#paimon writes

Introduction -

I'm Paimon/Jas! I go by they/them and I'm an artist, as the blog name suggests! Asks are always open so feel free to talk about whatever!!

Fandoms –

• Ghost (the band)

• Repugnant

• The Amazing Digital Circus

• Outlast

• Knights of Guinevere

• Gaslight District

• Resident Evil (4 and Requiem specifically)

• Phantom of The Opera

• Silent Hill (2 and f specifically)

• Wolf Among Us

• Project Hail Mary

There's probably more fandoms that I'm forgetting, but this list will definitely update overtime!

Final important note –

The feeling coiled within his stomach, deep and low to the point that he thought he was going to puke.

One can puke from excitement, right?

Because he was just about to prove it.

There was no anxious mission, no fighting about to start. He was simply existing within himself and probably training his green eyes at you. Watching carefully as you moved about the space. A section of his brain screamed at him to stop, to quit staring and shut his brain off.

But, fuck…

How could he? He hasn’t succeeded in doing so since the first day he had met you. The very second you had smiled up at him, something sweet and innocent that he wanted to eat.

He wanted to eat you.

Not in the full definition of the word, but the spirit of it. He wondered what sinking his teeth into sensitive gentle flesh would feel like. He wondered what the shape of his name would sound like exhaled from your throat. He wondered what the sweat that clung to your skin would mingle like with his seed sprayed against it.

Raph swallowed, audibly, but it proved useless to swallow the metaphorical knot stuck in his throat.

He picked up a piece of candy that April had flung towards Mikey’s direction not five minutes ago. Concentrated on the mundane task of unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue wrapped around t until the gooey centered spilled.

And yet all his brain could picture was your lips, his dick and that atrociously desperate need to see your swallow him whole.

His teeth broke the candy, loud enough that April cringed.

“You alright big guy?” She asked, avoiding another onslaught of Mikey hurling popcorn at her. They had been engaged in a hefty debate on what tonight’s movie marathon genre should be.

Raph hadn’t been mentally present for half of it. He had personally checked out when you had pushed your seat out and gotten up to get the food ready. The whole motion of movement had made your skirt floosh and the faintest reveal of thigh had been enough to send him into his own personal horny hell.

“M’fine, just getting a headache from Mikey defending The Matrix so much” He managed to move his eyes from you to cast a glare at his youngest brother.

“We can’t watch a Patrick Swayze marathon for the fifth time dude, we gotta expand our horizons” He was adamant that Mikey simply wanted to bust his balls.

“One doesn’t get tired of Point Break” Was his final statement before April offered up another trilogy as an option.

The five minute break had helped, the candy had fully melted in his mouth and by the time his eyes found you like autopilot, you had gone to the bathroom by the lack of your presence.

“Keep an eye on the food numbnuts, be right back, and no April we ain’t watching Jennifer’s Body, ya get a weird look in yer eye when that broad goes berserk on them dudes” Her huff made him smile but why were his legs lifting him up and delivering him towards the bathroom that surely was occupied?

Had he finally fucking lost his mind?

He silently prayed he’d trip and perish on his way but much to his dismay he was at the door just as you began to step out. The little jump was endearing, the wide look in your eyes quickly changing before the nervous laugh kicked in.

“Jesus I didn’t hear you” You commented with a giggle.

“My bad, ninja shit and all that” He felt his tongue was made of clay.

“Well naturally you’d be good at sneaking around, so what’s the finale decision for the marathon?” You asked, peaking a glance behind him as the debate for The Matrix had now been swapped for Rush Hour.

Raph swallowed, eyes taking in your small frame compared to his massive one. The concept of how you’d look beneath him punched him in the gut and exhilarated him all at once.

God he wanted to fucking eat you up.

“…Do ya wanna skip the movie?”

It was out of his mouth before he could shove it back down his esophagus.

“What? Like not watch them?” You weren’t taken aback, merely intrigued by his sudden change. But he could tell there was a little beneath your words an almost hopeful want.

It took a great deal for Raph to unglue his mouth, a rattle in his spirits as the adrenaline zig zagged inside of his veins.

“Kinda just wanna hang with ya…just us” He whispered it, a little nugget of information that found itself smacking your concern into a grin.

Why were you grinning?

Oh fuck!

“If you wanna be alone with me all you had to do was ask, is that it? Is that what you want Raphie?” His palms felt sweaty, he felt his stomach do a violent somersaults but your grin, your eyes casted upwards at him didn’t allow him to move. All he could muster was a nod, slow and meaningful enough to make your eyes shiny with curiosity.

Did you know? Could you read every shameful thought that’s ran through his brain all these years?

The aftertaste of the candy still clung to the inside of his cheeks, it mixed with the little saliva he had left from swallowing so much.

“Hey Mike, watch the food, something came up and Raph’s gotta take me home!” There was a muffled yeah yeah yeah from him and before Raph could look back your hand was in his.

Soft skin on his callouses.

“Well, let’s go” You smiled whilst leading him towards one of the exits in the Lair.

He allowed you to tug him, mind too wrapped up still on how your hand felt against his own. That impossible desire to pull back against him, to feel your further against him.

That need to consume you ran through his body like electricity.

Possessiveness was technically a synonym of jealousy, at least that’s what Leo noticed whenever the word showed up in his brain.

Much worse when it nested in his heart.

There was no reason to feel this. He couldn’t necessarily blame spring or his own thoughts on the matter. Couldn’t blame you entirely, no matter how many laps you’d ran in his brain. Nobody told him how pesky these feelings coursing through him could be.

But could he be blamed?

Could he be blamed when he grabbed you?

Caged you against the wall with his strong arms?

Could he be truly at fault when he nosed your neck, smelled the scent that so often never became unstuck from his clothes?

Leo could breathe you in for hours. Get every little bit of you stuck in his lungs.

So of course he can’t place blame when your hands come to rest against his plastron and the act itself has him shivering.

“Will you ever know?” Leo asks quietly, lips against the shell of your ear.

“Will you ever know just how truly mine you are?” You feel the ghost of a smile travel to your pulse and stay there. Feel the way his large hands grab your waist, the way those muscles wrap around you and lift you.

Beneath him is second nature to you at this point. It’s home to you, to feel the weight of him press against you, secure you, own you.

Possessive wasn’t perhaps the most welcoming of terms but you can’t deny that right here, right now with his mouth wrapping around your nipple, its true. Leo’s lips are soft and welcoming, they suck and twirl the sensitive nub and release with a wet pop that has you clenching your thighs around him. A large hand finds your neck, thumb caressing the soft flesh before it slithers upwards and into your hair. His nails connect with your scalp and the shudders alone have him grinning against your breast.

You chance a look down below and meet those blue eyes that have been glued to your every reaction since the moment he met you. Leo’s calculating after all, cunning if you will with how well he can decipher every little spasm or moan or shiver. He’s aware how to work you over, your body’s basically trained to his touch and that very thought makes him drive his hard cock against your crotch. Somewhere between a languid kiss and another gentle tug of your hair, he’s slid the rest of your clothes off to join his pile.

He feels his chest swell with another ounce of possessiveness over how perfect you look right now. The very idea of somebody else enjoying you like this, the very image of someone else working you up into a trembling frenzy forces him to reiterate his previous statement with more fervor.

“You’re mine, God, you’re all mine” He nearly slurs, drunk off of your scent and the warmth of your body.

Leo drives his hips against you, groans when he feels how wet and welcoming you are just because of him. Every ounce of self control has left the room, it left his body the second his lips found yours.

Reluctantly he detaches himself from you but only with the purpose of guiding his cock into you. That initial breach never stops catching him off guard, it never stops making his eyes roll in pleasure as he pushes inch by inch into you. From nothing to cocooned, nestled in your heat that he swears is perfectly made for him. He groans, eyes shutting briefly from the sensations of how you tremble around him.

Leo’s needy, he wont ever admit to it out loud but its palpable. It’s in the way that his mouth has to attach itself to yours again in a hard kiss. You’re overwhelmed in the most delicious of ways, with his hips slowly moving just like his mouth does. Both sensations purposeful, demanding. You kiss him back to the best of your abilities, trying to find your rhythm in the chaos of emotions that run through you. You feel stretched, you feel suffocated, you feel so very loved.

His mouth is still on yours, kissing with just a little more intensity, molding his lips to yours just as his thrusts pick up pace. You feel him up, from the sides of his plastron to the hard rippling muscles of his shoulders. He’s wonderful to touch, to feel the distinct features of his skin against your own, to experience every little jolt of pleasure you bring him. Such simple little vices he can never ignore, because he is so truly obsessed with you.

Leo’s mouth moves from yours to your neck with a particularly hard thrust. He bottoms out inside of you with a bite to your neck that makes your breath hitch. It’s dizzying, twists the inside of your heart with it all. When you move your head to allow him more space to mark, you catch the low churr that breaks goosebumps across your flesh.

His teeth sink a little harder, until the soft unblemished flesh has a pink hue that soon will give way to green and blue. Leo takes a second to lean back and admire his handiwork, admire that you’re already moving against his every thrust with every intention of getting off. God, he’s obsessed with the image, with your desperate need.

He has to smirk at your desperation, look upon your sweaty flesh as you lean back and raise your hips enough to drown him. He’s enamored with your spasms, the tightness he feels when you clench and beg for him to fucking move, to please fucking move.

“Tell me then,” And you know what he’s wanting.

“I’m yours, just-fuck!” Is all you manage when he props himself up by his forearms and honest to goodness just simply fucks you. His teeth find your collarbones and soon enough another bruise will blossom to remind you of him.

There’s a frenetic energy that overtakes him when you return the favor, when your own teeth find his shoulder. While you don’t possess the ability to break his skin, the intent alone has him thrusting harder, faster. “You feel…so god damn good” He mumbles against the corner of your mouth, and it’s so punch drunk of him to sound like that. He can’t help it, has to lift your legs a little more, make that tension build to its crescendo. There’s an ache burning on the backs of your thighs, both from the position and how hard Leo is holding them.

He catches your stare, sees how your eyes beg for him to keep going to please keep going.

His mouth finds your calf, teeth biting down on the sensitive flesh when his hips just begin to piston. The bed protests but it’s not important enough right now, you’re barely able to speak let alone worry about the bed meeting it’s end at the hands of Leo fucking you into it.

Leo’s lost inside of you, but his lips move from your calf to mouth ‘I love you’ with just that hint of boyish charm that made you fall for him. You try to say it back but your body decides it’s time to revert back to factory settings. You feel just how tight you get around him, enough to make him moan and fall forwards. The pressure of his body, the unrelenting force of his thrusts.

You feel hot and sweaty and suffocated.

But above all things so utterly in love.

“That’s it, that’s it!” He moans against your neck, the all too familiar stutter of his hips alerting you to his own orgasm. You chant his name, all assortment of cuss words when that warmth fills you up. Exaltation, Leo fills pure exaltation when he fucks his release deep into you, marking you and securing that something of his remains within you.

He’s panting against your neck, the hard plates of his plastron moving against your own soft chest.

Leo nuzzles you, snout greedily inhaling you. You’re both tired, but never tired enough for the lazy kiss he begin to give you. You’re on autopilot, following his lead but too content to care if your kisses are sloppy.

He feels warm against you.

To truly comprehend where this incisive desire came from is quite hard to do so. Because there isn’t a moment in time Donatello can pin point it. If anything it sort of manifest one evening while talking to you (or so he likes to tell himself).

For the most part he just does it.

You see, you had been lamenting about an outfit you needed for a work event. There had been a beautiful knitted sweater you wanted, hand crafted and costly. New boots to go with it that also reached the triple digits and a heavy replenishing of many of your makeup products. A paycheck could’ve easily been dumped on it but naturally that was too irresponsible on your end.

So as you pouted and eliminated the items from the online cart, Donnie had simply taken it upon himself to buy the aforementioned products. Sure it had been a pretty penny but Donatello was anything if due diligent with the money he made.

To better put it, he had it, he could spend it, all would still be well. Groceries would still come in.

If he had to make a cliff note of what exactly made him stir a little more than the usual, it had to be your excited squeals.

When the package had arrived at your doorstep with an added note in which he had stated he got you a little something something you had video called him clutching the goodies. He felt a pleasant somersault in his stomach as you thanked him profusely and announced that he should remain on the call so you could model the outfit for him.

That had to be it, right?

It must’ve been as you undressed, tossing your clothes off camera and putting on an outfit he had gotten just for you.

Maybe both those things?

Either way, he had been hard the entire video call.

Ever the man of science he was, questions like this required a bit more research. So on his own he had scoured the internet for yet another outfit but this one plainly of his own choosing. Donnie had a good eye already for your style, he may have taken a liberty or two on color but nevertheless he had purchased yet another full outfit and mailed it to your apartment.

And much to his surprise this time you didn’t call, you simply showed up at the lair in your new outfit.

Now that…

That had really done something in his body. Made one too many of those good chemicals boil. So it hadn’t been too out of character when he had locked the lab and had bent you over his desk.

Over time it started to become a habit. You had glanced at your nails, mentioned how they needed a manicure desperately. Donnie had wasted no time, he sent the cash through Venmo to you, threw in an extra hundred for the pedicure and facial. You had asked if that was alright, the gift giving hadn’t gone unnoticed but this was too much money. He had insisted with a smile, as for a compromise you asked him to pick out the color at the very least.

And that had made him feel that familiar tickling in the pit of his stomach. He had asked for a pretty dark purple.

In a matter of months your closet had been rebranded, the old articles had been donated, and in came the majority of outfits Don had bought for you. Low on your night routine products, he had set up an Amazon subscription to replenish it monthly. Wanted to treat yourself to a nice lunch on the good side of town? The cash was sent before your stomach could grumble.

Donnie found something he wanted to see you in and then promptly take it off with his teeth? Picked, bought, sent, ready to wear.

You couldn’t contain your grin one day whilst chatting with April about some pretty dress pants you saw at some bougie store. Donnie had been pouring himself a cup of coffee when he overheard. Mug to his lips and a hand down his pocket he had walked over, honest to god pulled several hundred dollar bills and handed it over to you.

Between his smile and April’s raised brow, you had to stifle a giggle.

It wasn’t to say that it was odd, most partners would want to treat their significant other to whatever materialistic desire they might have. The sort of odd specificity of it all that Donnie want some human man with some CEO entry level job. Nevertheless Donnie did make good bank with whatever he remotely did and was quite smart with his finances.

He could splurge when it came to you.

And he quickly found out that he actively enjoyed spending on whatever your heart desired.

As Halloween approached you wondered what might be delivered onto you. Donnie had been investigating with some subtle questions on what you’d enjoy trying out as a costume. The subject had landed on your love for the villain Shego from Kim Possible. You’d mentioned how you’d never had the guts to try it out, it was a skin tight suit and your nerves always won over.

The proverbial lightbulb had lit up in Donnie’s brain. Some investigating and hastily pricey purchase later, the replica costume had been delivered.

Donnie tracked the package as if he were tracking any bad guy. He wanted it to arrive on Halloween and he had already planned an entire evening just the two of you.

How things had escalated this much was still beyond you. How this had unlocked something hidden beneath the surface for the both of you wasn’t too beyond thought.

You were observing yourself in front of your bathroom in full costume. You had gone so far as to fluff up your locks to add a little extra volume, make up was done just exactly. By all means you looked just like your precious Shego.

But damn was this costume skin tight. Each curve accentuated leading to your mind to make you self conscious once more. This was the usual hurdle you could never pass by whenever you had contemplated getting the costume for past Halloween nights.

Donnie’s voice slipped into your quiet breakdown.

“Are you alright?” He had a knowing smile as he spoke whilst leaning against the door. The image of you in skin tight spandex had been distracting him for days. He did also know your self conscious mindset would kick in but he wasn’t about to let that win.

“I look silly” You called from the door, the echo in your bathroom highlight the slight tremble of your words.

“Impossible, you only look silly in the morning” That jerk, he was right though. Your hair had a mind of its own whenever you woke up from a deep slumber.

“I’d like to see you” He spoke again, voice unwavering even thought his pulse was betraying it.

As the doorknob moved and the lock was clicked off, Donnie felt his throat go as dry as sandpaper. You opened the door tentatively, your body the picture of nerves but adorned in an outfit that had simply left him lost for words. He hadn’t expected the hair and make up, truthfully he’d forgotten that in his usual instructions note.

Donnie looked, he allowed his eyes to take it all in and some memory of him seeing that show when he was young all those years ago and crushing over Shego just went off in his brain.

“I look silly don’t I? This is stu-“ Your words were muffled by lips and your body being pushed up against the very bathroom door you had exited not even a few handful of minutes ago. The momentum of his movements had found you being lifted by your thighs. It was a messy kiss, the kind of ones where it hurt so good to feel so wanted. There was a whimper when those large hands of his gripped your rear just to further press himself closer to you. With that very momentum he backed up with you and walked the few steps to the bed. Somewhere between a nip to your lower lip and a gutural moan escaping him you felt fabric tear. Donnie’s fingers dug into your rear, stretched the sides of the material and it gave way with a pleasant sound.

You were lucky he had a hold on you because your knees felt severely checked out by that.

With that very energy he placed you on the bed, gripped your waist and flipped you onto your stomach.

He buried his face, felt how ridiculously wet you were and almost lost it. You wanted to find words, wanted something coherent to seductively throw back at him but the jittering mumble of moans was all that tumbled out. Donnie was possessed for lack of a better term, pure instinct taking over as he licked and ate with earnest. He could stay there for days if he could, if you let him.

The last final stripe he licked made your toes curl and your eyes twitch. He pushed you upwards, further to the middle of the bed. The creak of the bed alerting you he too was now fully on it.

“You. Look. So. Fucking. Beautiful.” You heard each word punctuated by something being taken off, the straps of his suspenders, the buckle of his belt, the slide of a zipper. When your lustful fog cleared enough for you to throw a glance over your shoulder, it must’ve done something to him. Because those pupils were blown, his hands clutched your hips and pressed you against himself.

You felt the stiff hard outline of his cock, it rubbed just so against your wet folds and the anticipation alone made your arms buckle. “Fuck, Don-please” Finally words, you felt proud.

“I’m going to” He grunted, rubbing your wetness along his cock.

That first breach never seized to leave you gasping. The stretch too palpable, the ache that hit that slowly subsided to pleasure. The familiar song and dance of these things. “God, you’re so tight and hot” He could almost don from it, the overwhelming notion that all this was brought on by him, that he could rile you up and possess every inch of your skin.

The arch of your spine, the way your fingers dug into the sheets, the green of the costume.

The smeared make up, the black lipstick smudged.

Donnie wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you against his plastron. Soon enough you felt another tear to the costume, right at your chest, exposing his other favorite spot of yours. His hands greedily cupped just as he thrusted.

A hand rubbed at your chest whilst the other slipped into the tear of the suit to find your swollen neglected clit. The circles he drew there had your thighs shaking and lips parting to moan.

“Don’t s-stop! There-there-there!” You shouted just as he found the right rhythm with his hips and fingers.

And who was he to deny you this? Every the giving one, he simply had to commit to pushing you off that precipice.

So he did, so much so, so many times that by the time that you felt like a limp noodle in his arms and you mumbled out your shared safe word you didn’t know what day it was.

When your cheek felt the soft fabric of the sheets you could register Donnie taking himself in hand, frantically fisting until warmth hit the back of your thighs with a low moan.

Then his lips found your neck, the gentle kisses bringing you down back to earth. The sensitivity behind each peck made your heart swell. He maneuvered himself next to you, pushing you against himself as he continued to rub soothing circles on your back. He whispered his usual questions, if you were alright, if he had been too rough. All to which you had lazily shaken your head no to.

“I’m going to clean you up, I’ll be-“ Your hand landed on his cheek, you shook your head no again. “Not yet, stay here” Sleep and exhaustion we’re starting to take over, the slurred connection of your words giving you away. Donnie had to smile as he settled back on the bed, loving even more how you scooted closer to him.

His hand rubbed the exposed skin, the straps and ribbons of torn fabric looked beautiful on you. He wondered if you would agree to something like this again, the possibility of it already making his stomach do flips.

For now though, he had to take care of you.

Nobody really tells you how intricate love is, how tricky the whole system is wired.

It’s like one big mine field and you’re trusting your legs to deliver you across.

While wearing a blindfold.

Doesn’t sound fun but it’s highly impulsive and addictive and we question it every step of the way while still doing it. Repetition, so much repetition and so little time to comprehend. Donnie was and forever is the brains of the operation but nobody could tell him that heartbreak, heartache was just as painful as broken limbs and shattered expectations. For the life of it he couldn’t really state what was the pinpoint, the second things sort off tipped over into an area that he simply wasn’t qualified and by the looks of it, neither were you.

To put it simply, it just fucking hurt.

And nobody told him the ache could follow you for days, for weeks, for years…

It only just moves around to different corners of your brain, makes a pit stop here and there. Takes a hold of nostalgia, of the comforts of repetition and routine. Still, it’s just varian levels of pain. Years after he had said his goodbyes to what you and him had been, he felt that the ache eventually subsides but the name, the scents, the memories, it never goes away.

You never really left.

It’s one autumn evening, where you’re name flashes on his phone, a message that he wonders if you typed up and erased as many times as he had done as some point, that he figures this is gonna reopen wounds again.

Because when you and him stopped, when you and him became a past tense sentence, you did the smart thing and left anything he had taken up space in to heal. Like quitting cold turkey, but he didn’t have options, he couldn’t pack up and move to a new spot and forget that every inch of his things had been consumed, touched or were yours. He’s deeply concerned at first, maybe sometimes wrong and he needs to go play hero but you’re calm, you’re soft, when you say hi, when you ask how he’s been.

It’s been so long but you never forget how somebody you loved made you feel.

It’s impossible to forget that once upon a time you had brought him so much security and comfort.

The idle chats shifts to what each of you had been up to, how was everyone back home, where your career had taken you. There’s a pause at the hour mark, where the pleasantries have been discussed, where he wonders if this is the last he’ll hear of you.

“Listen… I’m in town and well-“ Your words seem to stumble, unsure if this is too unreasonable.

“Would you like to meet up?” He suggest, his voice a lot less shaky than he expected it to be. Donnie’s been fighting a lump in his throat the entire time he’s been talking to you, every second you chuckled or whenever you said his name. It’s pinpricks on his fingertips, a little too much for how numb he’s felt since this whole thing went down.

It pales in comparison when he sees you for the first time in a year.

Because nobody tells you that everything hits like a tidal wave, that every moment shared could flare up and burn and soothe all at the same time. It hurts to see you climb into the truck, just like you did so many times before, but feel the same awkward air that had settled when things ended.

Donnie takes a greedy moment to look at you, brown eyes running through the changes a year has settled on you both physically and in the shift of energy around you. You’re still beautiful, no doubt there, never was one to be begin with. You do the same, your heart all sorts of dizzy because he does look different, he’s thirty, so are you, shits so different when you’re in your early twenties.

“Hey” It’s soft, you aren’t even sure if he even heard you but the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to make your eyes sting.

You don’t want to cry.

Donnie doesn’t want to cry.

Because you both had done your fair share of crying over what all of this was and the bitter end it arrived at. He grips the steering wheel because there’s a second where he wants to reach over and touch your face, to have your lips cross his palm to plant a gentle kiss to it.

But it’s not right. So he bottles up everything, pushes one to many memories to a corner of his chest and instead turns the engine on.

He can concentrate on driving, he can multitask hearing you speak in more details about how things have back in your hometown. It’s a familiar dance and he hasn’t forgotten how it goes, he used to do this all the time whenever he picked you up from dates. He could drive around for hours with you, with the sound of you peppered with music in the background and the feel of your hand on his thigh.

But that isn’t there of course. Even if he wished it were, there was a high percentage that the act itself would make him crumble.

He doesn’t know how long its been, before he’s pulling to a stop in a spot you both would often end your drives. He can’t ignore the way your eyes look everything over because it has been a year since you stopped here.

You take another breath and settle on the seat to better look at him. Something sticks in your chest, wether its his gaze or how many chemical stains and scars his hands have now. Maybe its how broad his shoulders look, that’s a part you can’t forget, it was one of your favorite parts of hugging him, feeling for him when he had left you a painted mess on any surface.

You always tugged him back by his shoulders.

“I’ve played something like this in my head, you know?” What he would say if he had the chance to see you once more.

“Not the only one, its kinda why I texted you” You play with your fingers, spinning the rings on them much like did whenever you were nervous.

Truth be told Donnie had a monologue, a plethora of thoughts he had strung together to somehow explain exactly how his heart felt, How every little fragment of his days could have you in the back burner.

But it all goes to shit, the second his eyes meet yours and they are already watering. So are his.

“I don’t think ‘sorry’ cuts it, because I know we both had our issues and we both did shit wrong but…” You can’t keep your gaze, its too watery and your lower lip already trembles. That instinct to reach out and grab you is pulsating but he settles for pressing his knuckles to your arm, runs them up and down the skin he knew better than his own. The act itself makes you want to cry more but you hold for the sake of pride maybe. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry” Donnie manages and he’s actually surprised he could, because deep down he was. There is bitterness, there is regret but there is also sadness for how it all transpired. Even if pieces of him say this is for the better, even if he feels like his heart is shattering all over again, he has to apologize.

Your hand grabs his own, grips it tight and for the next few seconds you both hold hands as if life itself depends on it, a white knuckle grip that only he could sustain. The size difference guts you, once again you feel like you’ll make it back to your hotel with your heart and guts missing because the whirlwind has got you nauseous. It’s muscle memory when your other hand runs the length of his forearm. That movement only serves to ruin his life more, all these touches had been phantom pains to him for the past year or so.

When Donnie feels the tug he doesn’t want to look, can’t afford to lay his gaze on you but he loses his resolve. Brown eyes meet your own and he’s down for the count, feels the tug that leads him towards your mouth and you’re kissing him.

The salt of your tears hits him, the scent of your shampoo too.

God he wants to cry.

He’s crying.

He’s kissing you and he’s crying.

Had he taken these moments for granted once upon a time? Had you selfishly assumed they would be never ending?

You should stop it, back up and exit the truck because what is this doing? It’s not fixing anything, it won’t fix the two of you.

But these past 365 days have been so numbing.

Those hands of his tug you close, onto his lap with your thighs on either side of his own and a mouth that won’t quit. He can’t recall the last time this felt like ice picks poking through his gut but it’s something, he can feel something for once. You pull slightly away, nose against his snout and lips still a little shakey.

Donnie feels your palms run down his plastron and you might as well drag acid while you’re at it. Stab every corner of his heart with broken glass, but you’re kissing him again and it’s just the tiniest bit of liberating to think things didn’t go to shit even if it’s for ten minutes or ten lifetimes.

You grind against him, feel those big hands grip your thighs and a moan escapes you. It forced him to push you down onto his crotch, to arch against you while this familiar song and dance comes back to him so effortlessly.

He’s lost in it again, lost in you. The way you sigh his name against his lips and moan so brokenly for more.

Being inside you again.

The way your nails dig into his shoulders.

How you hold on to him.

How he wraps his arms around and rocks the two of you into a rhythm that has you gasping.

If this is a dream it’s the cruelest.

But he knows you’ll leave.

The crunch of leafs beneath your boots seemed to be the loudest sound out here in the open. The cold autumn weather announcing itself with yet another harsh wind that blew your crimson cloak around you.

It’s in the games we play.

You felt that overwhelming presence that belonged only to him, it radiated off of him much like the cigar smoke you picked up as it faintly travelled across to you.

There was that conceited laugh of his as he approached you from behind.

“You really know how to haul ass when it concerns you, huh?” His breath tickled the back of. Your head and it took so much of your pride to not smile at the sound of his voice. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning, to let him see your eyes and the fire the burned in your gaze. “Letting you win isn’t my favorite past time to be frank” That laugh of his vibrated against your skin, so infectious, so very him.

“Oh kitten, I always win” He leaned in, nose to your hair and inhaled softly the scent he had memorized so well.

He could track you through storm and distances.

He would always find you.

And how he loved the chase, this little game you both played.

You felt as much as your heard his growl, the human sound that slowly dropped to a guttural baritone. His eyes, once the stormy hazel they were must be golden now and so very inhuman. As your heart picked up that drumming beat anticipation, you turned slightly to see that handsome smile of his sporting sharp teeth, canines so sharp and perfectly white.

How often you’d seen them sporting red and flesh.

“Come now little one, the games only starting!” He backed up with a bounce to his step, arms wiggling out of that coat he never left home without. You watched him kick off his boots and toss his hat to the quickly growing pile of clothes. There was a cracking sound as he unbuckled his belt, yanking the leather in one fell swoop, all you could do was swallow and bunch up the front of your dress to ready yourself. Heisenberg’s shoulders made a sickening crack, as if the bones had snapped under some unseen force, his finders followed suit and soon human flesh began to give way to something monstrous.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!-“ His voice dropped even lower, the growl nearly demonic in the air of the forest. Something cracked again, the sounds of bones snapping into their rightful position for this. You dug your heels, chest rising as you continued to watch Heisenberg change before your very eyes. “Seven! Six! Five!-“ Those silver locks grew, more patches of hair appearing as he grew in size himself with another crack of his knees, his face contorted, mouth ripping at the corners as a snout began to take form. His clothes tore, pieces of fabric falling or merely hanging by threads on his changing body. It was the half way point, where there was still some human features left but it was more lycan than man regardless.

His tail wiggled off some scraps of clothing, shoulders rolling back to crack them further into their new alignment. That grin, god even in his lycan form it still remained.

The human tone slipped further into just a husky growl as he finished his countdown.

“Four! Three! Two!-“

He howled out that last number, the sound of it drifting into the menacing boom that alerted you that now was the time to start fucking running.

And that you did.

Took off like bullet from a starting pistol, with the echo of your heart being drowned out by the monstrous growl Heisenberg unleashed as he chased after you.

The cold wind assaulted your face as you sprinted as quickly as you could, each step felt like it held the possibility of your doom, with some branches and rocks in place you could easily stumble.

Stumble and lose this little game prematurely.

A sadistic growl rang through the woods as you tried to take a hard left, the sounds of of something sliding and digging into the earth felt too close for comfort. There was a purpose to this game after all, aside from the hunt that Heisenberg derived pleasure from. The goal was to back track to the factory, if you could make it passed the damn bridge, enter his territory then maybe, maybe this time you could be crowned the victor.

But Heisenberg was so quick, even as you ran now with every ounce of adrenaline pumping into you, his presence was close.

Too fucking close.

Distant howling made you falter, feet nearly locking in place and making you trip onto the dirt. Those weren’t supposed to be nearby, the game had its rules after all. It would be rather unfair of him to call upon the rest of those bastards to side track you and truly make you dizzy with whom exactly was closest. Bunching up the front of your dress you were ready to sprint once more as an eerie quiet fell around you. Heisenberg’s heavy steps had seized and so had the howling, something was truly amiss.

The huff of your breath in the cold felt like a signal at this point, a beacon for anybody to find you. The sweat of your brow was chilled against your skin, for as much as your turned to any possible space in the forest it all showed that he could spring out at you any given second, the silence only served for the anxiety to kick in. He had a sadistic streak, naturally he would let the rest of the dogs mess with you if it meant he’d win in the end.

He always won though, why was tonight so different?

Just as you thought, you felt it. It could be mistaken for sweat, could’ve been so easily mistaken for it but you knew your body.

“Oh…fuck” You whispered as you hiked up your dress and saw the blood staining your underwear. The horrible realization that there would be no way to win settled and in what you could only describe as the world coming to a slow stop, you saw him.

Saw how he roused into that frightening height of his, claws caked in dirt and fabric from your dress (shit he had been really close back there), you watched him as he approached you with slow calculated steps. His eyes never stopped being the attention driven spot, they felt like the only source of light in the darkness ironically enough. “I said no dogs, you’ve always known that you cheat” If that mandible could grin it would, the sneer was there but the muscles weren’t quite right given his form. There was a series of sounds that could easily be taken for laughter at your expense.

He hadn’t quite cheated though? The lycans had merely voiced their needs, they knew you were out here but to this point they had not shown up. His arms had extended in that of a motion, a ‘you see?’ To still your accusations of him. You would’ve stomped your foot like a child but that would only give further cause for him to mock you. Your eyes scanned the surrounding spaces but it would be futile.

For each step he took you took one backwards.

His tongue came out to lick his snout, the appendage long and slimy with spit. He was salivating, he had his prey before him with not manner of escape and actively bleeding. Your eyes went wide as you dropped the skirt of your dress and hoped that the only reason he was sniffing the air was because of passing scents. With his head upturned high, sniffing once more he dropped it rapidly to zero in on you and something quite like a demonic laughter left his chest.

“Kitty… bleed” The words were strained, caught between growls and actual sounds normal him would make. Heisenberg was the only lycan capable of speech, to a degree it’s very limited, but he enjoyed using it to torture when the two of you were to play like this. The flight response in your body was pressed and the very second you tried to make a run for it, you felt a large hairy arm wrap around your waist and lift you up. That damned howling laughter rang out as he readjusted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You cheat! You knew it would be today! That’s why you insisted so much on playing” You smacked him and yanked at his fur but a large clawed hand falling on your rear reminded you, to the winner goes the spoils.

A hard yank tore your cloak as he casted it towards the ground with every intention of making it into a small nest for you. You were dropped quite unceremoniously onto it, soon enough the dark sky was obscured by him and what a sight this monster of a man could be. You still played up your disappointed frown, even as he won it never truly meant you lost, fun was to be had after all. Those large claws dug into the ground on each side of your head as he hovered above. “Karl don’t salivate on me!” You grabbed his snout, giving it a playful shake much like you would any common dog, it wasn’t long before your were scratching him.

“You still cheated” You announced as you continued to scratch him, he shook himself much to your protesting shrieks. “Asshole-“ You words were cut short when the fabric of your skirt tore as one single claw cut it down the middle, great nothing like walking back home naked in the cold. For good measure you yanked his ear with a grin of your own, Heisenberg growled baring his teeth towards you. His tongue stuck out to lap at the sweat on your stomach, slowly the behemoth of a creature descended lower. Your eyes nearly bugged out and you wanted to yank him back up by the scraggly mop of hair on his head, but naturally he was too quick for you.

Both your wrist were enclosed in one massive clawed hand just as he swiped at the front of your underwear. He shuddered, a pleasant shiver running down his spine when he tasted your essence in every sense of the word. “Absolutely disgusting, you’re the wors-ah!” You shrieked when another simple flick of his claws tore open your underwear. “Silly… brat” Came that guttural tone accompanied by a swipe of his tongue over your folds. Your chest heaved, it never stopped feeling so odd, from the feel of it to how wide and long his tongue was, but it never proved to be unwelcome.

Your widened eyes watch the mass below you greedily lap up, even as he let go of your wrist and picked up your legs to properly spread them for his feast.

Those usually perfectly white teeth were now stained with blood. When he looked up at you.

“Disgusting dog” Was all you could retort with a smile, his tail wagged.

“Smells… good” He spoke at the inside of your thigh, the scrape of his teeth making the limb shake. One incorrect movement and there could be crimson lines adorning it. That animal instinct of his could override common sense and while there were perks for it, the negatives could be fatal. His nostrils flared for a second, the hard gust of air moving your hair. Heisenberg directed his gaze behind himself, several noises and howls leaving him. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, as you sat up to look behind him.

The lycans had gathered, a large number were cautiously approaching. Your hand dug into the fur his body in fear. “Karl?!” You questioned in a hushed whisper, they were communicating from the looks of it and at some point he had made it abundantly clear that would the closest they could get. He turned on his knees to fix you with a gaze that could only be described as pure mischief.

Son of a bitch had really planned this to a tee.

“You bastard, really?! You want them to watch?!” You yanked at his fur once again, his response was to bump his snout against your cheek and chin. It was his physical way of telling you to ‘relax’ and to seal it, he licked your mouth with as much tenderness as he could muster in this form. “You owe me for this, owe me big time” You scratched his head and gave his cheek a kiss before settling back on the ground. There was an excitement palpable in his body, from the way he gripped your hips and lifted your lower half so he could get one more taste from you. The long languid stripe he licked made you bite your lip, your eyes fell on the lycans watching with their steely gazes. You locked your ankles behind Heisenberg’s head to keep him there a little longer

There was something akin to jealousy in their gazes.

Your skin flushed, the furnace like heat Heisenberg exuded naturally making your skin balmy. His hands slid up your thighs, swiftly unhooking your ankles, you braced yourself as best as you could when he manhandled you onto your stomach…

And in perfect view of the rest of the lycans. You blew a strand of hair from your face, frowning as the howling of multiple dogs rang out. They all itched to be where Heisenberg was but only he could, and if any of them dared to disobey, oh it would get far more messier quickly. His snout bumped against your ear, a quick sharp inhale making the skin of your neck breakout in goosebumps. “Mine mine mine” He pushed out through a hiss. Your eyes flutter closed as he bit down gently onto your shoulder, he never closed down fully, but the threat of it being a possibility was enough to remind you. Heisenberg was hot and hard at your backside, the length of him making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Your gaze fell on one particular lycan, his eyes had glued themselves onto your face, the need behind his stare made you grin. A twist of your hair alerted you that Heisenberg knew and when he roared at the other, he in turn simply recoiled at his superiors rage. For your indiscretion he dug his hands into the meat of your rear, the sharpness of the claws reminding you.

Only his, no one else’s.

When he pushed in, the sharp intake of breath you took made you arch back and dig your hands into the soil. You could feel the drip of his saliva onto your lower back, each inch inside making him growl. You felt him maneuver you onto all fours, hands gripping your waist, dwarfing you seamlessly. You trembled as he sheathed more of his cock inside of you until you reached back to tap him on the hand that you had your limit of him. That first thrust always left you speechless, lacking oxygen and even a little dizzy. He was so large, so thick and lost in the sensation of owning you.

Owning you right in front of these mutts.

Those large hands found your arms and pulled back, if it weren’t for his strength you could’ve easily fallen face first but he held onto you and started to move. Eyes shutting tight, you felt your thighs began to shake at his strong movements. He was strong in his human form, but like this? It never stopped surprising you, never stopped exciting you that his strength was unmatched to the crowd of lycans before you. Not one single one of them made any moves to find for dominance and it was no secret that had Heisenberg deeply excited and filled to the brim with pride. There was a roar that startled you from your pleasure, he yanked you back towards him to further possessively hold you again himself.

He wanted you to watch.

Look at those envious dogs, his movements spoke. His snout came to rest on your shoulder, each huff of air from his nostrils felt cold on your heated skin. He thrusted faster, a need to claim urging him to smack his hips against you. His tongue snuck out and licked at your neck just as his movements were bordering on painful. This never stopped being messy, it never stopped being hot either. There was good reason to do this outside, although Heisenberg had others naturally. “So… good…. Mine” A large hand twisted both your breast into a painful grip, mindful of the sharpness his hold had but too far gone to not show his desires. That pulsing need could be felt in his movements, the insistent growling as his release approached.

It was in the way he held you against him.

Where his fur stuck against your sweaty skin and that insistent line of spit kept falling on your shoulder. Trapped in his embrace you could do little to show your lust but it surely was evident in the sounds you hadn’t stopped making since he had slid into you. The lycan’s stamina was nowhere near that of a human’s, and while Heisenberg knew your limitations he very well knew he could pump a few loads into your body regardless of you being a babbling mess beneath him. You felt your entire body seize up, the only thing holding you up being Heisenberg as he continued to thrust into you, with a scream of pleasure you alerted him that your end had approached and with that he pushed you down onto the fabric of your cloak to fuck the first of many loads into you. He roared, hand on the middle of your back trying to not dig those claws in. He filled you almost unbearably so, it leaked out so easily and made a mess down the inside of your thighs. You trembled with each spurt that shot into you, oversensitive thanks to your sudden predicament this evening. This only seemed to further drive him, it wasn’t the usual possessive need, if anything it felt cranked up to eleven.

When his hips had settled into a gentle sway, huffing breaths hitting your back, you knew it was his way of letting you settle. A slow drag of a claw down your back made you shiver, the rest of the lycans had begun to howl and become rowdy but another roar from Heisenberg put a stop to it.

You smiled tiredly, a soft chuckle mixing into your heavy breathing.

Heisenberg moved his hips once more, picked up the speed one thrust at a time. With a smirk you placed your hands behind your back, his almost delighted growl could be taken for laughter.

He gladly accepted your wrist, the show of submission for the rest of the dogs to see.