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rapturously · 10 months ago

Note

uhh asking for a request of bo and just anything that involves with duct tape 😭😭 gagging or bounding im happy either way

Also love ur work! 🩷💖

souvenir.

➾ pairing ; bo sinclair x fem!reader.

in which bo decides that he’ll take you as his souvenir — a pretty hiker lost in ambrose.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.3K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), DUBCON, drugging, kidnapping, bondage (tape and chains), restraints, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, groping, knifeplay, rough sex, p in v sex, different positions, spitting, choking, bruising, hair-pulling, scratching, marking, use of pet names (good girl, sweetheart, etc.), dom/sub dynamics, begging, dirty talk, edging, creampie, unprotected sex, bo is definitely not nice in this fic

author’s note: this is definitely more of a darker fic, but I actually loved writing it ,,, nothing like gross and horny sex with bo sinclair to get the blood flowing! I hope you all enjoy! Still working on requests, I’m hoping to post a few things this week since I’ve been so busy!

Warm, glittering rays of a vibrant Louisiana sun cut through the thick canopy of trees and marshland, bathing your face in a haze of heat. It was midday — hot and sticky, accompanied by a stifling humidity that was prevalent in the South, not terribly far from a saltwater coastline.

Beneath you was the grass — clutches of wildflowers blossomed amongst strands of emerald, a temporary refuge for you to rest as you savored the outdoors. A town sat in the near-distance, baking away underneath the sun, as evidenced by the paint wearing thin and the asphalt looking gray instead of black.

You’d been hiking by yourself — that was your first mistake. Too brazen and bold enough to be without the company of your friends, and now, subject to the ire of Ambrose’s hidden devils.

It was akin to ringing the dinner bell when Lester had caught wind of your presence through the scope of a well-used Barrett. Once he’d informed Bo over a very colorful phone call, your fate was sealed, doomed to become another pretty fixture in the House of Wax.

There was no getting out of Ambrose — you just didn’t know it yet.

As the glaring sun began to slip behind the verdant canopy above you, you took it as a sign to relocate, trekking the short distance toward the quaint town. You could hear the general buzz and chatter of townsfolk, but there wasn’t a soul in-sight — the ones that were, confined to their eternal tombs.

“Nobody’s home.” You murmured, thumbing the thick straps of your backpack as you sauntered down the middle of the road, glancing at some of the vehicles lining the road. Some appeared brand-new, others showing signs of weathering.

You passed the gas station and row of various houses, making your way toward the church. The distant hum of an organ guided your path, leading you to the steps and to the devil himself.

Bo Sinclair stood in front of a set of white doors, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a bead of sweat glistening upon his brow. He wore his Sunday best to look the part, gaze flickering toward your pretty, doe-eyed countenance when you’d stopped a few feet away.

A cloud of billowing smoke drifted into the air, a thin gray wisp that dissipated into the staggering heat. He appraised you in an unusual silence, drinking you in, shamelessly admiring the way your jeans clung to your body. Bo’s own fascination was nearly palpable — he still wondered what possessed a girl to go hiking alone.

Maybe you were stupid — he didn’t think so.

“Sermon getting to you?” You hadn’t intended to come off as simpering or awkward, gesturing toward the cigarette in the stranger’s mouth. A chattering ambiance and piano music emanated from inside of the church, and you felt severely underdressed in the presence of this man — the only one you’d seen in the town so far.

A huff escaped him as he ashed his cigarette, granules of charcoal floating towards the steps. “Might need another cigarette if that’s the case,” Bo chortled, taking another long drag. He ogled you again, jaw tensing as he sized you up, unbeknownst to you. “You lost?”

You would do perfectly — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages, that much was for certain.

Bo’s mind worked differently than yours, sinister and callous when compared to your innocuous demeanor. Whilst you stood along the picket-fence, contemplating about finding a good drink of water, Bo was picturing you strapped down to his bed, clothes cut away.

“A little bit,” It was painful for you to confess to being lost, considering how many times you’d traversed the backwoods of Louisiana. The sound of your voice was enough to momentarily sever Bo’s salacious train of thought, watching as you picked at the fading paint along the fence. “Do you know if there’s a convenience store around here or anything?”

He shook his head, motioning down the street. “Closed for th’day, I’m afraid. Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” Bo asked, attempting to lay the foundation for you, building a rapport that was surely to break once he got his hands on you. It was all about the building.

You shrugged, withering away beneath the oppressive heat of the midday sun. You wondered how this man was so unusually comfortable within an all-black suit and tie. Nonetheless, you decided to be truthful. “I’m just looking for a quick drink before I hike back to the main road. I’m a little low on water.”

“If you’re willin’ to make the trek, I can take you up to my place. Won’t take long, ten minutes or so.” Bo offered, attempting to sweeten the deal. It was akin to a predator skillfully drawing their prey inward, making it difficult to resist. He took another lengthy drag of his cigarette before smashing it against the concrete with the toe of his boot.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” Admittedly, you felt intrusive — a meddlesome presence amidst a quiet, peaceful town. You felt even worse interrupting a church service, but Bo didn’t seem phased whatsoever. “I don’t want to distract you from church, either.”

Bo scoffed, lips twitching into something sardonic, one hand perched atop his hip. “Don’t think th’good Lord really cares a whole lot for me these days,” He mused, and you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Let me take you up there.” He motioned for you to follow him.

Leaving the white chapel behind, you walked alongside him, somewhat smitten by his Southern drawl and charismatic charm. Beads of sweat glistened along his brow, and he promptly loosened his tie as the two of you made it toward a stretch of beaten-up road.

“Name’s Bo, by th’way. Forgot my manners.” Bo mused, making sure to really lay on the flirtation and appeal. It wasn’t hard for him to tell how flustered you were already — and he fully intended on manipulating such a fact.

“Nice to meet you, Bo.” You smiled, cordial and polite as you sauntered alongside him. “How long have you lived here in Ambrose? It seems so far from the rest of civilization.” It was out of reach, away from the rest of the world, a world that was impervious to the sinister deeds of the Sinclairs.

Unfortunately, you were now in their territory, subject to their rules and ire.

Bo chuckled, shamelessly stealing glances at you whenever possible. You were gorgeous — a looker with a sweet demeanor. He wanted to lick that sweetness right off of you, drain it all, keep it for himself. “Lived here for most of my life. Town’s real quiet, jus’ known for the House of Wax.”

Intrigue glistened upon your features, and you recalled the sign that you’d spotted during your hike — Trudy’s infamous House of Wax. The building itself sat in the distance, nestled amongst a cluster of hills. Even that seemed relatively dormant.

“It’s nice here, really peaceful. You must get used to the silence.” You replied, stepping up the incline as Bo gently steadied you with one arm. You murmured a soft ‘thank you’ as a house came into view, rustic yet large. This must’ve been Bo’s home. “Is this it?”

He motioned toward the house, wrapping his tie around his hand as he loosened up his collar. “Yeah, this is it. We’ll go on inside, you can sit an’ I’ll get you fixed up with somethin’ for the road.” Bo chimed, making his way to the front door.

Bo let you inside, gesturing toward the couch and recliner that sat in the living room. It was a very well lived-in home, but you didn’t seem to mind. You moved toward the couch, finally able to sit somewhere comfortable and relax, placing your backpack beside you.

“Thank you for doing this, Bo. I appreciate it.” You piped up, watching as he moved toward the kitchen. The interior of the home felt warm and inviting, littered with plenty of things to look at. There was ample opportunity for Bo to take matters into his own hands.

One of the cupboards in the kitchen had what he needed, a syringe filled with some strange concoction, a thicker liquid. His dark gaze darted toward you, distracted by your surroundings. Bo took the syringe, discreetly keeping it by his side as he stepped behind you, offering you a water bottle.

“‘Course. Heat’s pretty bad in these parts.” He replied, and you immediately unscrewed the lid, greedily drinking several gulps of icy water. Bo was close, hovering above you with a manic look in his eyes.

Before you had time to properly react, his hand closed around the underside of your jaw, squeezing tight to hold you steady. The intrusive, cold prick of a needle digging into your neck made you scream, but Bo had you in a rather uncomfortable chokehold.

“Shh, shh,” He soothed, stroking at your hair. Everything felt numb, and you could no longer feel anything in your arms and legs, reduced to simple tingling sensations. Your cries were in vain, throaty and hoarse as you sank into the couch, limp and lifeless. “Jus’ relax. All that strugglin’ is gonna make it worse.”

Your eyes felt heavy, beginning to close with a weight to them — the last thing you remembered was the glimpse of Bo’s insidious smirk and dark hues before you’d been rendered unconscious.

———————————————————————————

The scratch of duct-tape reverberated around the concrete cellar, obnoxiously close to your ear, causing you to involuntarily wince. The haze of unconsciousness was lifting, but that sound — it made you groan, unpleasant and invasive. You attempted to move as the heaviness wore away in your limbs, but you had no such luck.

You were in the underbelly of some cold, dingy cellar, cement walls lined in grainy polaroids, tools, and obscene amounts of sex toys. An icy, uncomfortable sensation began to pool within the pit of your stomach, and you tried to jerk against the tape around your wrists.

A strange, unsettling chill fluttered about your body, causing you to shudder. Your hiking boots were nowhere to be found, flannel stolen too, leaving you in your shorts and tank top. Something felt intrusive, as if there was an outside presence bearing down on you, crawling beneath your flesh.

Bo was standing at the foot of a strange chair, stained with months-old cruor, dressed differently than before. A pair of mechanic’s coveralls were stained with grease and oil, dark enough to conceal bloodstains. He bit at the strip of duct-tape, clutching it between his teeth as he bound you, keeping you restrained.

“W—Wait,” You babbled, and suddenly, the heightened sensation of fear and startlement blistered through you, visceral and volatile. “Please don’t do this.” Your whimpers fell on deaf ears as Bo continued his mission, sweat layered in a thin sheen along his temples.

Death in a town that wasn’t on the map was a fate worse than any other — you would rot into the ground with no one to find you, only the animals and trees would know; bear witness. You would cease to exist and become a memory, a painful one, eternally trapped within Ambrose.

“You can make this real easy on yourself,” Bo’s husky, dark drawl emerged from the bitter chill of the cellar, roughened hands sliding along your legs. “All you gotta do is behave for me, yeah?” He stood above you, a twisted version of the man you’d met at the church — or perhaps, the real him.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling vulnerable and exposed in your current position. Your hands were bound on either side of you with many rings of duct-tape, legs chained to the floor, yet there was some room for you to walk — if that were even possible. You shivered, mostly from the oppressive cold of the basement coupled with fear.

“Please,” Your chest felt tight, fear unfurling from your ribcage as it spread across your body. A shudder rolled down your spine when Bo grabbed your chin, thumb stroking along your lower lip. “Please don’t kill me.”

Something about this place told you that he’d killed before — they’d been in the very same spot that you were now. A sinister, lascivious gleam glimmered within his dark eyes as they raked over your body, lips curling into a smirk.

“Didn’t say anything about killin’ you, beautiful.” Bo corrected, digits beginning to squeeze your chin, putting pressure on your jaw. “But I might change my mind if y’make this hard for me.” His other hand moved toward your shorts, unbuttoning the front as he ripped the zipper down in one swift movement.

You began to squirm, mortified and flustered as you fought against the tape wrapped around your wrists — but it wasn’t any use. “Don’t.” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper as he gave you a pointed look.

Bo scoffed, head cocking to one side. “Be a shame if I gotta shut that pretty mouth of yours, too.” It wasn’t a warning, but a threat, a promise — one that he intended to make good on if you weren’t careful. “Gonna open up for me?” He crooned.

There was something hideous about him touching you — and even more so was the disgusting fact that you wanted to let him do it. He was handsome at the church, all a facade of Southern charm and debonair wit, but this was something else entirely.

With a defeated, pitiful expression, you began to part your legs, and that was akin to victory for Bo. His dark chuckle made you shiver, feeling his hand brusquely tug and wrestle with your shorts, inching them down your legs. “You’re real pretty,” He uttered, looking you in the eyes. “Prettiest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

Heat pooled within the pit of your stomach, and you clenched your hands into fists, nearly whimpering when he ghosted his fingers across your clothed cunt. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — this was wrong, depraved on so many levels, but you found yourself submitting instead of retaliating.

A strangled whimper escaped you as he rounded the chair, standing right in front of you as he planted a kiss against your forehead. “Bet you’re all wet from this, huh?” He husked, voice kept to a low growl as he slipped his fingers into your panties.

Arousal had collected there, slick and warm upon his digits. Part of you wanted to melt into the chair and disappear, muscles tense and taut as you worked to suppress your whining.

“Fuck, look at that,” Bo sneered, greedily sucking your nectar right from his fingers, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. “Guess I was right.” His hand returned to your aching cunt, the other wrangling your panties aside, movements harsh and rough.

You hated that it felt good, offered you a sliver of relief — you wanted to scratch at your restraints, thighs beginning to quiver. A string of incoherent babbling escaped you, mumbled pleas for him to stop. It was quite the juxtaposition to your hips, which happened to lurch forward into his hand.

Bo bullied his way in between your legs, spreading you apart as he lowered himself to his knees — unexpected, but you still felt embarrassed. “Gonna have to have a taste of this pretty cunt,” With a gravelly hum, he grabbed your thighs, unceremoniously spitting a wad of saliva onto your throbbing cunt. “Don’t move.”

“Bo,” It was almost involuntary, moaning his name as you jolted forward, mouth agape. Bo’s grin felt like a hot brand against your inner thigh as he clamped his hands down into your legs, hard enough to cause bruises. “P—Please.” You sputtered.

Part of you felt terribly embarrassed for enjoying yourself at the hands of this man who’d kidnapped you, your innocence being taken advantage of. His calloused, rough hands spread you apart, broad tongue licking a stripe along the length of your slit.

Bo was eating you out like a man starved, breath hot and heavy as he savored you with his lips, tongue swirling across your cunt. His hands groped into your haunches, against the swell of your pliant flesh, practically forcing your hips to tilt into his face as he buried his head between your legs.

With a wanton moan, you slouched back into the rigid frame of the chair, listening to it creak and groan as you writhed around. The manacles that shackled you to the concrete rustled with your movements, fingers curling into your palms. His tongue was deliberate and slow, teasing you with every stroke.

You tried to smother your noises, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but he was ten steps ahead of you. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart,” Bo stopped, ceasing any further contact until you submitted to him. “Gonna have to beg for it, I s’pose.” His sigh was theatrical and badgering, forcing you to whimper.

A simpering, choked-up noise escaped from the back of your throat, desperation beginning to mount as you jerked and jolted forward. Bo simply sat still, attempting to smother that smarmy, devilish grin of his as you shook your head back and forth. “Please keep going, please!” You cried.

Bo clicked his tongue, seemingly unimpressed and dismissive, reaching for the knife that sat in his back pocket. “Ain’t ever met a girl this ungrateful. You rather I stop an’ get this all over with?” His voice was vitriolic, full of a manipulative venom that only served to drag you deeper into his pit.

The sharp, icy blade suddenly traced over your legs, goosebumps erupting in its wake as you shook your head. You didn’t want Bo to hurt you — the idea of being harmed, of being so helpless — it frightened you. Bo enjoyed seeing that little pang of fear within your doe eyes as he prodded the tip of razor-sharp silver into your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped, stumbling over your words and babbling, restless within the chair. “Bo, please! I — I’ll be loud, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me.” It was a gushing string of pleas and begging that didn’t go unnoticed this time.

With soft shushing, Bo sighed, kissing along your inner thigh as he dug his nails into your flesh. It was rough enough to make you feel the burning sting of pain, chest heaving with labored breaths as he nudged his lips against your cunt again. “I think I’m gonna keep you for m’self, how’s that sound?” He uttered.

“Good, good,” You nodded. “I — I want you, please keep going.” Whatever bite and edge you had before had diminished completely, shadowed by his dark, domineering nature. It was hard for anything to break through that barrier of his. He retracted the knife, then and there.

A cajoling chuckle escaped him, one filled with mockery and a duplicitous edge as he lapped at your cunt once more. His tongue was like hot coals, raking across your slit with a wanton need, fingers grabbing and groping at the meat of your thighs.

His cock twitched within his jeans, desperate to be inside of you, make you scream. You wanted to grab at his tousled tresses or grip onto his shoulders, but the duct-tape prevented you from going anywhere, digging into your wrists.

Bo savored you as if you were some delectable meal, licking his lips before toying with your clit. His mouth was feather-light and teasing that bundle of nerves, enough to make you contort within the chair. A strangled moan left you, noisy and desperate, wrought with desire.

“Please, Bo, please,” You breathed, and when your thighs threatened to squeeze his face, he roughly pushed you apart, gazing at you from between your legs. The duct-tape chafed at your flesh, uncomfortably tight around your wrists as you writhed, hips bucking forward. “Please!” You were nearly sobbing.

All inhibitions had been abandoned — you were his now, reduced to his pretty plaything, all spread out on a silver platter. Molten heat surged through you when he lapped at your cunt, hand slipping down as he teased your entrance, giving you no warning as two digits sank into you.

A blissful whine left you, head rolling back against the chair as he nudged your clit, just enough to keep you chasing after that sensation. Bo was undeniably cruel, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud, causing you to squirm and shiver, all sound escaping you.

“Sing pretty for me,” Bo’s husky, Southern purr emerged from between your thighs, teeth nicking your thigh before he finally began to suck on your clit. His thick digits pistoned in and out of your weeping cunt, providing you with an overwhelming barrage of pleasure. “That’s it.” He huffed, lurching forward.

The rattling of chains couldn’t rip you from the moment as liquid heat coalesced between your legs, with Bo’s chin steeped in your arousal. You moaned again, flexing against your restraints, stomach churning with an anticipation that made you want to melt.

Bo grunted, greedily lapping at your sweet cunt, fingers beginning to curl into that sweet spot, prompting you to choke on any sound that bubbled within your throat. He was like a predator, with you in his clutches, a rabbit trapped within the jaws of a wolf.

With another barrage of practiced licks, he continued his onslaught against your clit, eliciting a myriad of sinful, inhuman sounds from you. Bo — it was the only word that fell from your lips like some chant, and he didn’t stop, feeling your knees buckle and shake around him.

His digits buried themselves into your tight cunt, sluggishly rocking in and out as he sucked on your clit. It sent you careening over the edge, lost to a white-hot explosion of ecstasy as you came, moaning and shivering, a complete and utter mess.

He was the devil — pearlescent teeth glinting in the low, buzzing light of the cellar. The shadows moved in a way that made him seem sinister. You were surprised that he didn’t have horns and a forked tongue, but it was likely a trick of the eyes. You huffed, fading away into your post-orgasm haze, but Bo was far from finished.

“We ain’t done just yet,” He uttered, licking his lips as he moved up from between your legs, hand gripping your chin as he dragged you forward. Bo made you open your mouth, head tilted backward as he leaned in, countenance contorting into a sneer. “Got a little gift for you, for bein’ good.”

A wad of his saliva landed upon your tongue, and you nearly choked, feeling filthy and vulnerable. His eyes glistened with an insidious shade, shadowed and bemused as he closed your mouth, forcing you to swallow his spit.

Bo was expectant, waiting for you to say something — but when nothing emerged, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Where’s your manners?” He reminded you, patting your jaw like he would a beloved dog.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, somewhat shrewd as Bo grinned, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You squirmed again when Bo began to unzip the front of his pants, breathing noticeably heavier and wrought with unrestrained excitement.

“Now,” Bo hummed, fishing his cock from the confines of his jeans. His erection was thick and heavy within his calloused palm, oozing with pearls of precum. With a step in your direction, he pressed the head of his cock against your cunt. “M’gonna fuck you right.”

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, letting out another moan as he teased your entrance, hooking his hands around your hips. Bo was rough and callous, dragging you forward as he sank his cock into you, grunting at the tightness and warmth.

Another wanton moan escaped you, back beginning to arch as he thrust forward, chest rippling with grunts and subtle growls. Lewd, crass noises reverberated throughout the cellar, the only ambiance that you could really focus on. His shadow eclipsed the stark glare of the light, gaze fixated on you.

Bo’s eyes were shadowed, brewing with something dark yet indecipherable. He began to adopt a very brutal pace, cock pounding away at your poor cunt. You hadn’t done this in so long, to the point where it felt borderline unfamiliar. You sputtered and moaned, feeling one of his hands abandon your leg.

That rough, calloused hand of his found its way to your slender neck, digits squeezing at your throat. It wasn’t particularly gentle, but not enough to completely rob you of air. You whined, unable to keep from watching the way his cock disappeared again and again into your sweet, oozing cunt.

You wanted to grab onto him, onto his arm, chest, anything — instead, you were met with harsh resistance from the duct-tape. “Bo,” You moaned, hips rolling in-tandem with his movements. Bo hunched closer, hand tight around your throat as his thumb pressed into your jugular, causing you to wince. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Bo’s voice dropped to a lower octave, cock rutting away into you with a rough, unyielding amount of force. If he went any harder, he might’ve threatened to split you in half. “Fuck, you’re nice n’tight. Can’t believe you’re gettin’ off to this. You like bein’ tied down an’ fucked by a stranger?” He uttered, and you began to stammer.

A wave of liquid heat burned bright within the pit of your stomach, a flame that only grew in intensity as he kept up with his brutal ministrations. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his cock at his words, causing you to shiver again. “I—I …” You didn’t know what to say, embarrassed and ashamed.

Bo scoffed, voice tapering off into a grunt as he continued to rut forward, cock buried inside of you until he could go no further. “Got you so fucked you can’t even speak,” He sneered, grip tightening on your throat. It was bound to leave some sort of mark, but you knew he didn’t care. “You gonna behave?”

Your head bobbed up and down several times over, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.” You squeaked, watching with blown-out pupils as he reached for the knife, cutting you loose from the duct-tape. Though, once your hands were free, you were being dragged onto the cold concrete on your stomach.

The steely, sharp bite of the knife sliced through your tank top like butter, leaving you completely exposed to Bo, who remained entirely clothed. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine from the icy temperature of the ground, feeling his hand close into your hair as he fucked you from behind.

His cock battered away at your cunt, stretching you in ways that you never thought possible. It was harsh and intrusive, digits tugging on your hair, wrangling you like you were molded from obsidian. Bo savored the sensation of you rocking back into him, thighs quivering like a leaf.

Your eyes flickered toward the muted brick wall on your left, met with a garish display of polaroids — other girls, girls like you. You had a feeling that none of them had lived to tell the tale.

A pang of dread consumed you, followed by fear — you hoped that you wouldn’t end up on that wall too, immortalized in some sick photograph. Instead, you wanted to increase your chances of survival, moaning and whimpering his name, forehead snug against the concrete.

“You wanna cum?” Bo asked nonchalantly, spoken through labored breathing as his thrusts became quick and sporadic. He was close, cock throbbing inside of you as his other hand clawed bruises and marks into the swell of your hips.

“Yes,” You didn’t hesitate, moaning again when he dug his nails into your flesh, causing you to squirm from discomfort. “Please, Bo! I want you to let me cum!” Desperation was laced within your voice, high-pitched and simpering as he let go of your hip.

“Good girl,” Bo grunted, somewhat perplexed by you. “Finally usin’ your manners.” He reached between your thighs, slathered in your slick and his precum, thumb rubbing circles into your clit. Your back began to arch, pushing back into him as he fucked you like a wild animal, chains clanking against the floor.

Pleasure rippled through you in blistering waves, coupled with the faint sting of pain that radiated from your hip. Bo grunted, breath hot and strenuous as he fucked you senseless, pounding away at your cunt with little regard for your comfort. His thumb toyed with your clit, causing you to writhe and moan.

With another harsh rut of his hips, Bo grunted, pushing his hips forward as he came inside of you, ropes of white-hot seed flooding your cunt. His brow glistened with perspiration as he pulled his cock free, leaving you with the mess of it all, haphazardly smeared between your legs.

Bo, in all his cruelty, tore his hand away from your clit, leaving you a throbbing mess, edged to the brink. You wanted to beg for him to continue, but you were spent, hot flesh soothed by the cold temperature of the floor.

“W—Wait,” Your protests were weak, but still strung-out with desperation. “Aren’t you going to keep going?” There was a little sliver of hope within your voice, but he relented, lips curling into a bemused smirk as he gave your ass a light smack.

“Changed my mind.”

You hated him.

For a moment, you saw red, frustrated without any semblance of relief, but also in misery over your current situation. You didn’t know what to do or say — and the last thing you wanted was for him to become angry with you. You didn’t want to become a permanent fixture on his wall of past trophies.

He stood up, hovering above you as you sheepishly rolled onto your back. Bo’s unsteady, dangerous leer sent shivers down your spine, watching as he stared at you for several moments. “Guessin’ you’ll last longer than the rest have,” He crooned, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. “Go on.”

His head jerked toward the chair, signaling you to climb back in. Your legs quivered in the aftermath of being fucked stupid, and you awkwardly reached for your panties and shorts, but Bo intercepted you. Wordlessly, you sat down in the leather seat, naked and entirely vulnerable.

“Keep you like that for when I come back.” Bo’s Southern purr made you shudder as you trembled, both from fear and from the cold. He couldn’t help but take a little bit of pity on you, tossing you a blanket from the old mattress that sat several feet away from you.

Something about being left entirely alone, naked and used in this basement, made you more terrified than anything else. You didn’t want to be left alone with just your thoughts. Even if Bo had kidnapped you, he was more tolerable than solitude. “You’ll come back?” You asked.

Bo huffed, retrieving his baseball cap. “Maybe,” He could see the hint of fear that had glossed over your eyes. “Maybe I’ll leave you down here an’ let you rot.” His voice was somewhat vitriolic, but undecided — part of you knew that he couldn’t leave you alone after this.

You would take the physicality over being isolated.

Silence drifted between the both of you as your legs shifted, the sound of clanking manacles providing the only bit of ambiance. Bo made for the iron-wrought door, standing in the doorway to give you one last look. Even in your disheveled state, you were beautiful — and now?

You belonged to him.

Before Bo shut the door, his lips twitched into the ghost of a devilish smirk. “Guess I’ll see you soon.”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #house of wax smut #bo sinclair #bo sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005

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swanlakebaby · 2 months ago

Text

— tied up | pjm

prompt: jimin ties you up and uses you like a personal toy

⸝⸝ pairing: dom!jimin x sub!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: cumming, orgasm, nsfw, dom jimin, sub reader, kissing, bf jimin, bondage, bdsm, rope, 18+, smut

⸝⸝ word count: 792

⸝⸝ note: kinktober 🎃 day two:) i've been writing these so damn late in the day omg. thinking about including something with silk lace in my next fic...maybe even adding in another member too ;D feel free to send in prompt ideas you wanna see for kinktober!

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

jimin hovers over you, his warm breath heating up cheek. he leans forward and places a soft kiss on your fluffy cheeks before pulling away and sitting up. he reaches over the bed and grabs a few pieces of rope. he untangles the bunch and motions for you to lift up your arms. you do as he wants. he begins tying your wrists together tightly until you can no longer move them. he climbs off the bed and tosses the rope aside, grabbing a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs and quickly makes his way to the end of the bed. he grabs your ankles and hooks one handcuff onto your ankle before connecting the other handcuff to your other ankle. he tightly locks them, making sure your ankles were tightly bound together.

he gets back onto the bed, sitting up on his knees in front of you. he holds your legs up over your body, your ankles and feet high up in the air. jimin perks up a little, realizing he had forgotten one last thing. he grabs duct tape from the side table and rips a thick piece off of the roll, smacking it onto your lips to refrain you from making any noises.

when he feels like everything is set, he takes off his shirt and repositions himself in front of you. he wastes no time to take off his boxers and stroke himself for a bit, getting himself nice and hard. he rubs your clit, the lace of your underwear rubbing you along with his finger. jimin sucks in his breath, opening your legs just enough as he could with your ankles bound together and moves your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him.

he groans at the sight, ready and wanting no more than to fuck you. he grabs the small tube of lube and squeezes some onto his dick, rubbing it in before sliding into you. he grunts, your tightness wrapping all around him. he starts off with slow and passionate strokes before picking up the pace, fully slamming into you. your moans are muffled, held back from the thick piece of tape he put over your mouth. your hands also being restrained, there wasn't much you could do. you could only lay there and allow him to please you and use you however he wanted. he holds onto the back of your thighs, pushing your legs more into you.

the sounds of his balls slapping into your flesh grow louder and louder, the faster and rougher he goes. the exposed metal from the cuffs clinks together with every thrust, a constant reminder of how rough he was being with you. jimin stops, sliding out of you and shifting his body through your legs, your legs now wrapped around him, still cuffed together. he slides back into you and hovers over you, sloppily kissing your neck as he fucks you. you put your arms around his head, keeping him close to you. the feeling of an orgasm was creeping up and jimin could sense it. he stops, lowering his body until his face meets your vagina.

he licks his tongue all over it, massaging your clit with his tongue. your legs began to feel weak and shaky. you tightened the grip of your legs around his head until his head was completely stuffed into your vagina. jimin hungrily ate you out, the sounds of sucking and kissing filling the air. you used your hands to play with his hair and hold onto his head as the feeling of an orgasm came over you. your entire body began to intensely shake, the feeling of ecstasy flowing through your body.

jimin snakes his way out of your grip and grabs the rope, pulling you up into a sitting position. he gets off the bed and motions for you to follow. you stand in front of him. jimin unties the rope and turns you around, your back facing him. he grabs your arms and puts them behind your back before tying you up again. he turns you around and lowers you onto your knees. he strokes himself for a few seconds, before stuffing his cock into your mouth. he gets a handful of your hair and begins ruthlessly fucking your mouth. you look up at him with watery eyes, your hands and ankle still bound together with cuffs and rope. he holds your head still, his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. saliva drips down onto his balls as you salivate all over him. he grunts, his cock twitching in your mouth as his cum suddenly squirts into your mouth.

he finally let's go of your head, cum dripping out of your mouth as you try catching your breath.

taglist: @ririkookiemonster (dm to be added)

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vodika-vibes · 17 days ago

Note

Me again 😈 this is the last one (for now)

How about Howzer x reader with "sh, sh, I'm going to patch you up."?? I love Howzer so much and virtually no one writes for him </3

Playing Doctor

Summary: In an ideal world, being trapped in a cramped place with Howzer would be a dream come true. After all, you’ve been crushing on him for ages now. You just wish the situation was a little less sucky.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: Reader is injured, pining, Howzer is jealous but pretends that he isn't

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I couldn't get Howzer to agree with me. Until I put on a Disney playlist on Spotify and the words just started flowing. (Also, I have been in a not-great mental place since the 6th, but I think I'm better-ish now). I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my Taglist

You’ve known Howzer for years now.

You first met him at the beginning of the Clone Wars, all of those years ago. And, looking back now, you can admit that your first impression of him wasn’t the greatest.

He was arrogant. Cocky, even. And in his opinion, you were a meddling busybody who needed to spend a day or two sitting in a jail cell.

You weren’t, and aren’t, a soldier. You were the former base commander’s receptionist, and when he left for greener pastures, you were left behind with a handful of soldiers and support staff who weren’t important enough to anyone to manage to pull a reassignment.

In truth, you kept the base running through duct tape and a prayer. And then Howzer came along and took it from you.

It wasn’t until he realized that none of the NatBorn soldiers, or support staff, would listen to him, that they all deferred to you, that Howzer realized that he stepped on a few toes.

And he didn’t apologize until your Squad of Misfits pulled him and his men out of an ambush that should have killed them, but only left him badly injured and with a scar on his face.

The rest, as they say, is history.

By the time the Jedi Purge happened, you and Howzer were friends. Friends enough that, when he called you to ask for help, you dropped everything and hurried to his side.

That had been a year ago, and while you won’t ever say that you regret it, you do wish that you had been more clever about your career prospects.

Or, at least, more clever.

Surely, if you had gone to medical school like your mother wanted you wouldn’t be in this situation.

Right?

You release a pained whimper as Howzer presses his hands, firmly, over the wound in your side. You try to pull away from his painful touch, but the way he has you positioned against the wall of the cave you’re taking shelter in means that you can’t move.

“Howzer—”

“I know it hurts, ad’ika.” His voice is low, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a grim look on his face before. Well, not directed towards you, at least, “but I need to stop the bleeding.”

Hesitantly, because he’s been funny about you touching him lately, you wrap your hands around his wrists, “‘m sorry. I messed up.”

“It’s not your fault. Who knew that the Stormtroopers had people who could use fucking javelins. Where are we, the Middle Ages?” He sounds stressed and angry.

“Many Indigenous people use weapons like that,” You reply, “Like the Ewoks and the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine.”

Howzer releases a huffed laugh, “Why do you know that?”

“I saw a documentary about it before,” You admit.

“Yeah? When was this?” He applies more pressure and you whimper as the sudden pain knocks the air out of your lungs, and you see a muscle work in his jaw.

“When I was a kid,” You manage to say, “There used to be a show. Tula the Tooka. Tula would teach kids about different races and show how we’re all the same.”

“Fighting bigotry one little kid at a time?”

“Something like that.” You wince, “She also covered some basic language skills, like how to say hello, or I’m lost, in whatever language.”

“Sounds educational,” Howzer shifts his hand and glances at your side, and then he takes your hand and presses it over the wound, “Apply pressure while I pull out my kit.”

“You could always just leave me here,” You offer.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, I’m not leaving you behind.” Howzer replies as he starts digging through the bag he’s been carrying, “You can’t actually think that I would do that.”

“I don’t.” You admit, “Make your life easier if you were less loyal, though.” You pause, “Idiot.” The word is affectionate, and the corner of Howzer’s lips curl up into a small smile.

“Wonder what having an easy life would be like,” He jokes, before he turns back to you, “Alright, move your hand.” You do as he asks, though you don’t realize why he’s saying that until the sharp scent of alcohol reaches your nose.

You yelp and jerk back when an alcohol-soaked cloth presses against your side. Though, you don’t get far.

“Shh, shh,” he effortlessly tugs you closer, so he can keep the cloth pressed against your side, “I’m going to patch you up.”

“You couldn’t have given me some warning?” You choke out.

“Sorry, ad’ika. But you’re kind of a baby when it comes to pain.”

You stare up at him through tear-filled eyes, “And you thought this would help? You’re a jerk. Rex would never—” You yelp again when his touch gets rough enough that it hurts.

The painful pressure vanishes almost immediately, “Sorry, I’m sorry! I forget that you’re so much more fragile than me.” Howzer blurts as he uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe a tear from your cheek, “Please don’t cry.”

“I-it’s okay, you didn’t mean it.”

Howzer sighs, “It’s not okay, but thank you.” He pulls some bandages from his bag, “I bet Rex would never forget that.” There’s something odd in his voice, and you realize, with a start, that he’s jealous.

“Howzer?”

“Hm?”

“Are you jealous of Rex?”

He fumbles with the wrapper of the bandage, and his dark eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, before dropping back to your side, “Course not.”

You stare at the top of his head for a moment, and then you sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair, “You know you’re my favorite, right?”

“Are you allowed to have favorites?” Howzer asks as he applies the bandage and tapes it to your skin.

“I think you’ll find that I don’t care about what’s allowed,” You counter, “You’re my favorite, and I’m glad that I ended up stranded here with you over anyone else.”

He finally meets your gaze, “You hate being stranded anywhere.” Howzer corrects with a wry smile.

“See, no one else knows me like you do.”

“Well, I have known you for years now,”

Your hand falls from his hair to rest against his cheek, just over his scar. There are so many things you want to tell him. So many thoughts you want to share.

Things that he deserves to know.

But the words seem to stick in your throat.

After all, there’s no way he feels the same way for you as you do for him.

So, instead, you offer a tiny smile, “I’m guessing you have a plan.”

Howzer turns his head and presses a light kiss to the palm of your hand, “Always do.” He pulls away from you, “Are you okay waiting here for me?”

“Just don’t forget about me.”

“Never.” He stands and peels off his jacket, “Here, use this as a pillow and get some rest. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

You take his jacket and fold it so you can lay down, “Be careful,” Howzer tosses you a wink, and then he’s gone.

And, now alone, you release a quiet sigh. “I love you, Howzer.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

#star wars #tbb #captain howzer x reader #howzer x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months ago

Text

Survival

I got into 'humans are deathworlders'/'human are space orks'✨✨✨ and I would really like it if the only human was Virgil and at first they are against him but then they realize that he is just a misunderstood sweetheart🤔 I don't mind if he was put on the ship by someone as a crew member or if he was rescued or something alse🙂but it would be cute if Virgil was short for a human🤭 and things like flexibility to get into small spaces and other things that are in the community about deathworlders'🤩 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions about anxiety, some anti-human sentiments

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2084

"My antennae are vibrating," Janus announces, popping out of nowhere to sit next to Remus, who chirps in alarm, "what are we talking about?" "The human's ability to crawl inside the engine ducts." Janus's antennae turn a vibrant shade of blue. "The human did what now?"

"Have you seen them yet?"

"Xerxus—don't do that, Re," Roman grumbles, his mandible clicking against the glass, "you almost made me spill!"

Remus shuffles into the seat next to him, eyestalks roaming around the cafeteria. Roman sighs and pats his spawn mate on the shoulder. "They managed to get into the engine ducts yesterday and now nowhere feels safe."

Roman sighs. "Just because they were poking around the engine ducts doesn't mean they didn't have a reason for it. They're not you, they don't just do things—"

"No, no, no, I don't mean they were in the area of the engine ducts, I mean they were inside them."

Roman blinks with all seven eyes. "You're telling me the human managed to fit inside there? But the ducts aren't even wide enough to accommodate a new hatch, what do you mean—"

"Look, all I know is that one ribec I'm looking at a human standing in front of a vent, and the next, their little shoe is disappearing into that hunk of metal and they're scrambling out the other side mumbling about filtration issues." Remus chitters as he grabs a plate of standard rations. "I'm telling you, I thought the whole death world thing was overhyped at first, but now—"

"Shh!" Roman's eyestalks dart around the room. "You know we're not supposed to say that!"

"What the krik else are we supposed to say? Their planet isn't tidally locked, it's fucking tilted, and their axis precesses? No, Ro, that's a death world."

"I know that, but we can't say that!"

"Are you talking about the human?"

Both of them jerk when Logan comes to sit next to them. He sighs, pressing a button on his control suit to decrease the pressure around his torso as he sits. His gloves whirr in response and he's able to pick up the spoon without much difficulty.

"Hey, Lo. Did the updates go well?"

"Yes, thankfully the spaceport had a non-Newtonian section for their replacement parts and I was able to find the proper regulator. But Roman, I presume Remus has informed you about the…experience in the engine room?"

"So it's true, then?"

Remus smacks him. "Hey! I'm not Janus, I wouldn't lie to you!"

"My antennae are vibrating," Janus announces, popping out of nowhere to sit next to Remus, who chirps in alarm, "what are we talking about?"

"The human's ability to crawl inside the engine ducts."

Janus's antennae turn a vibrant shade of blue. "The human did what now?"

"It's true!" Logan nods along as Remus chitters. "They were just there one moment and then they just went inside like it was nothing. I don't know how they're still alive, the lack of air flow alone would put any of us out of commission, how did they—"

"You're assuming any of us could even fit. My suit won't let me enter a space less that the diameter of my torso, and Janus—"

"Oh, you wouldn't catch me in there in stasis or movement." Janus sips through a proboscis. "Not that I'm eager to test it out."

Roman sighs. "Regardless of how impressed we are with the human's abilities—"

"Impressed is a strong word."

"Who's impressed by something that terrifying?"

"I'm not sure I'd go that far."

"Regardless of how impressed we are," he repeats, eyestalks glaring at the three of them, "it's not our place to call their planet a death world. That's not fair to them, they didn't have a choice as to what they were born as."

"No, they just took all the freaky adaptations and evolutions that come from said death world and make them our problem." Janus shudders and his carapace clicks. "I still remember the time I saw them in the lab with the lights off. It was like looking into the maw of a Rashan Giant and having it tell you it wasn't going to eat you. Since when do they have night vision too?"

"There was probably enough light for them to see by—"

"That's worse! You get how that's worse, right? If they can just see in the dark, then they can see in the dark, but if there's an ambiguous amount of light that they can see by, then how are we supposed to know what it is?"

"And don't get me started on their memory. The Captain said two things in their whole orientation tour about the quark spin reader and they remembered it last cycle when it needed to be recalibrated. I don't even want to know what else they remember from all of the scuttlebutt that they hear."

"Alright, that's a little ridiculous." Logan's face shield lowers so he can take a slurp. "It's not like they're plotting to use all of the information they're gathering about the crew's personal lives to plan some nefarious scheme."

"Oh, so you'd feel comfortable with them knowing what the settings on your regulator are? You're fine with them knowing things about your brood?"

"Okay, wait, more species than humans have good memories, Janny. Are you—" Remus's eyestalks flutter around Janus's face— "is there something you're not telling us about how you feel about humans?"

Janus's carapace rattles. He turns and glances around. Luckily the cafeteria is still mostly empty and none of the other tables are close enough to hear them. He sighs. "Look, you know how I am about predator species. It's—I'm not—I'm trying to be better, but humans—humans just really freak me out."

"That's not a reason to be a bigot about it."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I just—" he rubs his antennae as they turn yellow again— "it just freaks me out and I don't know what to do about it."

One of Roman's eyestalks catches movement and he swivels it to see the human walking in. He elbows Remus, who looks too, and promptly holds up a hand.

"Virgil! Come eat with us!"

"What is wrong with you," Janus hisses under his breath as the human tilts their head, shrugs, and carries a ration tray over. "Uh—hi. Virgil, right?"

"Mhm." The human sits next to Logan—well, a chair over from Logan, right in front of Roman. "Hi. Uh, I don't know if we've met."

"Janus. And you know—"

"Logan, Roman, Remus, yeah." He picks up the cup of caf and sips it. "Thanks for, uh, letting me sit."

"We're all crew," Logan says diplomatically.

They eat in silence for a few ribecs. Then Virgil coughs. "Um, don't let me interrupt whatever was going on. I'm just—I'm not really good at conversation."

"Really?" Remus chitters. "Aren't humans social species?"

"Remus," Roman chides, but Virgil's already huffing a laugh.

"Yeah, we are by and large, but some of us aren't as good at that as everyone else." He lifts two fingers and taps them against his head. "Me? Not one of the good ones."

"Is that why you volunteered to go in the ducts?"

"Remus!" Roman smacks his brother with an eyestalk. "I'm sorry, Virgil, he's not normally this pushy."

"Yes, I am!"

"Yeah, he is," Janus mumbles under his breath.

"No, it's cool, I, uh—I noticed how everyone was looking at me when I got out of there. It's a, uh, I'm sure you've heard stories about human impatience, yeah?"

"I think everyone in the Coalition heard about the species that flung themselves to the stars before they had FTL capabilities," Janus says, a bit sharp. Virgil just chuckles.

"Yeah, well—the chief said there was something wrong inside the ducts and that we had to wait a few cycles to calibrate the probe properly, and I asked if I could just go in instead since the sector had to be isolated anyway, and they said sure, if I could fit." He takes another sip. "In hindsight, I'm like, pretty sure that was a hyperbolic thing? Or at the very least sarcastic, like they didn't think I was gonna fit, but then I did it and…"

He shrugs.

"Now I think I have a new thing added to my maintenance roster, but that's fine."

"Impressive." Logan's glove whirrs as he picks up the spoon. "Have you done similar things on other ships?"

"Oh, no, this is my first deployment."

All of them pause. Virgil notices, his cup halfway to his mouth.

"…is there something wrong?"

"This is your first deployment?" Roman's eyestalks rustle. "But you're—you've already reached third rank, how did you—"

"I mean, I've worked on space ports before, but not a like, traveling ship. And I didn't—the manifest specifically requested a human, so I got the job that they needed a human for."

"Forgive us our surprise," Logan says, "we only meant that to see a member of the crew with such acumen, we expected this to be your second or third deployment."

"At least."

"Really?" Virgil huffs. "I, uh, wow. It's, uh, really good to hear you say that. My anxiety's been trying to tell me I'm doing a really bad job, so that makes me feel better."

Janus's antennae switch. "Anxiety? Is that a parasite of some sort?"

Logan shoots him a warning look but Virgil laughs again. "Honestly, sometimes it feels like that. But no, it's not—it's not a parasite. It's a, uh, oh, God, I'm not a medical professional. It's—it's a specific mental illness that humans can have where it—okay, basically it takes your fight-or-flight survival instinct, your gut keep-me-alive feeling, and makes it go haywire."

The tips of Janus's antennae turn blue. "How does it do that?"

"It messes with your ability to regulate your emotional response to stuff, sort of. Like—it makes you freak out way more than normal about stuff that you really don't need to be freaking out over. Like—for me, I'm always worrying did I lock my cabin door, did I turn off the interface properly, did I just say something really stupid and ignorant, are the airlocks going to fail, basically I'm worrying about stuff all the time and I can't really control it. At all."

All of Remus's eyestalks turn to stare at Janus, who clicks. "That…sounds really frustrating."

"It's hard, yeah, but I've had some time to learn to manage it." His gaze flicks up to the antennae. "Uh, if you're curious about it, I can send you some of the stuff I have about it?"

"That would be…great, thank you."

Virgil smiles. "No problem. I gotta say, though, I'm gonna start thinking about it like a parasite now that you've said it."

"Why?"

"'Cause if you feed into it, it gets way worse. Like—right now it's trying to tell me that I'm messing something up really bad by sitting with you guys, like I'm gonna say something really stupid that's gonna make you all hate me or get me kicked off the ship, and me saying that out loud is—" he takes a deep breath— "feeding it. But if I just…ignore it, or try and push past it, then I'm not feeding it and eventually it gets quieter."

"We don't hate you," Roman says quietly, "we're not gonna get you kicked off the ship."

"Oh, I figured, that's why it's irrational, but—thanks."

"That is fascinating. If you're willing, I would also like to read more about this."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll send it to you too." The end of shift alarm chirps and Virgil sighs, getting up. "That's my cue. It was nice sitting with you."

"I'm on next shift too," Janus says, quickly standing, "I'll walk with you?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go."

Logan, Roman, and Remus watch the two of them walk off. After the door slides shut, Logan laughs.

"That's what they don't tell you about death worlds, they make you very, very good at surviving."

"What do you mean?"

Logan gestures after the two of them. "In the face of irrational fear, predator and prey have found something to bond over. What's more death world than that?"

"…can't argue there."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #fic

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orange-coloredsky-archive · 1 year ago

Text

i cannot believe ive never posted this. probably because it looks like shit. anyways heres my pepe silva ass scrawlings about what i think this guy's mods are for.

translation of the nigh unreadable text under the cut

REAL AND CANON DIMA LORE PART ONE: What The Hell Are All Those Doo Dads

(i'll start from the head and go down)

HEAD

functionally blind. constant exposure to moisture from the fog pretty much turned a lot of him into mush and short circuits, including whatever optic nerves he had going on in there. so he mainly relies on sound and memory to get around. some of the shit sticking out of his head actually works like echolocation devices. pickinh up the sound around him and translating it into something that lets him know "oh, theres a fuckin table there. it does not always work. (fun fact: thats the reason why his memory game is based on abstractions and sound. while exploring nick/kellogg's brain we got visual input. dima doesnt have that)

all of the other tubes are basically just typical vacuum tubes. used to reroute voltage to make sure he doesnt overload himself with all the extra mods. make sure you dont stand too close to him during a thunderstorm

TORSO

basically an external disk drive. his main way of utilizing holotapes and shit. i like to draw a lil heart on it

looks like guts. gross. i cant figure out what this would do (i now believe its a liquid cooling system)

LEGS

so it turns out sitting in a damp ass cave on your ass in the dirt for 365 days doesnt do wonders for the skin. especially when that skin is just shitty rubber. basically his fuckin leg parts rotted away and just his metal skeleton remained, which is wrapped in his weird duct tape yoga pants. the metal frames are for extra support. because of this as well as his age he cant really stand for long periods of time (ignore the part where he stands in acadia forever after you get deeper into his questline) and when he INSISTS ON DOING SO he requires some form of mobility aid. usually in the form of faraday or chase walking alongside him

typical synth skeletal feet, but augmented to actually flex/extend like talons. he is weirdly skilled at picking things up with his feet.

BACK

basically his whole back is just Gone, minus the structures needed to hold up those ports because dima is very prone to overheating. was easier to just get rid of anything blocking the flow of air than to install a bunch of heat sinks. faraday's smart but hes on a budget.

these are the cerebral (spinal?) connections he uses to be plugged into his chair (not dissimilar to the placements of the connections in the institute mind wiping chair ☹️)

#fh #dima #amihth world #meta #long post

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abyssal-maiden · 2 months ago

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Serpent's Hearth Pt. 2: Bereft of Favor (18+)

Fem!Reader / Messmer

!!!MDNI!!!: 18+ ((future xbloodplayx xsmutx xpregnancyx xothersinsx))

XTouchStarvationxLightYanderexEnemiestoLoversxSizeDifferencex

Hey all! Bonus chapter tonight for contextual meat. The real fun begins tomorrow ;)! Please enjoy this pregame as I prepare your feast.

~~~<3

The scorned son sits in his darkened chamber as the movement of his serpent kin interupt his dissociative state. He was lost in yet another daydream reliving his childhood. His mother once ordered him to end his incessant whining, oh how the serpents coiled in his nascent ribs! She shoved a golden flask in his hands spiting vile as she did so.

“Avaunt from thine visage, knave mongral! Cease thine vex of thy presence known.”

He turned the flask over in his left hand, something between longing and abhorring twisted along the slithering within him. He holds his forehead in his palm, covers the tears that evaporate just outside of his eye duct. A lord who's curse would not allow the sanctity of expressing such desperation. A monster imprisoned in the flesh of a tool for an unforgiving order.

Even thine own mother detest me!

His lip pulls in the dark, trembling with self loathing. He was holding on to the hope she would whisk through the door any minute to accept him at last, but such thoughts were akin to the delusion of frenzy. He knew she would not come, yet felt the stinging of languish in the still air of his forgotten keep. The quivering ceases for a moment, he was sure you would return despite his solitude. The thought of your darkened eyes and your flowing hair, the disconnected look of violence encapsulating your gaze.

Why doth mine mind's eye plague with such visions?

A forked tongue brushes against his brow, he uncovers his golden gaze to the green stare of his larger constrictor. The soft flickering and bobbing of its head indicate concern. He cups his face, running his hand down and sighing.

“Tis not a worthy concern, Purkoy.”

The serpent sways in disapproval but presses no further, facing away in its own trance of disconnection. Miel, the other, sleeps on the opposing armrest to the one Messmer drapes over.

“Thy verdict is ill favored, cur.” He chuckles.

The man reminiscent of a phantom stands, moving silently from his perch through the darkened staircase adjacent his throne room. In the entrance hallway he waves his hand across the brick, the flame burning away the illusion that conceals his bedchambers entrance. The rhythmic sound of his ascension coupled with soft hissing occasionally. His body stoops and shifts as he works his way to the once extravagant garret in the rear tower of his throne house. The room is unkempt, surely, but opulent, a large circular bed across from a grandiose stone hearth. Above it a painting faded by age, the young Messmer standing shyly in front of his mother, a gaze of disinterest displayed on her face. He glances at her everwatching eyes as he moves to stand in the window, overlooking the path to the ruins of Enir-Ilim, his final charge. He looks tiredly into the ravine before settling in a warn armchair that had cracked severely over the decades. There he spent most sleepless nights, staring off into the void of his existence , reliving old memories.

~~~

Fate would have it your presence was not so unwelcomed the next morning. You enter as you always have, materializing at the unseen grace and pushing the door open. He stands and says nothing, spear poised in his grasp. He leaps to the ground and strides towards you, stopping to stand upon his crest in the center of the desolate hovel.

Why isn’t he attacking?

Your eyes narrow through your helm, usually trained on his hand movements. You peer upwards to find his eye boring into your own pair. His expression unsurprisingly reserved, yet a hint of uncertainty as his eye darts to different details in your armor.

Why is he looking at me like that?

No matter, you huff and lunge toward him, the clang of his spear indicates he accepts the flurry. That recognizable heat which licks at you through the joints in your armor. As you engage you swear a faint smile appears on his face.

Is he…enjoying this?

You try to shake off the thought as a swirling of flames barrel’s toward you. His limbs could reach you across the room, and they do, giving little time for you to roll away. Your blows never seem to slow him down, but today he is clumsy. His head keeps ducking to view your eyes through the slitted metal face. The way the reptilian orb peers at you sends shivers through you.

What the fuck is he doing?

The distraction is enough for him to grasp you in flames tossing you like a rag to fall flat into his spear. You slide down onto the cold blackened metal gurgling and moaning in agony. His breath is hot and brief on your ear. A silken tone laced with the menace of authority.

“Below mine domain lies a ruined place forgotten by all but mine pets. An audience with thee at high moon.”

You're unable to respond before you experience the flames ripping through your core with ferocity, burning you to embers as you hang from his fiery impalement.

“...Fuck…you...” your words rasp gently against his ear canal as you dissipate.

He savors the insult and laughs to himself as he’s left alone, pinching his brow as his head falls back.

“What manner of folly doth I wrought upon mine self?”

Master List

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#messmer the impaler x reader #messmer x reader #elden ring x reader #messmer x tarnished #messmer x you #monster fucker #i love my sad snake boy #blood kink

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since0202 · 8 months ago

Text

Taking Time—Fifty Four

Home is a person

Word Count: 12,959

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Abortion (I will bracket where it starts and ends in an obvious manner so you can avoid if needed <3).

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Every step home has felt right so far. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been away for so long, but it feels like something has changed or shifted. And as I get closer, that feeling only gets stronger. Now, as I sink into that undeniable warmth, it’s hard to think otherwise at all. Soft, warm breath spans gently across my hair and I reach for the warm body nestled next to me. It must be Paul. How he knew I was here, I’m not sure, but in the halfway point between sleep and wake, I’m not sure of much. The soft body grunts and rolls closer to me, making soft sounds that lull me deeper into sleep. I want it always to be like this: sleepy mornings, just peace, before the sun cracks me open like an egg and burns me from the inside out.

Maya rolled toward the low rumbling groan coupled with that hardy warmth she’d come to know so well when she was home. Paul was so soft. She ran her hands up and down his sides to a pleasant smacking sound coming from his lips. She burrowed closer for warmth, still in that holy toss between dreaming and awake and felt his warm breath flow over her hair. It almost felt wet. Maya inhaled a deep breath savoring his smell only to be met with a warm mildewy scent of dried fur and the forest. He must have only just phased back from rounds and the smell of his wolf form simply clung to him. It didn’t matter. Maya leaned her head up and was met with the his soft, warm, wet lips. Really wet. He kissed and dampened her entire face with his mouth, his tongue.

Maya leaned back and groaned her dissent, but the onslaught kept coming, possibly even more eagerly than before, until her entire face was coated in saliva. Paul really had it coming. Maya’s face twisted into a grimace as she opened her eyes, only to be met with the towering dark frame of Leah’s german shepherd.

“Blegh!” Maya managed before the dog continued with vigor to her dismay. She braced her arms across his chest and tried to push, but the thumping of his tail wagging only seemed to make him stronger as he continue to cover Maya’s face in fervent licks with delight that she was awake.

Maya heard a laugh from the door before Keye said,”Yodel, that’s enough. Come here!” Yodel immediately hopped off the bed and hurtled toward Keye, standing at attention at her feet with his tongue lolling to one side. Keye dropped her hand to stroke his head affectionately, “I thought we said no more kissing dogs after that trip to Seattle when Becks convinced that forty year old bouncer she was old enough to get in by her expertise?”

Maya rubbed her dog-drenched face on the pillow before rolling over and beginning to rub her eyes, “I remember that being you, not Becks.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keye replied lazily as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her until now.

“Come on, Leah’s making breakfast,” Keye stated from her place leaning up against the doorframe. As she plodded away softly, Maya heard Yodel following her dutifully down the small hallway to the kitchenette.

“Okay, but you still have a lot of explaining to do,” Maya called after her as she sat up and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She didn’t even attempt a glance at her phone. The soft, gray morning light of Seattle pulled her eyes toward the window and Maya let out a soft sigh and let the day breathe her in.

Leah’s apartment was bright and airy. The kitchen and living room sat in a lofted space with high ceilings that allowed large industrial air ducts to span it. The bright beach wood of the rafters above seemed to capture light and sprinkle it down across the warm butcher block island where she was preparing another omelet, this time for herself, after making one for Keye and Maya. They tucked in around the island on carefully crafted wooden bar stools that Maya had a sneaking suspicion were the handiwork of her boyfriend. Maya peered over shoulder to look out the floor to ceiling narrow windows covered in a gauzy, white curtain. The living room was a collection of well loved, mismatched furniture pieces, all softened by time and use.

Maya hadn’t fully recognized the neighborhood they were in when they drove in but she wondered how close they were to Paul’s workshop. Leah was laughing at Keye as she exclaimed how she’d never thought to add spinach to an omelet, or any vegetable to any dish for that matter, when Maya zoned back into the love fest unfolding before her.

“You need to eat more vegetables, I keep telling you, or you’ll never be able to hold up a bike at a stop light. Even a little one,” Leah’s face was all sunshine. She tore off a piece off her omelet and handed it to a waiting Yodel at her feet.

“She’s got a thing for bikes,” Keye hummed around a bite.

“I do not,” Leah tried to bemoan, but it only came out as soft embarrassment, her neck flushing with a hint of pink. That was hard to dispute considering Leah’s apartment was stationed above a bike shop. Her bike shop in fact.

“Crotch rockets, some call them,” Keye quipped, shooting Maya a gleeful look.

“Stop,” Leah replied breathlessly with a laugh, “They’re not called that.”

“She rode up on one to Seth’s wedding, what was I supposed to do? Not fall in love with her?” Keye goaded, shooting a bright smile in her direction. Maya lit up at this—she wanted to know everything about how Leah and Keye met, how the imprint happened.

“So, it was at Seth’s wedding then?” Maya leaned onto the counter, trying to quell her excitement. Leah looked down at her omelet with a soft smile as if just recalling the memory overwhelmed her with joy. Keye blushed and shoved another bite of gooey omelet in her mouth.

“Yeah, it was at Seth’s wedding,” Leah started softly, “Gah, I still can’t believe that little twerp is married. I swear I was helping him with his homework only last week,” she shook her head, still lost in her moment of nostalgia.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you were helping him with his homework last week, babe. You guys were debating the merit of classic authors still being considered the classic norm in a postmodern world in this very kitchen.” Maya giggled at that and Leah looked up at Keye with such soft eyes that Maya thought she’d explode on the spot. Keye held her gaze for as long as she could before blushing and looking back down at her omelet, playing coy while continuing to eat.

Oh, so it was that kind of imprint.

“Yes, we met at Seth’s wedding,” Keye continued for her after a few bites as Leah started cleaning up. Keye launched into the story like it was well known and been written down for years.

She said it was instantaneous. Much like Maya and Paul had, Leah and Keye and locked eyes and that was it. But most of the guests had been distracted and the pack was thoroughly drunk on special Quileute brewed beer so no one was really paying them any attention. No one had even really realized, except for Keye and Leah. They had sat there and stared at each other, across the dance floor for a cool minute or two. It could have been eons for all Keye knew.

Leah’s face, which had been schooled in a cool complacency for most of the night as she muscled through her baby brother’s wedding, had shifted to something bright and surprised. Breathless, she had strode across the dance floor in her pale cream suit, sparkling under the carefully hung lights as she weaved her way through couples. Her eyes never left Keye’s and Keye had stayed glued to the spot, her heart beating wildly. Nothing would stop Leah from getting to her, and as she startled to a stop in front of her, Keye let out a loud exhale as if breathing again for the first time.

“It’s you,” Leah had said, so surprised yet relieved, “It’s you. Y-you…you are so…you’re my—,”

“Keye,” she interjected, relieving the stuttering Leah. She held her hand out somewhat awkwardly, but it had felt like the only thing she could do. “I’m Keye,” she said again.

Leah slipped her hand into Keye’s, not shaking it, but just holding it there for a moment before threading her fingers purposefully through hers and nodding. “Yes, you are.” Leah’s whole face brightened into one of incandescent happiness as light tears shone in her dark eyes. Keye was on the verge of losing it and letting this wave of joy rush over her and spill from her tear ducts.

There she was.

Shortly after, Keye skipped town that night with Leah and sealed her fate. She just disappeared. No one even realized she was gone, and her parents just thought that she went back to campus early. Leah was prone to disappearing spells, so there was no connection made there either apparently.

Maya’s head swum up out of the story and looked over at Leah who was leaning against the sink with her hands outstretched next to her, smiling softly at Keye.

“And after I moved in, I took this semester off—” Keye continued after a moment.

“Wait what?!” Maya snapped out of it and jerked her head toward Keye, her eyes wide with shock.

“My, come on,” Keye groaned, “What is it with you and school? It’s not that big a deal.” Keye said half heartedly.

Just because Maya had a vice grip on school didn’t mean everyone else needed to maintain that level of intensity to make school an important part of their lives. Just look at what it did to her and Paul. She willed her body to relax as she shook her head, glancing quickly at Leah for any back up and finding none.

“No, no,” Maya tried backpedaling, controlling the features on her face to remain impassive, “I just mean, I didn’t realize! I should have realized.”

Keye leveled her with an expectant stare, a small smile on her face. Maya was trying to keep her lips clamped shut so she didn’t ask the question she really wanted to ask.

After about thirty seconds though, Maya burst: “But why though?!”

So much for self control.

Keye couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. Leah looked on with a bit of concern on her face.

“Sometimes, things just work out that way, My. But don’t worry, I’ll go back and finish up,” Keye proclaimed, “Just for you.”

Maya smiled and shook her head. That soft concerned look was still pulling at Leah’s features as she continued to watch Keye carefully.

Maya spent the day putzing around Seattle with Leah and Keye visiting some of their favorite local haunts. They even stopped in a few local bookshops and let Maya wander for as long as she liked. She discovered some old chemistry books that she fell in love with and was thoroughly brightened despite the low hanging clouds over Seattle as they walked down hidden side streets.

The three grabbed lunch at a little sandwich shop not far from Leah’s bike shop. When Keye got up to use the bathroom, Maya casually stayed behind to Keye’s chagrin. Leah was trying to stuff the butt end of her meatball sub fully into her mouth, sauce dripping down her chin in an endearing way as she hunched her shoulders over the low table.

Leah had been pretty tight lipped about her estrangement from the pack but now that Maya had her alone, she wondered if without Keye’s constant frown whenever the pack was brought up, she could ask her about it.

“What?” Leah said around her mouthful. Maya hadn’t realized she had been staring, marveling even at this intensely, wonderful woman who had captured Keye’s heart and taken care of her best friend so completely.

“Nothing, sorry, I—” Maya stumbled and ran a hand through her shaggy hair, frizzed by the gentle rain they had walked through to get here. Maya exhaled through her nose trying to gather her thoughts about how to ask but instead, Leah spoke:

“You’re sure you want to go back?” Leah chewed valiantly and Maya couldn’t help but let her mouth hang open a bit in surprise. That wasn’t…. “No offense, but you seem torn. And I never try to make hard decisions when I’m on the fence.”

Maya closed her mouth abruptly and shook her head to try and clear any confusion that Leah could see in her eyes, “No, I…I need to go home. It’s time to go home. Not forever, but..just for now.”

“Tortured him enough, then?”

Maya’s eyes shot up to meet Leah’s in shock, but that feeling quickly faded when she saw that gleam of mischief in Leah’s eyes. She hadn’t meant it the way everyone else would have.

“I guess,” Maya shrugged. “I do miss him, though.” That was an understatement.

“Of course you do,” Leah tucked back into the table scavenging chips from Keye’s plate. “Regardless of what you know, and regardless of what you feel, the imprint should always show you true north,” the sound of crunching chips perforated Maya’s concentration, “Or so they say.”

“What do you think then? About the imprint, I mean, now that you have it?” Maya challenged. Leah took a moment, always thoughtful, never rash in her conversation. Just clear and true and decided.

“I think the imprint is different for everyone. So if anyone tries to tell you what to do with it, you should take that with a grain of salt. Listen to what it says to you, trust that,” Leah shrugged.

Maya paused at that and really tried to let that sink in. Everyone had tried to tell her what the imprint was meant to do, what it was based on legend. But it had been hard between her and Paul since the beginning. Some parts were easy, when they were just together and there was nothing else, but most other things were hard—harder than the other imprints at least. So much so, that Maya and Paul had wondered for a while if there was something wrong with them.

“I will say though,” Leah’s voice suddenly turned serious. Maya met her eyes and was taken aback by the sheer intensity at which they bored into her, “While I don’t know how your imprint works, I do know Paul.” Maya gulped, “And I can say without a doubt in my mind that he loves you with every cell in his body.”

Maya let out a sigh. She knew that of course and so she could only say as much, “I know.” Her voice came out hoarse.

“But he’s also a bit of an idiot. Emotionally, I mean. The guy was abandoned by everyone when he was a kid and then was swallowed by anger for most of his adult life. He’s only found his way through in maybe the past five years. That’s still no excuse for how he’s been with you, but still. That man comes with baggage and I do not envy you that task of unpacking it all,” Leah brushed her hands together to get off the excess crumbs.

There wasn’t enough that Maya knew about Paul’s past. He’d told her the basics, but she’d gotten more information about Paul’s dad from her own mother and that was a wobbly source.

“Speaking of members of the pack,” Maya said quickly, “do you think you’ll ever come back to the rez?”

Leah let out a gentle laugh and shook her head, “Not unless they need me.”

“Do they not need you now?” Maya quirked an eyebrow. Leah once again leveled her with that intense stare.

“Cute girls are always too brave for their own good,” Leah leaned back and stretched her arms behind Keye’s chair just as she slid back into it.

“You guys can stop talking about me now,” Keye said dramatically as she shook her hair away from her face. She shot Maya a knowing look to which she rolled her eyes.

Leah leaned forward just enough to kiss Keye’s shoulder and said softly, “Never, babe.”

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—-<<Trigger warning: mentions of abortion in this next section>>---

Maya and Keye cuddled up in the guest bed that Maya was sleeping in with a laptop between them that night watching an old 90’s vampire movie. Leah had disappeared downstairs into her shop to get some work done.

As one of the main vampires looked out over a burning city, Keye readjusted her head on Maya’s shoulder as Yodel let out a soft sigh at the end of the bed. Somehow, it had felt like no time had passed at all.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Keye asked softly. Maya stared at the screen as she tried to reconcile her worry into something else.

“I think so,” she breathed in and about before continuing, “It feels like the right time to go back. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“True north,” Keye muttered softly.

“Jesus, you guys really are in deep, huh?” Maya joked and Keye giggled.

“I don’t know, probably. She was there for me when everyone was either busy or gone. I don’t think that was the imprint either, she just…knew I needed her and she stayed,” Keye was quiet. Maya’s heart rate picked up as she realized her mistake in shutting everyone out. Even if Keye had said that she had understood why Maya did it, she knew she had hurt people who didn’t deserve it for the sake of her own peace. Keye, and a lot of others deserved more than that.

“Keye, I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should have stayed in contact, I know that. It all just felt hard and this was easier. But I shouldn’t have done the easy thing….not when it comes to you or Becks,” Maya scrunched in closer to Keye.

“It really is okay, My. I get it. I disappeared too, you know. Just…tell us next time.”

“I promise,” Maya breathed. “But I don’t plan on disappearing again. I didn’t even mean to fully disappear before, it was just….easier that way. But it wasn’t fair to your or Becks, so I promise.”

The vampire on screen looked wide eyed at the little girl who was drinking from an older woman. She looked so small, so innocent. Her too-young youth, eternally frozen in time.

“I have to tell you something,” Keye breathed, her voice hitching at the end as if she was unsure.

“What?” Maya said softly, looking down at the side of her face. Keye sat up and Maya turned toward her, realizing that her face was pulled tight with pain. “What is it?” she reached for Keye’s hands that were clasped tightly in her lap but pulled back when she flinched slightly as if being touched might be too much at the moment. “Are you okay?”

“I am..I am. I really am. I need you to know that I am okay going into this,” Keye’s voice wobbled slightly as she sat up straight, before leaning back against the headboard.

“You’re kind of scaring me, Keye,” Maya said slowly as she pressed pause on the movie and sat up too, crossing her legs in front of her and turning her whole body to face Keye. The looks that flitted across her face were hard to read but as Keye bit her lip, Maya knew this was something more.

“I…” Keye began slowly, her eyes on her hands that fidgeted in her lap. Maya leaned over and covered both of her hands with her own. Keye swallowed hard, tears forming at the corner of her eyes but never falling before looking up at Maya.

There was silence, strong and solid between them, and Maya just let it hang there to give her the space to say what it was she needed to say.

“I left the rez because something h-happened,” Keye’s voice was quieter now and Maya listened carefully as soft rain started to patter on the windows above the bed. It was another few moments before Keye continued, “Colin and I were still dating and we were…things were going okay.”

A cold feeling slid into Maya’s stomach, but she held her breath to keep from thinking the worst.

“He and I were…well it doesn’t really matter, but things were going well and it was like…four days before Seth and Sadie’s wedding and I wasn’t really feeling good. Just kind of off you know?” Keye took in a breath and Maya heard the sound shudder through her, “And I…I thought that maybe I was…Fuck,” Keye wiped the tear that had escaped from the corner of her eyes and coasted down her cheek.

“You were what?” Maya asked softly, concern laid plainly on her face. Keye tilted her head and gave Maya a knowing look as she frowned. Maya waited.

“That I was pregnant,” Keye hiccuped softly and Maya let loose the breath.

“Oh.” The word came out small and barely there. Just above a whisper. Keye stared down at her hands again, playing with the tips of Maya’s fingers. “Were you?” Maya prompted gently, leaning her head down to capture Keye’s eyes.

Keye shut them tightly and the tears fiercely rolled now as she nodded.

“Okay, okay,” Maya looked over her shoulder toward the door wondering if Leah knew…if she knew Keye was… Her gaze flitted over Keye’s body to try and discern how far along she was, but she looked entirely the same. “How far along are—”

Maya was cut off by Keye shaking her head slowly, as hot tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Maya furrowed her brow, confused. Everything was coming at her so fast and she was just trying to piece every part of the puzzle together but felt like she was missing information. When realization dawned on her, her eyes widened with sadness, “You lost it…” she breathed. “Oh, Keye—” Maya reached out to stroke her shoulder, scooting closer but Keye stopped her.

“Not exactly.” Keye said, wetly. She swallowed hard and forced herself to sit up straight. Her eyes were harder now, and through the tears Maya thought she saw Keye watching her carefully for any reaction that would make her shutter completely. Maya’s mouth hung open again in momentary confusion before she said even softer, her breath barely a whisper, “Oh.”

She blinked rapidly as it all sank in. Of course. Maya kept her face neutral, soft, and open as she watched Keye watching her. Keye’s eyes flicked all around her face, trying to scan for any disapproval, or upset, and that made Maya worry that she had encountered some judgment from her circle.

Maya reached out and grasped Keye’s hand softly in hers and gave her a soft nod, “It’s okay, Keye. That’s totally your decision.”

But Keye was silent, watching her as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maya let the air hang between them a moment longer before she said, “Do you want to tell me about it?” Keye grimaced. “Or tell me why?” Keye crumbled slightly at that. “Let’s start with an easier question… And you don’t have to answer anything at all if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that any answer you do give is enough reason and enough justification for the decision you made.” Maya dipped her head to meet Keye’s eyes. Only then did she see her gaze soften with trust again. “It’s enough,” she reinforced. Maya tried to emphasize that love with her eyes as well and held Keye’s gaze.

When Keye finally nodded, sagging with relief, Maya scooted closer so that their knees were touching, “When did you find out?” She wiped gently at Keye’s tears.

“Just after I met Leah…Like I said, I hadn’t been feeling great up until Seth and Sadie’s wedding, but after I met Leah, it was like I needed to know, you know?” Maya nodded and just let Keye go.

“I drove out of town to get a pregnancy test. That whole fucking tribe has eyes everywhere you know and I didn’t want to risk it getting back to…well, I bought three and I was in a fucking gas station bathroom in Beaverton with a full bottle of gatorade just…waiting for what felt like forever,” Keye stopped then and gulped down air.

Maya was pushing her hair out of her face and stroking her thumb over her hand. “And then it was like…everything stopped you know. It was real…three times it was real. And I….I panicked,” Keye was looking around the room now, the guilt just absolutely pulling her in different directions. “I didn’t want anyone to find out. At least until I could just think for a bit you know. You know how they are about babies, if they had gotten wind that I…and it was Colin’s? No way, game over.”

A fresh sob broke through Keye’s chest. She opened her mouth a couple of times to speak and couldn’t so Maya let her breathe through it, allowing her the space to continue or stop. But she carried on as if she needed to say it out loud, “I knew I didn’t want it, My. And I just felt….bad. I felt bad because, I don’t know…fuck I don’t know why should I feel bad, you know?” Maya just nodded. She understood guilt like that. “I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t go back to the rez. And so I…I called Leah and she came and got me, no questions asked.”

Thank god, Maya thought. Thank god for Leah, because Maya could just see herself so clearly mirrored in this same situation. She was so grateful that her best friend had someone like Leah to come and protect her the way she needed to be protected.

“It took me a week to tell her. And she was just…ugh,” Keye reached for a tissue next to the bed and blew her nose before saying, “She was just perfect, you know? She knew just what to say and what to do and…” Keye’s eyes sparkled for a moment as she looked at Maya. Maya couldn’t help but give her a sad, knowing smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, imprints are great,” she joked, rolling her eyes before squeezing her hand. Keye smiled sadly, looking down at their joined hands.

“She told me that whatever I wanted to do, it was the right decision. And that I didn’t need to tell anyone if I didn’t want to, because it was my body. She was just…there. All the time for me. I-I don’t know if I could have done all this without her but…she held my hand through it all and I…” Keye looked up at Maya, her eyes sure and firm now, “I don’t regret it.”

Maya shook her head, “You shouldn’t. That was your decision, and I still love you just as you are.” Keye smiled, bigger this time and nodded.

“Still fucks with me though,” she said, resigned.

“Yeah well, they never said being a woman would be easy,” Maya pulled her into a tight hug. Keye held on so hard, she thought her ribs popped, “I love you.” Maya breathed into her hair.

For a while they just sat there, hugging, listening to each other breathe. Maya hoped her decisions

— << end trigger warning>> ---

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November, 1 year ago….

Go see the elders.

Jacob’s voice echoed and roiled in Paul’s ears as he worked away at the lower deck in the back garden. The cool November air whipped round Paul as he worked at setting wood planks on his foundation. The chill did nothing to bring down his temperature though. Paul was running more than hot these days—he was constantly burning up, as if an unbreakable fever clung to him since Maya left.

Left him.

Paul stalled, his hands stilling on the wood as he closed his eyes tightly against his last memory of her, tear stricken and shaking her head at him. I won’t. She had said to him that she wouldn’t stay. Not for anyone, not even for him. And that tore him to pieces and set him on fire. And ever since, he’d been burning.

Paul forced his eyes back open and worked to refocus them on that task at hand. Work on the house always gave him some temporary peace, but he could never truly escape that hollowness that deepened and ached, threatening to drive him mad before the first snow would melt.

He couldn’t even bring himself to go on rounds at this point. But no one blamed him. No one even came looking for him. He chalked that up to Jacob, citing space, citing time, citing…whatever it was Paul was supposed to find during his time of abandonment.

Because that’s what it was, anyway you shook it out, he was simply abandoned. Again.

Go see the elders.

Jacob’s voice persisted in his head, sounding firmer, angrier each time that Paul refused whether internally or externally. What would the elders do for him exactly? They got him into this mess in the first place. Setting unrealistic expectations, putting pressure on them, coaxing them along with arbitrary milestones. They wouldn’t let up with their pleading eyes and knowing conversations until Maya was pregnant. Jesus. Paul skated quickly away from that thought and continued working on the deck.

Plus, what could the elders say to him now? Maya was gone, and all he could do was hope that she’d come back. A ripple of anger ran down Paul’s spine as he gritted his teeth. Suddenly he felt like he was six years old again, sitting on the stoop of his dad’s double wide as thunder promised rain overhead. Waiting for someone who might never return. He hated that feeling. And what he hated more was how that anger that he once thought was well and truly tempered began to roil viciously within him again.

Go see the elders.

Jacob’s tone turned into a rough growl in his head and Paul couldn’t stand it anymore. The hammer that had gone so still in his hand now shook and he reared back before hurling it with all his might without a care of where it landed. It connected with something far off, a tree perhaps, that shook its occupants free and had them flying off in a hurry.

Paul let out a harsh breath as he tried to swallow the well of emotion building in him. If he was being honest, he hadn’t done so well since Maya had left. To be fair, that might actually be an understatement. As hot, unshed tears brimmed his dark eyes, he stood with his hands lightly rested on his hips.

“Fine,” he said to no one in particular, “I’ll go see the elders.” Paul headed off in the direction of his lost hammer.

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

The next morning, Maya and Keye stumbled into the kitchen together after having fallen asleep, exhausted from their conversation the night before.

Today was the day Maya planned to return to La Push and she would be lying if she wasn’t a bit nervous.

But, even more nerve wracking was Keye’s request to drive her into the rez. After last night, Keye had woken up feeling better, but she had told Maya sleepily that she needed to go home to fix some things too.

It only made sense that she would come with her, but still, the thought of Keye having another conversation last night made Maya ache, especially if she wouldn’t be as accepted by the others—least of all the council.

But Keye had assured her that Leah and her had talked about this and that she felt ready after unloading a little on Maya last night. She could do it and even more so, she felt like she needed to, to continue to heal and grow past it.

Now, hunched over their individual bowls of cereal as Leah watched from her place leaned up against the counter, both women held an air of dread about them.

Leah took a bite of cereal and said suddenly to Maya: “You know he’s going to know you’re there as soon as you cross the boundary, right?”

At this, Maya couldn’t help a small shiver run through her. He’d know she was there, but what he would do about it was still up in the air.

A few hours later, Keye pulled up the familiar, neatly paved driveway to the house. If it wasn’t for the familiar blue stone, Maya might not have even clocked that they were at her house. There’s been so much work done to it, almost as if someone frantically decided to build with unbridled purpose and determination.

“Holy shit,” Keye breathed as she looked through her windshield of Leah’s Subaru. They both sat in stunned silence for a moment, mouths slightly agape. Then Maya replied weakly,

“Yeah.”

The little blue house wasn’t so little anymore.

“Did you know he was—uh,” Keye faltered to complete her sentence so Maya just answered:

“No. This is…” Maya was lost for words.

“Yeah,” Keye breathed. Finally, she tore her eyes away from the house and looked over at Maya. “So, are you ready?”

“Are you?” Maya said back just as hesitantly. Keye considered it for a moment and then just shrugged.

“Yeah, why not?” She answered with a small smile. Maya exhaled a breath through her nose and nodded. Why not.

She pushed open the door and stood slowly on the dark paved driveway that was dotted with solar lights that would guide her in at night. She grabbed her duffel bag and backpack from the backseat and shut both doors with purpose.

Keye only pulled back up the driveway once Maya had opened the front door. But Maya stayed frozen on the threshold for a moment, marveling at what lay within.

The quaint front entryway had been completely opened and transformed into a wide open expansive living room that wrapped around the staircase that was now exposed on either side. Off to the right of the living room where there had only been a stone wall before, Paul had put in a cozy office, the entryway was arched and held two driftwood french doors, the glass mingling perfectly with the hand carved wood.

Maya peeked in, her eyes coasting over the back wall behind the raw edged desk that was packed books in the floor to ceiling bookshelves. An oversized, plush chair was nestled neatly next to the bookshelves and the bay window that looked out into the woods. A small iron fireplace had been installed in a free corner. It was…perfect for lack of a better word.

Maya spun on her heel and carried on toward the back of the house. The kitchen had been further expanded, a large warm wood island stretched across the expansive green tile. New appliances had been installed, the cabinets fitted and hand carved with intricate designs to heighten the simplicity of the sleek and soft kitchen around it.

Someone had been busy. Maya wrapped her arms around herself and glanced across the space. It was all so beautiful and different. But it still somehow felt like her home. It held the exact warmth and memory as before, just opened more to welcome new memories.

Outside the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky into the late afternoon. She pushed aside the long sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. A hanging bed flocked in white gossamer curtains and shaded by a partially covered pergola hung seductively off to the side. The deck had been expanded to include three levels, each holding a different space to gather with cozy chairs, firepits, and hand carved weather-proofed wooden tables.

The most impressive thing that she had seen thus far though was the renovated workshop. Paul had completely rebuilt it, expanded it, and settled it a little further back onto the neighboring property. It almost looked the size of his studio in Seattle now, but he had built the entire front with reclaimed antique windows so that she could easily see into the intricate workspace within.The beveled glass glittered in the winter sun and made the entire backyard sparkle. It even held a second story loft that looked out toward the ocean.

The cold November breeze rolled over Maya and she took a deep breath. She knew the kind of frenzied state he must have been in when he started building all of this. As a distraction. To keep him from feeling that hollowing pain that she herself felt almost every day when she had left. It was heartbreaking what they’d done to each other. But there was no getting around it now.

Still, the most surprising thing was, he wasn’t here. Maya looked over her shoulder back into the house. Maybe she could find the keys to her Jeep, now neatly tucked away in the newly built two-car garage in the adjacent lot that Paul must have purchased to make all of these renovations.

With Paul nowhere in sight, she let out a long breath. She guessed she could go to Emily and Sam’s and look for him there. That’s what she needed to do—she needed to find him.

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

February, 9 months ago…

Paul stood on the aging and worn steps of the last elder front porch in the icy rain that was oscillating annoyingly into sleet. As he looked around the front porch, shirtless and drenched in cold rain that steamed off of him, he noticed the wood rot close to the house where the porch met and made a mental note to come back and repair it once the weather cleared.

After a few more seconds, Elder Ti’Hal slowly pulled open the door, a wool woven shawl hanging heavy over her shoulders. Her bright white hair was braiding neatly into two plaits.

Elder Ti’Hal was truly ancient. And Paul didn’t mean that in a negative way at all. She radiated the distilled essence and teachings of their tribe. She was an elder before Paul was even born and he’d never known her without her bright white hair framing her wrinkled, warm face.

She still managed to move fairly quickly and with agility that wouldn’t normally be attributed to someone of her age, but that was the mystery of elder Ti’Hal. She also never attended council meetings or bonfires anymore, and instead preferred to stay in her quiet cottage in the forest that she had shared with her husband before his passing over two decades ago.

“Paul Lahote,” she said softly. “To what do I owe this very wet appearance?”

Paul scowled off to the side, his jaw clenching so hard he thought his teeth might crack. He hadn’t realized it, but he was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort of it. When he didn’t answer she just nodded gravely.

“Come in,” she walked back into her small, warm, wooden home and Paul only hesitated for a second in the cold rain before he ducked under the tiny threshold and entered. “Let me get you a towel,” she grumbled.

“Don’t bother,” he said, his tone coming out harsher than he intended.

“For my couch then,” she was already digging in the small linen closet and produced a worn, threadbare towel that she draped across her couch for gesturing to it. “Sit.” she commanded.

Paul had forgotten how bossy the elders were. He trudged across the living room, careful not to trip on the woven Quileute rug before he slumped down onto the couch in a huff. A warm fire crackled off to his left and Elder Ti’Hal had disappeared around a corner into her tiny kitchen and was clanging around with a kettle.

“Do you want to start or should I?” Elder Ti’Hal called from the kitchen. Paul was still breathing heavily, the ache in his stomach crescendoing to a harsh beat. He may have groaned painfully in response, but he was too distracted by the unrelenting pain the imprint was causing him. “Right,” Elder Ti’Hal came around the corner with two hand thrown mugs in her hand steaming with what Paul hoped was something stronger than tea.

She handed him his mug and when he took a whiff, he nearly threw it begrudgingly into the fire.

“What pains you today, Paul Lahote?” she began. Paul shook his head, trying to find the right place to start, but nothing came to him, so instead he said,

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she sipped slowly from her mug.

“Call me by my first and last name. It’s not like you haven’t known me before I was born. Both names seem overkill don’t you think?”

He shifted uncomfortably on the warm, plush couch as she leveled him with her gaze and took her time answering.

“It’s more to remind you than me,” she said cryptically. Paul scoffed:

“Oh believe me, I know who I am.”

“Do you?” she replied quickly. Paul glared at her full on now and leaned forward, his mug still cradled between both hands.

“She didn’t come home for Christmas. She didn’t come home for Seth and Sadie’s wedding. Nothing. Not a fucking peep from her,” he could feel the tension in his body snap, the anger flowing through his veins freely now. He trembled slightly—this wasn’t his first time having to channel unchecked rage through himself and he doubted Ti’Hal would appreciate him exploding into a giant wolf and shredding her comfortable living room to pieces.

Instead, Paul glued his eyes to the fire, trying to let the anger move through him and then out of him to be consumed and burned away by the fire. But every time he breathed in, it felt like ash flooding his mouth, the embers of that anger still hotter than anything else within him.

“What does one do with so much anger?” she posed the question suddenly. Paul looked up at her wide-eyed as if shocked by the fact that she could see it on him. He was naive to think that much anger wouldn’t still be palpable to someone as attuned as her. Paul rolled his jaw and sat staring at her, waiting for the anger to ebb, but it wouldn’t.

Fuck.

Elder Ti’Hal settled back into her large armchair covered in different soft, worn blankets. When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, she glanced out the window, watching the rain settle into a gentle drizzle.

“What do you think the imprint is, Paul?” her voice was warm with a gentle thrum to it like dried maize kernels pouring into a stone bowl. Comforting, consistent. It was maddening to say the least, so Paul continued in his aggravated tone, feeling the heat rise on his skin.

“An anchor for packmates. A promise for imprints. It’s a reason to stay.”

“Hmm,” she breathed, her eyes still on the window watching the rain make trails to the muddied window ledge. Paul huffed, rubbing his hands against his knees with impatience. A fucking waste of time, he thought as he clenched his jaw. “But it wasn’t reason enough for her to stay?”

When her eyes slowly drifted back toward him, Paul looked ready to burst into flames.

“Clearly not. I can’t go get her because I’ve been ordered to stay away, but also….she doesn’t want me to come,” his voice was quiet. He waited for her to speak again but she just stared at him sadly. A deathly calm rolled over him and he thought that if Ti’Hal didn’t say something soon, he might just give up and collapse in on himself like a dying star.

“What is it then? The imprint?” Paul asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Ti’Hal smiled slowly, warmth creeping into her eyes as she tilted her head to the side and surveyed Paul thoroughly. She took her time before she finally said:

“A choice.”

Paul tried to quiet the tremors radiating through his body. If the imprint was a choice, then Maya had clearly not chosen him. Never. Not even from the start. The thought of it made his blood boil. His face twisted in rage before he spat out.

“What the fuck does that mean? How is it a fucking choice when it’s supposedly pre-ordained from the ancestors? That makes no fucking sense, you know that right?” Paul was on his feet without remembering when exactly he stood up. His hands were curled into fists and his chest was rising and falling quickly. He needed to calm down. If he could just calm down he could…

Ti’Hal just watched him with that serene look on her face, as if nothing fazed her anymore and the anger of a full blown werewolf couldn’t even shake her. Paul tried breathing, closing his eyes, counting to ten, but nothing could quell this desperate anger that spiraled and felt like lead dropping into the bottom of his stomach.

Why was it always like this? This anger? It was like a tide that he couldn’t escape. Like clockwork it would just rush over him and pull him under in seconds and there was nothing he felt like he could do about it. It was an exposed wire in his veins just ticking and twitching with so much heat and sharpness that he felt his skin would burn away and leave him exposed and vulnerable.

“Have you given her a choice?” Ti’Hal’s voice cut through the raging quiet like a whip, but her voice still remained calm. He tried to focus on that—that there was calm to be achieved and he could reach it. He could reach the shore if he just stayed calm. He was panting, losing his breath every moment he kept himself solid and here.

“I thought I did…but I wasn’t given one either,” he thought back to the moment the imprint had happened. Seeing her there across the fire. It was like an instant salve to a long forgotten pain. And then in the next moment, he was all resistance and rage again. Nothing felt like a choice when it came to the imprint. “We…we didn’t have time to make that choice,” Paul tried to slow his breathing. Calm, in and out, just like the waves. Not sinking but drifting.

“Some see the imprint as a gift, but that’s also just a choice wrapped up in a nice bow, in my opinion. It is a choice, Paul Lahote. You’ve made plenty in your very short life so far, but it is one that you give to her and wait until she makes it. It’s a question, and not a command and it can take many forms. You’re part is making sure you ask her the right one,” she watched his body language shift ever so slightly. “Miss Sunriviere was told that you were her imprint, told that there was to be in a relationship, and then told what her life would most likely be, in so many words.” Paul opened his mouth to retort but she continued anyway, “You are her choice. So ask the question and be patient for once. And most importantly, be vulnerable to her answer,” Ti’Hal took a moment to sip her tea. Paul tried to let those words sink in.

He was vulnerable with her. Her absence had nearly destroyed him, was that not vulnerable enough?

“No, not that,” Ti’Hal responded as if she could hear his thoughts. Paul’s eyes widened.

“What’s the question, then? The one I should ask?” Paul said desperately, his voice rasping as he realized he had been holding his body tensely throughout Ti’Hal’s speech.

“Start with the answer you want and work your way back from there,” she gave a cryptic smile and stood, disappearing behind her kitchen door and singing softly to herself, unceremoniously excusing him.

Paul stood there for a while longer, rapidly breathing, and listening to Ti’Hal singing the songs of his childhood in her kitchen, muffled and sweet. ------------------------------------------

The door to her Jeep shut with a sharp click as Maya shrugged on her cropped puffy jacket. Much as she had suspected, the keys to Maya’s Jeep were in the sun visor, as if waiting for her. The whole drive to Sam and Emily’s felt…calm. As if she were driving toward something rather than into something. There was no sweeping dread, no overwhelming nervousness—she just felt ready. She chocked that up to just time. The time away had made her ready for home, refreshed her.

Sam and Emily’s looked the same as it always did—warm and inviting with a steady stream of smoke coming from the chimney. It was familiar and as she took in a deep breath, the cold November air spiced with pine and fallen leaves, with a hint of the salty Pacific sent a pleasant reassuring thrum through her body.

Maya stood by her Jeep for a moment just taking it in, before the potential chaos—whether it would be angry or joyful—would be wrought on her. Just the quiet creak of the forest, a distant river rushing toward the sea, and muffled laughter booming from within the home.

Maya took a deep breath and took a couple of steps forward, her feet crunching on the wet gravel. She hadn’t made it more than a few steps when the screen door opened and Paul walked out slowly onto the porch, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. Maya halted, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met his.

She braced herself for whatever awaited her, but still that pulsing calm spread through her. It all felt…alright. And she hadn’t felt that way in so long. She watched in for just a moment as he stood on the top step of the porch, his face neutral before it broke into an earth shattering smile.

Maya could have sobbed at the sight of it. He sauntered down the steps toward and it took all of her self control not to break into a full on sprint to quickly close the distance between them. Somehow she managed a quick walk and nearly crashed into his body, but he held her fast, one arm coming out to wrap around her waist as his other hand cupped her jaw. He peered down at her, that warm smile still spilling sunshine in every direction and she stared up at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

He shook his head lightly and smiled, as his thumb reached up to gently brush across her lower lip, parting them softly.

“You came home,” he said gently, the emotion clearly wavering in his deep voice. Maya nearly crumbled at his touch. She was home.

“Yes,” she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it was…time,” she paused when he raised his eyebrows at her, a hint of humor and warmth in his eyes then quickly clarified: “For a visit.”

But this didn’t seem to faze him. He just nodded gently, humming in acceptance with that warm, pleased look on his face as he took her all in. There was a palpable vibration happening between them, what Maya could only assume was a physical manifestation of the imprint’s tension.

The last time she had seen him on the rez was over a year ago. And yet, time washed away and parted to let them stand there together again as if nothing had passed, as if this was any other day. Comfortable.

Maya’s hands shook she gripped the sides of his abdomen. She’d come all this way to say….to say what exactly? Her mouth parted softly but nothing came out. She needed to say something, anything. The silence stretched between them and Maya just couldn’t let it hang there any longer. How could she? After he had left her in that hotel room, and how it had felt coming home again—she needed to tell him everything.

He was tall, god so tall, he towered over her really, and yet she felt like his matching pair.

“Welcome home,” he said gently, his nose nuzzling hers gently.

Maya looked up at him curiously, her eyes slightly narrowed as she took him in. His dark beard was closely trimmed to his face, and his hair was a bit shorter than the last time she saw it. He looked good. Well, he always looked good, but this was different.

His eyes seemed bright, not clouded with the anger or jealousy she had seen back in the spring. No, this Paul felt solid, for once. The light was shining on his face, his color back to its warm russet, flush with heat and health. Everything felt simpler.

And with the confusion and despair that had once clung to that hollowness in her stomach from the imprint’s ache clearing completely, she felt like she could see clearly for the first time in awhile. She was worried momentarily that maybe it was just the trick of the imprint, beckoning her in—a salve to her burning anxiety.

But staring up at Paul, there was an openness there that hadn’t been there before. Something that she wanted to discover and ask him about. For now though, as his hand slowly threaded into her hair and pulled her close, this was all that she needed.

Finally, after watching her with such intensity, such heat, as if trying to rememorize every part of her face he lowered his head toward hers and crashed their lips together. It was like coming up for air after swimming beneath a current for too long. His kiss pressed new life into her and she arched her body fully into his, her curve slotting into the shape of his body just so as he held her against him.

Paul moved his mouth over hers, slow and wanting, washing the ache of their absence away. There was no succumbing this time, just an equal measure of elation at being together again, and Maya felt that familiar sensation of something clicking into place and she saw it for what it was: being in the right place at the right time.

She sighed into his mouth and heard him give a soft groan of pleasure before the air rang with the hoots and howls of his brothers. He pulled back gently, his eyes hooded and soft as he looked at her. Paul glanced over his shoulder at his pack crowded onto the porch and gave a gentle laugh before looking back, his eyes shining with something new as he said gruffly, “I guess they missed you too.”

Maya swallowed thickly and laughed, not willing to let go of him first. But he took her cue and said, “Come inside, I’m sure they all have a million questions.” Paul kissed her forehead before turning and slotting her neatly into his side as they walked the short distance to the porch.

“Hey, hey Ivy League!” Jared crooned.

“Welcome back, My,” Seth said softly.

“We needed a little more brains around here,” Colin laughed as Brady shoved him lightly.

“Maya?!” a soft, female voice floated out from the front door as Maya and Paul climbed the porch steps. Becks pushed her way through the pack crowded on the porch and started sobbing instantly upon seeing her. She was heavily pregnant, and Jacob wasn’t far behind her as she nearly dropped into Maya’s arms in a hug, squeezing her so tightly she thought she cracked a rib.

“Oh my god!” she cried into her shoulder. Maya chuckled and rubbed soft circles on her back as she looked over her shoulder at Jacob who shrugged and looked lovingly at his hormonally devastated wife. Becks pulled back to look at Maya, her face puffy and tear stricken, “You absolute JERK!” Maya barked a laugh at that and tried to wipe some tears away from Becks’ cheeks. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again. I thought— I thought—,”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Maya said, pulling her best friend back into a hug. “I should have texted.” Becks hiccuped a sound of disapproval, “Or called.” Maya corrected. When she pulled back, Becks nodded, seemingly trying to get herself calm as Jacob settled a hand on her lower back. Maya’s eyes widened as she took in just how pregnant she was.

“Yeah, I know,” Becks said disappointed, “He’s like a week late.” She truly looked exhausted and the size of her belly stretched to almost painful extent. Jacob rubbed her back and leaned down to kiss her temple.

“He’ll come soon, babe,” he promised. “Plus, Maya’s here. That’s literally all the good luck we need to induce your labor. Like last time.”

Maya laughed again and shrugged, “Just no vampire delivery this time, right?” she quipped. Jacob rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But, Carlisle is on standby if the water birth stalls or we need quick intervention,” Jacob said nonchalantly.

“What the fuck is a water birth?” Brady whispered to no one in particular.

“Come inside, come inside,” Becks waved a hand and with Paul’s hand on her waist gently, Maya let the warm, comforting Uley home swallow her up.

They stayed at Sam and Emily’s until late in the evening, laughing and swapping stories. Paul stayed next to her, his presence relaxed and content, which was so unlike the tense and overwhelmingly protectiveness he had always exhibited before she left.

She glanced over at him a couple times, and each time, he caught her eye and gave her a smile. One that promised nothing but exactly what he was in that moment. And it made her…happy.

When she started to yawn, Paul took that as an opportunity to lean over and whisper softly against her ear, “Let’s go home.”

Maya nodded immediately and they said their quick goodbyes to those remaining there, promising to come back tomorrow for lunch and babywatch.

When they pulled up to the house in Maya’s Jeep, she couldn’t stifle her laughter quickly enough before Paul looked toward her amused and said:

“You don’t like it?” he asked, not even a little offended. If she didn’t know any better, there might be a slight teasing tone to his voice.

“No, no! It’s beautiful, I—,” she shut her eyes tightly to quell the rising emotion in her stomach from burning behind her eyes for too long. “It’s beautiful, Paul. You’ve clearly been busy, but I’m not sure why you did all this work.” Liar, the voice inside her quipped.

The corner of Paul’s mouth pulled up in a smug grin beneath his closely trimmed beard, “Bullshit,” he replied, maybe to that voice in her head. Maya blushed and shook her head at the soft teasing tone.

They hopped out of the car and came around the front into each other’s sides, arms weaving effortlessly over each other’s waists like magnets pulled them together, as they walked toward the house.

“Well, why else would you feel the need to renovate our entire house? It’s not like we needed to. The house was…fine, before,” she swallowed a gasp on the last two words as Paul confidently reached for her hip and tugged her closer, pulling her body flush with his. He stopped her, his other hand came up to rest on the side of her neck and threaded through her hair at the nape of her neck.

He chuckled and Maya felt the warm rumbling vibration of it stumble through her body and land in her belly. “Shut up,” he said with a gentle smile. Maya couldn’t help her returning grin before she quickly wiped it from her face.

“Seriously, if this is what happens every time I leave, I’m going to have to have someone confiscate your power tools,” his warm breath fanned across her face as he sighed, his eyes dancing around taking her all in in this light. How did he do that? Look at her like he was seeing the most incredible thing he’d ever laid eyes upon for the first time, and yet, the familiarity of his gaze said he’d known her forever, lifetimes before even. She let her hands rest on his chest now as she looked up at him.

“I forgot how much of a little shit you are,” he teased.

“Me?! Really, you're a menace to homes everywhere—” Maya was cut off as she shrieked with delight as Paul growled, squeezing her hip and biting her neck, his rough stubble tickling beneath her chin as he backed her over the threshold of the house and kicked the door shut behind him.

Once inside, he grabbed her under her thighs and carried her effortlessly up the stairs toward their bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers. Maya wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself sink deeper into the kiss. Nothing was hurried—for once.

When he lowered her gently onto the bed, his hands coasted across her thighs and unbuttoned her jeans. He peeled them off her slowly, kissing down her body and pausing to press an open mouthed kiss to delicate V between her thighs. Maya watched him, her eyes hooded with desire as he took his time kissing back up her bare legs once her jeans were discarded, pulling her shirt up now and peppering the expanse of her belly with warm pecks.

Maya sighed, a small moan escaping as made his way up between her breasts, swiftly pulling her shirt up over her head and burying his face in her neck, the stubble scraping against the soft skin and making goosebumps rise across her breasts.

Paul was slow and methodical in how he worshiped her, his hands touching every part of her, pausing to measure just how well she fit in his hands. Maya felt it too and an overwhelming sense of contentment rushed through her. The imprint bond that normally rang so clear through her during a time like this was completely silent. She didn’t pay it much mind though as Paul quickly unsnapped her bra and pulled back the delicate lace before encasing her nipple in his mouth. Maya’s back arched off the bed and Paul’s hand traced the shape of it.

His thigh nestled neatly between her legs and Maya couldn’t help but seek friction desperately there, grinding down on him and rolling her hips as he tugged gently at her nipple with his teeth, biting softly across the swell of her chest to her other breast.

Maya was panting with desire, rolling her hips as her eyes flutter shut to simply exist in this moment with him. She heard the soft swish of his t-shirt coming off and the familiar hum of his zipper. When she opened her eyes, he was standing and discarding his clothes, fully naked at the end of the bed and he simply looked—gorgeous. Maya’s breath caught in her throat as she leaned up to look at him. His throat bobbed in equal adoration as he leaned over her, his fingers ghosting across her hips and slowly slipping her panties down her thighs. He kissed her bent knee as he slipped the lacy garment over it and when she was fully naked beneath him, he let out a well deserved sigh. His eyes raked in every inch of her as if drinking her in. Maya was propped up on her elbows, her eyes softened as she slowly let her knees drop to either side, baring herself to him.

She was already dripping—she knew that. Paul licked his lips and kneeled between her, not wasting anymore time as he bit gently on her thigh before leaning in to devour her. His tongue, flat and warm, seemed to touch every part between her thighs and Maya threw her head back, letting out a sharp moan. He let her settle on his tongue, tasting her, relishing her scent, as he held her there, his hands anchored firmly on her hips. His mouth sucked and pulled at her clit, his tongue darting into her opening, as a groan rumbled from his throat and through her body.

Maya was cresting, light bursting behind her eyes as she whimpered through her release. She twitched against his tongue and only then did he lean up, his eyes glazed with lust and love so intertwined that she thought she’d melt into the mattress.

Paul ran his hands over her body again, reverently, as if to prove something to himself and Maya shivered. The ache growing inside of her was present, persistent, but he leaned down slowly, taking her mouth over his and she sighed into it. Their breath mingled, mixing, and Maya felt like she was coming home all over again.

He wrapped his arm down around her back and shifted her up the bed, but before she could settle onto the pillows, he whipped her over him and Maya straddled his abdomen. Her eyes sparkled, and she couldn’t help but smile. Paul almost always preferred to have her beneath him when he claimed her, but in this moment, his eyes shone with a desire to see her claim every part of him.

Maya let her hands run down his chest, memorizing the hard expanse, the ripples and lines that made him strong and immovable. His chest rose and fell in quick breaths as if her fingertips were tracing some new pattern of love into his skin. Maya slowly traced over each dip and line of muscle, her eyes trained to each small freckle or scar, taking him all in.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, kneading the soft flesh that creased between her hip and thigh and she smiled. “You are torturing me,” he rasped, his eyes dark and desperate. Maya glanced up at his face and just smiled softly.

“I’m just remembering,” she replied barely above a whisper. Paul pressed his thumbs into that delicate crease where her hips met each of her thighs and pressed. A shot of lightning struck between her legs and a soft gasp fell from her lips.

“Remembering what?” he asked, so soft, so gentle. A sweet juxtaposition to the hard bodied, giant man that lay wanting and ready beneath her. Maya’s fingers paused over where his heart lay thumping wildly in his chest.

“What it feels like to come home,” she replied, as she lifted her hips and pressed him against her center. She slid down onto him slowly, feeling the warm stretch of him. A feral groan ripped from Paul as she sank onto his hilt, her hips neatly connected to his. She feel his hands flex as they gripped and loosened on her thighs. Maya braced herself on his stomach, taking in deep, stuttering breaths as she tried to get used to the sheer size of him again. As he twitched inside of her, she let out a soft “Ah!” as she clenched around him. She was so sensitive. Being fully in control had set her body alight and Paul waited for her to move, groaning each time she inadvertently squeezed him inside of her.

When she lifted slightly, Paul braced her between his hands, helping to raise her hips. His eyes were glued to where they connected as the sheen of her slick coated every exposed inch of him. Maya raised herself halfway up his shaft before slowly settling back down onto him working herself into a slow and languid pace.

Maya watched his eyes, sharp and dark as they took in every bit of movement. He was in absolute awe, completely taken by the shape of her and Maya felt completely in control.

Her mouth hung open in unadulterated want as she quickened her pace on top of him. Rolling and sliding her hips against him. Paul’s hands tightened and loosened of their own accord as if he had to remind himself to let go a little so he wouldn’t bruise her.

With each roll of her hips, that ache was replaced with warm relief and she felt a whole body shiver rush through her as Paul started chanting her name. She needed him closer, as she felt her tits swell and ache from her impending release. As if he heard her, Paul leaned up, connecting their bodies. His chest pressed flush against hers, but Maya didn’t stop bucking her hips against his. Paul wrapped his arms around her body, nipping along her collarbone, his moans echoing across the room as Maya threw her head back, panting and cursing.

She felt him release first, and it took her over the edge. Paul’s eyes were closed tightly as he shuddered through his release and Maya curved in on herself as she let go, her body clenching to him tightly with wave after wave of pleasure as if she was trying to rinse herself through.

Finally, she collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. He placed a hand behind her head and stroked gently, kissing her temple as he tried to slow his breathing.

Still, the imprint was silent. Maya wasn’t complaining, it was just…strange.

“Welcome home,” he breathed. Maya chuckled and buried her head in his neck as she let sleep overtake her in one fell swoop

The next morning, Maya awoke slowly. She was keenly aware of Paul’s body behind hers, his arms wrapped lightly around her waist. Rain pattered gently on the windows and she had to admit that she hadn’t felt this content waking up in a long while.

Paul stirred gently behind her, kissing her shoulder as Maya rubbed her hand over his forearm. They stretched into one another, Paul groaning sleepily as she turned in his arms.

“Good morning,” he said gently, his eyes barely open. Maya bit her lower lip and smiled.

“Morning.”

“Do you have plans today?” he asked nonchalantly. Maya quirked an eyebrow and stifled a laugh.

“No, I don’t think so. These are my plans, what about you?” she said in only a slightly teasing tone.

“Yeah, I want to show you something,” he opened his eyes fully now, looking down at her and Maya looked at him carefully. Not a bit of hesitation in those eyes, she noticed. “Will you come?”

“Sure,” Maya breathed. She didn’t know why but her stomach erupted with butterflies. He gave her a warm smile and closed his eyes again pulling her closer as he settled back into sleep.

Later that afternoon, once the rain had stopped and Maya was bundled in her heavy winter coat and rain weathered hiking boots. Paul was dressed simply in jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair neatly coiffed to the side as if he had tried to tidy it up just a little bit.

Paul drove them into the woods and parked in a clearing. He led her through the forest and they walked for nearly an hour along sloping pathways and fern covered earth. Paul carried her over fallen trees and helped her down rain slicked slopes until the pathways went decidedly up and up.

“Where are we going?” Maya laughed as she breathed in the briney air, her cheeks flushed red with heat and exertion. Paul looked back at her over his shoulder and squeezed her hand.

“Almost there,” he reassured her.

Once they broke through the treeline, Maya knew where they were headed and her heart began to race.

It was the cliff from her dream all those years ago. Where the wolf had beckoned her forward.

“Paul what are we—” she began as they started up the slope of the cliff.

“When you were gone, I went and saw the elders,” he began not looking at her. Maya stopped and her hand fell from his.

“Oh?” she couldn’t say that that filled her with the reassurance she was hoping for. The elders had been incredibly intrusive throughout their relationship. “What for?” she probed.

Paul took a few more steps forward toward the jutting edge of the cliff that pulled out over the water. “I was looking for advice and they didn’t really offer me much…until I saw Ti’Hal,” Maya’s eyes widened at that and she followed him a couple steps onto the cliff.

“Ti’Hal?” She was shivering, not from the cold but from something else. Nerves? She couldn’t place it. No one ever went to Ti’Hal. She was the tribe’s oldest advisor, never came to council meetings anymore, and was a recluse for lack of a better term. Still, she was revered within her community and if you did seek her out, there needed to be a very good reason. She didn’t give away her time easily.

Paul looked out over the cliffs, the wind whipping around him as he put a hand in his pocket. “I was trying to figure out what to do about us.” Maya’s stomach dropped at that. Paul still didn’t look at her and she felt like she was waiting for other shoe to drop, “I was miserable without you Maya, I think you know that.”

“Paul—” Maya tried again.

“No. Let me get this out,” he breathed harshly, turning to look at her finally, his eyes were burning. “Let me, please.” He nearly begged. Maya swallowed hard and nodded. He looked out again for a couple of heartbeats before he continued, turning to look back at her but staying close to the cliffs edge.

“I was miserable without you. I had no idea what to do about the imprint, how to get you back. It was driving me insane. Actually insane. I didn’t phase back for a few months because I couldn’t handle being without you and lending myself to that animal side was simpler. But that started to make everything worse….I felt like..I was dying without you. And that terrified me.”

Indeed his eyes were pained and dark and Maya thought the pain of it would reach out and shatter her. That the imprint would begin to tug her closer. But it didn’t. It was odd.

“I just wanted it all to stop. If you wanted to stay away, be without me, I wanted you to have that and for me not to feel this way anymore. So, I tried to figure out the bond the imprint made. At one point I even asked…I even considered…trying to break it,” his voice was so defeated and Maya couldn’t help a soft sob from escaping her throat at the thought of it. “I was in so much pain, I just…”

Maya took another small step forward and he continued, determined. “Still, the elders had no advice. The imprint would pull you back to me. There would be no other option but that. And then I saw Ti’Hal. I realized after talking with her that I got the imprint all wrong. I got us all wrong,” his eyes were hard now as they looked past her, through her.

Was this some sort of sick joke? Fear shot through Maya as she thought the absolute worst.

“Paul, wait,” Maya said, holding her hand out.

“No, My,” he shook his head, “Let me finish.”

“I don’t want you to,” she nearly had to yell over the wind, “Please, let’s just go home.”

Paul shook his head, a smile now bursting over his face and Maya had to swallow her tears to keep from letting the panic sink in.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he said gently. Maya’s eyes widened and she took a step forward. Please don’t let it be bad. “I realized that because of the imprint and because of what everyone thought it meant, you were never given a choice in all this. I was never given a choice in all this.” Maya started to shake her head to stop him, to make him listen, he couldn’t leave her like this. It wasn’t fair.

“Please,” she choked.

“I decided I wanted to make a choice in all this. And you deserve one too,” his eyes on her were hard. And he took one step forward but then, he shrank from her eyeline getting onto both of his knees. He was actually kneeling before her, his hand now out of his pocket holding something. “I want you to choose me because it’s what you want. I want a life with you and I want us to create that together. Not because of the imprint or because of what is expected. But because you love me and I love you. I want…I want so bad to marry you, My. Will you marry me?”

The shiny glimmer of tears caught in the corners of his eyes as he stared up at her. Maya took the last few steps toward him slowly, her mouth open in shock as tears flowed freely over her cheeks now. The ring glittered in his hands, a large oval shaped diamond set in a delicate gold band. Maya was crying completely now, the tears beginning to blur her vision and she couldn't quite catch her breath.

“Will you—” he tried again but Maya cut him off quickly.

“Yes, yes I will! Yes, Paul. Yes,!” she sank to her knees before him and he tugged her forward, kissing her through her tears as the waves crashed and roiled below them.

Next > >

#twilight fanfiction #taking time #paul lahote pairing #paul lahote #paul lahote x oc #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight wolf pack #trigger warning #maya and paul #chapter fifty four #jacob black #leah clearwater #twilight

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boxboxblog · 28 days ago

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Race Management

Hello, this post is a response to an ask about team orders and lift off. I thought it would be best to answer that by making a full post on race management and include those things. I will be discussing a lot of technical stuff, so if you have not already I would recommend reading my How Do F1 Cars Work? series. Enjoy!

So, when I say race management, I am describing the ways teams and drivers manage their cars and themselves in order tor each maximum potential. This is a very complex variety of procedures, and also allows drivers to conserve resources throughout the race and adapt to changing conditions. Here are the key aspects involved in race management.

Tire Management

So I have an in depth post about tire management here and a post about tire strategy here, but just to summarize tire management is a way of driving that puts less pressure and heat on the Pirelli tires, so they degrade slower. They do this by doing smoother drives, going into corners a bit slower, varying their driving line, or in general not pushing as much as they can.

Brake Temp Management

So, due to the nature of the carbon-carbon brakes, the drivers must within an optimal temperature in order to get the highest amount of performance. If they get too hot, they can get something called 'brake fade' which reduces braking efficiency. If they get too cold, they can simply stop working. They mange this temperature by altering their braking techniques throughout the race, adjusting cooling ducts to channel air to or away from the brakes, etc. They can also do something called lift-off, where the driver eases off of the throttle and shifts weight to the front when they corner. While this is for more than just brake temp management, it does help with that.

Lift-Off

I explained lift off a little bit up there but other than for brakes, why would drivers do this? Well, the way that this technique moves the weight to the front actually can help with cornering speed, if the driver performs it correctly they get better better grip in the front, which allows them to have better rotation through the turn. This does require precise control to avoid a full loss of rear traction, and so only the most experienced drivers tend to use it. If they don't perform it properly, it can lead them to spin out their back tires. For the managing side, I would say this is a way of managing speed more then anything and also ties in to brake temp management.

Gears

So throughout races, drivers constantly shift gears. In F1 they have eight forward gears and one reverse gear, and they change gear depending on a variety of factors. Track layout, conditions, corner styles, length of straights, necessary tire management, necessary fuel management, etc. Certain gears get the best performance around certain areas, and while this process is semi-automatic, drivers still have to think on their feet a lot of the time. I will say, they learn this stuff from a young age so most of it is instinct and muscle memory more than anything. If they manage their gear shifts properly, it is just a general more efficient drive and puts less wear on the car.

Engine Modes

So, watching race you might hear them discussing what engine mode to go into, or complaining that a certain mode has no power. When they are discussing this they are talking about. Well to put in simply engine modes are the ways of adjusting the power and performance of the ICE and the flow of electricity throughout the hybrid unit. Some modes use a very high power, often for attacks or qualifying, but drain the fuel faster and stress out the engine. Other modes use a lower amount of power, but keep everything calm, and are used usually mid race when consistency is key. Using the correct engine modes at the correct times helps manage the car better and keep race pace where it should be.

ERS Management

So, the ERS system provides additional power recovered from energy from heat and kinetics (usually braking). This power is used during overtakes or defending, so when you see that little battery that says they are charging on screen, they are using energy from their ERS. This is another crucial aspect of racing, and so drivers must be smart about when they use this power during their race. If they use it too early, they might have difficulty fighting people off late or overtaking. If they refrain from using it until too late, it's just a waste of power. When driver manage their ERS deployment or charging efficiently it can provide massive strategic boosts to the car.

Fuel Management

So, as I am sure most people know, refueling is banned during F1 races. This is mostly due to the dangers involved (shout out to the time Jos Verstappen got fully covered in fuel and set on fire, a big part of why it was banned). So nowadays, drivers start with all the fuel they need to run the whole race, as long as they manage their fuel use well. The teams want to have as little fuel as possible because more fuel = more weight, so being able to operate on this low amount of fuel is a fantastic skill to have. There are a variety of methods used to save fuel mid-race, like using lower engine modes, smooth throttle application, and LICO. LICO stands for Lift and Coast, and is where the drivers lift off the throttle earlier and coast into braking zones. The danger of this method is that it lowers lap time exponentially and can lead to tires becoming too cooled, thus loosing grip. A great example of this is what happened to Charles Leclerc at the 2024 Mexico GP. He was told to LICO for a majority of the race, lost a lot of time to the car behind, and also lost grip, almost sending it into the walls. In order to avoid instances like that and perform this properly, teams and drivers must make sure they are not sacrificing too much speed or loosing their tire temp through the other types of management.

Team Orders

Perhaps the most controversial side of race management. Team orders are strategic instructions from the team to the drivers with the goal of maximizing points, avoiding incidents on track between teammates, and other such things. For example, drivers may be ordered to let their teammate pass if the car behind has a faster pace or is fighting for the WDC. Drivers can also be told to hold position and not try to overtake on their teammate if the team is happy with both of their position and does not want any possible contact or to lose time fighting. The bottom line is that while this may seem unfair to the outside eye, teams are doing what they do to get the best results for themselves and are using their every tool, including the fact that they have two drivers. Teams who use team orders effectively and strongly tend to be the most championship winning teams, like Mercedes (Valterri Bottas yielded to Lewis Hamilton a lot) and Red Bull (Sergio Perez yields to Max Verstappen a lot). Teams who don't have strong orders often shoot themselves in the foot. For example, McLaren did not have strong team orders until recently, and in Monza one of there drivers performed an overtake, which he was allowed to do and did so cleanly, that meant their championship fighting driver ended up lower in the points. All in all, whether you hate them or love them, team orders are a massive part of how races eventually finish and how teams win.

Communication

Throughout all of this, drivers are in constant communication with the pit wall. They make all of their decisions for these varying types of management based on the information that is passed along to them. This is why making sure that communication channel remains open, clear, and healthy is so important. A driver who curses or gets angry at every word their engineer says will not be using them to the best of their ability. Likewise, a team that does not take the driver's experience and advice into consideration when making decisions will usually make mistakes. For example, we have seen driver lose their temper over the radio and mess up shortly after. We have also seen teams ignore a drivers request and then you find out the driver was right, and the pit wall screwed up an entire race. All in all, strong communication allows everyone to make the best decisions, respond to issues, and maximize performance.

Alright, so that is an overview of what teams and drivers manage during races. A lot of stuff, right? Racing is a lot more than just driving the car, and the different ways teams try and manage things can sometimes seem a little pointless. It usually isn't, as long as they do it properly and as long as they manage all of these things in harmony.

I hope I answered any questions.

Cheers,

-B

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 strategy

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spidercookie18 · 1 year ago

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𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: Biting, smut, oral, mutual masturbation, creampies, choking, degradation, praise, slightly possessive partner, mentions of blood, general violence, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her. Warnings: This chapter is basically mostly porn, barely plot. MINORS DNI Summary: David returns from his rampage. The fleeting feeling of rage leaving an emptiness in him that only bonding can fix. Word Count: 7k ish Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Six

David stumbled down into the cave, his spurs jangling as he walked. He groaned, his belly too full of blood and liquor. His boots scraped along the ground as he walked, too drunk to care to walk properly.

As he made his way into the cave, he saw Dwayne sat up in Paul’s beanbag chair, reading a book. He was keeping Paul company as he worked on his art project in the early hours; more waiting up for David than anything else.

The sound of bones clunking down to the ground echoed softly. Paul was determined to get the right look without duct tape ruining his vision. David looked over to the roost. Marko had already gone to bed; tuckered out from his excursion with the two of you earlier that night.

David stood halfway between the roost and Paul’s alcove; he swayed in his boots. The thought of hanging upside down made his stomach churn.

He walked over to where Dwayne and Paul were, and drunkenly pulled a beer can from the plastic six-pack rings. He burped and handed the few remaining cans to the brunette. Dwayne looked up at David, an uneasy feeling crossed his mind. He wanted to ask how he was doing, but the blood and sweat that ran slowly down his brother’s face warned against that. So, he took the cans from David, a half grin across his face, and set them down between himself and Paul.

From the corner of his eye, Paul quietly watched David. He was dumb, but he wasn’t stupid, a snide remark to David right now would surely end in Paul finding out what his teeth tasted like. He just hummed quietly and pretended not to notice his ornery brother.

David popped the tab on the can, the hiss was louder than it should have been over the uneasy silence in the air. He swayed a little bit more before turning towards where you were, stumbling over the weight of his own feet as he clumsily pulled the curtain back. The liquid in his belly and the can sloshed around as he moved, the droplets of beer staining the ground and David’s glove as it flowed. He stood over you and watched as your chest rose and fell with your breath. He watched your silent, sleeping form for a moment, your stillness bringing a smile to his face.

David turned his pocket out and the shells he picked up tumbled to the ground by his boots. You heard the shuffling and clinking on the ground by the bed and stirred from your sleep.

“Mmm, David?” Your eyes sleepily fluttered open, just enough to make out who it was. You smiled up at him and your soft hand reached out to his own.

You let your eyes close shut and gently closed your fingers around his gloved hand, inviting him to stay with you in the bed.

He sat down on the mattress next to you and began to take off his boots. With the tip of his right boot, he pushed against the heel of his left, the boot came off with a thud. He tried the same with his other foot, but his sock just slid down against the heel; he had to lean down to pull the other off, and he spilled the rest of the beer as he did so. David grumbled and let the can fall to the ground with a clank and a rattle as it rolled away.

Maybe I overdid it, he thought as he felt the burp in his throat come up with an acidic liquid. He swallowed hard and fought back the urge to throw up. Luckily, vampires didn’t stay drunk long, but he’d have to ride it out till then. David sat up and took a deep breath, he let his head fall back and his eyes close.

Why couldn’t anything just be easy for him?

Even in life everything was hard; and now, in eternal unlife, everything was more confusing.

He sighed and looked down at you. His dead heart ached watching his sleeping mate. He wanted nothing more than to be with you, for you to be with him, forever. He felt the ache in his bones, in his being; wherever his soul had gone, he was sure the ache was there too. You squeezed his hand in yours, and he smiled down at you. He brushed some hair from your face and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

You groaned, “David, you smell like blood,” crinkling your nose you pulled away from him.

He smiled against your skin, “yeah?”

You nodded groggily, “mhm…and beer,” you rubbed your eyes, “where did you go?” His appearance shocked you; he looked like he waged a war… against himself. You sat up next to him and pulled the blanket around your shoulders. “David?” the worry in your voice asked everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“I’m fine sweet thing,” he slurred, “you should see the other guys,” he chuckled, trying to ease your nerves.

“Oh, David…” you licked your thumb and tried to wipe the blood off his cheeks.

“Sweetness, I’m FINE,” he jerked his head away from you. David grabbed your wrist and held your hand away from his face.

Your sweet smile faded. You pulled your arm from his grasp and pulled the blanket closed around you. He was going to open his mouth to say something, but you shut him up. You put your hand in his face to keep him from getting up to follow you, “STAY.”

David scoffed, “excuse you?”

“I said, STAY, David.”

He bit at the air, warning you that he was annoyed. David watched as you stood and walked over to where your bag was on the floor. The blanket clinging to your body as you moved. You pulled out a bottle of water and twisted the cap off. You picked your shirt off the ground and poured some water on the sleeve.

You walked back to him and placed your hand on his nape. “Don’t move,” you warned, and dabbed the wet cloth along his cheek. He nipped at your hand.

You stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t make me gag you,” you scolded.

David raised his eyebrow at the thought, and you wiped down his neck, trying to clean as much blood off him as possible.

He tried to pull away from you, but you held him firmly by the back of his head, “you don’t have to baby me…” he grumbled.

You looked down at his hands and noticed the splatters of blood that came up from under his leather gloves. You slowly, and delicately pulled them off his hands, and turned the shirt over to start cleaning his knuckles with a fresh part of the cloth. You picked his hand up in both of yours, he hadn’t realized until then how small you actually were compared to him, and his hands. He smiled drunkenly at this.

You guessed at some point he took his gloves off to fight, but you weren’t sure why. You swiped the wet cloth gently against the back of his hands and knuckles and he hissed lightly. His knuckles were split, you were sure it was painful to the touch, but he needed to be cleaned. The cloth let out a squish as you squeezed it to get more of the water on his hands.

You could hear him growling now. “I’m not babying you,” you said gently as you wiped the dried blood off him. “I’m loving you…” you turned his hand over and wiped the dirt and blood from his palm. He stared at you in awe, he didn’t know what to make of you cleaning him off, but this certainly wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind.

David was used to licking his wounds for himself and his brothers, hell, sometimes they did it for him; but this felt different. It was much gentler, much more… human. There was something about the way you gingerly held his hands that made him feel odd; not weak, but incredibly strong.

He felt powerful watching you clean the blood off him, taking special care to make sure he was okay. You moved to his other hand and looked back up at him, his eyes watched you intently.

You smiled and went back to cleaning his knuckles, “you really did a number on someone, huh?” The backs of his hands were deep red, especially around his knuckles where they were cut up. The bones in his hand must have been broken earlier in the night, and the skin was already beginning to bruise green in some spots; one of the perks of being a vampire you thought, fast healing.

He chuckled, “it was just some assholes, no big deal.”

“Did ya have fun?”

“Mhm,” he hummed softly.

“That’s good, I’m glad you’re okay….” You smiled down at him, and he turned to hide his drunk blush. “I should take you on one of my hunts next time,” you giggled.

You tossed the bloodied shirt to the ground, and you turned David’s hand over, you kissed his palm, and he cupped your face in his hand. He could have sworn he felt his heart beating quick at that moment. He loved how sweet you looked, how kind you were, how happy you made him in that moment. You put your hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead, he winked up at you.

This new feeling felt like warm blood flowing through his veins, it excited him. He pulled your face to his and kissed you gently. You felt warm against his lips, and he felt cold against yours. You pulled slowly from the kiss and held him, his ear falling against your chest. David loved listening to your heartbeat. If his belly wasn’t so full of blood at this moment, he'd want to taste yours. He nuzzled his face against your breasts, you felt so soft, and good against his cheek.

David wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, “oh sweet thing,” he kissed up your skin, “I missed you.”

He heard the laugh come from your belly, “David, you were gone for only a few hours, it’s not even morning yet.”

“And I missed you every second,” he moved the blanket aside so he could kiss down your shoulder.

“Dork,” you laughed at him.

“M’ignoring that,” he nipped at your flesh, “I want you again,” he whispered. He licked along your exposed skin and let his teeth graze ever so lightly against you.

“Oh, David…” you whimpered.

He loved when you moaned for him, he loved more how good you made his name sound.

“I’m still sensitive from earlier,” you protested, only half-heartedly.

“Don’t worry sweet thing, I can fix that,” he drunkenly kissed further down your arm, then down your hand. His tongue lapping at the wet blood on your fingers and palm. It was an odd feeling, but it made the warmth pool in your belly.

A small moan came from your lips, “but Daavid, I’m so sooore,” you whined.

“I’ll be gentle my sweetness,” he turned your palm over and kissed it eagerly. His beautiful blue eyes looking woefully up at you.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and the iron from the blood on his coats. You weren’t entirely sure you could trust his word at this moment, when he said he would be able to control himself. Maybe you didn’t do your best to close yourself off to him as the sleep still crept through your bones, maybe you just had a look on your face that said what you meant, but he read it.

“Y/N,” David spoke softly, he placed his hand under your jaw and brought your gaze to his. “I promise I’ll be gentle… d’you trust me?”

His words made a blush come up through your chest and cheeks, it was like a fire under your skin. Your heart raced and the ache in your loins turned into lust as you stared at him.

Oh David…

David giggled, “you even make that sound good from your mind.” His grin was devious, his toothy smile made you nervous; and more importantly, it made you excited.

You nodded meekly and bit your lip; you were sure he could smell your want again. David kissed your open palm, “tell me what you want, my sweet thing.” Your eyebrows furrowed, the pathetic look on your face made David’s pants tight. “Well sweetheart?” David kissed your palm again, the blue in his eyes turning amber around his pupil.

“I…I want…” your eyes flickered from his gaze to his lips, your hands gripping his coat gently, “I want you to love me.”

David stared up at you. He stood, his expression softening, “Y/N, of course I love you…” He put his hand back on your cheek and pulled you to his face. He let his forehead come to yours, nose to nose, “you’re my mate,” he spoke softly against your lips, “you’re mine. I’ll always love you.” David kissed you, deeply. Holding you in his arms as you let your body relax and fall fully into the kiss.

“Even if you try to run away,” he joked.

“Shut up,” you snorted.

Vampires bonded through various ways, feeding on each other, fighting each other, and fucking each other. It wasn’t just a simple act as it was for humans, it was more complex, more intense, it bonded them more than emotionally or physically. It was a spiritual connection; it was deep and life giving. For vampires, it was a way to protect and nourish their kinships. So, when the boys pawed at their partners, it wasn’t purely out of lust, it was also a yearning for intimacy beyond human comprehension.

He laid you back down on the bed, and you let the blanket come off your shoulders. He slowly pulled it off of you and growled excitedly as your body was exposed to him. He bit his lip and began kissing down your stomach. He let his hands trail along your soft, warm body, savoring every inch of you.

“Ohh darlin’”, the southern drawl coming out lightly, he licked his tongue out at your naval, and let it drag as he trailed down towards your love.

David put his hands under your thighs, his thumbs on the inner part and pushed your legs open. He loved the way you blushed when he did that, you would probably never stop being embarrassed at the hungry look he gave you. He kept his eyes trained on your gaze as he kissed your thighs.

David relished the look on your face; the soft red blush in your parted lips, your lidded eyes, the way your brows scrunched up in anticipation, the pretty gasps that came from you as you panted. He left soft nibbles and licks as he made his way from one leg to the next.

His nails gripped into your skin as he pushed your legs further apart. You squeaked at the feeling.

David eased his grip; it was going to be hard not to ravage you the way he wanted, when he had just promised to behave. He kissed gently up towards your weeping cunt in an apologetic hum. His eyes locked onto yours and he gave a cute grin as he waggled his tongue out at you, hovering ever slightly above your mound.

That devious look on his face, he was cute when he wanted to be, and you clenched in anticipation for him. As you watched his tongue loll out it changed, it turned from a normal human tongue into a long, slender, forked one. It worried you, how foreign it looked. You gulped and he chuckled. He let his tongue graze against your slit, tasting your love. You whimpered at the gentle feeling, and he pushed his cool tongue deeper into your folds.

You felt his tongue flick inside of you, “fuck,” you breathed out.

He lapped up your love as it flowed, pressing his forked tongue against your walls. It twisted and wiggled inside you, much deeper than you would have expected it to go. He tasted your arousal on his tongue, and his eyes rolled back in drunken bliss. As he kept licking you, he tasted his come, it made him smile a bit…then he tasted Marko’s. That annoyed him. He thought his come had pushed out all of Marko’s, sadly, it had not. So, he decided to lap the rest of it out while he was prepping you for his cock. His tongue pressed hard into your walls, you could feel it writhing over your ridges as he coiled it in and out.

“David!” You wailed.

He snaked his hands under your thighs and grabbed your hips, keeping you in place. His eyes watching your hips buck up against his hold, and your hands grip at his hair. He kept the tip of his tongue wriggling inside you while he pulled slowly out, the back of his tongue sliding up towards your clit. He bobbed his head up and down gently to let the back of his tongue rub against your nub. David kept the bulk of it inside you, savoring you, your taste, and your moans.

You tried to keep your legs open, but the pleasure that he was giving you made it hard, your thighs started clamping around his head. “Ohh please don’t stop!” You begged him to give you what you wanted most. He hummed with his tongue inside of you, pleased at your desperate reactions.

David twisted his tongue inside you, he loved the way you tasted; his eyes rolled up in his skull as he lavished your warm wet cunt squeezing against his tongue. He pushed more of his wriggling muscle further into you, and lapped the tip against your cervix; the forked edges creating a pressure that was new to you. You squirmed against his hold, and he pushed the length of his tongue back against your gummy walls. He angled the thick part of his tongue upwards against your sweet spot. You bucked against his mouth, “fuck, David! I’m almost there!” He smiled against your cunt with his tongue inside you, he pulled the back of his tongue out again to fold it up against your clit. His tip pushed against your sweet spot and the rough back part of his wet tongue rubbed against your nub.

He moved the back of his tongue quickly against your clit. You felt the knot in your stomach snap, and you spasmed around him. You screamed and bucked your hips against his mouth, your hands gripping into his hair and your thighs squeezed around his head. “Daaaavid!” You moaned his name as you spasmed around him. He lapped up your come as you finished bucking against him. The moans and squeals that came from you sounded so loud in your ears, and you could barely hear anything else over it.

You felt your vision go dark; he knew just how to make you come undone for him. He relished in pushing you over the edge, he loved more how you squeezed around him, whether it was his cock, his fingers, or his tongue.

David let his tongue lap up the last bit of your love and slowly pulled out from your warmth, when he smiled up at you his tongue was ‘normal’ again. “Fuck,” you panted out and let your arms cover your flushed face. David started kissing atop your mound and his fingers rubbed your hips gently, you could feel him smiling into your skin. He let you stay laying on your back with your arms covering your face, you needed to catch your breath after all, and watching you like that stroked his ego something fierce.

Your chest rose and fell sharply; you tried to slow it to calm yourself, but something startled you before you could. You felt David grip your hips and pull you diagonally in the bed, he was hissing loudly now. When you looked up, he was crouched over your lower half, growling at something behind the curtain.

You looked over, Dwayne and Paul were watching the show, and you laughed, “how long have y’all been standing there?” The boys shifted their stance from one leg to the other, too nervous to look at you; they were eyeing David, who was still growling. His possessive stance over your body a clear indication he had no plans of sharing you this time.

Paul was the first to speak, “Can we-”

“No.” David said, in a low, firm tone.

“We just wanted to watch…” Dwayne spoke softly. Normally the boys had no problem challenging David for a piece, but he was serious this time.

“You can watch from over there,” David said as he licked at your thighs.

He didn’t mind an audience; he was used to the boys being around all the time, but he wanted you solely to himself this tonight. You stared at David, and he watched as the boys sit on the other side of the curtain. Paul took no time to spread his legs out and start rubbing himself through his jeans.

David turned back to you, his expression one of annoyance. You smiled down at him to reassure him that they wouldn’t be a bother and reached your arms out to him. Your fingers grasping at the air, calling him to you. He crawled over your body and his knee rested between your legs, one of his arms snaking behind your head to pull you into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and you smiled. David moaned softly into the kiss. Your body was on fire, you had been ravaged earlier and were still covered in bruises and bites, but the licking David had just done on your lower half made the pain turn into pleasure. Whatever David did down there had taken all the ache away and made you grind your hips into his thigh.

“Oh darlin, you’re so needy for me,” David smiled into the kiss. You could feel his hand move from behind your head to grip your chin. He lapped at your tongue then slowly began to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. His other hand came up to knead your breast, David pulled away from you and looked over your body. “Oh sweetness,” his thumb came to rub over one of the bite marks the curly haired blond made on your plush mounds. “Marko really did a number on ya didn’t he?” His cool thumb soothing the sting of the deep purple bruise.

“Mmhm,” you nodded softly, eyebrows scrunched up with a whine.

“Damn shame,” David clicked his tongue in his mouth, he started licking at the various bite marks across your chest, neck, and shoulders. His tongue felt wet, and slick as it moved across your skin. The dark marks starting to fade to light purple, then vanished before your eyes. David looked up at you, slowly pushing himself up on his arms, a satisfied look on his face,” there we go.”

You smiled up at David, his knee pushing slowly up to crotch. He could feel your wet arousal through his pant.

“David,” you whispered, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

“Ah-ah,” David pushed you back down on the bed, “I’m not done with you.” His hand came up around your throat and gently pressed you into the mattress. “I’m not gonna let Marko outshine me,” a deep chuckle left his throat. You couldn’t see him very well from where you were being held on the bed, and you squirmed under his hold. You could hear the wet of his mouth as he opened it, still chuckling, his mouth came down to your side by your ribs and bit down.

You screamed, his bite was painful, but not enough to make you bleed.

He gently clamped down to make sure the mark was nice and deep, and after a second, he pulled away to admire his work. “Heh,” he smiled, and leaned back down to put another bite on your breast. His teeth came down around your areola, and you could feel him lick and suck your nipple as he bit.

You mewled and fidgeted against his hold. Your pulse thumping beautifully against his ungloved hand. “David!” You bucked wildly against his thigh, trying to get some release.

He half growled; half chuckled against your flesh as he twirled his tongue around your stiff peak. David unclamped from you and looked up, still lapping at your breast. “Y’all right darlin?” He relaxed his hold around your throat.

You nodded weakly and gasped for air.

“Need more,” you whined. His fingers and tongue felt wonderful, but you wanted his girth more than anything. Rutting your hips against his thigh was not enough, “please,” you begged.

David groaned; looking down at you in this pathetic state, eyes glossed over, whiney, panting, pawing at his arms, grinding against him. He loved how much you wanted him. How you mewled under his tough, begged for him, came undone for him, how pliable and fuckable you were, he loved that in his mates. “Sorry darlin, I can’t hear you, what was that?” He leaned down, hand to his ear, amused by his own antics.

You mewled, embarrassed that he was going to make you beg in front of the others. Your eyebrows scrunched up, and you half turned to look at the two vampires sitting on the floor, rubbing themselves through their jeans, when one of them rustled their belt buckle. Your cheeks flushed a deep red and you gulped against David’s hold. You could feel him squeeze gently on your throat.

The vampire above you spoke, not looking at the others, he licked his lips, “you two can either leave, or you can shut up.” David hissed; that was the last time he’d let them interrupt you two without getting violent.

Dwayne looked over at Paul and scowled, he would be damned if he had to leave because Paul couldn’t get comfortable in silence. Dwayne nipped at the wild hair blond as he pushed his jeans further down, not making a noise. They exchanged looks, and Paul continued to undress while holding his belt buckle in one hand.

David squeezed your throat to drag your attention back to him, his thumb rubbing over one of your veins. He pressed his nose to the underside of your jaw and took a long deep inhale of your scent, “keep your attention on me, y/n.” His claws digging lightly into your neck, “I won’t say it again.” A gold ringlet flashed through the blue of his eyes, then was quickly gone.

“M’sorry David,” you could feel the tears prick the sides of your eyes. You started gasping against your lovers hold. Your hands instinctively shot up to paw around his wrist when his grip tightened again. You wanted to push him away, but with the last bit of strength, you kept yourself from doing so, worried at the punishment he would think up if you did. Your nails gripped lightly into his jacket, and he pressed his knee up into your cunt.

“I’m still waitin’, darlin’.” His tongue licked under your jaw.

“I… need…” You breathed out, you could feel your heartbeat quicken. “David…pleas-” the edges of your vision started to go fuzzy, and David eased his hold on you. You gasped against the vampire’s grip, “please David, I need you.”

He growled against your skin, and you could feel him smiling as he peppered kisses down your neck. His fingers danced across your hips, and he licked the pulsing vein on your throat. The cool wet muscle flexing across your skin.

His belly no longer cramped with blood and liquor, now he wanted to be full of you. His greedy hands scratching up your stomach and down your thighs. He eagerly undid his belt while he continued to bite marks into your neck and chest.

He fumbled with the leather as you mewled under him. You arched your back to let him bite further into your skin, loving the way the marks looked on you. Like badges of love, you wore with pride as he claimed you. David finally managed to get his belt off, and his pants down, and he quickly held himself around the base to stroke himself on your slit. He thumbed over his tip and angled himself to rub through your lips.

David gently thrusted up through your slick folds, the underside of his tip kissing your clit as he rubbed past it. You could hear the wet sucking noises as he slowly dragged himself along your cunt. “F-fuck,” you bit your lip to keep from moaning and gently rutted your hips against his length.

He chuckled at your reaction, how easily you melted for him. How adorable you looked trying to get some release from his freed cock. “You like that y/n?”

You nodded, panting so hard you could almost see your breath in the cool night air.

“You want more?” David asked, teasing himself through your folds and over your clit again.

“Yes,” you whimpered, and David eagerly slipped into your warmth. Your breath hickuped in your throat as he pressed into your heat.

His length stretched you so good. Your mind went hazy as he slowly inched himself through your warm, gummy walls. It probably didn’t matter how many times he took you, you thought, it would always be a feat to take him.

David groaned atop you, his fingers gripping around your waist as he gently thrusted himself further into you.

“Ohh, wow,” you gasped out, eyes rolling back.

David chuckled. “You ok?” He asked, looking over you, calm enough now to have his bearings.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, your breathless moans echoing in the ears of the other boys that sat nearby.

To say they were envious would be a gross understatement. Damn him, they thought. He was being too covetous of his new mate, but in the back of their minds they still knew better than to try something. So, they sat in their jealousy on the floor and rubbed their painful erections. Their own hands not being enough to satisfy the lust that filled them from your mere mewling.

Your attention was bought back fully to David as he finished pushing himself into you. He stilled as his hips fell flush against yours. Both your eyes rolled back at the feeling. David bent over you, forearms on either side of your head, and he kissed you.

You could still taste the come on his lips and could smell the iron and ash on his coats, but you could only feel how full you were of your vampire lover. Your walls ached at the stretch, but it still felt divine.

“You ready?” David asked, kissing under your jaw.

“M’ready,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

David started a gentle pace, his cock slowly dragging out of you. You could feel each vein as he pulled his hips back, and they felt even more electric rubbing against your ridges as he pressed back into you.

The moans that left your lips were sinful; David was infatuated with the noises you made, and knew the others were growing bitter watching the two of you. You noticed this too and tried to turn your head to look at them, but David pushed your jaw with his thumb to keep your view on him.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted, and gave a particularly hard thrust. The smack of his hips against your skin was loud, and the feeling made you yelp.

David had that devious grin on his face again. He licked his lips and picked up his pace. A steady stream of moans and gasps fell from your lips; you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

He was switching between making faces of euphoric bliss, and sneers, as he wanted to fuck you harder. He eagerly rutted his hips against yours. The PLAT, PLAT, PLAT that came from his skin hitting yours sounded like sweet-talk to the other vampires.

Paul had quietly pulled his belt out of his pant loops and discarded his jacket. He moved to his knees to stand up and join you both, but Dwayne put his hand out to stop him. He knew his companion didn’t have the will power he had, and he knew if the blond tried to interject it would not go well for anyone.

So, he stopped him. Dwayne silently shook his head ‘no’ to remind Paul that was a profoundly stupid idea. Paul angrily went back to his seat on the cave floor and gave a pouty look to the brunet.

‘I know,’ Dwayne silently mouthed to him, unwilling to talk through their bond, unsure if David would be able to pick it up in the ‘state’, he was in. Dwayne patted his lap, and Paul eagerly scooched over to the other vampire. You heard the rustling of Paul’s clothes as he crawled over Dwayne.

With David’s eves shut in pleasure, you looked over at the boys. Paul was sat atop Dwayne’s lap; you could see their heads bobbing as they kissed. As you watched them, Paul stood, his hips up in Dwayne’s face, and you could see the brunet pumping into his fist. He was helping himself, and Paul. You scrunched your eyebrows up in ecstasy, the sight before you was obscene, and the sucking noises you could hear coming from them made you buck your hips up to David’s.

Your lover moved one of his hands to grip your hip, he pulled you up to him as his thrusts slammed down against your flesh. “Oh fuck!” You sucked in air through your teeth, you were close, and David could feel it.

“Come on y/n,” David dug his nails into the skin on the side of your ass, pushing deep into you. His chest pressing on your ribs, his breath becoming hot on your neck, his groans sweet and surly in your ears. With force he pistoned into you. You could feel your walls clamping down around your mate’s length, the knot in your stomach tightening again. “Come for me,” he gave a quick bite to your neck, and you spasmed around him.

“Ahh, oh, fuck,” your legs clenched around his waist as you pulled him to you; he kept thrusting. David lapped at the bruise he made on your neck, his eyes looking up at the expression you made. He cupped your face in his hand and pulled you into a kiss.

“You look so pretty like that,” he whispered against your lips.

David gently pushed his fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he continued to fuck into you. Your warm wet cunt squeezing around his length, sucking him in, enticing him to keep going. His tip dragging against your sweet spot, making you bite his fingers gently. He chuckled lightly at your teeth in his skin, “easy there, sweetness.”

You eased your bite on him, and he pulled his fingers from you. Watching you bite your lip gave him an idea in that sick little mind of his. He brought his hand back to your face and pressed the web of his hand into your mouth. He wanted you to bite down on him, trying to get you to break the skin and drink his blood.

David fucked you, long, and deep. His thick cock splitting through your heat. “Mmrhph,” you moaned into his hand.

Feeling your soft squishy pussy clamping down on his cock made him thrust harder, “come on darlin’, bite it.” He was coaxing you into biting harder on his flesh. His cock pounding against your cervix, the PLAT, PLAT, PLAT’s throbbing against your ears.

Harder, David's mind screamed.

“Bite it darlin, you’re almost there.” He wanted his blood inside you, he wanted you to fully belong to him, he was done with you being tied to another. David pistoned into you, trying to get you to do what he wanted.

Harder, harder. David angled his hips up, “just a little more, sweet thing.”

He pressed his hand further into your mouth, he could feel your teeth sink into his skin, it was almost painful now. You whipped your head side to side, trying to get him out of your mouth. Before you could bite down hard enough to puncture the skin, you pulled away. His hand still partially in your mouth, “Dawid, you pwomised,” you breathed out, big doe eyes staring up at him.

David grunted, angry that you knew what he was trying to do. He eased his pace, gently rocking you now.

“David…I’m sor-” you didn’t want him upset with you, it made your heart ache.

He sighed, “it’s okay sweet thing,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. Pressuring you to do something you didn’t want to do was not the way to keep you. He gave you his word, and in his heart of hearts, he knew it was wrong. If he learned anything these past few days, it was that gaining your trust through kindness was the way to keep your heart.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, and he pressed his forehead against your own, “it’s okay baby.” He kissed you, his nose pressed against your own. The pleasure of him was too intense; you felt tears prickle the side of your eyes and flow down to your ears.

“David…” you whimpered, your other hand coming up to grip his hair. You leaned up to kiss him back, his facial hair scratching you lightly. You chuckled and scrunched your nose up at the feeling.

David stared down at you, his heart ached badly. The fact that he couldn’t turn you was killing him. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. Worried that if he stopped touching you, you’d disappear. His free hand pushed yours off his head and down to the bed. He laced his fingers through yours and his weight shifted to your abdomen. The pressure of his forearms on yours was heavy, he gripped your hands tighter, and his thrusts turned long and slow.

“You’re mine,” he grunted against your ear, his cock pressing through your walls. “You’re mine, you got that?” His hips slapping eagerly against yours.

“I know,” you mewled, face scrunched up in pleasure.

“NO!” David looked down at you, his demeanor serious. “You’re mine, forever.” He stared down at you, studying your expression, “d’you understand that?”

You looked up at him, “I…” you hesitated. You knew from that night up on the hill he wouldn’t let you go, he’d never let you go, and you understood that fully. “I know,” you whispered simply, smiling up at him. You squeezed his hands in yours.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, gripping your hands with all his might. David pistoned his hips against you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, and his thrusts became quick and sloppy. “M’gonn- fuck,” you whimpered against his ear, the pressure in your stomach growing. Your eyebrows scrunched up in ecstasy. David chuckled against your ear, not slowing down, “come with me.”

“David!” Your legs twitched, still wrapped around his waist, you could feel the knot in your stomach snap. Your high-pitched whines filling David’s ears as you came around his cock.

With a grunt, David pressed himself as deep as he could manage, and pumped you full of his come. His cock pushing your cervix further into your stomach as his hips stilled against you. You winced at the pain and gripped his hands tighter. You could feel his throbbing inside you while his cock continued to spurt and paint your insides white.

You squirmed under him, but the weight of his body kept you still. Your breath hiccupping in your throat as you tried not to think about the discomfort of him pressed so deep.

David looked down at you when you started to whine, “oh, fuck, sorry.” He pulled himself out a bit, and you felt the pressure start to ease. You breathlessly chuckled and hid your face in his chest.

“You okay?” He asked, worried he’d hurt you.

“M’okay,” you breathed deeply, and smiled up at him.

David tried to finish pulling himself from you, but you kept your legs wrapped around him. “Wait, I just wanna stay like this for a bit,” you smiled a soft smile at him.

He smiled back, his dead heart warming at the sight of you, “Y/n…” he whispered. “I…”

David’s confession was interrupted by the two vampires off to the side, finishing their excursion, loudly. You could hear Paul moan as his hips stuttered against Dwayne’s face, the brunet’s fist pumping his cock fiercely. They both moaned for each other, forgetting that they weren’t the only couple in the room.

David looked over at them angrily, his face scrunching up at them, and you could hear a low growl from his stomach.

You giggled, “stop it David,” from where he was connected to you, you could feel the vibrations. You pushed your hands to his chest a little and eased your hold on his waist.

“What’d I do?” David asked, sad that you’d released him from your embrace.

“I can feel you…” you waggled your finger at his abdomen, where the growl was coming from. “I can feel it in my…” you giggled.

“Oh, is that all?” David said cockily, nuzzling into your neck and beginning to growl again.

“David!” you shrieked, pushing your hands to his hips. “Get out of me,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at him.

He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he pulled from you. Immediately, you could feel his love seeping out of you. He always made a mess of you, and you could imagine the bruises he left along your body. The ones you could see were bright red, his teeth marks deep in your flesh.

David was sat up now, with his legs over the side of the bed. He was putting himself back in his jeans. He leaned back to button them, and you could hear the zipper as he pulled it shut.

You watched your lover walked over to where the other two were, still panting and licking each other.

"Hey, Paul," David called to his brother. Paul turned to look at the other blond, and David raised a hand and smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ow! What the fu-!” Paul began.

“Don’t touch her without her permission again,” David pointed his finger in Paul’s face.

Paul rubbed the back of his head, irritated, “fuck, damn, okay! Fuck.”

Dwayne eyed David silently from the floor, his hands still on Paul’s hips as David turned to walk back to you.

You were sat up in the bed, holding the sheet in one hand above your chest, “you okay?” You asked David, who’d walked through the curtains.

“Mhm,” he hummed softly and got back in the bed with you. He sat next to you on the bed, criss cross. He had a cute, ‘innocent’ look on his face as he swayed gently side to side.

“What, David?” You asked, suspicious, he was only had that look on his face when he wanted something.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, his innocent look turning into something new, as he bit his lip.

“Uh-oh,” you chuckled, and David threw his arms around you and pushed you to the bed.

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