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kamaluhkhan · 22 days ago

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HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

pairing: werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader word count: 11.1 k summary: she's a monster, and you're essentially a monster hunter. it shouldn't work, but it does. (or — you and vi decide to escape the narrative together) warnings: ooh various mentions of fighting + blood + injuries ranging from mild to life-threatening; reader and vi both smoke + consume alcohol; rough sex (fingering [vi receiving], oral [reader receiving], tribbing, biting, spitting ++ aftercare); 18+ ! vibes are basically buffy the vampire slayer with chaotic lesbians loving each other so much it consumes them both a/n: i think i've been watching too much buffy and fantasizing about werewolf!vi for like,, too long,, and this unholy mess is the result. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WHILE but tonight is the wolf moon so it felt right to post now, i really hope y'all enjoy 🖤 i'll include credit for each subtitle in the tags too <33

♪: "bullet with butterfly wings" by the smashing pumpkins; "dig me out" by sleater-kinney; "taste my despair" by lesbian bed death; "i wanna be your dog" by joan jett; "fantastic" by king princess

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

vi wakes up with a terrible motherfucking headache, which isn’t anything new.

she doesn’t know where she is — that isn’t particularly something new, either — but what is new is the tongue slobbering all over her face. when she opens her eyes, vi sees a 50-pound black dog standing over her.

“whoa!” vi sits up abruptly, but the dog only gets more excited and jumps up on the couch, caging her in.

“sorry. she usually isn’t so enthusiastic about company.”

the voice is coming from the other side of the room, where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress closest to the window. there’s a cigarette in your hand, and each time you exhale, you point your chin accordingly so the smoke travels outside. a crisp breeze trickles in.

“morning, killer.”

vi swallows the heart that has jumped into her throat, takes a deep breath to steady her breathing. fuck, she literally just moved here and might already need to leave. she tries to remember if something bad happened last night.

it wasn’t the full moon, was it? no, that shouldn’t be for another few weeks. but then why are you calling her a —

“killer?” she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

she stares at you, eyes trailing your injured jawline as she waits for you to respond. you do look vaguely, achingly familiar. whatever happened last night, you were probably part of it.

“well, you’ve got a killer right hook,” you quip. you snuff out your cigarette and twist around to fully face vi. “and i’m pretty sure you killed my reputation as a pit fighting champion. i was undefeated before you.”

fresh blood emerges from your split lip as you speak, and you’re quick to swipe it away with your tongue.

oh. right.

your tank top is torn at the bottom, just cropped enough that vi can see the imprint of her fist on your lower ribs. she now remembers the feeling of yours on the side of her face, and has a bloody, crusted eyebrow, painfully tender cheekbone, and the outline of your ring seared onto her skin forever to prove it.

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

vi takes note of her surroundings to get a better sense of who she’s up against: the place is small, dingy, but has a good amount of light. you’ve got a broken mirror, old books stacked in the corner, and an open cupboard filled with clothing and various weapons, mostly daggers and some wooden stakes. an intricate glass cross dangles from the centre of the window, filtering through multicolored light. there are a bunch of dried plants next to a mortar and pestle on the sill below — nightshade, juniper, wolfsbane. on the tiny kitchen counter is a silver vase filled with more wilted flowers.

even from far away, vi can hear your heartbeat — strong, steady — as you shuffle around and gather some things. she inhales your scent. she remembers that she was slightly taken aback, in the pit when she had you pinned to the mat, that under the musk of sweat and metallic tang of blood, vi sensed something else, something delicate and floral.

your whole apartment smells overwhelmingly of dried roses and decaying fruit, too, sweet and earthy.

“did you bring me here for round two?”

“no.” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “i brought you here so that some creep wouldn’t take advantage of you. you were pretty out of it.”

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

“no fucking way,” you declare, and vi can practically feel rage coursing through you, your heart pumping with reignited vigor. “like an enforcer would care enough to actually help the undercity,” you grumble.

you shake your head and sit down at the edge of the couch, shooing your dog away so you can drop first aid supplies in her place. she settles on the floor at your feet.

you offer vi a somewhat bruised apple. when she hesitates, you push it into her hand.

“this isn’t a fairytale,” you say, hands busy soaking a cloth in some alcohol. “i’m not trying to poison you,” you add as if reading her mind.

“there…there are some good enforcers, though,” vi tries, trained to have such platitudes at the ready.

you roll your eyes. “if there are, i haven’t met them.”

vi’s not sure she believes what she had said, either. she feels her side ache, a phantom bruise from when caitlyn slammed her rifle into the very injury she had once helped heal.

what started as you’re not like the rest of those animals. you’re one of the good ones. became you’re all the same. it’s their blood in your veins. as soon as things went downhill.

vi bites her lip to prevent herself from wincing, and it isn’t because you’ve pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on her nose. her sharp nails break through the skin of the apple, digging into its soft flesh until juice is running down her wrist.

“eat,” you insist, but you’re focused on removing as much dirt and dried blood from her face as you can, brows furrowed in concentration. “you ruined my reputation, so you better keep up your strength if you wanna keep yours.”

“so, you’re helping the enemy,” vi, still wary of you, wonders.

your frown softens. you place a bandage on the bridge of her nose before saying:

“you’re not my enemy.”

maybe it was the sincerity of your words, or the unconditional care you’re showing her, or the fact that it’s been so long since someone has touched vi so tenderly, but she decides in that moment to trust you, whoever you are.

she takes a bite of the apple, the sweetness invading her mouth, as you lean over to search for something else in the first aid kit, mumbling to yourself about how the wound is deeper than you thought.

“you should really be more careful,” you chide. “are you a topsider?”

vi scoffs through a mouthful of fruit. “i’m from the lanes.”

“yeah, well this neighborhood is a different level of bad,” you tell her.

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

you start stitching up the cut on her eyebrow, one hand keeping her head steady. her cheek pulses against you as she chews, your skin calming and cool.

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

“you didn’t have to help me,” vi grunts. “most people would’ve gone about their business.”

“i was going about my business. i was out on patrol; vampires never sleep, you know.”

you say it so casually, almost too casually, that vi wonders if she misheard you.

“vampires?”

you raise an eyebrow at vi. “there’s a high concentration of them around here, near the hellmouth. a lot of monsters, actually —”

vi hopes you don’t notice how she shudders at the word monsters.

“ — some of whom can and will eat you alive if they get the chance,” you deadpan. “that’s kinda what i’m here for.”

“so….what are you, exactly?”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, your expression unreadable while you finish vi’s stitches, but your heart thumps so forcefully against your ribcage, vi almost thinks she’s seconds away from hearing the bones there crack. you start gnawing at your bottom lip, let the blood gather until it starts to trickle down towards your chin. vi swipes it away with her thumb, which she then wipes against her bandaged palm.

you inhale slowly, then exhale. your heart rate eases; still a bit higher than most people’s, but to what seems to be normal for you.

“the correct term is slayer,” you finally say, watching vi carefully for her reaction.

vi isn’t quite sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good for someone like her. she’s wondering if she should make a run for it when you drop your voice an octave or two and add:

“the chosen one standing against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” you clear your throat. “if you were wondering.” you break out into a cheeky grin, teeth sparkling in the late morning sun.

“you’re joking?”

“most days, i wish i was. that’s the official tagline, actually.” your smile shrinks into a sigh. “i’m the slayer. i won’t bore you with all the details, but me saving you last night? that’s kinda just what i do. my destiny, so to speak.”

“do you normally take the people you save home?”

you blink away, wipe your hands half-heartedly on the white tank top you’re wearing, smearing vi’s mess of crimson and grime.

“no,” you admit.

vi narrows her eyes at you, shifts her body so there’s at least more space between you before she figures out what the hell to do. it’s possible that you’re lying but —

vi puffs out her chest. “why are you being so nice to me?”

you already have her blood on your body, and vice versa, and not just because you’d been fighting each other. it’s not quite trust, but it feels like something close. something you’re willing to share without even knowing much about the other.

an unspoken question: do you know what i really am?

because if you did, vi’s sure you wouldn’t be so….friendly towards her. so gentle.

“honestly?” you gesture towards the dog who’s busy nuzzling into vi’s leg. “fangs kinda hates everyone but she seems to like you.”

her jaw drops. “you decided to be my guardian angel because your dog likes me?”

“i already had a good feeling about you before.” you shrug. “i took it as a good omen, i guess.”

“i’m not sure you should,” vi advises.

you’re looking out for her, so she should look out for you. it’s better, for everyone, that vi be left alone.

she’s been good, had to learn how to be, in order to survive; that doesn’t mean she’s innocent.

on the bad days, she can’t control her anger. on the worst days, she can’t contain her hunger.

“okay, well, maybe i’ve got a thing for strays,” you reach your hand down, run it through fangs’ thick black fur. your lips curl upwards as you look at vi, all bright-eyed and beautiful, sunlight itself emanating from your smile.

something sparks in her chest that she thought would never light again. something that, like her, could be dangerous if it’s not controlled.

vi decides it’s probably about time that she left, though it's difficult to tear herself from your warmth.

“so, will i see you in the pit again?” she still can’t help but ask as you accompany her to the door.

“probably, yeah.” you lean against the doorframe, and vi is about to turn the knob when you add: “but, that pub you passed outside of? the bronze? maybe we can, uh, get a drink there, afterwards sometime.”

your heart skips a beat or two as you anxiously wait for vi to say something. her entire body heats up when she realizes what’s going on.

you were….asking her out.

the good thing is that then there’s no way you actually know what vi is because, well, would this even be allowed in your line of work?

“you promise you’re not just playing the long game? gaining my trust and then stabbing me in the back?”

you give her a playful but sincere smile and make a small ‘x’ on the left side of your upper chest. “cross my heart.”

“guess i’ll will call you my guardian angel,” she muses, her chest glowing. “i’m vi, by the way.”

you grin, then formally introduce yourself. you reach out your hand. vi holds it, delicately, even though your grip is firm.

“one more thing, though — keep the whole me being the slayer thing under wraps? it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“why’d you tell me, then?” vi wonders, raising an eyebrow.

you tilt your head, examining her. “like i said — i had a good feeling about you. slayers are meant to have good instincts, so i decided to trust mine.”

vi takes a deep breath, removes her hand from yours, and glances at you once more with a small smile. she promises not to tell a soul.

(she, of all people, knows that there are far worse secrets to keep.)

“thank you,” vi adds. “for saving me.”

she hears fangs scratching at the door from inside the apartment after she’s gone, along with the deep rumble of your voice telling fangs not to worry, our new friend will visit again soon, like you’re so sure vi will be back.

with the way you already have her sharp edges softening, her heart fluttering in her chest, vi probably will be.

except —

vi’s not quite human, hasn’t been since she started bleeding between her legs at 13, since her mother told her that this was a blessing passed down to eldest daughters in their family, no matter how many people will try to convince her it’s a curse.

it would be a few months later that her mother would be killed because of said blessing.

really, it’s more nightmare.

because vi knows what it’s like to pick ripped flesh from between her teeth, to have the metallic sweetness of blood linger on her tongue and throat-tearing screams ringing in her ears.

meanwhile, you — with your good instincts, strong fists and stronger heart —

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares.

you’re the thing that monsters like her are supposed to have nightmares about.

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights.

vi fights with bared teeth and burning rage, knuckles cracking against bone, elbows bruising skin without any remorse. her own wounds are half-hazardly hidden behind layers of gauze, her chest wrapped tightly to keep her heart from bleeding out. she doesn’t bother to clean the dirt underneath her nails, to wipe the blood from her upper lip after an opponent breaks her nose, to wash her face clean before smearing on more dark paint until all she sees in the mirror is a shadow of her former self.

you, on the other hand: you’re precise and quick in how you defeat your opponents, maybe even a bit bored. vi figures that when you fight monsters for a living, it must be fairly dull, knocking out some guy with a single, well placed uppercut, even if he is twice your size. your bandages are always fresh, and you always make vi a little dizzy when she catches a whiff of rose. you walk past her with a playful grin, easily replaced by the glint of your razor-sharp canines as you defeat another opponent in the arena. she listens as your heartbeat barely increases a beat, despite the inevitable adrenaline of battle.

you might not be as feral as her, but vi thinks you’re just as dangerous. she likes it, admires that your violence is always calculated rather than all-consuming.

she does wonder if you’d ever let anything consume you, curious to know what’s hiding under your armor.

so, a few days after she first woke up in your apartment, vi builds up the courage to suggest:

"whoever wins the most fights tonight picks up the tab for the bar."

your face brightens the dim, dirty sidelines of the pit as you’re both waiting for your turn, when you answer:

"you're on, killer."

later that night, both of your bodies are aching as vi tries to examine your injuries once you’re both done for the day, away from the roar of the crowd.

"guess i'll be picking up the tab," you smile, your lip splitting open even more, just like the morning after her knuckles first kissed your skin.

(she wants to kiss this wound closed, too, press her lips to your bloody ones, if you’d be willing to give her a taste.)

"i'll still take care of it, angel,” vi soothes. she rummages around the tiny locker room, a single light bulb flickering above you. finally, she finds a small first aid kit — poorly stocked, but good enough for now. “lemme take care of you first."

you must understand what vi’s implying, because your heart starts racing faster.

it’s a routine that becomes vi’s guiding light — the two of you patching each other up after a rough day (and, regardless of the fact that you’re both strong, it’s always a rough day). you share a drink at the bronze, and then you’re off slaying vampires or whatever other nightmares will keep you awake and fighting every night.

then, it’s another full moon, and the routine changes.

she’s able to prevent herself from turning even in the worst of circumstances, but she doesn’t want to risk any accidents, knowing that you’re out there on the prowl. vi is confident that you’d never hurt, let alone kill her, but that’s counting on you being able to recognize her.

vi locks herself in the basement of the bronze. spike, the bartender, let her crash in a storage closet, temporarily, no questions asked and a promise to keep it a secret.

she emerges from her isolation after three days, eyes stinging from the harsh morning sun. her first instinct is to head underground, search for you. she makes one stop beforehand, drops something off in the locker room before she’s ushered into the arena without any more preamble.

the show must go on, and you’re already center stage.

the lanky woman you must’ve just knocked unconscious is being dragged away. you spit out what looks like a combination of blood and saliva, and crack your neck before resuming a fighting stance, feet squared, bruised knuckles at the ready.

you falter when you see that it’s vi who’s your next opponent. vi picks up the increased pace of your heart, the muscle worrying against your chest.

you’ve had this conversation, though — about what would happen if you were ever up against each other again in the ring — and you both agreed: once the bell rings, the fight starts, because you both need the money to survive.

nothing personal. winner buys two rounds of drinks at the bronze. three, if there were some nasty hits involved.

you hadn’t needed to worry about any of that until now.

the bell rings, and vi waits for you to make the first move, like you tend to do.

but, you don’t.

the first time you were up against each other, vi dodged your attack and delivered a jab hard enough to make you bleed. you had looked at her with wide eyes, fingers touching your bottom lip and becoming stained with red as the crowd roared. you adjusted your posture with a newfound interest, and a glimmer of what vi can only describe as hunger.

this time, you drop your stance like you’ve already lost the fight. you ignore the shouts and groans from the crowd as you walk away.

….

vi finds you in the locker room — and you’re not alone.

“there a problem here?” vi asks, glaring at the guy you seem to be arguing with.

“it’s fine,” you answer coolly. still, vi sits on the bench nearest to the door, waits for you like a patient dog.

“fine?” the guy barks a laugh. he’s wearing topside clothes. an enforcer, no less. “you made me look like a fool.”

you scoff. “i doubt that’s hard to do.”

the guy suddenly reaches forward and snatches your arm. vi feels rage surge through her when his nails indent your skin. you must sense it, because your eyes lock with hers in a silent command not to do anything, not just yet.

“i don’t think you understand, bitch,” he seethes, face a pissed off shade of red. “i’m out more money than you’ll ever see in your entire pathetic life.”

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

vi follows your gaze as it drops to his belt. he’s got his badge, a standard issue pistol, and a pouch full of gold coins.

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.”

you force a smile. “better luck next time, officer.”

you finally rip your arm out of his grip, push him away abruptly, effectively manoeuvring him to stumble between where you’re standing, and vi’s waiting. you gesture towards vi with a smirk, a taunting dare for this enforcer to challenge two of the undercity’s best fighters.

vi gets up just as he’s walking out, grumbling an incoherent string of swears. she not-so-subtly knocks into his shoulder and hip, her nimble fingers still quick.

“guess we can get dinner with our drinks, now,” she quips with a toothy grin. vi tosses you the pouch, but you don’t seem too thrilled, even as you catch it effortlessly.

“you can’t just disappear like that, vi.” your voice sharp, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i didn’t mean to,” vi lies, walking over to open your shared locker. she pulls out a bouquet of roses, the same deep red as dried blood.

vi pouts, gives you her best puppy dog eyes. “i’m sorry, angel.”

the only reaction she gages from you is a quickening heartbeat at the nickname, your face still hard to crack marble.

“this is serious, vi.”

“i know! but —”

“do you know what’s out there? i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful,” you rush, walking over to her and talking with your hands. “i looked everywhere for you, and….and you just left without saying anything. i thought…i thought you’d been killed —”

your blood roars in vi’s ears, your pulse close to out of control, and vi doesn’t know what else to do except bring you into her arms in an attempt to calm you down.

“i’m okay, angel. i’m here. i’m right here,” vi mumbles against your shoulder, inhaling sweat and roses.

your heart starts beating steady against her own as you exhale.

“i was safe, i promise. i was in the supply close at the bronze.”

“are you kidding?” you guffaw, unravelling yourself from vi’s body. “that basement is a hellhole.”

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

“well, i guess now that i lost one of my best sponsors, fangs and i might have to move in there with you,” you deadpan.

you reach around vi to pull a jacket from the locker, slipping on worn leather that vi realizes is hers. you take the flowers from her with a small thank you, and vi adjusts the collar of her jacket on you, her warm fingers subtly grazing your pulsepoint. vi can’t help the possessiveness that sparks in her abdomen: you, wearing her clothes; you, heart beating rapidly for her.

“well…what if….i moved in with you?” deep down, she knows it’s not an ideal situation, but vi reasons: “we can pool our money together for rent. besides, what’s another stray in your home?”

you bite your bottom lip as you mull over the offer.

“well, you did buy me flowers, ask me out to dinner….seems like the logical next step.”

“so….”

vi wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you finally crack a smile.

it was only been three days apart and vi already felt deprived of the sunlight of your smile.

“okay, killer. as long as you don’t make a habit of disappearing on me.”

….

on paper, there might be reasons why you and vi, together, shouldn’t work, but the simple truth is that you do.

you still spend your afternoons engulfed in the darkness of the underground arena, patch each other up at the end of the day, share drinks at the bronze before parting ways.

now, in the mornings, you spend a few hours training together, moving furniture around so there’s enough space to spar. you try not to get distracted by how hot her skin is every time it brushes against yours, how solid her thigh is between your legs when she’s adjusting your stance, how a shattered moan emerges from her lips as you pin her to the floor after showing her a new technique to catch an opponent off-guard.

the nights are your favourite, though. like fangs, vi is able to fall asleep anywhere in the apartment, and is usually passed out by the time you’re off the clock from slayer duty. after the first few nights, you insist that vi sleep on the bed, and she begrudgingly agrees. now, you get home just before dawn, bone-tired, to find her belly up, drooling and snoring on top of the dilapidated mattress. the moonlight illuminates all the curves and shadows of her sculpted body, her skin shimmering with sweat because her body runs warm, even on the coldest nights. you can see the trail of pink hair disappear beneath her black underwear, while her dyed-black hair is a tangled mess you’re tempted to tug at, curious to see if she’d moan again for you. vi sleeps shirtless, nipples winking at you like two fallen stars with those titanium rods pierced through.

gods, you try not to drool when you slip under the covers and fall asleep dreaming of her, all the places you would sink your teeth into, all the places you wish she would do the same.

(meanwhile, vi tries to ignore the sound of your whimpers, the quick tempo of your heartbeat, and the overwhelming musk of desire between your legs as you sleep next to her, because she’s so sure that you would never dream of her.)

these fantasies of vi, all her warmth, all her chaos, gnaw at you from the inside out. it’s an overwhelming sense of hunger, but with vi, you also feel something else, something gentler and more fragile building between you.

it’s really the little things.

like, vi brings you fresh roses every week, and even though you keep telling her to save her winnings for better things, she tells you that pretty girls like you are worth it, angel. they should teach you that in slayer school.

she winks, makes you flustered, then has the audacity to blush when you leave her the ripest apples because you know that she likes them a bit sweeter.

sometimes you open the window as you share a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the starlit twilight as you exchange stories about your pasts, about the people you’ve loved and lost. she’s the first person you confide in about how weighed down you feel by the responsibility of being the slayer, a burden that’s cost you many loved ones, and the uncertainty of whether what you’re destined to do is truly what is good for the world. she tells you about her time in prison, the lonely nights lamenting the death of her father and brothers, but keeping her strength because she hoped to one day make it back to a sister she just ended up losing, anyways.

other times, the two of you play a game. you imagine that you’re elsewhere, that there are no such things as monsters, no reason to have to battle and bruise yourselves just to survive. instead, you have a life and a family and a home together, filled with luxurious parties, decadent dinner tables, and endless sunny days.

you comfort her and she comforts you through the dark, morbid world you both have been fighting against, alone, for so long.

it works. it works really well.

except — you’ve been the slayer long enough to know that nothing this good will last. it's nauseating — dangerous, even — this desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut, twisting and taunting you with what can never be.

you’re just waiting for the next nightmare to reveal itself.

….

vi’s hair has started to fade back to pink, so she asks you to re-dye it.

it’s easy to forget that she sits in a rickety chair in your decrepit but well-loved apartment because all she can think about is your body behind hers, solid and steady. your cool fingers work the dye through her hair, your nails scrape against her scalp, and you’re humming as fangs snores peacefully at her feet. she’s died and gone to heaven, pure bliss glowing in her chest and releasing through her throat as a deep rumble.

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

just you and your sunburst smile and your soft, rose-petal skin.

there’s a firm knock that rustles vi out of her reverie, and you tell her to go rinse out her hair while you answer it.

she can hear you talking with someone through the rush of hot water. she tries not to eavesdrop, but…it’s difficult, especially once she hears:

“it’ll be fine. silver bullets usually do the trick,” you say, without much enthusiasm. vi bites back her hurt, keeps rinsing her hair, waiting for the water to run clear instead of sludge gray.

you’re not talking about her.

“i’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” a voice with a thick british accent replies. “i’ve been on the council for fifty years — five times longer than you’ve been the slayer — and i’ve never seen something quite this vicious.”

“my guess is you don’t get out in the field much,” you quip.

whoever you’re talking to clearly is not amused, ignoring your backhanded comment and instead offering the details of what has been witnessed in the past few days. it’s so gruesome and gory that vi herself is shivering as she turns off the shower, towels off, and gets dressed.

when vi opens the door, she almost trips over fangs, who’d fallen asleep just outside. she gets up immediately as vi steps out, her tail wagging. the owner of the stern voice — a man wearing a very pristine looking tweed suit — is handing you a crossbow, a bunch of silver-tipped arrows already splayed on the table. you notice vi first as your grip on the weapon tightens, and the man’s gaze follows.

“you know there’s a rule about slayers keeping….pets,” the man says, turning his nose up at vi and fangs from where they’re still standing at the doorway of the bathroom.

you glance back at the pair, jaw clenched, and then focus back on your unwanted guest.

“mr. travers, thank you for the heads up, but i believe it’s time for you to leave,” you clip, dropping the crossbow on the table.

“actually, i believe that we have much more to discuss, namely how you’ve allowed this mutt into your home —”

“get the fuck out of our apartment,” you practically growl. you walk towards him menacingly until his back is millimeters away from the door. “you of all people know what i can do.”

“you will be punished for this…this transgression,” travers warns, but there’s an unmistakable tremble in his voice.

you laugh in a way vi can barely recognize, sharp and bitter.

“fine. i’m no stranger to dealing with the council’s bullshit.” you open the door, flash an exaggerated, sickly sweet smile. “have a nice day.”

“i hope this animal is worth it,” travers huffs.

“she’s worth it,” you reply without hesitation before you slam the door on his ass, so hard that the walls shake, the vase in the kitchen toppling over and cracking on the counter.

vi’s seen you fight in the pit — hell, she’s been on the receiving end of some of your wicked moves — but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen you this angry.

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth.

“so that sounds….bad,” vi remarks, heading over to the kitchen counter to gather the broken shards of pottery.

you freeze. “how much did you hear?”

vi just shrugs. “just that there’s something bad out there —”

“don’t worry about it,” you say with a forced smile. you walk over and push some damp hair away from vi’s eyes. “let’s take fangs for a walk before we leave, yeah? while it’s still light out.”

there are whispers throughout the next few days leading up to the full moon. the crowd at the arena starts to thin, most topsiders too scared to journey underground with rumors of a bloodthirsty monster on the loose.

you’re not sleeping anymore, still fighting during the day to a half-empty arena, out on patrol at night, your rosy scent fading from the bedsheets with each passing night. even if you get home before dawn, you spend your time scouring through books and scribbling into your notebook, mumbling to yourself theories about where and how you can stop this thing. vi tries to get you to take a break, or at least eat instead of burning through shimmer-laced cigarettes to keep yourself awake.

the best vi can do is convince you to sit down on the couch with her and share a snack. you settle for doing some research, flip through yellowed pages as you take a bite of an apple, juice dripping down your chin.

vi reaches her finger out, puts it in her mouth to suck off the juice, moaning around the salty-sweet taste of your skin. you let out a pleased hum, turning your attention back to your research, but angling your body to invite her closer. vi nuzzles into your side, puts her head on your lap, twitches in pleasure as you reach down to scratch behind her ear.

she looks up at you, and you finally give her a real smile — the first ray of sun after a pitch dark night.

a slice of paradise vi was certain she’d never find.

….

the night of the full moon is when all hell breaks loose.

vi tries — she begs you not to go out there, sensing that tonight, of all nights, it will be at its strongest. but you, too headstrong and too righteous for your own good, just won’t listen.

“this thing has killed eleven people in less than a week. i don’t care what phase of the moon it is — i’m ending this, tonight.”

“why does it have to be you? that thing is stronger than anything you’ve ever fought!”

“which is why i’ve been preparing,” you snap.

“can’t you – can’t you just call the fucking council, or something, tell them to deal with it?”

fangs is right there with vi, scrambling and whining as you’re meticulously arming yourself with as many weapons you can carry.

you scoff, notching a few silver blades to your belt. “it’s not their responsibility, it’s mine. where the fuck — i can’t go out only in this tank top, it’s fucking freezing — ”

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

“you’re gonna die if you go out there alone.”

“yeah, well, i’ve accepted my fate a long time ago,” you say stoically.

you’re fairly well supplied at this point; if vi was the monster you were hunting, she’d be running scared from a glance alone. you’re only half paying attention to vi’s pleas, and sigh in relief when you find what you’d been looking for.

“please, angel, don’t —”

“i was literally born for this, violet. if i don’t go out and stop this thing from killing more people, then my life is worth nothing.”

“you make me happy!” she shouts desperately, forcing you to pause as you slip on her jacket. “that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

a tense silence follows.

you freeze for a few moments, avoiding vi’s gaze. then, you walk over to the cabinet, grabbing something so quickly vi can’t pinpoint what it is and stuffing it in your back pocket. you clench and unclench your left fist, a tick of yours that vi recognizes from the arena.

you’re planning your next move.

in a daze, you pick up the crossbow, but you hesitate once more —

“fuck,” you exhale before letting the weapon clatter to the ground and rushing over to crash your lips against vi’s.

you’re kissing and kissing, teeth and tongue and a pleasure so guilty, vi’s sure she’ll be damned for all eternity. vi’s lungs are burning when she pulls away first.

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

“i still have to go,” you interrupt, voice determined and sharp, cutting right through to vi’s heart.

there’s a fear curling up her throat as you watch her, your eyes the darkest she’s ever seen them.

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

you kiss her again. you taste so heavenly, better than she ever dreamed of, that vi doesn’t even care that it’s probably just to shut her up.

she almost doesn’t notice that you’ve cornered her between the kitchen counter and the front door, until she hears a distinct click, feels something heavy and burning against her wrists.

you pull away first this time, eyes glazed over as you back away to make space between you and what you’ve done:

vi, handcuffed to the exposed heating pipe. the cuffs are stronger than any vi has ever been bound by. must be made of real silver. the metal sears into her skin, down to the bone, as she struggles against them, screaming to the point of howling, watching as you pick up the crossbow and a handful of silver tipped arrows as a final hail mary.

“no!” she cries. the pipe you’d cuffed her to rattles, but it doesn’t give. “please, please don’t —”

“i’m…i’m really sorry,” you mumble, quickly wiping away a tear. vi flinches when you try to touch her cheek; she bares her teeth at you like a rabid beast, but you don’t give her the courtesy of a reaction.

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

“because….you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

you take a deep breath. you look at fangs, affectionately pat her head as she bows her head and whines, tail between her legs. “bring her the key once it’s morning,” you instruct. your eyes slide over to vi’s, for what she fears might be the last time. “take care of each other.”

with that, you’re out the door.

vi isn’t sure how much time passes. her wrists sting, her muscles ache, but still, she keeps going. she doesn’t care how, but she’s not letting you die tonight.

a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. something claws at her ribcage.

you’re not dying tonight.

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

the streets are empty, deserted due to fear and damp from the cold evening rain.

you search through the shadows, around every corner, play with one of your daggers just to pass the time, the blade weaving between your expert fingers.

all you can really think about, though, is vi, and how scared she was to lose you, and how terribly you must have hurt her —

fuck.

you accidentally sliced through your palm, your blood emerging as thick, black tar in the darkness. you sigh and kneel down in the alleyway, dropping your heaviest weapon so you can use your uninjured hand to wrap the other.

something pounces on you before you can stop the bleeding. the crossbow — the weapon that was supposed to deliver a fatal blow — is now out of reach.

you jab one of your silver blades into the creature’s side; he howls, but you manage to kick him away long enough to get to your feet, get a better sense of what you’re fighting. you’ve never seen anything like it before: a hulking mass roughly five times your size, wolf-like features, and chemical machinery woven throughout his body, a neon green liquid pumping through glass tubes.

the beast growls at you, lunges forward once again; you jump out of his path, roll away so run, fast, and grab the crossbow. you quickly notch a silver tipped arrow, aim at his heart; you hold your breath and fire without hesitation. then another, and another, just to be safe.

your stomach turns as you watch the creature remove the arrows as if they were nothing but splinters. he lets out a roar that shakes the earth. you’ve made him angrier.

you drop the crossbow, deciding instead to propel yourself off the wall, leap onto the beast’s shoulders and stab the glass tubes with all the force you can muster. green liquid gushes out, and the beast howls in pain, but doesn’t give up. with sharp claws, he throws you to the ground, and you shriek as he tears through the skin of your ribs.

you’re very suddenly dizzy, bleeding out on the cobblestones, yet continue to struggle with whatever strength still courses through your veins. the beast looms over you, foaming at the mouth, and your vision is getting fuzzier by the second.

that’s when you see a flash of dark fur, almost fuschia in the moonlight, jump in front of you, knock the beast out of the way, tumble to the side. you glance at the creature that saved you — a wolf with a fierce set of teeth and beautiful powder blue eyes — before you fall unconscious.

iv. stitch me up (touch me inside and out)

vi barely registers that the temperature in the apartment is dropping.

she doesn’t regret how she had to rip the heating pipe from the wall — there are nasty burns, still untreated, stinging her wrists where the silver cuffs had restrained her.

she doesn’t regret transforming from human to something wild, unrestrained, in order to save you from something much worse.

she’s still burning off adrenaline, her nervous system on high alert. it’s been a while, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be.

it all happened so fast. there was something oddly familiar about the beast; he seemed to recognize vi, too. that’s the only explanation — for all the ruthless, bloody stories she’d heard, why else would he have let vi take you away and just disappear into the night without so much as a growl?

vi doesn’t have the energy to answer such questions. all she cares about is you. she can’t get over the overwhelming scent of your blood, already spilling out onto the street when she showed up. she almost lost control, blinded by rage and a desire to kill the beast — but you were there, on the brink of death, and she just wanted you to be safe, wanted to bring you home.

she just hopes she wasn’t too late.

vi hyper-focuses on your labored, disjointed breaths from where she tucked you in. she tried her best to stop the bleeding and dress your wounds with combinations of herbs and flowers she frantically read about in one of your books, desperate to keep you alive.

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood.

vi wants nothing more than to curl up on the bed next to you, but after you saw her last night, once you realize that she’s no different than the savage beast you were so determined to kill, she’s not sure you’d want her near you.

she’ll just stay long enough to know that you’ll wake up, and then she’ll be out of your life forever.

dawn breaks. the sun shines through cracked, frost covered windows, and your eyes remain shut.

your heart’s still pumping blood, which is a good sign, but otherwise….

day bleeds into night, and you’re still out cold. vi manages to drip some water between your parted lips, and watches with relief as your throat reacts accordingly. you let out a gentle sigh, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly.

“please wake up,” vi whispers.

fangs jumps onto the bed and whimpers, nudging her nose against your arm so that she’s snuggled underneath. vi drapes a blanket over the pair of you.

another sleepless night passes.

at first light, vi changes your bandages. she struggles a bit, given her injured wrists, but she’s pleased to find you healing from what might have been a fatal injury to most humans. she tries to feed fangs, but the dog refuses.

fair enough — vi can’t bring herself to eat, either.

instead, to pass the time, vi glues together shards from the broken vase and places it back on the kitchen counter. there are no more fresh roses; vi decides she’ll bring you some as a parting gift once you’ve woken up.

you’re shivering by the time darkness starts to creep in. vi piles as many blankets as she can on you and fangs, but it’s not enough. vi accepts what she had been reluctant to do: she slips into bed next to you, uses her body to keep you warm, arms wrapped around you protectively.

vi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up late the next afternoon, to cold rumpled sheets and an even colder empty apartment.

you must have a knack for perfect timing, because just as vi’s about to start spiralling, the front door swings open and it’s you — cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, holding a brown paper bag with one arm while your other hand grasps the key. fangs rushes through the door, too, tail wagging as she zooms around the apartment, bounces on the furniture and lets out excited little yaps.

“morning, killer.” you smile like you hadn’t been knocking on death’s door since a few nights before. “i would have waited, but you were pretty knocked out and fangs had a ton of energy to burn. clearly she still does,” you chuckle, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through vi’s body. “i got us some food, too, and i’ll contact the landlord to fix our — whoa!”

the bag drops to your feet as vi pounces on you, engulfing your body in her arms and squeezing tightly. your heartbeat is as strong as ever, steadies her own frantic pulse.

“s-sorry.” she pulls away and takes a step back. “i shouldn’t have —”

you just shake your head and press a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“i’m sorry,” you say. “i shouldn’t have — i shouldn’t have treated you like that; shouldn’t have used who you are as a weapon against you. you saved me, vi.” you take a shuddery breath. you place a gentle hand on her cheek. “thank you.”

it takes vi a minute to process what you’ve said.

you thanked her for saving you.

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon.

what did you mean by that?

unless —

i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful.

she’s worth it.

you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

“you….knew,” vi realizes, and even as she says it, she can’t quite believe it. “how….how long?”

“from the first time i landed a punch on your handsome face.” smiling softly, you run your thumb over the faded burn on her cheek, the one mirroring her tattoo, the one left by your silver ring.

“are you serious?”

“well, fine, i didn’t know what you were, not exactly, until later. i just had a pretty good feeling that you weren’t human; you had a pulse, so you couldn’t be a vampire, which meant —”

“you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you?”

you shrug. “you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you.” while vi continues to stare at you in disbelief, you bend down to pick up the fallen items. vi crouches down with you.

“that’s different,” she reasons, handing you a soft red apple, your cold fingers brushing over her warm skin momentarily.

“i don’t think so. not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. i saved you from a human that night, remember?”

“b-but you’re you and i-i’m me.” vi scrambles to find the right words. she’s still shocked at how calm you are. is it really as simple as you make it seem? “you weren’t….scared that i’d hurt you, because that’s who i am?”

you get up and place the bag of groceries in the kitchen, lean against the counter as you stare back at vi. instead of answering, you challenge her once again:

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

“there’s your answer,” you declare, giving her that razor-sharp grin you flash whenever you win a fight.

fangs has calmed down, and she’s asleep on the living room couch, her snores the only sound between you as vi processes everything that’s been said.

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

it went terribly when she last told someone the truth, at least anyone outside her family, and even they would sometimes walk on eggshells around her, like they were worried she might snap.

but you….you’ve sparred and you’ve bickered and you never even flinched once.

you welcomed her into your home, into your life.

you kissed her.

this whole time.

“i was scared you wouldn’t love me, if you knew,” vi admits, a whisper so soft that she’s almost sure that you didn’t hear.

except you falter then, your confident posture melting at her confession. your lips part in a soft exhale.

“well, it’s like you said; i knew this whole time, and i still….” you swallow the rest of your sentence, but you’re looking at vi with so much adoration that it’s overwhelming. “i still want you.”

her brain short circuits, and all vi can think to do is kiss you.

it starts sweet, your lips rose-petal soft. her lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure. you run your fingers through vi’s hair, swallow her moans. she’s dizzy with anticipation, imagining how you might do the same when she’s between your legs later. you kiss the scar on her upper lip, gently like you’re hoping to heal the permanent wound. then, your tongue laves over the cut on vi’s bottom lip, soothes her, pushes into her mouth again so you’re both tasting copper.

but then, you bite down, and a desire buried deep within vi is unleashed: the desire to cut herself open for you so you can love each and every part of her. even deeper down, vi hopes that you’d want the same.

vi brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into her mouth even more. she lodges her thigh between your legs and shoves her tongue into your mouth when you gasp. one of your hands slips underneath her shirt to trace the contours of her abdomen, meticulously outlining each one.

“it’s been days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?” you mumble against her lips, pulling away slightly. your brows pinch together in worry, because you already know her body too well, can tell that each muscle is more defined, each edge a bit sharper. “you must be starving, baby. let’s eat something before —”

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

“we can do that after.” she offers you her best puppy dog eyes as she pleads: “i’m hungry for something else now. i want you.”

to prove her point, vi guides your hand to her belt. your fingers dance along the metal and she eagerly awaits your response.

“fine,” you decide. “but whoever has the most orgasms makes dinner.”

“you’re on, angel.”

her breath hitches when your hand moves down the waistband of her pants; you play with her tangle of curls, tease the tip of your fingers into her wetness. she purrs against you.

“wait —” you pause your actions. vi whimpers when you remove your glistening fingers; you take off the silver ring on your pointer finger, grinning guiltily as you toss it on the counter behind you. “that would have been bad,” is all you say before inserting two fingers into her already slick pussy.

“ugh, ah — fuck, just like that, angel,” she moans, twitching as you ram your fingers into her.

you hum, stuff another finger into her heat, stretching her so deliciously that her legs start to tremble.

“such a good girl for me. aren’t you, violet?” you coo and start sucking the skin behind her ear. “you gonna make a mess, right here in our kitchen?”

and that does it — vi’s walls tighten around you, her wetness soaks through her clothes; she’s almost sure that it drips down onto the floor. vi whines as you remove your fingers, feeling empty. you shove your syrupy fingers into her mouth instead, her tongue greedily lapping up her own cum. a string of spit follows as you rip away your fingers and press your mouth against vi’s kiss-swollen, cum-covered lips. you feel something smouldering in the pit of your stomach at her whimpers; you’re nowhere near satisfied, but her eyes, all wide and dark and desperate, are pleading at you to let her indulge in her hunger, as well.

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

“i want to fuck you,” she declares, and you nod eagerly, your body bursting into flames.

she gestures at you to wrap your legs around her hips, and she carries you to the bed as you kiss more fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues fighting to explore every crevice of her mouth. you tear each other’s clothes off; but the cold air doesn’t faze you in the slightess, because you have vi, hot and passionate, above you, keeping you going.

your teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as vi messily thrusts against you, your cunts sliding against each other; sticky, languid bliss.

vi takes her time. she wants to savor every part of this, of you — the sting of your nails scratching down her tattooed back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet roses, combined with the thick musk of your desire, dripping against hers so deliciously; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging her to go faster, harder.

she nudges her nose against the crook of your neck, salivates at how your vein pulses for her like a tantalizing butterfly. her teeth graze your pulsepoint, but she’s trembling with the amount of self control it takes not to add any more pressure.

“v-vi,” you breathe her name like a prayer. “baby.”

a guttural moan bubbles from the back of her throat in response.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, coax her to look you in the eye, the gesture a sharp contrast to the harsh squelching of your cunts against each other, melding together with each determined thrust.

“you – ah,” you gasp as vi rolls her hips into yours with even more vigor. “you can bite me, if you want.”

vi licks her lips, swallows the hunger burning in her throat because you must be too fucked out if you’re willing to let vi fully indulge in this craving.

“but then you would —”

“lycanthropy is only transmitted when you’re in wolf form,” you explain through labored breaths. “so if you bite me now….and gods, i’m begging you to…..nothing’s gonna change.”

“i have never been more thankful for your slayer training,” she growls. “you really want that, huh? for me to mark you up really good, show everyone that you’re mine?”

“o-only if i can do the same,” you manage a smirk. “or are you all bark and no bite?” you tease, buck your hips upwards. vi is willing to die for your knife-like smile alone, so of course. she’d let you eat her whole, if that’s what you really wanted.

vi finally sinks her teeth into you, rolling her eyes back at how absolutely luscious you taste. like a good girl — your good girl — she follows your orders and bites. she bites down your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones, relishing in the imprints left in her wake.

vi knows now that she calls you angel for a reason. it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the pillow as your orgasm crashes through you. vi follows a few seconds later until you’re covered in her — she drenched the curls of your bush, her cum dripping down on your own wet pussy as she watches from above. vi can’t help it; she bends down, and you jolt slightly when her cold nipple piercing brushes against your clit. she does it again a few more times just to appreciate how you whine, rut your pussy against her perky breast, begging for more.

but, vi’s on the hunt for something else — she splits your folds with her sharp tongue, sucks any and all of your shared essence. she lets it slosh around in her mouth before hovering over you once more, silently ordering you to part your wet lips; when you comply, so obedient, vi spits into your wanton mouth, thick and velvety.

“swallow,” she orders, voice rough with lust. you do so quite eagerly.

and just like that, you’re back to grinding on each other, leaving a delectable mess along the skin of each other’s thighs. the tension in vi’s abdomen snaps when you wrap your lips around her nipple, suckling at your own wetness until drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth.

after feeling her gush against you, a feral impulse rips through you. you release her nipple with a distinct pop, the cold metal still burning on your tongue as you yank vi’s hair, exposing her tender skin, glittering with sweat in the dark golden light as the sun starts to set. you pull her close, bite around the tattoo on the side of her neck, hard. vi howls in pleasure as you taste salt and iron and her, reaching your peak.

vi waits patiently as you come down from your high, chest heaving, your neck still engraved with the outline of her teeth while yours are stained red. you crash your lips onto hers, chaotic and insatiable, kissing her like she’s your last meal. in turn, she licks into your mouth, tongue tracing your canines to savor what you’ve consumed of hers.

“you sure you’re not a vampire? that would be quite the scandal,” vi jokes later when you’re sitting in her lap, taking time to clean each other up. vi’s only wearing a shirt, but you’ve doubled up on clothes, the apartment growing colder as night approaches.

you already tended to the burns on her wrists (and apologized profusely for causing them; you also scolded her a bit for not tending to herself sooner). now you use disinfectant to wipe down her neck, where you broke skin; you quickly place a bandage that soothes the sting and vi presses a grateful kiss to your sternum.

you hum around the unlit cigarette in your mouth, which you had rolled beforehand with dried rose petals. with your hands unoccupied, you reach for your lighter. vi tilts her chin to gaze up at you; you’re backlit by the evening twilight, a silver halo around you as flowery smoke billows from your mouth.

“i’m sure they won’t be thrilled to know that a slayer’s fallen in love with a werewolf, either,” you muse, beaming at her.

vi clicks her tongue. “sounds like we’re breaking some bylaws.”

“oh, she’s worth it; i’d do anything for my charming, sexy, handsome werewolf.”

you lean forward and exhale smoke into vi’s parted mouth, lips brushing against each other as you share the same breath. you sit back once your lungs are burning and admire the view.

vi — normally all rough edges and dark shadows — blushing a delicate pink as you praise her.

“she’s got a killer right hook, too,” you continue. you offer vi the cigarette and she nods; you hold it, place it between her lips as she takes a drag. “a body so hot that it’s honestly unfair. she’s a fighter, which i love, and some people might think she’s just a scary dog, but i think she’s beautiful and brave and a total softie —”

“okay, okay,” vi coughs, the tips of her ears red. she takes the cigarette from you and stubs it out on the makeshift ashtray by the windowsill. vi rolls over so she’s on top of you, cupping your face in her hands. she pecks across your cheeks until you’re giggling; you try to turn the tables, and the two of you just end up wrestling in a tangle of sheets and laughter and tender kisses.

eventually, you both calm down.

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

vi shakes her head. “we’ll make breakfast together in the morning?”

“sounds heavenly.”

it’s dark outside, but the stars are out and the waning moon shines bright. vi positions herself behind you, her body curving into yours, chin notched over your shoulder and arm secure on your waist.

fangs must feel left out, because she shuffles under the covers for warmth before immediately falling back asleep, her fur tickling at your feet.

your thumb rubs against the gauze on vi’s wrist. you can’t help but feel regret, heavy like lead in your stomach.

“baby, i’m fine,” vi assures, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“i….i just hate that i did this to you,” you mumble, bringing her wrist up so you can kiss it.

“you were trying to protect me. it’s what we do, yeah? protect each other?”

when you hum in agreement, vi guides you to turn around so you’re facing each other. on instinct, she parts your legs with her thigh. your sweatshirt has ridden up, so vi starts to rub circles onto your exposed hip bone, her touch soft as velvet.

“next time you go out there, i’m coming with you.”

your breath hitches as you trace the tattoos licking up her arm. “vi….”

“this isn’t up for debate,” vi declares. she reaches her hand up to caress your cheek, thumb delicately rubbing the shadows under your eye. “you almost died. whatever almost killed you is still out there. you’re strong — gods, you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met — but you don’t have to face any of this alone. not anymore.”

you let out a surprised laugh.

“what?” she murmurs shyly, her eyes the soft, pale blue of moonlight, star-like freckles dazzling her sculpted cheeks.

“no, it’s just….anyone who’s known that i’m the slayer either calls me delusional, runs scared, or expects me to do it all by myself. hell — that’s how it was written, how it was destined to be."

vi nudges her nose against yours. her breath tickles your lips, heats up your entire being with a warmth so divine, you wonder if you actually have died and gone to heaven.

you’re both alive, though, a bit bruised and wounded. the world is dark and cold, but here’s this beautiful, strong girl with a beautiful, strong heart who holds you close, parts her full lips — like two rose petals, kiss-bitten and crimson — and vows:

“fuck destiny. it’s you and me now, angel.”

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

it’s a quiet night. you spent most of it lamenting how you got your ass kicked earlier and fantasizing about the woman who did it, when you see a shadow of a person passed out at the corner of the street, and another trying to steal from them.

someone has to stand against the forces of darkness and evil, and the universe somehow determined that would be you — a fate you’ve had to accept through bruised ribs and broken hearts and bloody prophecies, but one you’ve had to accept nonetheless.

if that goes beyond vampires and demons, so be it.

after you’ve managed to send the creep on the run, you recognize the person you saved:

it’s her.

she looked more intimidating in the pit, honestly — all harsh and dark, furrowed brows and vicious snarls.

it takes you kneeling in front of her to be able to really see it through the black face paint. you take a little pride in the bruise that blossoms on her cheek and the cut through her eyebrow, thinking that at least you got a few shots in before she took you out with a killer right hook.

your jaw still aches and you still taste copper thanks to her, but without the roars from the crowd or the pressure of hefty prize money that you need to survive, you can see her more clearly. she’s bleeding through her bandages; she’s shivering because, gods, it’s freezing this time of year and all she’s wearing underneath a flimsy leather jacket is scrap fabric that would not be counted as a shirt; and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days despite reeking of alcohol.

that’s when you see a burn on her cheekbone, too, just about where your silver ring would have collided with her skin. you hold your breath, lean in closer to her chest and listen closely to check — the thumping of a strong, steady heartbeat; the gentle rush of blood flowing through her veins.

so, not a vampire. maybe a human with a silver allergy, but what’s more likely is that she’s….something else.

“hey.” you whisper. when she doesn’t respond, you cup her face in one hand and tap her bruised cheek with your thumb. her skin is warm; if she were a human, you’d think she had a fever. “wake up.”

you resist the urge to jerk away when she softly takes your hand in hers, the gesture a sharp contrast to her knuckles bloodied from earlier.

“five more minutes, cupcake,” she whines, her voice echoing down the empty alley.

“look, it’s late and freezing. we should really go before —”

“please. just stay with me. i promise i’ll be good.”

your chest aches at her sincere tone. did you sound the same, when you made a similar promise before to the people you’ve loved after they found out who — what — you are? did you also look so broken, so bruised when they left?

you know the council wouldn’t approve of what you’re about to do.

but you also know well enough from years of studying and training and fighting as the slayer that their judgement should not be taken as scripture.

in other words: fuck the council.

(plus — you need a friend, or just….someone. it’s lonely, being the chosen one. and this girl, in front of you — when you fought, her body reacting to yours so fluidly, you had somehow never felt more understood.)

you manage to get her to her feet.

she mumbles something incomprehensible into your neck, her breath hot against your skin. you let her lean into your body after a weak attempt at holding herself up. it’s not much trouble for you, though. it’s a cold night, anyways; her body, solid and warm, is almost comforting against yours.

you trust your instincts and carry her home.

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xmalereaderstuff · 2 years ago

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Can I request Robert Pattinson x shy Boyfriend reader where Robert takes the readers virginity and lets the reader fuck his mouth and ass while praising the reader?

Requestlist

Robert Pattinson x Male Reader

warnings: this isn’t good smut. reader is 19, Robert his current age. Age gap. sad reader, kinda depressed reader? Angst ig. Shy soft dom reader. Bottom Robert. idk kinda ditched the request sorry. Girl idk what tense i wrote this in

A/n: Realised i hate writing smut.

A/n: Couldn’t think of anything further. 300 likes, 50 reblogs for a part 2.

———

“I’m home!” I heard Robert say, then a bang. You flinched, like you always do. The door was always so loud, for no reason. He just came back from filming his new movie, ‘the batman.’ He was away filming for about 4 months, not including the months during and before covid-19.

Hearing his voice, made me smile. I missed him, I missed his smile, I missed his hugs, i missed his everything. There was a difference in hearing his voice over the phone and in real life.

You felt this warmth inside you once you saw him walking in the living room, a warmth that had been gone for a long time. You tried to smile, but you hadn’t been feeling the happiest for awhile, your smile was weak. But you tried your best.

“Hey baby, are you okay?” He asked me, noticing my forced smile. I felt so weak, and happy at the same time. He rushed walked over to the big couch i was on, getting on his knees to hug me.

“Yes, i’m okay.” I lied to him, my voice was weak. As we pulled out of the hug, i grabbed his face. “please, never leave so unannounced like that ever again.” I tell him, as i feel my eyes tear up. Trying my best not to breakdown. My vision went blurry, and breathing became harder to control.

As Robert tried to speak, no words came out. His eyes started to tear up aswell, he was lost for words. Regret was the only emotion he showed, it was loud. His jaw sharpened, and he chocked on his own words.

“I-i’m sorry.” he said also trying his best not to breakdown.

- time skip (tell if you want me to make an angst fic)

We where now laying in bed, watching tv. I was laying on his bare chest, my hand on his stomach. I felt him kiss my head, giving small kisses. I moved my thumb up and down over his stomach, knowing that made him feel a certain type of way. “fuck I missed this.” He says under his breath thinking I didn’t hear him.

I wanted to continue, but I didn’t know what to do. I have never done anything like this. My heart beat start to go quicker, I heard his do the same.

“Do you want to do this?” He asked me, knowing i had never done anything like this before.

“Yes, I want to do this.”

“Okay baby.” He said as he made us switch positions, so where he was now laying on my abdomen. I was confused by this, thinking in my mind he was a top. He took off my joggers.

“Wait, ur not a top?” I asked him, confused.

“No i’m not, is that okay?” He said.

“Yes ofc, just tell me what to do?” I reassured him

“Okay, well there’s actually not so much to instruct. Just kinda go with what you think you’re supposed to do, ill tell you if you need to stop.” He tells me, with a weak but beautiful smile. I can feel my cheeks turn red.

“Okay, go ahead.” I say, giving him permission. He took this opportunity and took of my underwear. He takes it in his hand and slowly moving it up and down.

I slowly started to get harder. He started to build ip the pace, making small twisting movements now and then. It gave me this feeling, i had never felt like this before. It was hard to describe.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you were this big.” He praised me, making groaning noises. He leaned his head towards it and started to give it kisses. Then out of nowhere he wrapped his lips around it. He moved his tongue in circular motions, going slowly up and down

I moaned, at first it hurt a little. But soon after that turned into a good feeling. You wanted rob to go faster, but you were scared to do anything.

“Can i?” I asked while grabbing his hair. He nodded yes, so you went for it. Moving my hand faster. *bop* *bop* *bop* I’ve never felt anything like this before.

“Fuck, just like that.” I moaned. I was holding his had still, and fucking his mouth. Hearing muffled noises from him.

end.

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randomfanboi · 9 months ago

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Jared Cameron x Male Reader teaser

#gay men #gay #jared cameron x male reader #jared cameron x reader #jared cameron #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves #twilight smut #twilight #male reader insert #male reader #male reader smut #reader

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esmecullenswife · 7 months ago

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Need

This has some NSWF

Forks, Washington was a small town nestled in the heart of the Olympic Peninsula, surrounded by lush forests and shrouded in near-permanent rainclouds.

It was a place where the unusual was commonplace, and the supernatural walked among humans without fear of discovery. Esme and Carlisle were two of those supernatural beings.

Esme was known throughout Forks as an extremely warm and loving individual, always eager to share her affection with those around her.

Her heart was as vast as the ocean, and she had a natural ability to connect with people on a deeply emotional level. Her strong maternal instincts made her the perfect adoptive mother to the many children who had found their way into her and Carlisle's lives.

Carlisle, for his part, was just as kind and compassionate as Esme.

As a doctor at the local hospital, he spent long hours working to heal the physical and emotional wounds of the people of Forks.

His gentle nature and unwavering dedication to his patients had earned him the respect and admiration of the entire town.

On this particular night, as Carlisle worked late at the hospital, Esme and their mate, Alejandra, found themselves waiting for him to come home.

The rain pattered against the windows, creating a soothing background noise as Esme and Alejandra chatted quietly in the living room.

Esme couldn't resist the urge to tease Alejandra, and she found herself reaching out to touch the other woman's hand, her fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. She spoke softly, her voice full of sensuality and longing, and it wasn't long before Alejandra could no longer resist the pull of her mate's charisma.

Alejandra leaned in close, her lips brushing against Esme's as she whispered, 'I can't wait any longer. I need you now.'

Esme's reply was a low moan of pleasure as Alejandra's lips found her neck, her teeth gently nipping at the skin.

The two of them had been dancing around their attraction for weeks, but now, with Carlisle due home at any moment, they couldn't wait any longer to give in to the desire burning between them.

As if summoned by their thoughts, Carlisle arrived home just as Alejandra's lips found Esme's pussy.

He closed the door silently behind him, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched the two women.

Carlisle knew better than to interrupt them, and instead, he began to undress as he approached the couch where Esme and Alejandra were tangled together. He knew that his love for Esme was strong enough to share her with others, and as he joined in, the three of them found a new level of pleasure in the intimacy they shared.

The night was full of passion and love, a testament to the strong bonds that had brought them together. And as the rain continued to fall outside, the three of them found solace and happiness in each other's arms, knowing that they were truly home.

#esme fucking cullen 😩😫🥰😍🥹#twilight #im fucking gay for esme amd carlisle #twilight x reader #esme cullen smut #carlisle cullen smut #some smut ig?

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cemetery-sunset · 9 months ago

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Master Of All My Lists

🧛🏻‍♂️TWILIGHT

🦌RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

🍖TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE

🤡THE FIREFLY TRILOGY (coming soon)

⏳UNTIL DAWN (coming soon)

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giannafartfart · 9 months ago

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Hi! This is the first of my Twilight mathcups, and hopefully not the end. This one is for my favourite and most loyal fan, @bobxteddyshipper , so let’s get into it.

I math you cup with Carlisle!!!

•you guys work well because he’s a doctor and you’re always a bit sick

• esme sometimes joins you guys in bed but you have to kick her out because she is like a fucking heater even though she’s actually dead and a vampire

•he watches you while you sleep like his adopted son

•Carlisle likes to watch you eat all the time and he cooks you so much so it feels like feederism but really he’s just jealous that he can’t eat

•he’s constantly quizzing you on the ages of his family members

•he introduced you to the wonderful world of vampire swingers so you have little swing parties

•you guys listen to old timey music and you roleplay as patient and doctor all the time like in maple hospital

•he teaches you a bunch about Hispanic people and it’s really out of the ordinary because you aren’t Hispanic

•he transitioned into a woman for you because you’re a straight teen boy and you’re his type

Dm me for your requests!!

#gorillaz #2d x reader #matchups #korn #gay #damon albarn #adultgorillazfan #smut #iasip #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight eclipse #twilight #bella swan #charlie swan #esme cullen #renesmee cullen #jacob black

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goldeneyedgirl · 1 year ago

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TwiFicmas23 Day 9: to ground (jasper/archie)

Good evening! An early post tonight because I am fueled by chocolate frogs, the potential for some amateur surgery tonight (doctor approved, it's fine), and the promise that the holiday season is nearly upon us and I'll stop waking up in a terrified haze that I've forgotten to order something that Amazon doesn't stock locally.

It's been a weird day.

Tonight I bring you what at least three people have requested: an Attempt at Jasper/Archie. This was started for Pride and I've continued working on it. This is the first draft, so it'll undergo some polishing and edits before it hits AO3, not to mention a ream of author's notes for context.

This is my first time writing m/m, so I'm oddly fascinated with how this turned out. I think it's okay? I think my biggest issue is characterizing Archie right and making sure I capture what we know about him with what we know about Alice.

I probably need to do more world/lore building for the boys like I have with Jess and Alice, but c'est la vie. I tried and I hope for all the people that wanted this, you enjoy it!

going to ground. The motel is dim and smells damp, some rundown place halfway to Olympia that was never more than half full, used by truckers and seasonal workers on their way to Peninsula and back home again. The bedspreads were shiny, discoloured polyester; the smell of mould and stale air permeating every crevice.

Archie isn’t happy. But it’s easier to be pissed at the state of this motel to distract himself.

Jasper’s stripped to his waist in the bathroom, prolonging the inevitable. Hot water will alleviate the pain for a short time, but he’s damn well pushing it. He’s not even treating the wounds anymore; he’s just hiding.

It’s always been Jasper’s habit to go to ground when he’s injured. In Calgary, in New Hampshire, and now in Forks. He won’t - can’t - even be around the Cullens when he’s that physically vulnerable. Archie always privately wondered if Jasper brought him alone so that someone had his back, or if he knew Archie would follow him to the ends of the Earth no matter what, or maybe so that he knew that Archie was protected.

His boy was wretchedly overprotective.

Which was, frankly, the reason that they were in this mess in the first place.

Scowling, Archie nudged the bed ruffle with his toe and nodded to himself when it crinkled like plastic. This place really was a dump. Normally, Jasper would take them out in the middle of the forest somewhere, carefully chosen for their inability to be tracked. After Calgary, it had taken Archie weeks to convince Jasper to go home, that it was safe. That they were safe, Maria was gone, and the Cullens were their family - they were no danger to them, they weren’t angry or upset with them for what Maria did (though Esme had been nigh hysterical at their sudden disappearance) - and they needed to go back.

New Hampshire had been somewhat easier; it had only taken a week to get Jasper home, and that hadn’t been an emotionally loaded incident, just some territorial nomads.

And now Forks.

Jasper had driven them here, and it was an unexpected that he hadn’t simply insisted on plunging into the Olympic National Park for days on end. But maybe that was more strategy - the woods were the first place the Cullens would look. A shitty motel halfway to Olympia wouldn’t be a place anyone would come looking for them for days - especially with both Bella and Jacob wounded.

Archie scowls again, and decided he’s been patient enough. He’s not one to sulk over big things - he wants the air cleared and everything resolved. But Jasper hates arguing so much that he’ll cloister himself rather than face Archie. It doesn’t matter where, as long as he can hide - in his study, in the garage with Rose, or - apparently - in a motel bathroom only a few steps above a truck stop.

The pain would be excruciating.

He’s been in there long enough.

“Jas.” He knocks on the door, and hears nothing besides the running tap. He waits a beat before he tries the knob - surprisingly, it’s unlocked and Archie wonders if he missed Jasper unlatching it, or if he just assumed it was locked.

Jasper’s slumped against the wall, his eyes pitch-black. There’s something about them that when they’re thirsty; vampires look gaunt and slightly grey-er than usual. A little closer to dead. Probably not noticeable to humans but to him, who looks at Jasper every single day, he looks miserable.

Archie moves closer, crouching down. Jasper’s eyes are tracking him, but he says nothing.

“Show me,” Archie says gently, but Jasper’s eyes have dropped to Archie’s right arm, covered by his sweatshirt.

“Jasper, you need to let me help you.” He can smell the venom - mostly Jasper’s, but there’s a sharp, foreign note that makes Archie worry. The scent is strong enough that the wound is still open, and it’s been hours. “Please.”

“Let me see it,” Jasper says hoarsely; speaking sounds painful. He needs to hunt, on top of everything, and he can’t. Not yet. Not til they take care of this.

“You first,” Archie replies firmly, but Jasper doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on Archie’s arm.

Sighing, Archie shoves the sleeve of his sweatshirt up; there’s an old ace bandage wrapped around it whilst the skin repaired. But after he removes it, the wound is obvious - the angry purpling of the bite has faded, now that it has been cleaned of foreign venom, it’s only slightly darker and will fade completely in a few hours, especially if Archie goes hunting. It’s a shallow wound, will barely scar. Frankly, Jasper’s given him more impressive marks in bed.

But Jasper doesn’t even stop the horror from rolling off him at the sight of it.

“Your turn,” Archie says in a voice that brooks no arguments, trying to squash the irritation down. It’s been a long time since Jasper’s been this… shaken up over anything, and it’s easier to pretend that it’s him being dramatic over Archie’s bite mark right now.

Jasper nods, and gets on his knees to lean forward.

It looks exactly like Archie’s visions showed him. Worse, actually, because this is real life.

The fissure runs down his back, parallel to his spine, from where his neck and shoulder meet, to his waist. The flesh has split like a geode, and Archie can see all the petrified fat and muscle right down to the bone, with an eerie golden sheen over it all. The edges are purple-black from the foreign venom, almost blistered. In contrast, the bite mark on the back of his neck looks benign, even though it should scare him more.

The whole thing makes him feel sick and frankly, Archie doesn’t feel even a tiny bit capable of dealing with this. He would give anything to have Rose or Carlisle here to patch Jasper up, whilst he flirted and made jokes to distract him.

But Jasper wouldn’t trust them. He might respect Carlisle, and love Rose, but when it comes down to the meat of it, he doesn’t trust them like he trusts Archie.

“Don’t be mad,” Jasper says in that same hoarse, flat voice. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Archie replies, and it’s not totally a lie. He’s panicking internally, he’s still annoyed and frustrated, but he’s not angry.

Jasper lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whine, and that pushes Archie into action - Jasper’s in pain and he’s sitting here navel-gazing.

“Come and lie on the bed, and we’ll clean this up. I promise I won’t make any moves on you,” Archie tugs him to his feet, his lame attempt at a joke falling flat. Jasper limps after him, looking miserable.

The groan Jasper lets out as he lies face-down on the bed is made uglier by the way the wound pulls and shifts as he moves. Archie’s not one with a weak stomach, but knowing that mess is attached to the person he loves most in the world… it’s hard to look at.

He almost understands why Edward’s so fixated on keeping Bella safe. If Jasper were as vulnerable as Bella…

There’s no one else to help them, so it has to be Archie.

The bag from the convenience store is on the nightstand; salt, a bottle of cheap vodka, and a tube of aloe vera. It was a goddamn crude kit; Carlisle would be horrified at the use of vodka. Actually, he’d be horrified by this whole set-up. In a perfect world, they’d be back at the Cullens and Archie would be allowed to do this properly.

But they aren’t and he can’t.

Archie had honestly never asked Jasper how they discovered flammable fluids could purge out foreign venom, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know -the vodka would draw out any venom that stuck to the open wound, since foreign venom gained a nearly honey-like stickiness to it after a short time. The inability to purge it successfully was nearly always what caused scarring. Salt worked to purge the rest of the foreign material out of it, and aloe vera kick-started their cells healing again.

It’s not human blood; human blood would do the heavy lifting if they used that, but both of them know that it’s a slippery slope, and one that is best left alone for many reasons. The least of all is the fragile alliance they’ve formed with the Pack. Archie feels like they wouldn’t take kindly to them stealing blood from the hospital, even for injury treatment, so he didn’t even suggest it.

Carlisle would adore to discuss all of this in great detail - he’s been fixated on vampire healing principles for years. Archie should suggest it to Jasper as a holiday gift for next year. Hell, one page of notes would keep Carlisle and Eleazer occupied for days.

The worst part of treating Jasper, Archie decides as he very quickly douses Jasper’s back in salt and alcohol, is the fact that Jasper stays silent. Protesting the pain, even the smallest noise, is a sign of weakness. The only indication of the agony that he’s in is the tightening of his back and arm muscles.

So Archie talks. Everything spills out, all the inane shit that goes through his head - that he’s still disappointed that Bella didn't want to go to senior prom because the dress he had in mind would have been a showstopper, and no he wasn’t going to use it for her wedding dress because that dress has been drawn and cut for a while now.

He complains about the fight, that the wolves blocked his visions and there were one or two half-visions that looked like they spelt doom but nothing came to pass so now he’s reconsidering the accuracy. Or was the fact the wolves are unknowable affecting the outcome?

He’ll have fun debating that one with Edward at some point.

Archie isn’t sure when he runs out of easy words to say, but it does happen as he watches the foreign venom burn out of the fissure, and the room is silent. The only real communication they have is Archie’s hand rubbing Jasper’s shoulder soothingly; the only form of reassurance that he can offer right now. Too many things need to be said. Even more need to not be said.

So, they sit in silence. When the wounds look clear, Archie carefully helps Jasper lie back on the bed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, and it’s draining - Jasper told him that years ago. He’ll need to hunt immediately after this. Jasper lies back with a sigh, a breath released now that the worst of the pain has been dealt with, and closes his eyes. Archie takes up his spot in the rancid-looking armchair, hugging his knees to his chest, and waits.

Jasper breaks the silence after a couple of hours.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He sounds clearer, better, and it’s a tangible relief. Archie immediately crawls onto the bed, motioning for Jasper to lean forward so he can check his back. The fissure already looks so much better; the bite too has lightened, but both are going to leave a nasty scar.

“You still need to hunt,” Archie informs him, absently pressing a kiss to Jasper’s shoulder blade before settling Jasper back against the pillows.

He’s delicious and it doesn’t matter how many years pass, Archie still gets butterflies looking at him. Shirtless and in worn out jeans really is his very best look. If this were any other moment, just a quick getaway for some privacy…

But it isn’t.

“Talk to me,” Jasper said insistently, his hand reaching up to cup Archie’s cheek. “I know you’re still mad.”

“It was a stupid fucking risk,” Archie says precisely, but without the vehemence he had earlier. “I had everything under control. One bite is not the end of the world.”

“It is to me,” Jasper said simply. “When it’s you.”

Archie closed his eyes to drag up some patience. “Jasper. One bite verses this,” he waved his hand over him. “You were mauled. It was opportunistic and you could have gotten killed.” His voice rises and he has to stop himself, keep his temper. It’s the fear of what could have happened that makes him angry, he knows that. “I have seen you get hurt so many times over the years… so many near misses, so many times you’ve been so close to not coming back, not being there, that the fact you take those risks…”

He closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself, and instinctively lies next to Jasper, curled to rest his head on Jasper’s shoulder. It brings back memories, the scent of Jasper’s skin (the same leather-sun-wood he’s known for decades, but tinged with the venom and alcohol that leaves him uneasy) not quite soothing Archie’s anxiety. He remembers the visions where Jasper was too far gone to fight but he still went into battle. How many times did he nearly lose his head, did he nearly get overrun by enemy soldiers desperate to prove themselves by bringing down the Major of Monterrey?

How many times did Archie watch everything he ever wanted fade away for a second, because Jasper took a stupid fucking risk? And he was certain those days were over so many times - when they met; Ohio in ’49; Calgary is ’76; New Hampshire in ’81, and now Forks. It just never stops; it’s always going to linger, that idea that Jasper is never going to be safe, never going to be protected.

“If you’d been able to see it, would you have stopped me?” Jasper asks softly, one arm wrapping around Archie.

“Duh.” He’s tracing the scars on Jasper’s chest now, scars he knows so well he could draw them with his eyes closed - an absent gesture that calms him. “You never would have noticed.”

“Exactly.” Jasper waits for Archie to acknowledge his point, but he doesn’t look up. “I saw what was happening and I stopped it. The same way you would have for me.”

“But you were…” Archie scrunches his eyes up and turns away. “I would have been okay. One bite is nothing compared to all of this!”

Maybe this will turn into a proper argument. They haven’t had one since Calgary. Maybe they’re due for one.

“Come back,” Jasper says, and he sounds so tired that Archie rolls back over reflexively, but sprawled half-across Jasper’s chest this time, staring up into Jasper’s black eyes.

“I’ve seen arm bites go terribly, terribly wrong,” Jasper said in that low voice that he used just for Archie’s ears; intimate and almost dark. “You’ve seen Peter’s scars; that’s one of the better outcomes from a bad bite. And there is no part of me I wouldn’t sacrifice to make sure you aren’t the one with a mutilated arm - if we managed to save your arm at all. That newborn wasn’t going to just bite you; he was prepared to take his pound of flesh, and I…

“The injuries I’ve seen on the battlefield… Arch, I know what our venom can do to vampire skin. I’ve seen it go half necrotic, I’ve seen it eat through flesh until you just have to amputate at the shoulder. Neither Maria or I ever figured out why that happened to some bites. Only that it did and there was nothing we could do. It might just be a bite, but I couldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk anything about you, ever.”

Archie leads out a huff of breath and Jasper chuckles, brushing his hair from his face.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, it got away from me for a moment,” Jasper continued, his hand cupping Archie’s face again. “But I knew you were there and you had my back and that everything was going to be okay as long as you were.”

“You know that it’s the same for me, right? That it’s only going to be okay for me if you are?” Archie’s contemplating kissing him right now, but not if that’s going to interrupt this talk so that they have to finish it later. “I need you to… I need you to be selfish and be safe. Every time I think it’s gonna be okay and we don’t have to worry about dying any more, something changes and I’m tired, Jas. I’m so, so tired.”

Jasper ghosts a kiss over Archie’s cheek, and it’s not enough. “I’m never going to apologise for protecting you, and I’m never going to stop making sure you’re okay,” Jasper murmured, frowning as he shifted on the bed to redistribute their weight. “But I swear I will always come back to you, okay? When it’s our time, we’ll go together.”

Archie nods, and that’s when Jasper surprises him by pulling him flush and kissing him hard. It’s the kind of kiss that is always a precursor for more, especially if Jasper’s hand on his belt is any indication of how the rest of the night is going to go.

And he’s okay with that, as long as Jasper doesn’t mess up his back any worse.

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to check in with their family, reassure them that everything is okay, and drag Jasper home and pretend they just ran off to fuck in the woods and everything is fine. There were no grievous bodily wounds tended to in a rank little highway motel, there were no meltdowns.

But right now, he’s going to take this kiss, and the next one, and just be here and now, with the battle over and won and everyone in one piece. He’s going to get his boy naked and have one of those nights they don’t get to have very often in a family of seven where they don’t have to be quiet or subtle or keep one ear out for potential interruptions.

And he’s going to turn those words over in his mind - “When it’s our time, we’ll go together” - warm and safe, until he can trust and believe that they aren’t just a promise, but their future.

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bondedbybloodofficial123 · 2 years ago

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Bonded by blood

edward cullen x morbius

TWs: blood, cheating, gay, running away, eventual smut, homophobia

Get ready for the ride of your life everyone!😼

if you could maybe support a queer love story for pride month it would be awesome !!!!!

chapter 1 / ?

Renesmee POV

“You’re literal dogwater! You’re trash! Get good! I hate you, trash teammate! KYS (Kill yourself)!” Renesmee spoke into the microphone, gently and quietly, as not to let her parents find out her darkest secret that not even the ones she loved could ever hear about.

She indulged in video games— Fortnite, to be exact. It was the only thing that could heal her numb emotions, and fill the hole in her heart Jacob left when her father so cruelly cast him away. With a restraining order, of course. But, there was yet another secret she was keeping. Every night, she departed from her sleeping quarters, and waited for her beloved to visit her in the darkest hours of the night. It seemed he was approaching, and she would soon see her forbidden lover. She could hear him, now, he was outside the window, and he howled with passion. Every howl screamed her name, “Renesmee, Renesmee, Renesmee…” she imagined him saying, away from the watchful eye of Edward.

The window slid open, to reveal a muscular man with luscious, long locks of silky, black hair. His brown eyes looked only at Renesmee, and his heart beat only for her. “Jacob,” she said, returning his intense gaze. “Renesmee,” he replied, inviting himself into her room, careful not to make a sound. Renesmee had an idea, a rebellious, scandalous, idea. She longed to run away from her parents, and spend the rest of eternal life with the wolf-man of her dreams. So, she needed to make a choice, her parents or her love? There was only one true answer. The answer her parents had chosen to create this family- love. “Jacob, I have an idea… but it’s risky and requires full cooperation.” she spoke concisely and with determination, her eyes piercing through his lovestruck soul. Jacob did not hesitate for a moment. “Anything for you, loca.” and so, she proposed her idea, with only Jacob in her mind and heart. “Will you… run away w-w-w-w-with me?” Jacob listened to her words carefully. The answer was obvious. “Always, Renesmee.”

And so, they were off together, into the harsh night, the only shield they had being the love for one another.

Dr. Micheal Morbius POV

Micheal’s eyes fluttered open, laying on the cold lab table. He couldn’t remember a thing. All his thoughts were blurry, and his body ached everywhere- hunger, pain, sadness, it all consumed him. He wasn’t sure why. He turned to his side, the debris-like bats fluttering around in circles in their large test tube like enclosure. They called to him, almost as if they were one of his kind. One of the living vampires. His lab was located in a desolate forest, not far from the Swan-Cullen residences. He felt the uncontrollable vampire rage inside of him, and he knew he could not do anything to prevent the monster about to break free. Near the door of his lab, he could hear rapid footsteps, approaching it. He wanted to cry out, “No! Run while you still can!” but all he could do was growl, scream, wretch— out in pain. He tried to tie himself down, but he knew the monster inside would not be subdued, it was much too late for that.

The smell of blood was enticing, it was exciting, it was all he could think about. It was so strong, he could smell it wafting through the lab door, which was slowly opening. The air, though, was odd, something was running through it, and something extremely fast. Micheal felt fear, but yet, all he could think about was the incoming meal. That meal being Jacob and Renesmee. Micheal tried with all his might to stop himself, but he could not, and a loud roar echoed throughout the lab. Before he knew it, he was latched onto the ceiling, hanging from the top of it, awaiting his prey. It was, in fact, morbin time.

“Renesmee, stay close to me…” Jacob said, trying to navigate through the bat-filled lab. In her defiance, Renesmee crept in front of the half-wolf half-man, but she never would've guessed what she would see. The room was silent for a moment, the only noise being the creeping from the ceiling, and the rapidly fluttering wings of the bats. “Renesmee, get back here…” said Jacob, anticipating the horror in front of the two of them. Then, he heard it, a claw cutting through metal, and pain-filled gasps and groans. Renesmee, horrified, looked up to meet the cold, dead eyes of the monster awaiting them, it's disgusting, mangled mouth hung open. Then, it uttered a few words that left Renesmee’s blood cold. “I do not control the morb. The morb controls me.”

Micheal leapt from the ceiling, and his claws met Renesmee’s side. She let out a blood-curdling scream, as Micheal immediately dashed to her bloody side. Jacob was not going to let anyone, not even this monster, hurt her. And soon, the man shifted into a wolf with fur black as night. He howled, although Micheal was unphased, his red eyes did not even break contact with Renesmee’s gash. Seeing Micheal drain the blood from her body, Jacob was reminded of his long-time enemy, the Swan-Cullens. Jacob pounced on Micheal… no, Morbius… and before he could even try to kill the monster, Morbius struck him too, leaving his voluptuous tail on the ground, severed.

But they weren’t alone in this fight. Two familiar faces had heard their screams. “Get away from my daughter!” yelled Edward. “Y—yeah. Just, um… stay–stay away? I… I don’t know, stop— hurting her,” Bella agreed, displaying her sharp vampiric teeth. Morbius cried out, but they couldn’t tell what he was saying. He seemed to be trying to stop himself from hurting Renesmee and Jacob, but he couldn’t. Edward’s heart ached with empathy, he would know more than anyone what being unable to control the monster inside of you was like. Finally, Morbius pulled himself away from Renesmee, and while Edward felt anger at him for injuring his daughter, he also felt bad for Morbius. “Run… while you still… can…” Morbius muttered, trying to hold himself back. What Edward said in reply made his heart skip a beat.

“I would never abandon another vampire.”

“What?”

“I would know more than anyone what your pain feels like.”

“Run…” Morbius said in a final, desperate attempt to save Edward.

“I won’t let you kill anyone. And I won’t let you suffer alone, either.”

Edward held Morbius’ hands behind his back, but didn’t make any attempts to harm him. Morbius, or now, as he felt his humanity returning, Micheal, had never felt such warmness in his life. Edward didn’t need to say a thing. Michael didn’t need to say anything, either. Then, they heard a voice.

“What are you doing, queers?!” yelled Bella in a cold, uncaring voice Edward had never seen before.

And hearing her like this, and having Morbius ever so close, he knew… who he really loved.

#edward cullen smut #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #edward cullen fanfiction #the cullens #bella swan #its morbin time #morbius #vampire lover #dark romance #gay pride #queer #homophobia #morbius x reader #morbius the living vampire #fuck you

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mikaharuka · 1 year ago

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Febris Amatoria: Chapter 1 - Official Post

Heyo everyone! I've finally commenced my Kinktober journey! It's my first go at any sort of month-long challenge, but I think it'll be quite a bit of fun! Also, I really liked the idea of this being one fic with an underlying thread, theme, and/or plot that ties back into the Winter Light Verse... so yes, this entire fic is set within Apricity's world ^_^

That said, you don't need to know anything about canon, Apricity, or the Winter Light Verse to follow this fic - it can stand on its own!

In addition, the specific kink prompts can be found in the chapter titles and I will be listing them below in the fic info, as I go along ^_^

Title: Febris Amatoria [Kinktober in Apricity/the Winter Light Verse]

Chapter: Gold Beginnings [Chapter 1]

Kink/Prompt: Loss of Virginity [Day 1 of Kinktober 2023]

Fandoms: Life and Death, Twilight

Ship: Carlisle Cullen/Beau Swan

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Word Count: 600 words

Summary: The evolution of Beau's and Carlisle's relationship and intimacy over time, captured through a series of erotic moments.

Notes: As mentioned, this fic is totally fandom/verse-blind friendly! Also, going forward, I will list the chapters, kinks, and links, below:

Chapter 1: Gold Beginnings - Loss of Virginity

You may be interested? @mrsmungus, @udaberriwrites, @lena-hills, @hylianjo, @aislinnstanaka, @bees-and-sunshine @bleepbloopbotz, @sliebman10, @four-white-trees, @axolotlsupremacyowo, @0nelittlebirdtoldme, @kayedium-writes, @argyleheir, ...and let me know if I missed you or you don't want to be tagged!

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twibound · 1 year ago

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starter call ! let me know which muse(s) you wanted

#indie gay rp #indie twilight rp #indie smut rp #indie bi rp #⋮ ❛ ooc › calls.#if u wanna see any other charas / fcs also lmk

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9-93 · 3 months ago

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#물가의 밤 #low tide in twilight manhwa #low tide in twilight #yaoi #lezhin #manhwa #boys love #yaoi bl #yaoi manhwa #gay #yaoi smut #yaoi couple #yaoi fluff #yaoi love #yaoi recommendation #bl manhwa #bl comic

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xmalereaderstuff · 2 years ago

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should I finish?

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randomfanboi · 2 years ago

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Masseur

Paul Lahote x Male Reader (Smut)

Summary: Everyone knows about Paul’s anger issues. But when his anger lets him lash out at his wolf pack and cause several fights. Emily proposes to Sam that a massage might be a good idea, since there was one not too far. Paul is irritated by the whole thing but Sam forces him to go. Paul is annoyed when he shows up to the place but when he lays eyes on his masseur, his now imprint, things take a turn for the best.

Author: This is also my first Paul Lahote smut! And you know, Paul is so angry in the movie I think he deserves a massage… especially by me. But enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, Blowjob, anal sex, 18+

Paul let out a heavy sigh, as he rubbed a hand down his face. “It WiLl bE goOd foR yOu.” Paul mocked as he remembered what Sam told him when he and Emily made the arrangement. Paul looked at the massage parlour where Emily had arranged a session for him. Everyone did know that Paul had anger issues, however two months ago it started getting worse. Paul would snap at anyone that slightly irritated him mostly his wolf pack and some occasions Sam but never Emily since that was a death wish.

Sam was getting fed up with it. Once a week minor fights turned into brawls not everyday but every hour. Almost no one wanted to do patrol with him and there was no coordination with Paul. Sam confessed his concerns with the wolf pack regarding Paul to Emily and she suggested a massage for him, Sam saw no better option so she arranged it. When it was announced to Paul he wanted nothing to do with it till Sam literally forced Paul to go, being Alpha had its perks.

Back to the present, Paul stomped his way into the parlour already wearing an irritated expression. He stopped by the front desk, as the lady looked up at him. “Can I help you?” She asked raising a brow at his irritation. Paul rolled his eyes. “I’m here for a session.” “Name?” “Paul Lahote.” The lady glanced at her computer before looking at him again. “Your right on time.” She pointed down a hall. “Door 7.” She said as she returned to her computer. Paul went down the hall without thanking her, on purpose.

Paul came to the door and opened it, he went through the door and closed it behind him as he surveyed his surroundings. This looked expensive to Paul. The massage bed was placed in the middle of the room, to the right of the bed was a rectangular pool surrounded by pebbles and candles. The wall that the pool was closest to, had water falling at a gentle soothing pace. There was a mirror facing one of the heads of the massage bed, with a sink under it and plants were everywhere.

There were windows but the noticeable one was the ceiling one revealing nature. And a wooden closet with sliding doors with towels, and massage liquids etc on the shelves. After Paul noticed the closet he noticed the person going through it, you. “Oh, welcome!” You said clasping your hands. “I’m Y/N, by the way your looking around, is this your first time?” “Yeah.” Paul said in his attitude.

Paul was about to make a snarky comment towards you but froze as he made eye contact with you. Paul immediately forgot about his surroundings, hell it felt like even the ground or gravity didn’t even exist anymore. You’re his imprint. Paul’s eyes widened as he let out a gasp, realising and taking in your gorgeous features. Paul was staring at you mouth open, as you had no idea what was going through Paul’s mind, you giggled at his expression. “I’ve been told, that I’m beautiful and sexy before, but your face really takes the cake.” You stated with a smirk.

Paul only realised what he was doing now and his cheeks flared up in embarrassment. Embarrassment only seeped in further when he realised how much the pack members would tease him for how he looked just now. Paul tried to speak but stammered. Thank fuck the pack isn’t here. “S-sorry uhhhhhhh-.” “It’s alright.” you said with a chuckle, which Paul now cherished. Paul couldn’t believe him hearing himself, he’s heard of wolves getting nervous in front of their imprint but his was just on another level.

“Alright, you quickly undress while I set up the oils and adjust the bed.” Paul blinked twice, realising he had to take his clothes of now in front of his imprint. “U-uhh all of it- the clothes!?” Paul sputtered out. “Usually all customers take all their clothes off, but you can keep on whatever makes you comfortable.” You spoke with a warm smile. Paul gulped before removing his clothes. While he did, you prepared the massage bed, occasionally casting a side glance at Paul.

Paul smirked as an idea popped into his mind, each part of his body that he revealed he flexed a little and it worked. He caught your eyes lingering longer at his body and subtly biting your lip, that was definitely an ego boost for Paul. You then tossed Paul a towel and quickly got some oils from the closet. “Alright you can lay down on the bed if your ready.” Paul nodded and laid down on the massage bed. Paul swear that his heart had never beaten this fast before, he was genuinely nervous.

“Right, let’s start at the back.” Your hands moved down on to Paul’s back and Paul had to stop himself from moaning loud. Paul has been touched by other people but that was nothing compared to this. Each movement from your hands to his skin was like a spark of pleasure that the imprint bond only amplified. Even the faintest of touches made Paul want to groan. “Wow there’s a lot of tension, lemme just-.” Paul couldn’t stop himself in time.

“Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh!”

The loud moan from Paul echoed around the room. Your hands ceased as Paul’s face began to redden at the realisation of what just happened. He froze completely not daring to say a word before sputtering out words in the silent room. “Y/N-I-UHH!” You began chuckling. “So you liked it that much eh?” Paul face reddened further. “Sorry about-.” “Don’t worry misterrrrrr-.” “Call me Paul.” “Don’t worry about it Paul I prefer that you continue making these noises let’s me know I’m doing a good job.” Paul quietly groaned at the seductive tone in your voice.

Throughout the massage Paul let out groans, gasps and moans, each one had you biting your lip, taking everything not to go further with him. When you were done with his calves, you reached out for a different massage oil. “Alright, Paul you can lay on your back now.” Paul’s eyes widened, as much as he would love for you to continue touching him on the front of his body, something noticeable will be poking at you from his waist towel. Paul breathed in and out, trying to calm his dick down before laying on his back.

You continued, starting with his pecs, his moans and groans continued as you pressed, grazed and lathered his torso. His moans had you biting your lip taking literally everything for you not to go further with him. As your right slid down to his abs, you noticed something, the towel covering his hip to high thigh level, something was poking out. You bit your lip again. You let your left hand continue your movements as your right hand lifted the edge of the towel up. You craned your head a bit down, to look under the towel.

It was hard and big.

You glanced at Paul, his face contorted in pleasure. An idea hit you, one you liked the sound of. I mean he’s so caught up in pleasure it wouldn’t hurt to go a little beyond with him and you only live once. You thought. You carefully lifted the towel off, licked your lips and craned your head down before putting his cock in your mouth.

Paul eyes shot open as the most pleasurable sensation exploded through his body. He let out a mixture of a moan and gasp. His eyes focused to what was happening to see the most sexiest thing in his life. You, his imprint bobbing up and down on his cock. Paul let his head fall back with a breathy “fuck.” You then held on to Paul’s thighs and began taking in more of his cock before taking it entirely as his tip hit the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!” Paul yelled out, his hands gripped the edge of the massage bed as his teeth clamped his lips. You let his cock fall out of your mouth with a pop, looking at Paul, whilst stroking his fuckstick.

“Damn, you really seem to have a lot of tension in your body Paul. Mind if I continue?” You asked seductively. Paul opened his eyes to make eye contact with you. “N-no, please fu-fuckin continue.” You laughed noticing the pleasure had Paul trembling. “Hmmmm.” You put his cock in your mouth again getting back to the original pace. Paul hissed as he craned his head forward to look at you more clearly. Your mouth was magical, he hadn’t felt anything like it.

Placing a hand on your head, a devious grin appeared on Paul’s face, before his hand forced you down his cock. You let out a surprised hum before gagging, Paul’s eyes rolling at the pleasure. Paul chuckled slightly as he continued to force your mouth down with his hand. You then stilled where only his tip was in your mouth. You indicated to Paul with a hum. Paul grinned again as he grabbed your head with both hands and started thrusting his hips relentlessly. “Ohohhoo fuck!” Paul exclaimed.

You again let Paul’s cock out with a pop. But before you could continue, Paul’s hand pulled your head towards his, putting his lips on yours. Your tongues entangled around each other, as Paul tugged at your shirt, you then took it off. Paul took about two seconds to admire your torso, his teeth bit his lip eagerly. You connected your lips with Paul, a moan coming from the the both of you.

Your tongues danced and entangled around each other. Paul had never done this before with a guy but in the heat of the moment he couldn’t give a fuck. His big hands gripped your ass and squeezed. You moaned into his mouth as Paul let out a chuckle. He then pulled your pants down along with your underwear. Paul’s hand slid up and down your shaft as you groaned, your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Paul took this as a chance to bite down on your neck as you gasped. He then sucked at your skin making you moan loudly, Paul then lathered his tongue over your hickey.

Paul then grabbed your hips and spinned you around quickly and spread your ass open revealing your aching hole. He slithered his tongue in as you let out a gasp at the feeling of something warm enter through your entrance. Paul continued, ravishingly manoeuvring his tongue, you tasted so fucking good and your moans only encouraged him. Paul then suddenly had an idea, an idea he always wanted to try. Gripping your hips, he placed your thighs on his right shoulder. You were upside down, Paul’s cock touching your cheek, and you took it into your mouth. He then carefully placed your left leg on his other shoulder and began again at your entrance

You felt Paul’s hot tongue dancing in and out of your entrance you bit your lip. Before your putting your head down to start sucking again. Paul would help every time you needed to lift your head up. You popped his cock out of your mouth. “Are we going to take this to the next step Mr. Lahote?” Paul snapped out of his pleasure responding with a maniacal grin. “Fuck yeah.” Paul set you down on the massage table once again. You looked back at him, smirking and wiggling your ass. What came next was what you wanted and what Paul was craving, his hand came down and smacked your ass. The pain becoming euphoria as you moaned out. Paul chuckled before repeating the motion, groping and rubbing your ass after each smack. After a while he placed both hands on each ass cheek and leaned in, and spread your ass open. Paul saved the image of your hole. Oh it’s practically begging for me. Paul thought.

Paul then gripped his cock, stroking it a little whilst gazing at the sight of your desperate hole. He then lightly slapped your hole with his cock and began grinding against, causing a needy whine from you and Paul chuckling at your reaction. “Ready?” Paul questions in a teasing tone. You cocked your head to the door of the massage room. “I was the moment you walked through that door.” Paul grinned, gripped his fuckstick, and entered you. The moment Paul’s tip entered, the nerve system in your body and Paul’s exploded with pleasure which only increased as you took more inches of Paul’s cock . “Fuck.” Paul cursed out, whilst you were moaning. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as each inch of Paul’s cock slid into you slowly.

You turned your head back to make eye contact with Paul, a playful mischievous glint in your eyes that made Paul gulp. “I want it harder.” You then slammed your body back, filling your hole with the rest of Paul’s fuckstick, Paul gasped and gripped your hips. “…And faster.” You smirked. Paul growled, smacked your ass again, and began thrusting into you at a accelerated pace. Your whole body, mind, and might as well fucking soul, was filled you with pleasure your mind going completely blank. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as Paul’s cock re-welcomed itself into your hole again and again.

Like you, Paul was lost in pleasure. Each slam and thrust brought pleasure through his nerves and passion to his veins. The imprint bond felt like it amplified everything. Paul’s hips literally couldn’t stop, even if he wanted it to, and why would he? Your moans only furthered him into a frenzy. Paul’s left hand held your hip tightly whilst his other hand, snaked to your neck. You then felt Paul’s fingers curl around your neck, before his hand grasped your throat and tilted your head upwards. You let out moans of ecstasy at the action. Paul then tilted your head back towards him a little and leaned forward and found his lips on yours, tongues dancing in the dirty kiss.

Paul then forcefully pulled himself out of you, you whined almost begging him to put it back in. He then flipped you over and slammed back his fuckstick into you in the span of 3 seconds. You gasped as Paul’s lip’s connected with yours again, his tongue slithering with yours. Paul’s hands then firmly gripped your waist as you felt your back no longer touching the massage bed. Paul then lifted you up and slammed your hips on to his cock.

His cock hit it. That special spot.

You gasped loud, sounding surprised. Paul’s face turned wicked as his smirk became dangerous. He then continued slamming your hips down on his cock, it hitting your prostate with pinpoint accuracy. Your moans were muffled by his lips on yours again before he started to kiss the side of your jaw down to your neck. He licked the side of your neck before biting down and sucking on it. Your senses fucking exploded your moans so rapid that it felt like you had no room to breathe. You wanted to catch your breath but you were being selfish, you didn’t want to stop this pleasure not even for a instant.

After Paul gave you again a hickey, multiple one’s actually, that he was proud of, he laid you down again on the massage bed. Paul then pushed your legs forward basically folding you in half, and making his cock go deeper inside you. Your eyes rolled at the sensation and you started to feel something in your lower stomach. You bit your lip and looked Paul straight in the eyes, challenge being prominent in your eyes. Paul’s raised his eyebrows. “Is that all you’ve got, Paul?” You challenged. It took a second for him to respond but he replied with a sharp thrust of his hips. “Oh no, people always say, save the best for last.” Paul replied. Paul then began slamming his cock again faster and deeper thanks to your position. Soon Paul feel that familiar feeling in his pelvis.

Paul gripped your legs and leaned forward to connect your lips again. His ,fucking, pace increased as he growled against your neck. Paul was fighting with his wolf for control the sensations were getting too much and just right at the same time. Your moans turned to keens getting louder and louder, the pleasure reaching a spike, then another spike, pleasure reaching beyond you and Paul have ever felt. The imprint bond was sure to blame for this as Paul lost control of his hips, slamming his cock into you at a unbelievable speed. Paul snarled, the pleasure escalating far greater than he expected. It’s as if your pleasure became one, reaching pleasure and passion never felt before. You locked eyes with Paul, lust and passion in both your eyes, till the pleasure reached its peak… and soared to the heavens, as you both cum.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

“SHIT!”

“PAUL!”

“Y/N FUCK!”

The orgasm felt like it was the best thing in your life that you were alive to only feel this. Heavy pants followed after the release between you and Paul. He then pulled his cock out of your filled whole, his cum spilling out immediately, he grinned at that. Paul then leaned over towards you and licked your mess off your chest, savouring the taste of you. Paul then connected your lips in a lazy kiss, before gazing at you thoughtfully. You closed your eyes in the post bliss. You made eye contact with Paul. “Well that was… amazing.” “Tell me about it.” Paul chuckled out. “Well I hope as your masseur I got those tense muscles sorted out?” You asked. “You did more than I could ask for… thanks.”

You sat up and glanced at the clock in the room. “You’ve still got thirty minutes of your session left is-WOAH!” You were interrupted as Paul pulled you by the waste and inserted his tongue inside your mouth. “Good I’m not done with you yet.” Paul let out a wicked smirk.

…

“How was your session Paul?” Emily asked placing muffins on the table. Paul thought back to what happened earlier that day grinned. “Pretty good.” Paul stated. Jared raised a eyebrow at him. “It seemed more than ‘pretty good’.” “Yeah, you didn’t even come to the pack house with a pissed off expression, which is the usual.” Said Embry taking a bite out of Emily’s cooking, Paul playfully pushed Embry and chuckled which almost surprised the entire pack. “The truth is, my masseur.” Paul took out a piece of paper, your number written in black ink on it. “… is my imprint.”

…

“Woah, you okay there Y/N? You look a little worn out and you look like you can’t even walk properly.” Lisa the massage parlour receptionist asked you with concern written over her face. “I’m fine Lisa.” You said chuckling. “Just had a special customer.” You looked down at the paper you were holding with hopeful expression as you read Paul’s number for the eighth time already.

…

You were organising the massage towels after another successful massage. You quickly had to get these things organised as your next session would start at any moment now. Just as you finished with the towels, knocks were heard by the door as someone opened it. “Y/N?” A familiar voice called out your named. You smiled making eye contact with the man who fucked your brains out a week ago. “Paul… same procedure as last time?” You said whilst taking off your shirt. Paul closed the door behind him and chuckled. “Of course.”

#twilight #gay #twilight smut #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x male reader #male reader #male reader smut #paul lahote smut #twilight wolfpack #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #alex meraz #twilight wolves #smut

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