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@missisaz
Stressed and In Love ~ Paul Lahote
A/n: REQUESTS!!! MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!!
Request: “My god, I had this idea and now I’m hoping I can live it though your amazing writing! So Bella’s sister tries to talk Bella out of going to Italy to save Edward, when she failed she stayed with Jake so she wouldn’t have to be alone till Charlie came home from work. Jake took her to hang out at Sam’s and Emily’s with the pack, trying to comfort her about losing her sister. When they get there Paul imprints on her and it’s like supper cute and stuff ? This was super long but feel free to ignore!🥰” by @sweetkiitty
A/n: As promised! Sorry again that I took a while. I really do appreciate your guys’ requests so much I’m just hyper fixiated on something else right now. Thanks also for your patience, and the love that last Embry request got! Love you guys :)
Word Count: 2500+
MASTERLIST
“BELLA DON’T!” The panicked, desperate words came not from the best friend that had fallen in love with her, but the sister who had cared about Bella far longer on a far deeper level. When Jacob had failed to convince her even after he pulled each and every string he knew, Y/n stepped in to give it a shot.
Keep reading
Paul Lahote x reader headcanons part 2
Part one - masterlist
Paul struggled with a lot of things growing up, and from all of it came the anger. When he started shifting, it was very difficult for him. Burt now that he has you, he finds it easier to control his temper.
Cleaning my room feels so overstimulating and therapeutic at the same time.
◞ ﹒ ﹕ 𝒫aul 𝓛ahote ₊ ݁ ﹒﹒
ℋeadcanons ݁ . fluff + protective paul
꒰🐺 ꒱ 𝒸w: paul being intense, temper mentions, imprinting, soft possessiveness
𝒫aul 𝓛ahote is not the soft, sweet, whispering-poetry type of boyfriend. He is warm hands, sharp jaw, bad temper, and standing a little too close because he genuinely cannot help himself.
He loves hard. Like embarrassingly hard. Like if he imprints on you, everybody knows within two days because Paul is suddenly hovering like a guard dog with a personal grudge against the entire planet.
୨୧ He acts like he is not clingy, but he absolutely is.
Not in a “baby please text me back” way. More like he just appears wherever you are. Sitting beside you at Emily’s. Leaning against your truck. Walking you home even if you told him you were fine.
He will say something like, “I was going this way anyway,” and everyone knows he was not.
୨୧ Paul’s love language is physical touch, but he would rather die than say that out loud.
His hand on your lower back when you walk through a crowd. Fingers brushing your hair or your sleeve. His knee pressed against yours under the table. His arm thrown over the back of your chair, like he is trying to look casual but also making it very clear you are with him.
He is not delicate with affection at first. He has to learn how to be gentle. But once he does? It ruins him a little.
୨୧ He gets jealous fast, but he tries to play it off.
Paul is not subtle. If some guy looks at you too long, his whole face changes. Jaw tight. Eyes narrowed. Shoulders stiff.
And if you ask him what is wrong, he will definitely say, “Nothing.”
Which means everything is wrong and he is currently fighting demons in silence.
୨୧ He is protective in a very Paul way.
He does not fuss over you sweetly. He checks your tires. Walks on the road side of the sidewalk. Stares down anyone who makes you uncomfortable. Tells you to call him when you get home, then pretends he was not waiting with his phone in his hand.
If you get hurt, even a little, he gets quiet. That is how you know he is really scared.
୨୧ He has a temper, but he would try so hard not to scare you.
Paul is canonically hotheaded. That does not just disappear because he loves someone. But with you, he learns restraint and control
Sometimes he has to walk away. Sometimes he has to phase and run until the anger burns off. Sometimes he comes back looking ashamed, like he hates that part of himself more than anyone else ever could.
He would not want you afraid of him. That would destroy him.
୨୧ He is secretly proud when you wear his clothes.
He acts smug, obviously. That is Paul. But deep down, seeing you in his hoodie or shirt makes his chest feel too full.
He likes that you smell like him. He likes that everybody can see it. He likes that you look comfortable in something that belongs to him.
He will tease you for stealing it, then never ask for it back.
୨୧ At Emily’s house, he is always watching you.
Not in a creepy way. More like he is constantly aware of you. Where you are sitting. If you ate enough. If you are cold. If someone made you laugh.
He pretends he is listening to Jared or Embry, but his eyes keep sliding back to you anyway.
And if you catch him staring, he does not even look embarrassed. He just lifts his eyebrows like, what about it?
୨୧ Paul would be awful at apologizing at first.
Not because he does not care. Because caring makes him feel exposed.
His first apologies are probably stiff and awkward. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “I was being stupid.” “I didn’t mean it like that.”
But later, once he trusts you more, he gets better. Quieter. More honest.
“I got mad because I was scared. That’s not an excuse.”
୨୧ He is not the type to say “I love you” every five seconds.
But when he says it, it hits.
Paul’s “I love you” would come out low, serious, maybe when you are half asleep or after an argument or when he thinks you are not really listening. Or when you’re asleep, dead to the world.
And if you say it back, he goes still for half a second before pulling you closer.
୨୧ He likes when you mess with him.
Paul needs someone who can push back a little. Someone who rolls their eyes when he is being dramatic. Someone who can call him out without making him feel small.
If you tease him, he acts annoyed, but he loves it.
Especially if you make him laugh when he is trying very hard to stay mad.
୨୧ He is warmer than a blanket, no blankets needed when you’re around Paul.
Literally. Being around him is dangerous because once he holds you, you are not getting up. He runs hot from the shifting, so cuddling him feels unfairly good.
He would definitely complain if you put your cold hands on him, but he would still let you.
He would grumble, “You’re freezing,” while pulling your hands under his shirt to warm them up.
୨୧ He would struggle with the imprint at first.
Not because he does not want you. Because wanting you that much scares him.
Paul is used to reacting first and thinking later. The imprint would force him to feel everything at once. Need, fear, love, loyalty, panic.
He would hate how obvious it makes him. Hate that everyone can see exactly where his heart went.
But once he accepts it, that is it. He is yours.
୨୧ He loves in a way that feels almost too intense sometimes.
Paul is not casual. He does not know how to be casual with someone he loves.
He memorizes your moods. Your voice. The way you go quiet when something is wrong. The little things you do when you are nervous.
He notices more than people think he does.
୨୧ He would absolutely get softer when nobody is looking.
Around the pack, Paul is all attitude. Loud mouth, sharp grin, quick temper.
But alone with you? He gets quieter. He lets his guard drop. He presses his face into your neck and just breathes for a second, like being near you resets something in him.
_
I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! AND IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO LEAVE A COMMENT 🦌
taglist masterlist want to support me?
paul lahote x clingy!reader
when paul first realizes just how clingy you are, he thinks it's temporary.
maybe you're having a rough week.
maybe you're tired.
maybe you're just in an unusually affectionate mood.
except it never stops.
you reach for his hand without thinking. lean against his shoulder whenever he's nearby. curl up beside him on couches, on logs during pack gatherings, in the passenger seat of his truck. if paul is within arm's reach, somehow you always end up touching him in some way.
at first, he acts annoyed about it.
not actually annoyed, but paul is paul.
he'll grumble when you drape yourself across him while he's trying to watch something. he'll complain when you're practically attached to his side while he's talking to someone else.
all while making absolutely no effort whatsoever to move away.
because the truth is, paul gets used to it embarrassingly fast.
faster than he wants to admit.
eventually it becomes so normal that the absence of it feels strange.
if you're sitting across the room instead of next to him, paul notices.
if you don't immediately reach for his hand while walking somewhere, paul notices.
if you're having a bad day and become quieter, less affectionate, less likely to seek him out, paul notices that too.
and suddenly he's the one looking for you.
he'll drop onto the couch beside you instead of taking the empty chair. he'll pull your legs into his lap without a word. he'll casually hook an arm around your waist when you're standing nearby as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
Oh to be a girl in the 80s waiting for her boyfriend to climb through her window is my dream
Debt Owed
paul lahote x fem! reader
Paul Lahote had been your friend since childhood, he was your rock as you faced the trials of high-school together. And now - well now, he was ignoring your calls and texts.
It left you feeling heartbroken and angry. How could he do this to you? You called his parents, they said he wasn't feeling well. Even trying to go check up on him, and today was the final straw. Paul was out with his new friends - Sam Uleys Gang of troublemakers who never really caused trouble but people didn't like it either way.
They were cutting their hate, getting tattoos and ditching school. That was enough for people to talk.
Quickly before he could take off, you approached the group and began to yell at Paul for leaving you alone.
Paul stood still as you berated him infront of the others, it made you stop almost immediately - feeling foolish. "-Just, uh, don't-" You began to stutter and trailed off, Paul looked completely enamored by you. His eyes literally could have been heart shaped. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Stop looking at me like that!" You demanded - completely exasperated from the whole ordeal.
"I can't help it," Paul admitted with a charming smile. "-you are very beautiful when you are putting me in my place."
That left you stunned. "What?"
He chuckled softly. "You heard me."
"Gross."
He threw his head back, laughing. "God, I am so going to enjoy the rest of my life with you."
"You're delusional." You stated the obvious with a roll of your eyes.
"Oh, am I?" He dared.
"Very much so."
"I bet you - we get married and have children."
Crossing your arms over your chest, you responded. "How much do you want to bet?"
"A kiss."
"God, you are truly pathetic," You groaned, but smiled nonetheless. "-you're on."
Years Later
"I do believe you have a debt to pay." Paul came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his warm body.
"Do I?" You mused as you stirred the pot of food that was to be dinner for the night.
"Mmhm," He grinned into your hair, sniffing it in the process. "-one that I want to be paid right now."
"I do hope you mean a kiss and nothing else."
"Did I only ask for a kiss back then?" He nearly giggled as he recalled the encounter from long ago.
"I won't pay a cent more, Mr. Lahote."
He whined. "I suppose I'll take what is owed then." Paul pulling your chin to the side as he began kissing you from behind, your lips moving in sync. "I love you."
"I love you so much more."
"Impossible."
THE SPACE BETWEEN US
Pairing: Paul Lahote x Vampire! Reader
divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 7.6k synopsis: Paul Lahote was born to hate vampires. Unfortunately for him, the universe had other plans. a/n: I have finally wrote something after over a month! A little different from my usual fandoms but I've been feeling nostalgic lately.
MINE !
summary: intense jealousy pushes paul’s fierce imprint instincts to the breaking point, driving him to lock the bedroom door and claim what is entirely his.
pairing: paul lahote x 𝒇 ! reader
word count: 1k
contains: jealousy, possessive ! paul, yearning, obsession, + 18 content, mdni, devotion
Is it just me or does the park the shark/ emma nolan ship make ZERO fucking sense. He doesn’t even know who she is😭
also what the hell is this guy’s actual name
how i imagine paul and his imprint lmao
it is not lost on me and it should not be lost on you either that it was a wealthy, seemingly normal man who likes to go golfing with his buddies that assaulted emma when digby, an unhoused man who society often views as inherently inhumane, has treated everyone (including emma) with kindness.
paul smut pls pls pls!!!
𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦 .ೀ
pairings: paul lahote x jaguar shifter fem!reader
summary: it's been one week since paul lahote imprinted on you, and tensions are rising between the two of you. the thread breaks completely at the boundary lines and you both finally give in.
word count: 3,9k
warnings: nsfw, enemies to lovers, public sex (?) (it's deep in the forest), biting, hair tugging, clothes ripped off, scratching, possessiveness, not proof read
a/n: okay this is way longer than I expected but the idea was in my head for too long for it to be short im so sorry y'all :/
It’s been one week, one week since being plagued with the nightmare that didn’t vanish in sleep of that silver wolf locking eyes with yours and having the whole world reshifted to just the two of you. The restless energy demanded an outlet the moment a ray hit your face in the early morning, you wasted no time dawning the proper clothes and shoes to go for a run in the cool damp forest.
The cold air hit like a sharp distraction smelling of dew and decaying leaves. You started off slow, breath puffing small clouds but quickly picked up the pace. You weren’t running toward anything, it was to burn something off, the lingering irritation from last week. Paul Lahaote. Aggravating, stubborn, annoying, and tempting. This entire stupid, claustrophobic feeling of the imprint. Every push of your feet was harder and harder, the trees blurring into a green-brown streak, a clean sweat beginning to beam on your neck. There was no direction in mind, just instinct in your legs following the paths that outran the thoughts chasing you.
Feet moving on autopilot, the slopping trail you were going down was filled with the sound of rushing water. The air grew cooler, damper and familiar. The familiarity forced you to a sudden skidding stop, dirt thrashing beneath your feet. You were at the creek. The exact spot where the water rushed over as quickly as the look of horror Paul’s face turned during the argument. The one where you two finally locked eyes and everything clicked with infuriating focus.
A twig snapped in the trees on the other side of the water.
There was no need to look up who it was. The pull was instant, a magnetic tug deep in your stomach answering a call you hadn’t made. Heat filled the air like a warm blanket that you knew you should take off but definitely wouldn’t. Paul stood at the tree line, not advancing, not phasing back, just watching…guarding.
You didn’t acknowledge him, speak, or even look at him. You couldn’t, the distance between you two was nothing yet everything all at the same time. Pulsing like the churning water that narrowed into an uncrossable stream that was only a few feet away. Instead you just stood there staring at the water as though you could burn a hole through it, a thick stare for the morning mist.
“What Paul?” The words hung in the damp air, A challenge, an invitation, a demand, another for him to break the silent vigil and say something. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of splashes against wet stones. Then came the soft, heavy sounds of paws on wet earth. Rustling from the other side of the creek came Paul, shirtless with only a pair of dark athletic shorts that must have been stashed behind a tree. His chest and arms gleamed too well in the morning light, his hair dark and messy. You finally took a deep breath, this moment felt safe and you hated it.
His dark eyes were fixed on you, taking in your state. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at his lips, "I thought kittens didn’t like the water?” You rolled your eyes immediately. You hated the way his words felt more like a tease than an insult in this moment. Even with a voice rough and low there was a dangerous warmth that spread though your chest.
Still you couldn’t turn to him fully, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the slight heat that creeped up your neck. Words left your mouth before you could really think of them but a slow provocative smile curved your lips. “I’m not scared to get wet, puppy.” Your voice was a lazy drawl.
The silence from the other side of the creek was loud as the rushing water seemed to be stronger than ever. You could practically feel the shockwave that hit him. The words themselves weren’t necessarily provocative but the tone was, and so was the messenger. The familiar smirk was gone from his face, his dark eyes were wide and his expression was utterly shocked. The flush that had been on your neck was now mirrored on his tanned chest, crawling upward.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then managed a strangled sound. “What?” It came out as a rough croak. You let the smile widen, feeling a surge of power knowing exactly what he was thinking of. You’d knock him off balance. Good.
“Cat got your tongue?” you taunted, taking a deliberate step closer to the water’s edge. You tilted your head, eyes now wide and mocking. “Or did I finally find something that shuts you up?” Paul was still staring, his chest rising and falling faster than before. However, the shock was fading and was being replaced by a slow-burning, dark intensity. His own body betrayed him as he took a step closer on his side of the creek, shortening the distance between you two by just shy of 3 feet of water. His gaze dropped from your face, sweeping over you in your running clothes, a quick assessing look that felt like a physical touch, before snapping back to your eyes.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten.” His voice was laced with a rough warning. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
“Oh, I think I do,” You shot back, your confidence a shield. “I’m messing with the big bad wolf who gets all flustered when I mention getting wet. It’s cute, really. Almost makes you seem like a real boy.” You saw the way Paul’s jaw tightened quickly.
The air between you crackled, no longer with simple hatred or weary frustration, but with something hotter, more volatile, and personal. Paul didn’t move for a long second, then a slow dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his usual old smirk, it was darker. Shock left his body, it was burned away by the challenge your voice suggested. His dark eyes held yours, unwavering. “You think this is a game? You think you can poke the wolf and just walk away? The imprint isn’t a suggestion. It’s a fact. And the fact says your happiness is my problem. And right now, you being a brat makes you happy. So be a brat, see how far it gets you.”
He was turning your own teasing against you, framing it as a service he was providing. Tension was thick and radiating between you two, you could taste it. He hadn’t crossed the line, but he was right on the edge. The look in his eyes promised he wouldn’t stay there forever. For a heartbeat there was only the sound of the water and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Then, you moved.
Taking a deliberate step forward, off the bank and into the creek the icy water hit your ankles that it almost stole your breath. However, you didn’t flinch, you held Paul’s dark, burning gaze.
“Prove it,” you said, voice clear and challenging over the roar of the current.
His eyes widened a fraction, but his smile froze and slowly melted into something more intense, more focused. He looked from your face to the water swirling around your legs, then back up. The pull between you wasn’t a quiet hum anymore, it was a screaming siren, tugging at your chests, demanding, pleading for the distance to be closed.
“You’re going to catch a cold, kitten.” he said finally, his voice was softer than before, but still charged with that intense energy. “Is the little doggy afraid of water?” you taunted, turning to move away from him. It was a dismissive gesture, the final shot before you retreated to your side of the boundary.
You didn’t make it a full step.
His hand shot out, crossing the water’s surface in a blur. His fingers closed around your bare forearm, his grip firm and warm. It wasn’t rough but it was unbreakable, making your breath catch in your throat. When you met his eyes they were blazing into you. Shock gone, replaced by something raw and possessive.
“I can swim just fine,” he said in a low growl. “But you’re the one standing in my creek,” Paul said your name softly at the end, forcing you to go utterly still, the cold water forgotten. The heat of his grip was the only thing you could feel. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned closer to him, closing the small distance between your faces over the rushing water. Your voice dropped to a whisper that was almost lost in the creek’s roar, but of course he heard it.
“What,” you breathed, lips barely moving, “are you going to do about it?”
Paul’s fingers tightened on your arm, eyes dropping to your mouth, then back up. The raw possessiveness in his gaze was terrifying and exhilarating. With a sudden, rough motion, he yanked you forward.
You stumbled through the water and crashed against the bank on his side. He caught you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. You were on his side of the creek, held against his bare chest. Faces so close that you could feel his warm and quick breath against your cold skin.
“Anything,” he growled, the word low and vibrating a promise against your lips. “Anything I have to do.” As you spoke your breath mingled with his in the cold morning air, “like what, I don’t play very nice.” Your eyes held his, the challenge in the air thick.
His arm around your waist tightened pulling you even closer, the only bit of space left was found between your lips. You could feel every hard plane of him, the rapid, heavy beat of his heart thudding against your sternum.
“You think I do?” he mummered intimately. His free hand came up ,fingers brushing a free strand of hair from your cheek. His touch was startlingly gentle, at odds with the fierce possessiveness in his grip. “Nice is boring kitten, and you…you’re the furthest thing from boring I’ve ever seen.”
His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his dark eyes following the path of his touch. The imprint was a live wire, humming with a current that felt less like a chain and more like a lightning strike. You were in his arms, heat radiating from where your skin met his.
“So show me,” you breathed, voice barely audible. “Show me how not-nice you can be.”
“I’m not sure you can handle it, kitten.” Paul muttered the last part out, the challenge between you thick and sweet as honey. His thumb was still tracing your jaw, a slow deliberate calmness that sent shivers down your spine. And his eyes, they were holding yours. Waiting, daring you to make the next move. To prove you were just as tough as you acted.
You let your hands finally came up to rest lightly on his bare waist, just above the waistband of his shorts. You felt the muscles there jump under your touch. A slow, wicked smile spread across your own face, mirroring his.
You leaned in, until your lips were teasing the shell of his ear. “What if I decide to scream?” you whispered, voice a silken thread. “Right now? What if I tell Sam you dragged me over here and manhandled me?” You pulled back just enough to see his reaction. A new calculating glint entered his gaze. He knew you were bluffing, you wouldn’t scream. This was a game between you and him.
“You won’t,” he said, certainting ringing in his low voice. He pulled your hips flush against his, giving you a better feel of him than before. “You like this too much.”
A hand of yours shot up, fingers tangling in the dark, messy strands of his hair from the back of his head. You gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling his head down so his face was level with yours, your noses almost touching. His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, then narrowed with deep, intense focus.
“I like marking my territory, Paul.” Your voice was a low, possessive purr that was all feline confidence. “And I’m not sure if you can handle it, puppy.” You taunted, using his own words from earlier but with his demeaning nickname.
A low, rough sound escaped him, the hand on your waist slid lower, splaying possessively over the curve of your hip, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. The other came up to cup the back of your head, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear.
“You have no idea,” his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, the heat of his breath intoxicating. He then shifted his grip, turning you and pinning you so that your back was against the rough bark of a pine tree. He crowded into your space, caging you in with all heat and hard muscle. “The imprint marked me the second I saw you. You’re in my blood. In my head. Everywhere….So go ahead. Mark me, see if you can make a dent.”
You didn’t hesitate. You closed the final inch of space and kissed him, claiming what you said you wanted.
It wasn’t soft or sweet, it was a clash. Lips, teeth and the sharp intake of breath. Your fingers were still tangled in his hair holding him close to you. His mouth was hot and demanding against yours, and you met every demand with one of your own. The hand Paul had on your hip tightened and pulled you closer to him than ever before. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.
The imprint, that hated bond, sang in your veins like a song bird finding its perfect melody, amplifying every sensation until you were dizzy with it.
You bit his lower lip, enough to make him growl into your mouth and slide his tongue past your lips. Deepening the kiss until you were breathless, and no longer caring for the roughness of the tree bark on your back.
The kiss broke, and you were both panting in the air catching your breaths staring in one another’s eyes, realizing the line that was crossed today. The air was thick with sensations of each other, Paul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal that, when he opened his eyes, they went completely black for a second.
You weren’t done. The need to mark him, claim him in a way that he couldn’t ignore, was a fever in your blood. Your hands slid from the softness of his hair down to his back. Nails digging into the hot, smooth skin of his shoulders, dragging them down leaving four sharp trails in their wake.
He hissed, body jerking against yours, but it made him bury himself closer in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, Paul growled your name. Half warning, half plea.
You tilted your head, giving him better access. “Marked,” you whisper in a husky tone. Then you turned your head and sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, just enough to leave the imprint of a love bite that made his hand on your hip tighten to the point of almost bruising.
Paul lifted his head from your neck, his eyes wild. “You want to play that game?” His words rough with desire and something feral. He didn’t even give you the chance to think of answering before his lips met yours again, fiercer than before. One hand came to cradle your jaw, holding you still for his kiss while the other slid from your hip to the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The new position pressed him even more intimately against you, making you gasp into his mouth, fingers scrambling for steadiness on his back, finding the fresh scratches you’d made.
You didn’t pull back, you tugged him harder into you, Paul responded by hiking your other leg up around your waist, lifting you fully off the ground. His hands slid down, roughly grabbing you by your ass, holding you up, pressing you against the hard ridge of his arousal with a deliberate, grinding motion that made pleasured moans escape your mouth.
The scent of your own arousal was overwhelming now, a sweet, musky cloud that seemed to drive him wild. His mouth left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw to your neck. Paul didn’t bite, not yet, but his teeth scraped against your pulse point, a promise of what was to come.
“Paul,” you breathed, head falling back against the tree with fluttering eyes. This was no longer a protest, but a surrender to the sensation.
He lifted his head slightly from your neck, lips now pressed against your ear. His breathing was harsh, lips swollen and wet from your kisses. “Tell me to stop,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Say the word, and I’ll put you down, we’ll walk away. Right now.”
“Say I’m yours,” you whispered, words slipping out before you could stop them. The plea hung in the air between you, a raw, sensitive beg that held so much insecurity and hopefulness in one breath. Paul went still, the hand holding your jaw went soft. Not a lack of force, but a deliberate gentleness now. You could feel his lips almost twitch into a smile against your neck. He moved to look at you now, thumb brushing your bottom lip and your cheek.
“You’re mine,” he breathed out, “now make me yours.” His thumb a possessive caress on your skin. Your eyes held one another before you broke eye contact to focus on the strong column of his neck. You leaned in, biting hard on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Claiming him in every way but words with your teeth and tongue. He groaned, then started moving his hips again. Grinding into you as you pulled away from his neck finally. He was quick to make your lips meet each other and this kiss was deeper and slower than the earlier ones.
As it deepened, you both began fighting for dominance, trying to make the other open their mouth to accept the other dancing tongue. The hand that was cradling your face came to the back of your head, a harsher grip in your hair, the other clinging onto every curve of your ass that he could find. “You smell like mine,” he said slowly between kisses. “Taste like mine.” His teeth grazed on the sensitive skin of your bottom lip. “Let me make you mine.”
“Make me yours,” you whispered against his lips, the words a breathy, dangerous invitation. “All the way.” Paul’s growl was pure and undiluted wolf. The last thread of his restraint snapped. He didn’t need to be told twice.
His lips met yours again, hurried and frantic kisses being shared. His hands were everywhere at once, pushing your top up, rough palms skimming over the bare skin of your stomach making you arch into him. Your own hands were going from their new position of being tangled in his hair to flimsy pushing down his shorts.
His head dipped down to kiss and suck on your breasts, teeth grazing over your exposed chest, but he hands were getting impatient at the fabric still coating your legs. Paul couldn’t try to shift your bottoms down anymore, instead the air was filled with the sound of them ripping. You gasped and looked up at his face, his usual cocky smirk in place.
“Sorry,” his grin was too proud that you knew not to take him seriously. A small growl tore from your throat as you reached to pull his lips back onto the bare skin of your chest, your once frantic hands tore down his shorts in a swift motion making Paul hiss at the sudden cold air touching him. But he moved just as quickly, he removed his head from your breast and angled you against him so his hardness was pressing against your now exposed core, a gentle tease that had a raging fire behind it.
“Please,” you moaned out, Paul’s eyes went wild at the plea, “I didn’t take you one for begging,” his voice slightly condescending. Your hands reached up tracing along the scratch marks from just a few minutes ago, reapplying the burn that came from them originally, you muttered his name like a warning, and he took it gladly.
It wasn’t gentle and slow, no, he finally entered you with a quick, deep thrust. It made you cry out loudly and throw your head back against the tree, his hands were surely leaving scars on your cheeks now with how hard he gripped them the moment he felt you. As Paul gave you a moment to adjust to him, you could hear his heavy breathing and deep grunts in your ear, a melody to the corresponding feel of his thickness finding its place in you.
When he began to move it was a surreal experience, every thrust, every tug of hair, it was like your minds were catching up to what your bodies already knew.
“Fuck-” Paul was beginning to shutter as he said your name like a prayer. He moved his hands from your cheeks, one came up besides your head on the bark steadying himself, the other wrapped around your waist to keep you as close as possible to him. You could feel the end coming, for both of you. Your walls were shrinking and legs began to coil with tension, his thrusts growing frantic desperately searching for its exit.
Your legs were still tightly wrapped around his waist encamping him as close as he could be, your back arched like a cat to take him deeper. Your hands that were leaving endless lines against his back moved, one gripping his hair, the other clinging onto his shoulder. “Look at me,” you huskily breathed out, shrieks of moans interrupting you here and there. Paul let out a groan and forced his head up to meet your eyes.
He pushed into you again, your mouth an o-shape, tears of pleasure brimming your eyes. Paul's eyes narrowed at the sight, the hand gripping the bark was surely in pain now but that didn’t matter. Only you in this moment mattered. Making you finish, and looking into your eyes as you did. Claiming you. Your moans and his grunts were the only thing heard now until you interrupted your melodies once again. “I’m going to-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. It was pathetically good.
Paul couldn’t open his mouth to reply to you, instead his lips found yours once again, teeth clashing and messily he kissed you. The coil in your stomach came undone all over his thickness and he couldn’t hold it anymore. He bit down on your bottom lip, when he finally let go you could feel his warmth seeping inside of you and the whimpers that tore from his throat fanning your lips.
The damage was done, you claimed each other in your own ways, and now you were both catching your breath against the pine tree. Heads resting against each other, arms not giving a slight glimpse of letting the other go soon.