growl. It seems your touching earlier got him in exactly the mood you knew it would.

It’s not long before his hands start to wander. First your ass, then your arms, rubbing up and down as he kisses you hard enough to make you forget where you are. Then back to your hips, and you can feel the scalding heat of his hands through your jeans. He grabs you and tugs you further up his lap, close enough that your legs spread as you press against his bulge.

“Jake,” you whisper.

“Mmm,” he moans back. Then pulls away just an inch, lips swollen and forehead pressed to yours. “What, babe?”

You shake your head, breathless. “Nothing, just feels nice when you do that.”

Jacob ducks in to kiss you again. “Yeah?” He murmurs between hot kisses, sounding both pleased and a bit dangerous.

You nod your head, and it’s all it takes for Jacob to rock you against him again, pushing his hips up into yours as he goes. You moan and Jacob makes a similar sound from the back of his throat, heating you all the way through.

It quickly turns into not just kissing after that. Jacob’s kisses turn sloppy. You push your hands under his shirt to feel along the ridges and planes of his chest and abdomen, his skin like a furnace. Jacob guides your hips forward and back and forward again, grinding you against him slowly and breathing hard into your open mouth.

You forget about the rain, the pounding of your heart much louder than the downpour outside. You forget about the cold, your failed shopping trip, and the boring book abandoned in the bed of the truck.

It’s not long before Jacob’s got his hand on your thigh and a warm ache sweet as honey has bloomed between your legs.

Jacob’s busy kissing at your neck, bullying your skin with his teeth and tongue while you go breathless. His hand trudges further and further up your thigh until it’s high enough to abuse the waistband of your jeans.

His hand roves along the length of it, until he reaches the button. He tugs at it, mumbling into your neck a barely intelligible, “Can I?”

You nod vigorously, and your breath catches as he unfastens the button — his thumb skims over your underwear and you make a needy sound you can’t help.

Jacob emerges from your neck, smirking like mad. You’d say you hate him for it, but his thumb is tracing the hem of your underwear and you can’t speak.

“Not so bored now, huh?” Jacob teases in a low voice, but he’s out of breath too. You’ll tease him later for how quickly you managed to unravel him, but right now you can’t form more than two words.

“Shut up,” you manage, then make sure of it by pressing your mouth to his again.

He shuts up.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[bambieyedoll]

I WISH YOU’D STAYED .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

summary: jacob never meant to hurt you, but that didn’t change the fact that he always put bella first. when you finally walk away, he’s forced to face the weight of his mistakes—and the unbearable agony of being separated from his imprint. as the distance between you grows, so does his desperation to make things right. but after everything, will it be enough to fix what he broke?

pairing: jacob black x fem!reader

word count: 4,8k

warnings/notes: ANGST! heavy argument, being second place, bella mentioned, being taken for granted, imprint!reader, yearning, tears, desperate jacob, happy ending

masterlist | check out my other work !

it had been a perfect day—one of those rare, golden moments where the world outside didn’t exist, where nothing mattered except the warmth of jacob’s arms wrapped around you and the quiet, easy rhythm of his laughter.

the rain had started in the afternoon, a soft drizzle tapping against the windows, turning the world outside into a blur of gray. but inside jacob’s small house, there was only warmth. the crackling heat from the fireplace, the feeling of his hand lazily tracing patterns over your skin as you lay curled against his chest on the couch, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

for once, there was no weight of responsibility on his shoulders, no sudden interruptions pulling him away. it was just you and him, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other.

jacob had promised you tonight.

no distractions. no interruptions. just the two of you.

and for a little while, you let yourself believe that promise.

you should have known better.

the sharp chime of his phone cut through the peaceful quiet, and you felt the shift before you even saw the name on the screen. jacob tensed beneath you, his muscles going rigid, the warmth of his touch suddenly absent as he reached for the phone.

“jake,” you murmured, a quiet plea, but it was already too late.

you saw the name before he even answered.

bella.

your stomach twisted, a sick, sinking weight settling in your chest.

jacob sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair, and you could hear it in the way he said her name—softer, gentler, laced with a concern so automatic it felt like instinct.

“bella?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your hands curled into fists against your lap, the way the warmth of his body against yours suddenly felt so far away.

you tried to block it out. tried to focus on the lingering touch of his hand on your knee, on the way his body still rested against yours. but the moment stretched too long, his attention already slipping, his focus already elsewhere.

“what happened?” his voice was sharper now, all ease gone, his posture straightening. his brows knitted together in concern as he listened, jaw tightening with every second that passed.

then, without hesitation, he stood.

your heart dropped.

“where are you?”

a heavy silence. then a breath, sharp and determined.

“i’ll be right there.”

he was already moving, already reaching for his keys, and something inside you cracked.

“jake?” your voice barely came out, quiet and fragile, but he didn’t hear it.

or didn’t want to hear it.

you forced yourself to stand, your heartbeat ringing in your ears. “jacob.”

this time, he stopped. not fully—his hand was still on the doorknob, his body angled toward the exit—but he turned just enough to glance at you.

“she needs me,” he said simply. like that was all the explanation you needed.

the words settled deep in your chest, cutting deeper than they should have.

you took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “and i don’t?” your eyes were desperately searching for his. “you promised—”

jacob’s expression faltered for just a second, something like guilt flickering across his face, but he shook his head. “y/n, this isn’t about you.”

your lips parted, a sharp, bitter laugh slipping out before you could stop it. “isn’t it?” the hurt in your voice cracked through the air like a whip, and jacob finally looked at you—really looked at you.

but it wasn’t enough.

because you could already see the outcome.

you could see it in the way he was still standing by the door, in the way he hadn’t sat back down, hadn’t reached for you, hadn’t once considered staying.

his choice had already been made.

“i just—she’s upset,” he tried again, running a hand over his face. “she needs someone.”

“she always needs someone,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “and somehow, it’s always you.”

jacob let out a breath, frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed. “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like, jacob?” you shook your head, your hands trembling at your sides. “because from where i’m standing, it feels a whole lot like every time she calls, i stop existing to you.”

his lips parted, but no words came.

and that was the worst part—he didn’t deny it.

didn’t try to convince you otherwise.

because maybe, deep down, he knew you were right.

the air between you felt suffocating, heavy with everything unsaid, with months—years—of this same unspoken battle. and maybe, if this had been the first time, you could have let it go.

but it wasn’t.

and you were so, so tired.

you swallowed hard, your voice quiet now. “stay.”

jacob’s brows furrowed, something pained flickering in his dark eyes.

you stepped closer, reaching for him, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt. “stay,” you whispered again. “just this once.”

for a split second, he hesitated.

for a moment, you saw the war in his eyes, the battle waging between duty and something else—something softer, something that was supposed to belong to you.

you held your breath, waiting.

but he reached for his keys.

and you exhaled, shattered.

the answer was clear.

it had always been clear.

jacob didn’t say anything as he opened the door, stepping out into the cold night, the rain still falling in a steady, relentless rhythm.

you stood there, frozen, watching as he disappeared into the dark.

and you already knew how this night would end.

the rain lashed against the windows, turning the night outside into a cold, howling blur. the sound should have been soothing, a soft rhythm against the glass, but tonight, it only made the walls feel smaller, the space between you and jacob suffocating. his small house, what once had been a place of warmth and quiet affection, now had become a battlefield.

you stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, willing yourself not to shake. not to let him see just how deep the hurt had buried itself. but the storm outside was nothing compared to the one inside you.

jacob stood a few feet away, his damp hair still sticking up in disarray from running a frustrated hand through it. his breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to contain whatever was boiling beneath his skin. the heat of his body, the energy of him, should have been reassuring—but tonight, it burned.

“you’re overreacting,” he said, his voice edged with exhaustion, like you were nothing more than a problem he needed to fix. like he couldn’t understand why this was hurting you so much.

a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it, sharp and humorless. “overreacting?” you shook your head, blinking hard. “jacob, she calls, and you run. every single time.”

his jaw clenched. “she’s my friend, y/n.”

“she’s your priority,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “no matter what we’re doing, no matter how many times you promise me that this—” you gestured between the two of you, the bond that was supposed to mean everything, “—comes first, the second she needs you, i stop existing.”

jacob’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the tendons in his arms flexing as if he was holding himself back. his nostrils flared, and he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “that’s not true.”

you let out a hollow laugh, barely able to look at him. “it isn’t?” the words cracked, raw and exposed. “god, jacob, do you even realize how humiliating this is? to be your imprint and still feel like i’ll never be enough?”

his face twisted like you had struck him, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

“i love you,” you whispered, and for the first time, saying it didn’t feel sweet—it felt like an open wound, fresh and gaping. “but i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep watching you put her above me, above us.”

jacob let out a ragged breath, stepping forward like he wanted to close the space between you, but you backed away. his expression crumbled, desperation flickering in his dark eyes.

“y/n,” he rasped, his voice softer now, less sharp—pleading. “please. try to understand. it’s not like that.”

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as your vision blurred with tears. “then tell me what it is, jacob,” you whispered. “tell me why she always comes first. why you never think about how this makes me feel. why—” your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “why i feel like i have to fight for a place in your life when i’m supposed to be your imprint.”

jacob’s face twisted with anguish, his hands gripping his hair as he let out a frustrated groan. “i don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “i never wanted to hurt you—i swear, i didn’t. i love you, y/n. you know that.”

you inhaled sharply at his words, at how they sounded more like an apology than a reassurance. “then show me,” you whispered. “because right now, it doesn’t feel like love, jacob. it feels like i’m waiting for you to actually see me.”

jacob’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling too quickly. he looked at you like he was unraveling, like he was on the edge of something that terrified him. “you are everything to me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “you don’t get it—i feel you in every part of me. you’re the first thing i think about when i wake up, and the last thing before i—” his voice broke, and he shook his head, like he was trying to force himself to stay together. “i can’t lose you.”

his words made your heart ache, made something deep inside you want to give in—to believe him. but words weren’t enough. not anymore.

“you don’t have to lose me,” you whispered. “you just have to choose me.”

jacob’s expression shattered, his body physically flinching as if the weight of your words had struck him straight through the chest. his hands trembled at his sides, his whole frame tense like he wanted to reach for you—like he wanted to grab onto you and never let go.

but he said nothing.

and silence had never hurt so much.

you took a trembling breath, the realization settling deep in your bones. “i deserve more than this,” you whispered. “and i think—deep down—you know that too.”

jacob’s entire body went rigid, his breath coming out in shallow, uneven bursts. “y/n, please,” he murmured, stepping forward, but you took another step back.

tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “i can’t be second anymore, jacob.”

the storm raged on outside, the wind screaming through the trees, but the real storm was in his eyes—in the way he looked at you like he was falling apart, like he wanted to grab hold of you but didn’t know how. he had never looked more desperate, never looked more like he wanted to fight for something—but it was too late.

with one last look at him, at the pain written all over his face, you turned.

you didn’t wait to see if he would follow.

and somehow, knowing that he didn’t hurt the most.

the days blurred together, heavy and cold, despite the summer air hanging thick in forks. you had done everything to put distance between you and jacob—ignoring his calls, avoiding la push, staying home as much as possible. even your parents noticed something was off, the worried glances lingering longer than usual, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. how could you? how could you tell them that the boy who was supposed to love you, the one who was bound to you in ways deeper than words, had made you feel like you were nothing?

so you buried yourself in the isolation, letting it wrap around you like armor. but no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest never eased. the imprint was a cruel thing, tethering you to him, making it impossible to sever the connection completely. you could still feel him—like an invisible thread pulling, tugging, aching.

and jacob?

jacob was drowning.

at first, he told himself he could handle it. that you just needed space, time to cool off. you would come back once you calmed down—once you realized that what you had was stronger than a single fight. that’s what he told himself, over and over again, as the days crawled by.

but the imprint had other plans.

it didn’t let him escape the truth. the bond that had once felt unbreakable, like a safety net woven from something deeper than love, now felt like a wound that refused to heal. an open, raw ache in the center of his chest that never dulled. every second without you felt wrong—like something essential had been ripped from him, leaving only the empty space where you were supposed to be.

then came the pain. not just his own, but yours.

the imprint tethered him to your every emotion, and your heartbreak hit him like a punch to the ribs. it wasn’t sharp or fleeting. it was constant. a lingering sorrow that coated everything, suffocating, inescapable.

he felt it when you curled up in bed at night, staring at the ceiling with the same exhaustion he carried. he felt it when you ignored every call, every text, each one sending another wave of desperation crashing over him. he felt it in the way your heartbeat changed when you saw his name on your phone—and in the way you refused to answer.

sleep became impossible. every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your face the night you walked away. the way your voice had broken. the way you had trembled, not with anger, but with hurt.

and worst of all? it was his fault.

he had caused this.

he would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling every ounce of your heartbreak as if it were his own. he would reach for his phone, fingers hovering over your name, but he knew. you weren’t ready. you weren’t waiting for him to say sorry—you were waiting to see if he would change.

the pack noticed almost immediately.

at first, they thought he was just sulking—jacob had never been one to handle emotions well, especially when it came to his imprint. but as the days stretched into weeks, it became impossible to ignore.

“you look like shit,” paul said bluntly one night, arms crossed as he watched jacob push his untouched plate of food away.

jacob didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

quil and embry weren’t much better—watching him like he was a bomb about to go off. “you should talk to her,” embry suggested carefully, choosing his words like one wrong move would set jacob off. “fix things.”

jacob let out a bitter laugh. “she won’t even look at me.”

“that’s because you fucked up,” leah cut in, unimpressed with his self-pity. “and you know it.”

her words stung, but they were nothing compared to the guilt already eating away at him.

seth, the only one who seemed remotely sympathetic, shifted uncomfortably. “she’s your imprint, man. that has to mean something to her. if you just—”

“if i just what, seth?” jacob snapped, his voice harsher than intended. “say i’m sorry? tell her it won’t happen again? you should’ve seen her that night… i made her feel like she was nothing. that’s not something you just… fix.”

silence.

the weight of his own words settled in his chest like a stone. and that realization hit him harder than anything else.

for the first time, jacob was forced to sit with what he had done. to look back on every time he had left you mid-conversation to answer bella’s call. every time he had seen the flicker of hurt in your eyes and ignored it. every time he had told himself that you would understand—that you would always understand.

he had taken you for granted. and now, he was paying the price.

it wasn’t enough to say you mattered. he had to show you.

days turned to weeks, and jacob forced himself to change. to put action behind his words. he stopped chasing bella’s shadow. he stopped making excuses. and most importantly, he accepted that losing you—really losing you—was not something he was willing to let happen.

the next time bella called, he let it ring. and ring. and ring. the phone buzzed against the wood of his nightstand, vibrating with insistence, but he didn’t move. didn’t reach for it like he always did. the act felt unnatural—like breaking a habit he hadn’t even realized he had formed. but for the first time, he chose not to run to her.

instead, he sat in the quiet and thought of you.

he thought of your laughter, the way it used to wrap around him like warmth on a cold day. he thought of your stubbornness, the fire in your eyes when you stood your ground. he thought of the way you had always been there, always understanding, always waiting.

he had made you wait long enough.

so, one evening, as the sun dipped below the trees, jacob found himself standing outside your house, his hands trembling at his sides. he hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, he had no idea if you would even open the door. the imprint was screaming at him to fix it, to hold you, to make it right.

but this time, he knew better.

taking a deep breath, he knocked.

would you open the door? would you listen? he didn’t know.

but for the first time, he wasn’t just desperate to get you back— he was ready to earn you.

the knock echoed through the silent house, sharp and insistent against the quiet.

you heard it instantly, but you didn’t move.

you knew who it was.

for weeks, you had felt jacob just beyond your reach—the imprint a constant, aching presence, tugging at you like a phantom limb. his absence wasn’t truly absence. it was a weight, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

and yet, you had stayed away.

because every time you thought about him, all you could hear was the echo of your own voice breaking as you told him you couldn’t do it anymore. that you wouldn’t be second. and begging him to stay. to finally choose you.

another knock—louder this time, more urgent.

you swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the fabric of your sleeves, nails digging into your palms. he wouldn’t leave. you knew that. but opening the door meant facing him, meant seeing him—jacob, and everything he had put you through.

a ragged, shuddering breath came from the other side. then, his voice—low, hoarse, pleading.

“y/n… please.”

the sound of him nearly brought you to your knees.

jacob black never begged. never. he had always been too stubborn, too reckless, too sure of himself. but now, his voice cracked under the weight of something raw, something broken.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steel yourself. but then he spoke again, and this time, his words came out uneven, trembling.

“i know i don’t deserve for you to open this door.” a sharp exhale. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness.” his voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “but please… just let me say what i need to say.”

the imprint was relentless, pulling at you, forcing you to feel him. his desperation. his regret. the depth of his pain, tangled with your own. it was unbearable. you hated how deeply you felt him, how much your heart still reached for him even after everything.

because no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how much you had tried to shut him out…

you had missed him.

more than you wanted to admit.

your body moved before your mind fully decided.

slowly, hesitantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, dread and longing intertwining in your chest.

your hand hovered over the doorknob. you hesitated.

you had spent weeks trying to sever the connection in your mind, convincing yourself that love—real love—wasn’t something you had to beg for. that if jacob had truly wanted you, if you had really meant as much to him as he claimed, then he wouldn’t have spent so long making you feel like you were just a placeholder.

and yet…

you exhaled shakily and pulled the door open.

jacob stood there, looking wrecked.

he wasn’t just tired. he was hollowed out.

his usually warm brown skin was paler than normal, his dark circles so deep they looked bruised. his hair was an unkempt mess, sticking to his forehead from either sweat or rain—maybe both. and his lips were parted, his breath catching at the sight of you like he had just been punched in the gut.

for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

then, jacob exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking with restraint. “y/n,” he rasped, voice raw, “please.”

you swallowed. the weeks of silence between you had been long and unbearable, but jacob? he looked like he hadn’t survived them at all.

still, your voice was quiet, guarded. “what are you doing here?”

jacob sucked in another breath like he was trying to steady himself. but it didn’t work. his control was crumbling, desperation bleeding into every part of him. “i couldn’t—i can’t—” he broke off, running a shaking hand through his hair before stepping forward just a fraction, catching himself before he got too close.

his restraint made your chest ache.

jacob had never hesitated before.

“i don’t know how to exist without you.” the confession tore from him, desperate and hoarse, like he had been carrying it for weeks. “i thought i could—i thought maybe if i gave you space, if i let you have what you needed—” he let out a ragged, self-loathing laugh. “but it’s killing me, y/n. i feel like i’m dying.”

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay firm.

but then jacob did something he had never done before.

he fell to his knees.

right there, on your porch, in the dim evening light.

and when he looked up at you—god—his eyes were glassy, filled with nothing but agony and pleading. “i fucked up,” he choked out, his voice wrecked beyond repair. “i fucked up so bad.”

the weight of his pain crushed into you through the imprint, drowning you in it. you gripped the edge of the door, suddenly struggling to breathe.

“i didn’t see it,” he whispered, shaking his head. “i swear i didn’t see what i was doing to you. i thought—” he let out another broken laugh, his hands trembling where they rested on his thighs. “i thought you’d always be there. i thought you knew how much i loved you, even when i—” his breath hitched. “even when i made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

you sucked in a sharp breath.

because that was the wound that had festered most.

not that he had put bella first. but that, in doing so, he had made you feel like less.

“but i get it now. i get why you left. i get why you needed space. and i know—” his voice cracked, and he sucked in a trembling breath. “i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i swear to you, y/n… i won’t make the same mistake again.”

you clenched your jaw, your emotions warring inside you.

because damn him. damn him for finally getting it.

jacob had always been passionate—fiery and stubborn and reckless. but this? this was something else entirely.

this was raw.

this was jacob black, broken at your feet, choosing you in the way he should have from the beginning.

and yet… you hesitated.

“why now?” you whispered.

jacob blinked, his brows furrowing.

“why did it take me leaving for you to realize?” your voice wavered, thick with the weight of everything he had put you through. “why did i have to walk away for you to see me?”

pain flickered across his face.

then, he did something that nearly stopped your heart.

he reached for you—hesitant, unsure—fingers barely brushing over the back of your hand before pulling away like he didn’t deserve to touch you.

“because i was a selfish idiot,” he whispered. “because i took you for granted. because i thought—” he inhaled deeply, his gaze locking onto yours with something desperate, pleading. “i thought I had all the time in the world with you. and i was so, so wrong.”

your breath hitched.

jacob clenched his jaw, his hands fisting in his lap. “but i choose you, y/n. i choose you.” his voice was thick, unsteady. “not because of the imprint. not because i need you to fix me.” he sucked in a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with something devastatingly real. “but because i love you.”

your heart stuttered.

jacob had said those words before. but never like this.

never with this much certainty.

never with this much desperation.

your fingers twitched at your side, your eyes looking at him—at his sleepless eyes, at the way his hands shook at his sides— and you realized something.

you had left to protect yourself.

but he had changed to earn you back

slowly, cautiously—you reached for his hand.

jacob inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed against his—his entire body freezing before exhaling a shuddering breath, like he had just been pulled from drowning. when you finally intertwined them, he let out a strangled sound, squeezing yours like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

“don’t make me regret this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

jacob let out something between a laugh and a sob, his forehead nearly pressing against your knee from where he knelt. “i won’t,” he swore, his voice shaking. “i swear, y/n—i won’t.”

your fingers curled around his, hesitant but firm, and jacob’s breath caught in his throat as you carefully pulled him inside.

and then, to your utter shock—jacob let out a choked sob.

it wasn’t loud. it wasn’t dramatic. it was the kind of broken, helpless sound that came from someone who had been barely holding themselves together, someone who had been standing on the edge of a cliff for weeks, waiting to fall.

his free hand shot up, hovering near your waist—so close, but not touching. he was waiting.

“can i—” his voice was wrecked, thick with emotion. “can i hold you?”

your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. your walls cracking just a little more.

jacob black—who had never hesitated to pull you into his arms before, who had always touched before thinking—was asking.

jacob was holding himself back, his body so tense he was practically shaking, like he was afraid one wrong move would scare you away again.

wordlessly, you nodded.

his arms wrapped around you so tightly it almost knocked the air from your lungs, his body folding into yours with a desperation that nearly brought you to your knees. his face buried against your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears as he let out a shuddering breath.

his arms tightened, his whole body curling around you, as if trying to shield you from anything that could take you away from him again.

“god,” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “god, i missed you so much. i—” his voice cracked, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face like he needed to see you, to memorize you. his thumbs brushed over your cheekbones with the softest reverence. his breath was still uneven, his eyes still red-rimmed and wrecked, but there was something else there, too.

hope.

and then—before you could process it—his lips were on yours.

the kiss was desperate.

not soft. not hesitant. it was raw, unrestrained—starved.

jacob kissed you like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat, like he was trying to pour every ounce of regret, every moment of suffering, into that one moment. his hands shook where they held you, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps between kisses, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. his breath was still uneven, still shaky.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “i love you so much.”

you swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his heart pounded against his ribs—too fast, too frantic.

for the first time, you weren’t just hearing his words.

you were feeling them.

and as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as if he’d never let go, the space between you disappeared completely.

[darkmemesworld]

Why when im scrolling through a tag i flashed by cho0chie 😦?

All jokes aside i had posted a meme and not even 3 minutes later it got flagged.. and im starting to see a lot of prn bots is it just me???

But why did my stuff get flagged but bots thats are showing naked people still up 🤔

[eccentricallygothic]

Apology Boy

Description: Paul finally apologizes for the scar(s) he gave you when he saw you for the first time. 

Pairing: Paul Lahote | Human mate!You.

Warning(s): Paul's anger, possible past angst, fluff, Paul is a crazed mess for you, size kink (duh), imprinting/mates, abo!verse but you're human, possessiveness, fingering, cunnilingus (worship), breeding kink, licking, biting, smut with plot because oh God I can never stop myself, teasing, pet names, unprotected p-in-v, overstimulation, manhandling, light dom!Paul because I am still me. MDNI.

Type: Request, for the sweet @wishyouloveme, here.

MASTERLIST

Just like any other day.

. . .

It hit Paul like a freight train and caused sweat to form in ice cold drops on his otherwise warm skin. He had just returned from patrol with Embry and was spread over Emily's dining table whilst stuffing his face with the food she had cooked for them. Everything was fine and dandy. It was a pleasant day and the weather was nice and cool. Soon, he would be done with his daily obligations and then he would go home.

But then Sam came up behind Emily who was standing next to her mate's seat at the head of the table, one hand on the frame and other on her hip as she listened to Seth drone on and on about something that Paul's voice refused to register due to what unfolded next.

The pack leader's strong arms snaked around the waist of his delicate lover as he nuzzled his nose into her hair until the tip had found its way past the dark strands and against her tender cheek until it was caressing and tracing the scars he had left on her. 

All blood drained from Paul's skin and something in his head clicked. His surroundings faded to a dim buzz and the next few moments went by in a blur. 

And then he was standing in front of home.

“Paul!” You yelp in surprise at the sight of your nude lover. He usually dresses himself at Sam's house after patrols before coming home to you. 

Since you are human and your initial experience with the pack had both been overwhelming -thanks to your lover imprinting on you the first chance he was given- and traumatizing -as said lover who was much worse at controlling his primal urges back then had lost control at the sight of you because he was so overcome with raw, foreign emotion he did not know how to process-, you prefer to keep by yourself near the outskirts of the community in a house that Paul had moved in with you upon your request. 

The pack life is simply too loud and… public for you; a city girl used to her secluded places and treasured privacy.

You notice that Paul is panting -which is very unlike him due to his superhuman strength- and a redness outlines his eyes when his huge form approaches yours. “Are you— Paul!” You gasp and nearly flinch from both the shock and impulse when he lets his heavy body collapse on its knees in front of you. “What the hell happen—” you never know with your hyper emotional mate.

His long fingers push your sweater up and out of his way so he can stroke the soft skin of your stomach with the tip of his nose, his head nuzzling into your chest as his dark eyes flutter close and he inhales a deep whiff of your scent. It is the only thing that never fails to calm your hot blooded lover down. 

“What's wrong?” Your voice lowers to a concerned mumble as you peer down at him, your fingers cradle the dusky skin of his handsome face -as much of it as you can reach- and your nails rake through the male's jet black mass of short hair. “Honey?” He only behaves like this if something went wrong or when he is in need of comfort, which are both rare occurrences as he is the usual caretaker in your relationship. But you aren't a complete stranger to him acting like this. 

Ever the uncommunicative one, the male only sighs— no, whimpers against your skin as if he's wounded and softly feels your skin with gentle caresses of his fingers. Words require thought, patience and wisdom. Unfortunately, Paul's instinctual mind runs too fast for those things to catch up with it in time and rash actions get carried out before better sense can supply him from its store.

“Paul…” A shiver runs down your spine when his lips that had begun to softly peck your navel find their way up your stomach before they halt to ghost over the healed, plum coloured lesions that stretch across your tender skin in menacing shapes akin to claw marks. “What are you doing?” Though he never mentions or discusses it verbally due to the guilt he feels, sometimes Paul becomes hyper aware of the scars of his unmediated passion that mar your skin and tries to make up for them in his own wordless ways.

Except, this only ever happens when you're underdressed or the two of you are indulging in activities typical to couples and the sight of them reminds him of their cause. He has never stormed into the house stark naked and marched up to you like an unreadable oversized pup on the brink of tears like this. 

“I am sorry.” You nearly jump due to how unexpected the sound of his words are. Usually he just sulks in silence. “Baby, I am so sorry” Paul never speaks when he is in one of these moods. Especially when he is experiencing bouts of guilt for his actions during his first encounter with you. “Oh, God” his body grows heavy against yours as he practically pushes his face into the crevices like he wants to become one with them and fill them back up to their original state with parts of himself. 

“Paul— oof!” Your smaller body yields to his weight and the ground slips from underneath your feet. “D- Did the guys say something?” You fear the worst as Paul's protective hands catch you before your back can hit the wooden ground and you cannot help but whimper from how his lips lock with the scars in thick, desperate and hurried apologetic kisses. 

Paul and his pack mates play rough and sometimes they go too far with the teasing. So though he clings to the tough guy act in front of them, he dismantles into you once he is home if their words ever get too far. Yes, the tussling and fighting is not enough if it's serious. And just sometimes, when it gets too much for him to bottle it up, he shares some of it with you. But most often not, since he knows how you feel about the pack and he does not like to worry you.

“I am sorry it has taken me this long to say it out loud, baby… but I am so sorr—”

“Paul, hey, look at me” but he refuses to detach himself from your skin in his shame, his big hands safely holding your whole body up against his. “You don't have to—” you cannot help it, you hate to see him like this when you know how badly he regrets it. You hate for him to hurt.

“But I do” he nearly growls against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips to brace himself against the war in his head. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don't regret it.”

“But you didn't do it on purpose, baby” you sigh when he refuses to let you see him. Your fingers try to pry his stubborn face upwards. “And you worked and improved for us, didn't you, hm?” Your eyes earnestly search for his. “Don't sell yourself so short.” One of your hands rubs his tense shoulders to try and ease their guilt-stricken stiffness. 

“All the same” ever the stubborn knucklehead. “I should have done this a long time ago. But I was selfish and I was afraid that if I verbally mentioned it…” He hesitates and the love you behold for him renders you helpless against a burning urge to reassure him. 

“My love—”

“I was scared you'd get reminded of it and…” He takes a deep breath and then gulps down the bile in his throat, blinking back tears. “L- Leave me…” Paul's voice is barely a whisper and your heart breaks at how vulnerable he sounds. “And I am such an asshole for it because it had more to do with my fear of you leaving me than you reliving your trauma…” 

“Paul…” You blink and try to focus, but his warm gropes and caresses falter your steam of thought. 

“I love you, I really do, so much” he peeks up at you just a little, dark eyes frightened for the first time since the day he scarred you. “Please forgive me. I don't ever want to lose you. I know what I did was irreversible but I swear I'll spend the rest of my life fixing it… if you'll let me.” You shake your head. 

Does he really think there's an off chance that you will leave? 

“Paul” when you cup the side of his face, he hides into your stomach again. “Hey,” you try to duck your face closer to his. make him look at you. “Look at me” your intended request comes out an order due to all the emotions you feel. “I forgave you a long time ago. That's the reason why I am still here” you finally manage to place your forehead against his, making your breaths mingle with his. “I love you more, so much more.” He opens his mouth to drone so you beat him to it. 

“Now shut up and kiss me.”

Paul is taken aback at your demand, his widening eyes prove it. But as surprising as it may be for him, this isn't something that was unresolved for you until today -unlike him- so you aren't as overwhelmed with angst. Because your mate has proven his love, devotion and worthiness of you through his actions over the course of your relationship. He has shown you that he loves you and that he is sorry for what he did. 

If anything, his innocently intimate and lovestruck worship of your body has fired it up instead of making it sentimental. 

And so you want him. 

Bad.

“But—”

“No buts. Kiss me.” You are breathless as you urge him to do so, your hands try to pull his face closer into yours although in vain because his bigger and stronger form remains unbudging. 

Paul's eyes search yours for assurance. “... Yes, ma'am” he whispers once finds it and the next thing you know, you're being pounced down onto the floor with his arms cased around you to protect you from the impact. 

And though you always feared that him getting physical in this manner would trigger you, you giggle against his mouth that he drags across your chest and up your throat to clamp onto yours. Your arms circle around his broad shoulders and instead of trying to repel him -like you suspected you would despite having grown to trust him now- you pull him closer as you whimper into the tender yet hungry kiss, feeling your legs climb the lower half of his body instinctively.

“Paul~” you needily blabber against his tongue that he uses to enjoy the sweetness of your mouth, his balmy lips enveloping everything your mouth has to offer in tight, big kisses. “Mm~” your chest aches from the strain the lack of oxygen puts on your lungs but your sparking nether regions only scoot closer to his that you feel riling up against yours, your hips grinding against his and limbs tightening around his rock hard body.

“Mine” he growls against your mouth when he has no choice but to pull apart at last, his coarse fingers groping you in greedy handfuls while peeling away any fabric that hurdles their path to your skin. “All mine” you moan at the feeling of his teeth grazing against the tender skin of your boobs that he sprays with kisses and licks. “God, mouse, I love you so much” the strength he puts into pushing everything you wear on your upper body away from it leaves you breathless. You love the thrill you feel when his touch feels like he is on the horizons of the dangers he is capable of. When he is so worked up and desperate that he cannot help but get rough because your sweet sweat and arousing body heat fires him up the way it does. You are addicted to the sight of him not giving in to his beastly impulses despite all that because he loves you so much. It is scary, yes. But it turns you on too.

“I love you too, Paul” though he likes to act cocky and all-knowing most of the time, you know he needs to hear it too. Underneath all that knucklehead play fighting and manhandling of his, he needs reassurance just as much as the next person and though he tries not to burden you as his different lifestyle is hard enough for you as it is, you don't have to be part wolf to feel him and hear his heart. 

“You're so perfect…” The way he peppers wet kisses along your cheekbone whilst relieving you of the rest of your clothing causes for your eyes to flutter close to cherish the tingling feeling that sparks your body alight. “Just—” when you try to reach for him to also make it enjoyable for him, he plants your hands above your head and softens your confused pout with a kiss. “Just let me take care of you today, yeah? Don't worry about anything.” 

“But— oh!” He reaches for the mating mark that sits on the right side junction of your neck where a she-wolf's mating glad would be. And though you lack the physical features to feel him through it, the meaning that it holds for Paul serves as a bridge for the biological gap. “Oh…” You turn your head sideways to rub your cheek against his shaved one, your hips roll into his hand that dips between your legs and you shudder against Paul's hot tongue that drags across the impressions of his teeth that crevice your skin. 

“Taste so fuckin' sweet, baby” there is a strain in Paul's voice because of how much strength it is taking him to hold himself back from impaling you full of his cock right there. “So perfect” the lower half of his body leaps down so he can rub his bare erection against the softness of your leg. 

You moan at the feeling. “Paul,” you whisper into his hair, the feeling of his sharp teeth causing for slick to sizzle up to your entrance from the inside. He growls out a quiet yes, baby against the mark, one hand constantly caressing the dents running along the width of your stomach. “Don't hold back” you go to touch his rock hard cock and he grunts in denial, seizing your wrist in his fingers faster than you can blink. 

His face comes up to dominate your vision. “No, mouse, tonight is all about you” another kiss squishes out any protest you can form and when his invasive tongue has your nostrils flared from the breathlessness, Paul drags it down your writhing body in the company of heavy pecks until his mouth is between your thighs and he is propping one up with a broad shoulder and the other with his hand that isn't occupied with caressing the evidence of his temper. 

“Paul—!” He knows how shy you get when he is between your legs like this. 

But it's not his fault you taste so fulfilling. 

“Sh, little mouse, you're perfect” he kisses any and all insecurities away with gentle kisses, the hand that cases one of your thighs stroking the tender inside with its thumb. “And you taste so good too” he takes his time worshiping your pelvis, deliberately leaving out your pussy to save the best for last. And though you pretend to disapprove and whine for him to come back up and just fuck you instead, his soft kisses that vibrate into your skin every time he moans at the feeling of your nether skin touching his slightly chapped lips, you find yourself helplessly crying out for more at the end. 

“Paul, please!” You feel his mouth twist into a smirk and your hands dart to finger his thick hair to withstand the sensation of his mouth hovering over your petals. 

“Please what, mouse?” You roll your eyes at the taunt in his voice. 

“Please touch me!” Your fingers impatiently tug at his short strands and he grins.

“Oh, mouse, but I am touching you” you whine and his shoulders vibrate under your knees from his devilish mirth. 

“Y- You know what I mean!” Though your cheeks are already aflush, you feel new heat seep underneath the layers of the reddened skin. 

“Mmm, but I thought you wanted me to—”

“Paul!” You desperately whine and he lets out a deep cackle.

“Fine, geez” he is so mean when he gets smug. You go to scowl down at him but he takes the mound between your legs in a deep handful and feels the slit between your petals in a vertical caress of his thumb before you do and you end up letting out a loud moan instead. “Needy much?” You bite your lip and wantonly roll your hips closer to his mouth. “Tsk, tsk. Impatient little mouse…” The tip of his digit presses between your nether lips that are dusted with pearly discharges of your arousal and a cherry red flush and your hips buck in anticipation. “You're lucky that you're so pretty and I like you so much…” Your spine trembles in your skin when you feel the coarse skin of his thumb against your ultrasensitive folds. “Because I typically don't appreciate things so small ordering me around…” Your back arches when he finally sticks the hot tip of his tongue between your nether lips.

“Oh…” You feel your toes curl. “More, please, Paul, more.”

He is so enchanted by your sweet scent and addictive taste that he is ignorant to anything that isn't your body. “But you, my dear mouse, you're something else…” His strong hands take your ass in them and he firmly kneads the plump skin, talking pretty much over you with a lust-drunken madness. You mewl out a moan at the feeling and Paul growls at the sound you make, pulling you closer to his mouth as he presses an open kiss to your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans and licks his lips that glisten from your slick, his own tip leaking at the taste of you. “I've never tasted anything like you before and I sure as hell am never gonna get tired of it.” 

“Paul!” you cry out when his tongue twirls against your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit to caress it with the tip as he begins to eat you out.

His growl that vibrates your soaked folds to a buzzing life causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “Paul” you moan breathlessly, his name turning to a prayer as you tremble on the verge of releasing more slick.

“Gimme that sweet cum, baby, let me taste it” your lips part and you can't help but arch into his mouth with need. His hands are merciless, the one on your ass kneads it with rough gropes as the other massages the underside of your thighs in broad, determined strokes. You moan and writhe against him, your vision blurring at the hot waves that take over your body.

“I am gonna— oh, Paul!” He moans against you as you tremble and then release more even slick into his mouth. His tongue is in heaven as he greedily licks up all he can get. 

“Fucking hell, baby” the grainy tip of his tongue pokes and prods at your entrance, working the little hole open. “I can't wait to stuff this pretty little pussy full of my pups.” 

“Mmm, oh fuck, Paul, oh fuuuck” when he finally penetrates the tight barrier and his hot tongue invades your sensitive cavern, the burning knot between your hips gets tighter. Paul moans at the feeling of your delicate walls and though the vibrations of his doing so shakes you to your core, you cannot help but greedily wrap your legs around his head to both stay in place and withstand the pleasure.

“Oh, God, Paul, ’m so close!” Your voice is a breathless mewl and he growls at the vulnerable sound, his cock hurting from need. “Oh, fuck” you tremble so badly that you'd collapse into the ground if your knees weren't propped up by your mate's shoulders. “Oh fuck, oh fuck” Paul’s jaw flexes against your thighs when he begins to fuck you with his tongue, one hand fumbling for your cunt before he tickles the hood with his thumb. Your back arches and you clench your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you gasp out his name.

“Tsk, tsk, mouse” his hot breath fans your sensitive folds and you can't help but whimper at the feeling of his middle finger replacing his tongue. “You need to relax.” His hand that holds your ass pats your cheek in an endearing yet condescending way and your whole body tenses up at the touch even more. “I'm gonna take care of you, baby” you cannot help but rock your hips to his finger stretching your insides out against it. “You're mine and I'll never let you get hurt again, I promise” he croons before pressing a tender kiss to your clitorial nub. “You know that, right?” He kisses the slick covered inside of your thigh next to soothe your shaking body. “Tell me you know you're mine” his possessive words make the heat between your legs to go haywire.

“I am yours, Paul” you breathlessly promise him before letting out a moan when he tickles your folds with his tongue in a praising manner, satisfaction breaking out on his handsome face at your obedience.

“Good mouse” he begins to lap at your nub and your walls tense around his finger as a result, causing for your slick to slosh from the opening and down Paul's hand. “Shh, mouse, easy now” he cooes to get you to relax because of how tightly you are clenching yourself and it only gets worse when he adds a second finger. Your hips are so tight. You are on the edge. “You're gonna let me take care of this cute little pussy, aren't you?” You whimper at the feeling of being stuffed full and being licked at the same time.

“Y- Yes, Paul!” The air is heavy with the smell of slick and the sound of him slurping your juices up.

He adds a third finger and you nearly burst into tears from the pleasure. “Oh God, Paul, I am gonna cum!” Your entrance burns from the stretch and you moan from the bittersweet discomfort. “Please, lemme cum! Wanna cum so bad! Please, please!” Your submissive side comes out because of how overwhelmed you are and Paul can cum from the fragility of your voice right here.

“Hold it for me, mouse, good girl, c'mon” you sob at his cruel denial and he closes his lips around a mouthful of your folds, soundfully sucking at the clammy skin as he speeds his hand up to practically hammer your trembling pussy into an orgasm. Your toes curl and you throw your head back, fingers tugging at his hair as you tremble violently against him. Your back arches from how his free hand pinches and twists your nipples, softly landing occasional smacks to your boobs. “Good girl. I know you can take it” his hand then comes down to massage your ass cheek to make for a better stretch. “Relax, baby” you sob out his name and he smiles against your quivering core, his cheek gently caressing the inside of your thigh to get you to loosen up a little because you are clenching so hard.

“You're doing good, mouse. So good” his lips buzz against your clit. “Take it, baby, take it” your walls twitch against his coarse digits. “That's a good girl” he praises you while continuing to stuff your pussy with his fingers, the feeling of being filled up to the brim causing for you to shake and tremble violently. “That's my good girl” his tongue licks your clit as his fingers curve inside of you to search for your sensitive bundle of nerves that always makes you let out the sweetest of melodies.

“I'm gonna— I can't anymore, Paul!” Neon shapes cloud your vision when his fingers graze your sensitive spot and he growls at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his fingers.

“Yeah, baby. You can cum now” he finally relents and you cry out from the joy. “My little mouse, give me that sweet cum” his mouth never stops moving against you and you are so overcome with emotion that you are not sure if the tears that are streaming down your cheeks are due to pleasure or pain. “Gimme it, mouse. Gimme it” his tongue is like a beast that eats you up to satiate its starvation. You cry out his name from the pleasure.

“Paul! Paul, Paul— oh god!” The tongue is too much, though it gives you everything you could ask for at the moment, you need to escape. But when you try to pull away Paul catches your hips and holds you in place. 

“Now, where do you think you're going, little mouse?” There is a beastliness to his voice.

“N- No, Paul! No more—” you don't get to finish your plea because his mouth clamps down on your sensitive flesh to suckle on it in big, eager kisses again and your heart threatens to burst through your chest.

“Oh fuck” the knot between your legs tightens so hard you cannot maintain it anymore. Vertigo breaks through your hearing. “Oh— Paul!” The orgasm takes over your whole body, your mind blurs from the burst of sensation that courses through your blood and everything turns into a euphoric mess. “O- Oh God…” You tremble from the aftershock and Paul groans when he feels you squirt. He releases your hips and you fall back onto the floor, your body too weak to withstand its own weight. “O- Oh fuck…” You're breathless and your body feels like jelly. “Paul, oh Paul…” Your fingers desperately try to reach for him like you're no older than a baby and you notice that he is stroking his hurting cock because of the need to bury his knot in you, a pained expression etched across his face. “P- Paul, I am ready” though you can barely speak, your body shakes from the need to be filled up by him.

“Mouse… are you sure?” Though his voice strains from the painful need, he prioritizes your comfort over his and your heart wells up.

“Y- Yes” you try to sit up. “Fill me up, please” he needs no more encouragement after that. With a low growl, he jumps onto you and you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance in a heated caress that makes you whine, your body even forgetting to yelp from how he pounces on you. 

“I'll never hurt you again, mouse” he whispers into your ear as he buries his nose into your hair, cock throbbing between your legs. You gasp when he enters you in a quick thrust that makes for all the air to bolt out of your lungs. “I promise.” You tremble in his hold and Paul groans at the feeling.

“I know” his mouth clamps down on the mating mark upon hearing your whisper and he slowly stretches your pussy to fit around his erection that even after all that fingering is still too big for your tiny cunt. The overstimulation causes for stars to form in your vision. His cock twitches inside you and he growls, the tip of his tongue tickling your nape in need.

“That's a good girl, baby” the hand that cups the side of your face tenderly strokes your cheek. “Relax for me” when your walls finally adjust to his log-like girth, Paul grins against the mating mark. “You're doing so good for me” the thrust of his hips causes for his cock to rub against your sensitive spot and your eyes roll to the back of your head with the feeling. “There's my good girl. You take my cock so well.” He releases his bite, hips pistoning up and down between your legs as he baby talks to you and strokes your hair to comfort you against the overstimulation that makes you whine.

“Paul!” You tremble as he fucks you in slow, long strokes and you cannot help but cry out his name in need.

“I'm here, baby. I got you” he murmurs into your hair and you moan at the baritone of his voice. “Take this cock, baby, you got it” he pants as his fat cock slides in and out of you. Then he suddenly grunts and readjusts you in his hold because the position is not comfortable enough for you and he can feel it. “God, you're so perfect.”

“I love you, Paul” you murmur into his ear, your hips lazily rolling against his as you hold him tight. 

“I love you more” the latter part of his sentence turns into a growl due to his struggle with the positioning and he collects your limp form in his. “And I can do this better” though he roughly pushes your bodies off the floor to head for the bedroom, his fingers subconsciously caress your back in gentle strokes to make up for how your bare skin rubbed into the floor during the ordeal. You whine from how his heavy sack puts a strain on your entrance where your bodies connect as he does so. He cooes praise and reassurance in your ear as comfort, peppering your mouth with gentle kisses.

.

The next morning when he leaves for patrol in a black tank top and some shorts, there is a shy grin on his face as he looks back at the door one last time to wave you goodbye. You blush and return the gesture, biting your lip like it's the morning after your first time with each other. 

“Geez, man, not the dreamy eyes!” A groan sounds from somewhere in the woods and you gasp before ducking behind the door. Chuckles and howls follow. 

The jerk brigade has arrived.

“Someone get these two a room!” You recognize Jake's voice and shake your head as you peek outside from behind your shield. “Oh, wait, they did that already!” You cannot help but snort when you see that Paul has begun to jog in the direction of the voices. “In light of how the whole town learnt all the ways in which Paul's name can be moaned last night” uh, oh. That's not going to be good. Your lover is very private and sensitive about you as it is and when someone tries to pry or joke about matters of this sort he does not appreciate it. Especially if it's his hormonal friends that he knows too well. “Paul, Paul, oh, Paul!” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment and Paul snarls before he flings his shirt off and jumps into the air, transforming into his beastly form midway and disappearing into the woods to attack the offendor.

You see the great trees shake from the tussle that you can practically visualize behind them and the encouraging howls of Paul's pack mates further confirms it. They love to get a rise out of your easily excitable boyfriend and he loves to put them in their place, being the strongest after Sam. Their crossing of each other's boundaries for the sake of fun used to concern you in the beginning but Paul himself assured you that that was just how they played and it was not coming from a bad place. 

So you wait for the ferocious crowd to move further away into the jungle that surrounds your house before you walk down to the dirt road to collect his clothing with a lighthearted shake of your head. A smile graces your lips as you do so and you cannot help but graze the now covered scars that your superhuman lover gave all his love to last night.  

Though it will be a while before he does, you cannot wait for him to come back home to you.

. . .

I am sorry if it sucks omg I really hope you like it <3

[cowboybeepboop]

Patience 

"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands."

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: You’re a newish member to the town of Forks, with an extreme obsession with Doctor Cullen. One day he finally gives in after you’ve visited the clinic for the 5th time that month. 

Warnings: light choking, semi public sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, praising, orgasm denial. 

a/n: I know this is a shift from my usual posts but I've been desperate for some more Carlisle content. As always, I hope you enjoy <3 and send any requests my way!

As you stepped into the small, dimly lit clinic, the antiseptic smell filled your nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of pine from the freshly wiped floor. The receptionist looked up from her computer, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Hello again," she said, her voice dripping with a hint of amusement. 

You returned the smile, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, and proceeded to the triage desk. Gripping my chest dramatically, you winced. "I've got these terrible chest pains," you gasp, hoping she wouldn't recognize your voice from the numerous calls I'd made over the past few weeks. "I think it's happening again." 

She nodded sympathetically, though her eyes betrayed a spark of curiosity. "I'll let Dr. Cullen know right away," she assures you, before disappearing into the back rooms of the clinic. Your heart raced with anticipation as you take a seat, glancing around the empty waiting area.

Little did they know that your only ailment was an extreme obsession with the enigmatic doctor who had recently become the talk of the town.

The receptionist emerged from the back, her smile widening as she beckoned you to follow her. She led you down the hallway to a small, cozy examination room, the walls adorned with diplomas and medical charts. "Dr. Cullen will be with you in just a moment," she said, the amusement in her voice now unmistakable. 

You nodded, trying to compose yourself as she closed the door behind you. The room was warm, and the gentle hum of the heater filled the space. You sat on the crinkling paper of the examination table, heart pounding in your chest. 

Would he finally see through your facade of feigned illnesses? Or would he offer the attention and concern that you so desperately sought? The anticipation was almost too much to bear as you heard the soft footsteps approaching, and the door handle turned with a quiet click.

He stepped into the exam room with his usual grace and composure, a hint of surprise flickering across his features as his gaze fell on you. His cool, pale fingers clutched a patient chart, which he quickly placed on the counter. His voice, as smooth and soothing as ever, broke the silence.

Cullen leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and studying you with a mix of curiosity and veiled amusement. "Back again," he commented, his voice betraying a hint of recognition. "Chest pains, you say?"

“Mhm,” you bite your lip as you gaze up at him, “It comes and goes..” 

Carlisle hummed softly, tilting his head to one side as he observed you. The flicker of recognition in his eyes now more pronounced. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, looping it over his ears.

He closed the small distance between you, his presence seeming to fill the room. He placed the cold metal end of the stethoscope against your chest, his touch as gentle as a butterfly's wings. "Take a deep breath for me," he requested, his voice velvety and commanding.

 You gasp at the chill of the metal, a soft surprised sound escaping your lips as you try to steady your heart rate. You follow his instructions, taking in a deep breath. 

Dr. Cullen listens intently as the sound of your heartbeat fills his ears through the stethoscope. His brows furrowed slightly, a look of concentration on his face. The cool and professional demeanor remains, his focus on your heart.

"Again," he instructs, moving the stethoscope slightly to a different spot on your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion laced with a touch of curiosity.

You nod, taking in a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees as you gaze up at his strong jaw. Your heart rate picks up as you admire his face from where you're sitting. 

Carlisle can't help but notice the hitch in your heartbeat, his sharp hearing catching the slight acceleration. A small flicker of a smirk plays on the corner of his lips, as he continues to listen intently.

He lifts the stethoscope from your chest, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your heart rate is elevated," he comments, his voice a low hum. "Any idea why that might be?" The hint of a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Uh,” you gulp, looking off to the side of the room. “No, I’m not quite sure..” your fingers fumble with the hem of your short skirt as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Cullen's eyes flickered down to your fingers fidgeting with the hemline of your skirt before meeting your gaze once more. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He took a step back, returning the stethoscope to his desk and perching himself on the edge of it, folding his arms across his broad chest. "You know," he began, his voice a low growl, "I've noticed a pattern. Every time you come to visit, you seem to have a different ailment."

“I guess I’m just,” you try to come up with an excuse. “I just have a lot of things going on, huh?” you grin up at him stiffly. 

The doctor tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing on his lips as he studies you intently. He pushes himself off the desk and begins pacing slowly in front of you.

"That's the thing," he says, his voice quiet and measured. "I've been a doctor for a very long time, and I've seen many patients through the years."

He stops in front of you, his gaze locking with yours. "And yet, I've never seen someone quite so...frequent as you."

“Oh..” you lick your lip, “I guess I’m just a bit worried, you know.. Chest pains aren’t a good sign..” your gaze falls to the tiled floor. 

Dr. Cullen hums softly, a hint of amused skepticism in his voice. "That's true.. Chest pains aren't something to be taken lightly," he agrees, his gaze locked on your face. "But I have a feeling there's more than just chest pains that are troubling you."

“What.. what do you mean?” your eyes widen as you look up at him, body straightening under his intense stare. 

Cullen cocks his head to the side, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step closer, his presence becoming more commanding.

"I mean," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "that I suspect there's something more going on here. Something that has little to do with your physical ailments and more to do with..." he pauses, his eyes sweeping over your body briefly, "...something else entirely."

You take a deep breath, gulping as he moves closer. “Oh?” 

Carlisle’s gaze hardens as he moves even closer, nearly towering over you now. "What if I were to suggest that your frequent visits here have less to do with medical concerns and more to do with something else, something more intimate?" he asks, his voice soft but commanding.

He leans closer still, his cool breath ghosting across your skin. "What if I were to suggest that there's a deeper, underlying reason for your...obsession with this clinic?"

You lean back, legs squeezing together as warmth fills your stomach. “Like what? Doctor Cullen?” you furrow your eyebrows, feigning innocence. 

Dr. Cullen's eyes narrow ever so slightly at your feigned innocence. He can sense the heat coursing through your body and the way your legs press together. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip.

He leans in, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Don't play coy with me," he murmurs, closing what little distance remains between you. "You know exactly what I'm referring to." 

“I don't-” you shake your head in response, eyes wide as you scoot further back on the table. “I don't think I know what you mean…” your body tenses with desire as he looks down at you. 

Cullen's eyes darken at the way you scoot back further on the table, the subtle signs of your tension not escaping his sharp senses. He rests his hands on the edge of the table, effectively caging you in.

"Oh? You don't?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then tell me why you've been coming here every week for months. And don't give me that 'I'm just clumsy' or 'I have bad headaches' act again."

You open your mouth to give another excuse but nothing comes out, words seemingly caught in your throat. Eyes falling to his lips as your heart hammers against your chest erratically. 

His lips curved into a knowing smirk as he noticed the way your gaze fixed on them. It was all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Why don't you just admit it?" he asked, his breath fanning against your skin. "Admit why you keep coming back here. To see me. To see what it's like to have my hands on you."

“Doctor..” you start, voice soft and full of desperation. 

Cullen's eyes flicker with a hint of satisfaction as he hears the desperation in your voice. He raises a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light yet full of possession.

"Say it," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "Say it, and then you can get exactly what you've been coming here for all these weeks."

“I..” your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. “I’ve been coming here because I want to feel your hands on me.” you gasp out, cheeks flushing with your whispered confession. 

Carlisle’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he hears the confession tumble from your lips. He leans in closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting it upwards so your gaze meets his.

"Good girl," he purrs, the words making heat flare in your stomach. "It wasn't so hard, was it? Admitting what you really want."

He leans even closer, his body pressed against the table, "And what do you want me to do with those hands, princess?"

“I want you to touch me..” you bite down on your lip, legs parting as he slips between them. He lets out a low growl, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He presses even closer, his hips now pinning you against the table.

"Touch you where?" he whispers, his free hand moving to rest on your thigh, just beneath the hem of your skirt. He toys with the fabric, his fingers tracing small patterns on your bare skin. "You'll need to be more specific, princess."

You move your hand to his, guiding him to where you want him. Carlisle’s hand stops you, a smirk playing on his lips as he sees the slight frown on your face.

"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands." He runs his thumb across your lip, watching you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You shiver at his cold skin against you, “Doctor,” you whine out. A low chuckle escapes Cullen’s lips as he sees you shiver under his touch. He brushes his thumb across your lip again, the coldness a stark contrast to your own heat.

“Tell me, princess,” he whispers huskily, his voice like silk. “Where do you want my hands? You’ve been fantasizing about them for all these weeks, haven’t you? Now’s your chance to tell me exactly where you want me to touch you. Be specific.”

“I want you to,” you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “Touch me, here, between my legs..” you murmur, motioning to your spread thighs. Dr. Cullen's eyes gleam with a mixture of satisfaction and arousal as he hears your whispered request. He moves his hand, which had been on your chin, to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin slightly.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. “And how long have you been imagining my hands on you there?” he asks, his hand slowly inching up your thigh, the coldness of his touch in stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.

You gasp, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you shudder. Cullen lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the way you instinctively bury your face into his shoulder. His hand continues to move up your thigh, the coldness of his touch sending another shiver down your spine.

He brings his free hand up to run through your hair, his fingers tangling in the locks. "You're so sensitive, princess. Is that because you've been thinking about this for a long time, hmm?" he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yes..” you choke out, feeling his hands part your legs further. A low growl rumbles through his chest once you confirm that you've been thinking about this for a while. He moves even closer, his hips pressing against yours, pinning you to the table.

"How often do you think about me like this?" he murmurs, his hand finally reaching the bare flesh of your inner thigh. He lets his fingers dance over your skin, the coolness of his touch sending sensations through your body. "Every day? Every night?" you moan softly, pulling his hand to your soaked panties. 

“Please… stop teasing me..” you whine, desperate for his touch. 

Cullen grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light as he finally slipped his fingers into your panties. The coldness of his skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your core tighten around his touch. His longer pointer finger found your clit with unerring precision, teasing it in a slow, maddening circle. 

"You're so desperate for me," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His voice was a seductive purr that seemed to echo through your very soul. 

"Do you dream about this, my little patient?" he murmured, pressing down slightly, making you gasp. "Do you lie in bed at night, touching yourself and imagining it's me bringing you pleasure?" His touch grew more insistent, his voice a dark caress that only served to fuel your desire.

You whine, the embarrassment and arousal mixing in a potent cocktail that makes your voice tremble. Cullen's smirk widens, the sound of your need making his own desire spike. "There's no need to be shy now," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You've been so eager for this, haven't you?"

With a sudden, firm movement, he slides a finger into you, the coldness of his digit making you gasp. He moves it in and out with deliberate slowness, watching the way your body reacts to his touch. 

His thumb remains on your clit, swirling in a relentless pattern that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke, your body betraying just how much you crave his attention.

"Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a dark rumble that sends vibrations through your core. "How long have you dreamed of this moment?" His finger moves deeper, stretching you slightly, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face. "How long have you wanted me to do this to you?"

Your breath hitches as you struggle to answer, the sensation of his finger inside you making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "Ever since my first visit," you stutter, your cheeks burning.

Cullen's smile turns predatory as he feels you clench around his finger. "Well," he says, his voice low and seductive, "today, all your dreams come true." 

He adds a second finger, the coldness now a familiar and welcome sensation. He starts to pump them in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, keeping the pressure constant.

You moan, unable to stop yourself from arching into his touch, your body begging for more. "More," you murmur, the word barely audible. "Please."

Dr. Cullen chuckles, the sound dark and triumphant. "As you wish, my eager patient," he says, his eyes dark with lust. He quickens the pace, the coldness of his touch making you shiver with pleasure. His thumb presses harder on your clit, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

As your need grew more urgent, Cullen added another finger, stretching you further as you clenched around him. The sudden fullness made you gasp, and you bit down hard on the fabric of his white coat to muffle the moan that threatened to escape your lips. The material was stiff and cold, but it only served to heighten the warmth and pressure building within you. 

Each stroke of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you, the chilly touch of his skin against your heated flesh making you tremble with anticipation. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your nails dug into the material of his coat, leaving tiny marks of desperation as your orgasm began to coil tightly in your core. 

The sound of his fingers moving within you filled the room, a slick, intimate symphony that seemed to resonate with the thud of your racing heart. The tension grew, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you approached the precipice. 

The coldness of his touch was a stark contrast to the burning heat of your arousal, and you found yourself craving more of him, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. 

You could feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening like a bowstring drawn taut, ready to snap at any moment. Carlisle watched you, his eyes dark with lust, his own breathing growing heavier as he pushed you further and further towards the edge.

Your body shudders as the orgasm crashes over you, a keening cry escaping your throat despite your efforts to muffle it. Cullen's eyes bore into yours, his own desire clear as he watches you fall apart under his skilled touch. 

His fingers continue to pump into you, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you're left panting and boneless against the exam table. He withdraws his hand, the loss of his cold digits making you whimper. 

He smirks, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking on his fingers, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his satisfaction echoes in the room, making your cheeks burn even hotter. 

The smugness in his gaze tells you that he's fully aware of the effect he's had, and the thrill of being so thoroughly exposed and dominated by him sends another shiver down your spine. You bite your lip, your eyes never leaving his, as you silently beg for more.

Dr. Cullen chuckles again at the sight of you, completely spent and utterly under his control. He takes a step back, admiring your flushed, disheveled appearance. “You're quite the picture, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry.

He moves to the sink and washes his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. Once finished, he turns back to you, his gaze dark with unfulfilled desire. “You know, I should reprimand you for all those fake ailments you've been coming in for,” he says, his voice deceptively casual

You cover your flushed cheeks with your hands, breathing heavy as you try to collect yourself. Cullen smirks as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. He moves back towards you, his footsteps slow and measured. He stops right in front of you, his broad frame towering over your seated figure.

"Embarrassed, are you?" he asks, his voice a low, amused purr. He reaches out, taking one of your wrists in his hand, slowly dragging it away from your face.

“You’re such a tease,” you whine, looking up at him, eyes still full of desire for him. Carlisle’s smirk widens as he hears the complaint in your voice. He releases your wrist, bringing his hand up to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Who, me? A tease?" he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of feigned innocence and mockery. "I'm just doing my job as a doctor, princess. It's my duty to care for my patients," he says, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You push your tongue out, licking the tip of his thumb with newfound confidence. “But what about you Doctor?” your hands go to his belt buckle, fingers brushing over his concealed erection. 

Cullen's eyes darken as he feels your tongue against his thumb. A sharp intake of breath escapes him as your fingers brush against his erection, the feeling stirring an immediate response.

"What about me, princess?" he asks, his voice gruff and huskier than before. He watches you closely, his eyes locked on your face as you toy with his buckle.

“Who will take care of you?” you unbuckle his belt, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, full of lust. Carlisle’s hands clench into fists as you unbuckle his belt, his restraint faltering slightly as you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes. 

He lets out a low, possessive growl, his body tensing as he struggles to maintain a semblance of composure. "You want to take care of me, princess?" he asks, his voice lower and more gravelly now. "Is that what you're offering?"

You nod eagerly, fingers fumbling with the zipper and button of his slacks. Slipping the pants away, you press your hand against his length through his boxers. Doctor Cullen’s eyes flash with desire as your hand presses against his length through the thin fabric of his boxers. He lets out a stifled groan, his hips involuntarily bucking against your touch.

"Eager, aren't you?" he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. He places a hand on your shoulder, half to steady himself, half to push you away. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess." 

You free his erection from his boxers, your hand wrapping around his length. You lean in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the tip of his erection, feeling it twitch against your lips. Carlisle's grip on your shoulder tightens as you begin to suck, his hips jerking slightly as you take him into your warm, eager mouth. 

His cock is hard and pulsing, the head slick with pre-cum that you greedily lick away. His hand slides into your hair, guiding you as you bob your head up and down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing with each suck. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and his stifled groans as you work to satisfy his desire. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, making you want more. You let your tongue dance around the sensitive ridge, feeling him throb against your tongue. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, his grip growing firmer, his hips beginning to thrust in time with your movements. You moan around his length, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. 

His eyes are closed, his head thrown back, and his chest heaves with each ragged breath. You can feel his need for release growing, his body tightening with every stroke of your tongue. You suck harder, taking him deeper, eager to bring him to climax. 

The power you have over him is exhilarating, and you revel in it, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His hand in your hair tightens, his grip almost painful, but you don't care. All you want is to feel him come apart under your ministrations, to hear him cry out in pleasure. 

Cullen groans, his body shuddering as your eager mouth works on him, his hand finding its way to the strands of your hair. He takes a fistful, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, your scent mingling with the musk of arousal filling the room. He savors the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you with a gentle but firm rhythm that matches the pulse of your own desire. Each time you take him deep, he lets out a soft hiss, his hips rocking slightly to meet your movements. His other hand rests on the counter, knuckles white with restrained need. 

The sound of your moans, muffled by his length, echoes in the room, a symphony of pleasure that drives him wild. His control is slipping, his breathing becoming ragged as you work your magic, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him back in, deeper and deeper with every stroke. 

The anticipation of his release builds, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. The coldness of his touch has given way to the heat of passion, his restrained demeanor now a distant memory. The clinical setting is forgotten, replaced by the primal dance of desire that plays out between you.

 You can feel him growing closer, his thighs tense and his breathing erratic. You know what he needs, what you've been longing to give him, and you push harder, faster, determined to bring him to the brink and watch him fall.

Cullen's eyes fly open, his gaze piercing yours as he feels the first pulse of his climax. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hips bucking into your mouth as he releases. You swallow eagerly, your eyes never leaving his as he cums, the salty tang of his release coating your tongue. 

His hand in your hair tightens, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You watch, mesmerized, as his features contort with pleasure, his jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. He lets out a series of deep, shuddering breaths, his chest heaving as he slowly regains his composure. 

His hand releases your hair, moving to cradle the back of your head, his touch now gentle as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him. He opens his eyes, the intensity in them not diminished, and looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. 

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice hoarse. You sit back, licking your lips clean, feeling a sense of pride at having brought him to this point. 

He leans down, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. A possessive, satisfied smile plays on his lips. “You're quite the naughty little patient, aren't you?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Taking advantage of my good nature like that.”

He releases your chin, his hand moving to your hair, running his fingers through the strands. He tugs lightly, just hard enough to get your attention. “But I must admit, I rather enjoyed it,” he adds, his gaze dark with restrained desire.

“Then maybe I should keep my habit of coming here so frequently,” you bite your lip, gazing up at him seductively. 

"You do seem to have a habit of finding yourself in my clinic quite often, princess." Cullen’s gaze darkens at your seductive bite of your lip. "And I do have a duty to ensure my patients are well taken care of..." he says, his voice a low, promising rumble.

He steps closer, his body now pressed against yours, his height towering over you. He leans down, his lips near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe I should start charging extra for private appointments,” he murmurs.

You shiver at his words, hands reaching out to grasp his sides, your fingers digging into his cold skin. Dr. Cullen lets out a low, amused hum at your shiver, the feel of your fingers digging into his skin sending a jolt through him. "Someone's eager," he mutters, his hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him.

His other hand comes up, his thumb tracing the contour of your chin. He tilts your head up, his gaze a mixture of desire and possessive claiming. "You certainly know how to get my attention, princess," he murmurs, his voice a deep growl.

You slide your hands up his shirt, fingers dancing over his tense muscles. “Doctor..” you murmur. Cullen lets out a low hiss as your hands skim over his bare skin. Your touch seems to electrify him, his body tensing even more beneath your touch.

"Yes, princess?" he responds, his voice rougher than before. He leans down, his lips hovering over your ear. "What is it that you want?" he asks, his warm breath sending another shiver through you.

“I want..” you bury your face into his stomach, breathing in his musk mixed with his cologne. “Your hand wasn't enough… I need more of you..” your voice is needy and desperate as you gaze up at him, chin pressed against his firm abs. 

Carlisle’s breath hitches at your admission, the mix of desperation and need in your voice firing up his own primal instincts. His hand at the small of your back grips tighter, his body tensing as he struggles to keep control.

"You want more, huh?" he mutters, his voice thick with desire. He releases his grip on your chin, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a greedy little thing, aren't you?" he growls.

“Please doctor?” the pads of your fingers dig into his back. Cullen lets out a low, possessive growl as you dig your fingers into his back. The pleading tone of your voice, the desperation in your touch, only serves to fuel his own need.

"You beg so prettily, princess," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. "How can I resist when you ask so nicely?" He leans down, his lips hovering over yours, his breath warm on your skin. "But you must be specific, sweetheart. You need to tell me exactly what it is you want.“

“I want you to fuck me, please..” you gasp, lips parting for him. Carlisle’s eyes darken at your blunt request, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. He closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth, delving and tasting, his hand at the back of your head holding you in place.

He pulls back from the kiss, his lips hovering millimeters from yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're insatiable, you know that?" he mutters, his free hand sliding down your body to grasp your hip. "How am I supposed to deny such a pretty request?"

With a low growl of approval, Cullen's hands guide you to the edge of the exam table, your legs shaking with anticipation. He bends you over, the cold steel pressing into your abdomen as he pulls your panties down, exposing your trembling thighs. 

You feel his erection, hot and demanding, as he lines himself up with your slick entrance, the tip of his cock pressing into your wetness. His hand firmly grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he adjusts his position, the sound of his zipper echoing in the small room. 

You gasp as he enters you, inch by inch, filling you completely, the sensation of his cold skin against your heated flesh sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air, but enough to remind you of his dominance, his control over your body and your desires. 

He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into you, the force making you cry out. His grip tightens, his hips setting a punishing rhythm that has you seeing stars. Each thrust sends a jolt of cold fire through you, the stark contrast of his frigid skin against your burning need only serving to heighten your pleasure. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled whimpers and his deep, satisfied grunts as he claims you, his sharp canines grazing your shoulder as he marks you, his patient.

As your moans grew louder, Cullen's hand left your hip and covered your mouth, his thumb pressing against your lower lip as his other fingers dug into your cheek. He was relentless, his hips moving with a precision that spoke of his experience and his unyielding need to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. 

Each thrust hit the spot deep inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your walls clenching around him with every stroke. The muffled sounds of your cries were only for his ears, a secret symphony of passion that played out in the quiet of the exam room. 

His own breaths grew harsher, his movements more erratic, as he felt your body tense beneath him, his name a silent scream against his palm. The heat of your arousal mixed with the coldness of his hand on your mouth was a delicious torment, your eyes rolling back in your head as he claimed you, his possession complete. 

The world outside the room ceased to exist, and all that remained was the frantic dance of your bodies, the cold steel of his touch, and the warm, velvety embrace of his cock filling you over and over again. You felt your climax building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter you, your body begging for release. 

"Not yet, princess," Cullen whispers, his voice hoarse and urgent against your ear, his movements unrelenting. His cold hand slides from your mouth to your neck, his grip firm as he feels your body begin to tighten around him, the warmth of your passion meeting the chill of his touch. 

His strokes become deeper, more deliberate, as he watches your face contort with the beginnings of your climax. You try to hold back, your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip to muffle your cries. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of cold fire through you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the edge of the exam table. 

"I’ll let you know when to cum for me," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand on your hip guides your hips back to meet his, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. You can feel the swell of his cock inside you, the pressure building, the coldness of his skin against your hot, wet flesh.

Your eyes fly open, and you stare at the wall, panting, as he continues to fuck you with a masterful precision that has you teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your body is his to command, your pleasure his to give and withhold. 

And as much as you want to cum, to shatter beneath his touch, you know that you won't until he says so. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torture that only makes the eventual release all the more potent. 

You whimper, your body begging for relief, but Cullen's grip tightens, his movements unyielding. "Soon," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "But not yet. I want to feel you clench around me, tight and desperate, begging for it." His voice is a dark promise, a siren's call that you can't resist. 

You push back against him, your body moving in time with his rhythm, the cold steel of his hand on your neck a stark contrast to the warmth building in your core. The tension is unbearable, a coil winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. 

You're so close, so very close, but he won't let you go over the edge. Not yet. Not until he's ready. And in that moment, you realize just how much you crave his control, his dominance over your very being. It's a heady feeling, one that makes you want to both fight against him and surrender completely to his will. 

You gasp out his name, a plea and a curse all rolled into one, your voice echoing in the small, intimate space. His response is a feral growl, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor, his hand on your neck pressing a little harder, his thumb stroking the pulse point beneath your jaw. 

You're so close, so incredibly close, and you know that when he finally lets you go, when he allows you to come, it's going to be like nothing you've ever felt before. The coldness of his touch, the heat of his desire, the raw power of his control all coalesce into a storm of sensation that threatens to consume you. And you can't wait.

“You can let go now.” he growls into your ear. With a final, powerful thrust, Cullen's hand clamps down hard over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure as your body finally gives in to the climax that had been building for what felt like an eternity. 

The pressure of his hand, the coldness of his skin against your flushed cheek, only heightens the sensation, making your orgasm feel like it's shattering you into a million pieces. Your eyes squeeze shut as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your legs trembling and your core clenching around him, desperately trying to hold on to the feeling. 

His own release follows swiftly, his hips jerking as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you completely with his seed. His grip on your neck tightens, his breath hot against your ear, as he rides out his climax with a deep, guttural groan. The room seems to spin around you, the only solid point the cold steel of his hand, grounding you in the midst of the tumultuous storm of sensation. 

As your body starts to come down from the high, you feel him pull out slowly, his grip on you loosening, his breathing still ragged. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something else, something primal and possessive. 

You collapse onto the exam table, boneless and spent, the coldness of the room now a stark contrast to the heat that still pulses through your veins. He reaches down to pull your panties back up, his movements surprisingly gentle given the ferocity of his earlier actions. 

The cold fabric against your sensitive skin sends a shiver through you, a final reminder of the intensity of what just transpired. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of when you'll get to feel his cold touch again, eager to play out this twisted game of cat and mouse once more.

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #2 - shark week

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!cullens x reader (twilight).

length: 1.4k.

warnings: non/con, afab!reader, dehumanization, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of medical malpractice, blood, slight initialization, and generalized twilight.

After moving in with the Cullens, your monthly cycles start to follow a similar routine.

‘Moving in’ meaning, of course, accidentally signing your rights to autonomy away to your doctor while you were so loaded up on sedatives the he hand to cup your hand in his just to make you hold the pen, and ‘period’ referring to, of course, the week or so you spent bleeding out in a house full of half-starved vampires. Carlisle claimed that it was dead blood and held little to no nutritional value for their kind, citing his children’s ability to attend the local community college without gutting an eighth of the students every month as evidence that your menstrual cycle wouldn’t cause an unwanted stir. When you reminded him that humans craved plenty of things that weren’t good for them, like chocolate and liquor and dubiously ethical affairs with their unnaturally cold general practitioners, he only hummed and asked what kind of products you preferred.

Esme usually noticed first. Sometimes, she’d catch it before you did, show up to your bedroom door with a warm compress and a tray of comfort food with only a kind smile by way of explanation, and you’d notice the pin-pricks of red dotting your sheets later on. Carlisle would usually be at work by then, so she’d spend her morning fussing over you, holding her hand to your forehead and forcing home-remedies past your lips until you manage to make her believe that one of her bitter teas had cured you wholesale. There’s a thin line between how she treats you when you’re sick and how she treats you on your period. One was a monthly ordeal, the other a hyper-rare occurrence in their meticulously sterile home, but both rendered you faint and encumbered, more receptive to her mothering. She liked it when you needed her. You guessed the reason why didn’t really matter.

(You used to assume that, if you were ever unfortunate enough to meet her, Esme would hate you. She’d see you as a homewrecker, as competition, or failing that, as a nuisance disrupting her otherwise idyllic domestic bliss. But, she’d never been that hostile, treating you more similarly to one of her adoptive children than her husband’s kidnapped mistress. It probably helped that her relationship with Carlisle was built more on a mutual affinity for make-believe than anything as fragile as love or passion. He was playing doctor, and she was playing dolls. He’d taken an interest in you for the former pastime, before gifting you to his wife for the latter.)

Eventually, you’d insist that you’d gotten enough bedrest and needed fresh air. That was when Alice would find you – waiting just outside of your bedroom door, her smile wide and your outfit for that day slung over her arm. As a rule, you did your best to avoid Mr. and Mrs. Wrong Side of the Mason Dixon Line, but she was one of the more forceful Cullens, prone to stepping on your heels and holding your preferred hideaways hostage until you relented to whatever form of dress-up she planned out for you. Normally, she’d be satisfied with doing your hair, testing out make-up swatches on someone with a skin tone darker than ivory, making you try on outfits that never seemed to repeat. On your period, though, she was a little clingier.

“Edward wrote from Belgium,” she’d say, absentmindedly curling her fingers inside of you. Most rooms in the Cullen house didn’t have a bed, so she would settle for the floor – letting you lean against an antique loveseat, skirt pooled around your waist and three crimson-stained digits buried in your cunt. “He’s so old-fashioned. Bella just calls, but no, he doesn’t want Nessie around too many screens. As if the poor thing won’t be fourteen this fall. Oh, and Jasper’s coming home tomorrow. He's already sick of Portland.”

Jasper wasn’t allowed within two hundred miles of Forks when you were on your period. Not after the tampon incident.

If you were loud enough, and you almost always were loud enough, Rosalie would come to your rescue. That was why she was your favorite.

Your time with her was largely spent outside, where it was a little more difficult to be tempted by the blood coursing through your veins. You’d sit on a riverbed with a book in your lap while she kept a measured distance, breaking the silence only to remind you to eat or drink or stretch your legs – little human inconveniences the others liked to forget about. Emmett, meanwhile, would take a more active approach to babysitting, pestering you to skip rocks or trying to make you laugh. Occasionally, he wouldn’t make it to your little picnics, and inevitably, you’d find a pair of your panties missing from your dresser the next day. Eventually, they’d turn up mixed in Rosalie’s collection – always nearly torn to shreds. You tried not to hold it against him. At least he had the decency to disregard your personhood behind your back.

You liked Emmett, but you liked Rosalie more. She was the only one who’d raised her voice to Carlisle the night he brought you home, the only one to continually acknowledge the issue of expecting a lamb to live among its butchers. It was nice – having someone willing to advocate for you. Or, to be able to believe that someone might, at least.

Once, you’d even asked her if she’d be willing to let you escape. Not even help, really, just leave a set of car keys where you could find them, or tell you where Carlisle’s security cameras were hidden, or refuse to cooperate while the rest of her family hunted you for sport. She’d taken minutes to answer. Time seemed to be an overabundant resource to eternal creatures. They were prone to letting it slip by in quantities that often made you, a being with fewer days to spare, feel sick.

“If I thought your life was in danger.”

Your life, of course, referring to your humanity. You doubted she’d have so much sympathy for you once you’d been reduced to yet another walking statue.

“It might not be something they plan.” And then, pulling your knees into your chest, “I’m really scared, Ro.”

She hadn’t said anything. When your attention turned back to your book, she asked you to read aloud.

Later on, Carlisle would come home. He’d spare a quick greeting for the rest of his coven, find whatever pantry or cupboard you’d attempted to hide yourself away in, and guide you back to your bedroom.

Intimacy wasn’t uncommon with him, but penetration was saved solely for your period. He was always slow, always gentle, but when you were bleeding, it was nearly agonizing – his hips grinding lazily into yours, his hands curled around your oak headboard, his unblinking eyes never breaking away from yours. No mind was paid to the unmarred white of Esme’s sheets. He’d watch lovingly as pink-tinged arousal dripped down your thighs, murmur sweet nothings as you cried and whined and whimpered for him to stop, that it hurt, that it wasn’t safe. If he felt like talking, he might list off the medical benefits of period sex – pain relief, stress reduction, heightened libido – or promise to be more careful next time, to have more patience in the future. Most nights, though, it was just your desperation, his adoration, and the dull sound of marble against flesh.

He didn’t need to sleep, but you weren’t so resilient. No matter how many times you came, he’d only let you go when your eyes grew too heavy to hold open, when your sobbed protests died down into little, sniffling complaints, when you finally went limp underneath his rigid form. He would sigh as he pulled out, not sparing any words of comfort before taking you into his arms. There’d be a bath, always so impossibly lukewarm, and then some humiliatingly frilly nightgown – more fitting for a toddler from his era than and adult from yours. If you were lucky, you’d still have the energy to insist on wearing a pad to sleep. If you didn’t, then Carlisle would get his way, and you’d be drenched in your own blood by the next morning.

Without fail, Esme would be perched on the edge of your bed by the time Carlisle finished. They’d both tuck you in – a pair of children putting their toy away after playtime – and you would fall asleep to the vile sounds of Esme lapping your blood off her husband’s cock.

[percabething]

“you better not be drinking and getting pregnant behind my back”

ma’am, I read fanfics on tumblr to fall asleep

[s9fti3]

“You’re doing so good.” Alice praises to you, holding onto you as your eyes roll back. She keeps her legs over yours so you can’t close them as Jasper pushes the rest of himself into you. “Almost there, just- hold on.” Jasper say, closing his eyes and taking in a breath he knew he didn’t need. But he needed to compose himself or else he could risk hurting you. “It’s alright, Jas, you won’t hurt her.” Alice says as she takes her attention off of you for a moment to look at Jasper. With those words, he pushes himself into you completely without any warning. He watched you cry out and arch your back, clinging onto Alice’s arm for support. For a moment he thought he hurt you, until he felt the pure bliss you were in.

[lillyrob]

How I feel asking for a Pt 2 😔

[fashionteahouse]

How would the pack react walking into Emily's house, and they're really loud, and they see their imprint sleeping on the floor?

this shall be interesting hope you enjoy :)

sleeping on the floor - pack x reader

Sam:

Boisterous noise is normal for the pack mates. Most of them talked loud of what happened during patrol and some talked about how hungry they were. The next tribe could hear their loud mouths. Sam was just ready to see his imprint. Seeing you asleep on the floor, he would make everyone silent with one word.

“Quiet.”

Firm and stern.

Kneeling to make sure that you are sleeping, he smiled softly at your figure and scoop you into his arms. You don’t even know that you had left Emily’s house until you wake up in the warm bed at the home you and Sam share.

Jared:

He talks loud. He laughs loud. He jokes loud. He enjoys it when his pack brothers are loud with him. Bringing vibrancy into the room or wherever they are, brings him immense joy.

Getting close to Emily’s home, both he and his wolf was excited to see their imprint. His pack brothers were loud as always and so was he.

Walking in and finding you asleep, his eyes zero in on you. He immediately tells everyone,

“Shut up. Y/N’s sleeping.”

It’s quiet as he walks over to you and scoops you into his arms and gently kisses your forehead.

“Just can’t keep off of the floor, huh?” he coos to you in a whisper in your ear. With that, he’s taking you home.

Paul:

Getting to Emily’s house meant getting to you. Depending on his mood, he’s in on the rowdiness or he’s just keeping to himself with you and the destination in mind.

He doesn’t mind the boisterous noise.

Pushing open the door, he finds you on the floor fast asleep. He would ask questions on why you’re on the floor later. But now, he has everyone quiet and has everyone’s attention when he grits out,

“Can you all shut the fuck up?”

You’re in his arms fast as he’s already heading out the door. You being disturbed meant that he was disturbed.

Embry:

Not minding his ribs and stomach hurting from the laughing at the jokes and shenanigans of his pack brothers, he’s making his way to Emily’s home.

He couldn’t wait to see you. Being away at patrol meant being away from you. His wolf itched to see you. The man in him itched to see you.

He stops in his tracks when he’s looking for you and finds you sleeping on the floor. Irritated that his pack brothers didn’t get the idea that you were asleep and they were being too loud.

A loud, “Shhhhh.”

It’s ringing through the house and everyone stops and be quiet.

You being picked up from the floor eases his worries as you are now in his arms being carried away. He moves out of the home so you both can go to the home that you both shared.

Jacob:

Being around rowdiness didn’t bother him. He could get just a rowdy. Especially when he disagrees with something. Loud debates that he would have with his pack brothers could be heard from anywhere.

Picking you up from Emily’s house was the thing he was looking forward to. Loud cackles rang in his ears and he enters the home to find you on the floor, asleep.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

They do shut up.

You’re picked up off of the floor and into his strong arms as he carefully takes you out of the house so he could lay right asleep with you, but, just in his bed.

Leah:

Most of the time, the loud boisterous voices got on her nerves. She joined in here and there if you were around, but you weren’t around this time.

You were over Emily’s and that’s where everyone was going to. They wouldn’t shut up about her food.

She just wanted to be close to you and touch you and smell you. She’s the first one through the door with you in mind. She stops in her tracks when she looks down at your sleeping figure on the floor.

“All of you! Shut the hell up.”

The pack was used to her bold nature so they indeed shut the hell up. You’re in her arms and you shift a bit from the change.

She rushed you to a bed for you to sleep in. Just somewhere where loud mouths wouldn’t be located.

Seth:

His pack brothers were talking loud and so was he. He laughed as everyone was outgoing. He liked to have fun. If there was fun and loud conversation, he would join and insert himself.

Heading in the direction of Emily’s home, he got excited as he got closer and closer to you.

Stopping at the doorway, he sees you sleeping, preventing anyone else from entering the home. They all ask him what’s his problem. Loudly.

“Y/N’s sleeping!”

Quietly, they all watch as Seth picks you up with his strength. Seth doesn’t bother to tell them that he’s leaving because he’s already out the door.