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moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 26 - Where Do We Draw the Line

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.8k words.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, blood, medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, drugging, nightmares, omega is hearing voices (well just one voice), mentions of past abuse, death, suggestive touching, descriptions of injuries, PTSD.

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AO3

enjoy <3

Hale walks around the ruined space. The tall glass windows of his old office have been smashed. The ceiling had collapsed down on his desk, water has warped the antique wood desk. It took them a whole week to clear out most of the rubble. Now he’s left with a semi-functional space, at least something he can work with to get this place back up and running.

Whatever explosives they used to blow the place clearly didn't do as much damage as they thought. Some soldiers from the shadow company said the bunker being so deep underground worked in their favor, the dirt absorbed the explosions. Hale doesn’t quite understand the technicalities but that's not important.

What's important is that this place is salvageable. He walks over to the door in his office and pulls it open. It’s a small room, the bed is covered in more of the ceiling. The whole place feels empty without his omega.

“This place looks like it’s seen better days.” He turns to see Graves standing in the doorway.

“It could be alot worse.” Hale replies. Graves nods coming over to him with a tablet in his hands.

“From our man on the inside.” Graves says. It’s pictures, of you and one of the alpha’s. Not captain Price, Ghost, the one Hale has never seen face of. He’s seeing it now, he’s seeing you walk hand in hand with him, kiss him. It makes him angry, jealous. How dare they take his omega. He goes to hand the tablet back to Graves, he doesn’t want to see this.

“There’s more.” He says reaching over and flicking to the end of the photos. This time it’s pictures of the inside of the building. It takes a second for Hale to realise what he sees, but there it is, clear as day Piper Montgomary. He flicks to the next photo, to confirm it.

“Son of a bitch. I should have killed her when I had the chance.” Hale spits, there’s a new person, another woman. Dark skin and long braids.

“Who’s the other person?” Hale asks looking up at Graves who takes the tablet from him.

“Dr. Fleur Goodwin, geneticist. Finding intel on her is hard. MI5 have been keeping the details very close to their chest.” Graves explains.

“Piper is alive which means she’s working on a cure. We can’t let that happen.” Hale says.

“There’s not much we can do right now.” Graves replies.

“You have a man on the inside. Kill her.” Hale says as a matter of fact. Graves laughs.

“Even if that was a possibility it could spook them and we could lose them again. Not to mention it will expose my moles.” Graves says.

“If she manages to get a cure it will be over for all of us. So either you get the omega out or you kill Dr. Montgomery.” Hale snaps. Graves presses his lips together, Hale can smell his alpha, he can smell his irritation.

“I will see what I can do.” Graves says turning to leave the room.

Hale watches him leave then looks back into the small room. This is where you belong. If Piper can get a cure and give it to you before Hale can get you back it will ruin everything he’s ever worked for. He slams the door closed.

He needs to get you back. Now more than ever.

You are on the sofa with your knees pulled up to your chest. You’ve been chewing on the skin around your nails for what feels like hours. They’re wet and raw, you’ve already drawn blood. Piper won’t be happy but you don’t care.

Johnny and Kyle are waiting over on the other sofa. Johnny wanted to sit with you but you won’t let them near you. You don’t want their comfort, they’re hiding something from you. John and Simon won’t look you in the eyes. Johnny and Kyle are tense. You don’t even want to look at them. More tears come out rolling down your face.

You don’t brother wiping them away. What difference would it make? More will come anyway.

‘You never were a good omega.’ Hale’s voice rings in your head.

No, you never were.

‘People keep getting hurt because of you.’

People die because of you. Dr. Miller and Hale died because of you. You thought Piper died because of you. Now Fleur. Now she is going to die because of you.

‘You’re never going to be a good omega.’ Hale says, he’s in your head but you can hear him like he’s right next to you. You look over at Johnny and Kyle, they haven’t moved, they’re just looking at you. You turn away.

‘You can’t even keep your own pack threads tight. Useless omega.’

Piper, John and Simon walk into the room. You can smell the blood, you can smell Piper's worry. It makes you swallow hard. She comes over to you and sits on the sofa resting her hands on yours.

“Is she dead?” You ask.

“No, she’s alive.”

“What happened?”

“It seems like her body is trying to repair itself. The cure is forcing her body to use all the blood it has to change her back to normal.” Piper says her hand squeezing yours.

“You need my blood.” You say.

“Piper? This is not what we talked about.” John says walking over. You look up at him.

“She didn’t tell you.” You look back at Piper. “Omega’s are the only people who can give blood to humans.”

“Normally if a trauma is too big to heal your body won’t even attempt it. The cure is forcing her body to fix itself though. If we don’t give her yours she will just use all hers up and die.”

“There’s no other way you can stop it?” Kyle asks. You look over at him. Him and Johnny are stood up now.

“Not quick enough to save her.” Piper says.

“You can take what you need.” You say getting up to your feet. She stands up too her hands resting on your shoulders. She looks at you sympathetically, you understand it’s not up to you.

You turn walking over to John.

“Please let me help.” You say, he lets out a sigh crossing his arm.

“Let me talk to Piper first.” He says. You bite the inside of your cheek. “Soap.”

Soap. Not Johnny. It feels so clinical, professional. Johnny gets up and follows John to the door. You stay with Piper watching as they talk in hushed voices you’re not paying attention to. There's the silent nodding of heads, Simon and Kyle exchanging glances and before you know it Johnny’s smiling and coming towards you.

‘Don’t trust him.’ It’s Hale’s voice again.

His hand lands on your shoulder then runs down your arm. The touch is familiar but you see the uncertainty in his eyes, there's something behind them. It’s like he’s trying to put you at ease but it's not helping.

“C’mon love. Let's get something to eat.” he says, grabbing your hand trying to pull you towards him. You hold your ground forcing him to stop.

“I’m not hungry.” You sniffle hanging your head. You feel Pipers hand run up your back.

“Go with Johnny. I’ll come and get you, I promise.” She says. You look up at Johnny, his hand squeezes yours. You nod and let him lead you out to the dining room. Kyle follows behind going into the kitchen, you sit down at one of the tables. You go to bite your fingers again but Johnny laces his fingers with yours stopping you.

“Piper knows what she’s doing, it'll be okay.” Johnny says. You can smell his beta trying to put you at ease but it’s not working. You know what Fleur needs, she needs your blood and the longer they wait the more likely she’ll die.

You hear the ping of a microwave and Kyle comes out with a plate. He puts it down in front of you with some cutlery.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat.

“If you’re going to give blood you should eat.” Kyle says sitting on the other side of you. You sigh, reaching over for the fork and start pushing food around the plate.

“It was a good job you stayed to talk to her or it might have been hours before we found her.” Johnny says letting go of your hand. That makes dread rise in you, she could have died and no one would have known until someone went to check on her then maybe you wouldn’t have been able to do anything.

“She would have died.” You whisper, putting your fork down. Johnny’s hand comes to rub your thigh.

“Pipers is a great doctor.” Kyle says. You nod. It feels like you’re waiting for ages, eventually you do end up eating something while Johnny and Kyle talk. When Piper and John do finally come in everyone stands up.

“Come on.” She smiles, you nod going over to her. John crosses his arms, you get the impression he’s not as happy with this as you and Piper are. You almost don’t care, this is her only chance of survival if what Piper is saying is true.

You smile at him as you follow Piper out and across to the medical room. When you make it inside you immediately look over at the bed tucked against the far wall in the room. Fleur looks like a ghost of what you’re used to seeing. The energetic bubbly person has been stripped away leaving a shell behind.

It makes you stop in your tracks, you feel sick looking at the thing sheen of sweat on her face.

“Hop up.” Piper says patting on the exam bed.

“Is she okay?” You ask your eyes looking up at a monitor with numbers and lines on it.

“She’s stable.” Piper says going over to the cupboards and pulling out supplies. When you see the empty IV bag your stomach sinks.

“Will it hurt?”

“No, you might feel a bit weird but don’t worry. I’ll start with 2 units, that should tide her over for now.” She says coming over with the tray. You look over at Fleur watching her chest rise and fall. She’s breathing which means she has a chance and you’re going to make sure she has the best chance possible.

The next day is more of the same. Each time Piper takes a bag of blood, then lets you recover for a few hours before you’re back for more. Your blood replenishes itself faster than normal people but it feels like Piper is taking it just as quickly as you can restore it.

You don’t care though, there’s no way you’re going to let Fleur die. For some reason though this time you feel worse. You’re feeling dizzy and faint even before the blood bag finishes filling up. Piper walks over to you, disconnecting your tube and taking out the needle.

“Will it be enough?” You ask. There’s a sombre look on her face. You move to sit up but she pushes you back down.

“Lay down, you need to rest.” She says. You nod, laying back down. You watch as she goes over to the bed with the bag of blood in her hands. Seeing it makes your head swim, that used to be inside you, now it's going into Fleur.

“How much do you need?” You ask as she hangs it up next to another almost finished bag.

“I don’t know, her body is going through it faster than you can produce it.” She swaps some tubes around.

“Can’t you just stop the bleed?” You ask.

“It’s not as simple as that, it’s not like there’s an active bleed. The body is using its supply of blood to change her back into human, repairing the changes it made when she became an omega.” Piper looks back over at you taking her gloves off. She walks over to a cupboard and pulls something out. She comes over with a juice box.

“You look pale,” she presses the back of her hand on your forehead. “You need to take it easy for a little while.”

“Are you going to take more today?” You ask, opening the drink. She sighs her hand running down your arm.

“I hope I don’t need to, I’ve taken a lot today.” You look past her over the hanging bags of blood.

“If you don’t take it though she’ll die.” You say.

“She’s improving, her body is healing. She is going through the blood slower.” She says.

“Is that good?” You ask, she squeezes your arm. It’s not good, you can see it on her face.

‘She’s going to die. All because you want a cure.’ It’s Hale again, you swallow hard blinking a few times. It’s almost like you can see him now, like he’s always in the corner of your eye. Maybe it’s his ghost, maybe he’s haunting you. Even when he’s dead he’s still in your head.

“Just lay here for a bit.” She says. You nod sipping on the juice and lay back on the exam bed, you watch the numbers and lines flick on the monitor.

When you leave the room you still feel dizzy. Your body feels heavy, your legs feel like jelly but your arms are stiff. Whatever drug Piper is giving you to help you replenish blood quicker or whatever makes you feel sick. You just want to lie down, it takes effort to walk, each step makes your head spin. It’s like all your energy has been sucked out of you.

You can smell beta in the air as you make it to the living room. Johnny and Kyle must be in here. You have to lean up against the door to push it open, it takes way more effort then you know it should. When you walk in, people turn, you can see Johnny and Simon on one of the sofas. You let go of the door to walk to them but your breath catches in your throat. A wave of dizziness overtakes you, you try to look around but everything goes black.

“C’mon love.” It’s Johnny's voice, it’s his hands on your face. This feels like deja vu somehow. You’re not really even sure what happened. “There we go, had us worried for a second.”

“Sorry. I must have slipped.” You try to move but you’re in someone's arms, you look up at Simon. He’s resting you up against his knees.

“Christ love you’re white as a sheet, don’t move till the doctor gets here okay?” Johnny says. Something in your mind snaps. You can’t let them worry, if they worry Piper might stop then Fleur will die. You use the wave of adrenaline to try and push yourself off Simon.

“I’m fine.” You say. It doesn’t last long though and you can’t hold yourself up slumping back down into his arms. The door to the living room opens and you see John walk in. He looks worried, angry about something. He comes over to you bending down and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m just tired.” He doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Simon, the door opens again and he gets up. You see Piper and Kyle come in.

Piper comes over to you, you try to move but Simon doesn’t let you this time, keeping you tight against him. She bends down, running her cold hand over your head and pressing her fingers into your neck.

“You need to rest.” She says turning away from you. John is standing with his arms crossed watching you, Johnny and Kyle share worried glances. You should have waited for longer before you left, taken a nap, something.

“She can’t keep this up Piper. You need to stop.” John says.

“No.” You call trying to move again but Simon holds you firm.

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” John says his voice louder. His alpha is strong in the air making you dizzy. He walks up to Piper.

“This stops now. You tried and you couldn’t save her, you have to stop or you’re going to kill her.” John says, there’s anger in his voice, it’s an order. He starts to walk over to you.

“John!” Piper snaps, he stops in his tracks turning to her. “What if it was one of them?” She points and Simon and Johnny. John tenses taking a step up to her. Your nostrils flare. She’s made him mad, you’ve never seen him like this before, he’s usually so calm and collected.

“Think very carefully about the next words out your mouth doctor.” He says his voice low and rumbling, it makes goosebumps rise on your neck. Your fear fills the air, you know Simon can smell it, his hands gripping you tighter. Everything in your body is telling you to run and you’re not even the one who upset him.

“Please, don’t fight.” You say feeling tears well up in your eyes. John shoots a look at you, now all you can smell is your fear. His expression changes instantly but it makes the tears you’ve been trying to hold back escape down your face.

“Take her upstairs, stay with her.” John says. You don’t protest, just lean against Simon’s chest as he picks you up.

“Dr. Montgomery, we need to have a chat.” You hear John say as you’re taken out the room. Johnny follows behind you, he smiles, he’s trying to project his scent as Simon carries you up into John’s room. You still feel dizzy as you’re put down in bed Johnny comes over with a water bottle.

Your hands are shaking as you try to open it, Johnny looks worried, his hands resting on yours. He takes the bottle to open it for you, you look down at the bruise on the inside of your arm and run your fingers over it. It’s not healing, you don’t have enough blood for it to heal, not right now.

“What's going to happen to Piper?” You ask, taking the bottle out of Johnny's hand. His hand comes to rub your leg.

“Don’t worry about that.” He says, you look up at Simon standing away from the bed with his arms crossed. His eyes look dark, he looks mad, maybe he is mad.

‘He should be mad, you’re a bad omega.’ Hale almost sounds like he's laughing as he says that. You drink a sip of water. You are a bad omega, you’ve made everyone worried and now John is going to be mad at you just like Simon is. You look back up at Johnny who’s still rubbing your leg.

The door opens making you jump, you look over to see John standing in the doorway.

“Simon?” He says moving out of the door. It makes your stomach sink as you watch Simon walk out the room. You feel sick bringing the bottle back up to your lips. Anything to try and squash the nerves.

“It’s going to be okay love.” Johnny says his hand rubs your arm.

‘It’s not going to be okay. That's your fault, you’re a poison running through packs bonds. They would be better off without you.’ Your head swims with Hale’s words. He’s right, you’re an omega, it's your job to look after the pack's bonds, you’re nothing but poison to them right now.

The door opens again and Price walks in, Johnny lets go of your arm getting to his feet. You screw the lid back on the bottle, putting it down. Silent glances are exchanged and you watch as he leaves the room. John comes over taking his place, his hand lands on yours and he lets out a sigh.

You look up at him not knowing what to say, maybe he’ll shout at you. His expression is relaxed though. “You can’t help Piper anymore.” He says. It sounds like an order, it's not his usual calm and collected tone. He’s giving you an order,

“If I don-”

“No. I'm aware of what will happen to Dr, Goodwin.” He lets out another sigh running his other hand up the inside of your arm. He stops when he makes it to the bruise.

“In this job sometimes I have to make difficult decisions. This was not a difficult decision. If you keep doing this you will hurt yourself. I’m never going to let that happen.”

“She’ll die.”

“Maybe. Piper is working on other options, but I will not let you get hurt.”

“I want to help.” You say. He squeezes your arm.

“I know but right now you can’t help.” You don’t know what to say. You hang your head looking down at his hand on yours. You want to pick your fingers again, anything to make you feel better. He lets out a sigh, his hand comes to your chin and he tips your head up to look at him.

He looks worried, his brow is creased, his head tipped to the side.

“You’ve done enough.” He says, dropping his hand.

“Are you mad at Piper?” You ask.

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried, I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He says leaning closer to you. You sigh, you want to trust him, you so badly want to believe him that Piper can figure out a different way but you can’t. He seems to be able to see your uncertainty, your sadness.

“Get some rest, you need it. I’ll come and get you for dinner.” He says, you nod and he leans in to kiss you. His forehead rests on yours.

“I love you, I’m doing this because I love you. You might not see it now but you will.” You smile at him when he breaks from you. You’re already getting under the duvet as he goes to leave. You do need rest, you lay down looking over at the packet of sleeping pills on the bedside table.

An idea pops into your head. A horrible idea that will destroy your trust with John, but you can’t sit by and let Fleur die.

You feel guilt. It’s worse than anything you’ve felt before. John trusts you, he’s your alpha and he trusts you. He would be so mad if he found out but you can’t let Fleur die, you can’t live with yourself knowing you could have saved her.

You turn in the bed John’s asleep, he’s snoring gently, his mouth tipped open slightly. Your fingers reach up to brush his face, gently running down his cheek to his chin. You lean in, your hand dropping from his face and kiss his forehead. You are sorry and when the time is right you will tell him how sorry you are. For now though you need to do this.

He doesn’t move when you gently pull his arm off you and start to crawl out the end of the bed. You feel bad but you had to do this, you can’t let Fleur die. You slip out of the room as quietly as you can, closing the door behind you. The whole building is dark, Piper won't be in the lab and you made sure to listen to each door opening and closing while John was falling asleep.

You make it over to Piper's room and knock as loud as you dare. Her room is on the end but Kyle will be sleeping next door and Simon and Johnny’s room is after that, they could all easily hear you. You wait a few seconds hearing her move and come over to the door. She frowns when she sees you. She looks around her hand coming to land on your shoulder.

“You should be in bed.” She says quietly.

“I want to help. Please take more blood.” You say. She sighs, squeezing your shoulder.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Besides, it’s only been a few hours since you gave some last.” You know it’s a poor excuse, you know it and she knows it. You could give some now.

“Where’s John anyway he’ll be mad if he catches you.” She says. You look around feeling guilty.

‘You should feel guilty, you’re a bad omega.’ Hale says in your head. You wish he would just leave you alone.

“I put my sleeping pill in his drink.” You say. Her face darkens.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” She says, her voice is low, it’s like she wants to shout at you but can’t.

“Please Piper. If Fleur dies it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have rushed the cure. I should have waited, I didn't-” She stops talking, swallowing and stepping out of her room.

“Come on, we need to be quick.” She says pulling your arm and heading towards the stairs. She doesn’t even have shoes on. When you make it into the medical room you can see Fleur still in the bed, the bag of blood Piper gave her earlier is almost finished.

She still looks worse somehow even paler, she looks like she’s never going to get better. You’re already going over to sit on the exam bed. Piper sighs, pulling things out the cupboard.

“When will she know if she’s going to be okay?” You ask, watching her chest rise and fall.

“I don’t know.” She replies, she sounds sad.

“Did you never try to cure anyone in the bunker?” She doesn’t say anything, only looking over at Fleur quickly. She brings the tray over to you and sets it down.

“Piper?” You ask, she’s avoiding the question.

“Hale wasn’t looking for a cure, you know that.” She says tying the tourniquet round your arm.

“No but you didn’t even think about it?”

“In the early days, yes.”

“Before I was around?” She nods, hooking the bag onto the leg of the bed.

“What was it like before I was around?” You ask.

“Quiet.” She smiles, you watch as she lines the needle up. “I was young, just out of med school. I was so excited to change the world.” You don’t remember much of what you think were your first few years in the bunker.

“Lay back.” She says pressing on your shoulders, you follow her instructions and she ties a blood pressure cuff round your arm. “No passing out on me, yeah?”

“Okay.” You smile. She picks something else up and presses it into your hand. You look at it and frown at her.

“Squeeze.” She says going over to Fleur. You squeeze the ball in your hand and watch as she picks up her stethoscope. She clicks something on the IV stand and you watch as she works, listening to Fleur’s chest, looking round her body adjusting things.

“Is she okay to be down here alone?” You ask.

“I have a monitor in my room. It’ll alert me if anything happens.” She says. She stands pack up picking up a folder and writing something down in it. She sits down on a stool scooting back over to you.

“Is it normal to see hallucinations when you have blood loss?” You ask. She looks up at you concerned.

“Are you having hallucinations?” She reaches out to grip your hand pulling herself up to the bed.

“No, no. I read it in one of the medical books on the shelf in the living room.”

“It can, but it’s not really common. I’m not taking enough from you to make anything like that happen.” She says letting go of your hand and wheeling round the bed to the other side. She looks down at the bag collecting the blood, you can’t see it from this angle instead you just squeeze the ball in your hand.

“We only ever tried a cure once.” Piper says, she lets out a sigh. You can tell she doesn’t want to really talk about it. “It was very early development, we rushed it on purpose, it was never going to work but Hale was desperate.”

“Why?” You ask. She lets out another sigh, her hand resting on your lower arm. It sends a shiver through your body.

“There was an omega before you. Vanessa, she was Hale’s biological daughter.” She pauses looking up at you. You don’t know what to say. You always thought you were the only omega. You had no idea Hale had a real daughter, a biological daughter.

Not only that she was an omega like you.

“She got very sick. She had a very early version of the formula even before Hale had taken it. Her body couldn’t handle the physical change. We tried to make a cure to reverse it but it was too late.”

“What happened?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level.

“She died. We tried to save her but there was nothing we could have done.” She says. You don’t know what to say to her. Somehow you have even more questions.

“Hale had a daughter.” You say, she nods looking back down at the bag.

“Why-” You let out a sigh, you don’t know what to ask. “Does John know?”

“He wanted to wait until you were more settled to take time to sit down with you.” She says. You nod at her, you’re not sure what to say. She waits a few seconds before bending down and picking up the bag. It’s almost full, she moves it round in her hands smiling at you.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“I never found the time to tell you.”

“For years?” You ask confused, now you’re angry at her. You’ve known her all your life and she never once mentioned that Hale had another daughter.

“Hale didn’t ever want you to know.” You laugh leaning forward in the chair. It makes you lightheaded, forcing you to lay back.

‘You shouldn’t trust her.’ Hale’s voice rings in your head. He’s right, she lied to you. All your life she lied. She lied about him being your step-dad, she didn’t tell you anything. You look in her eyes, her green eyes, at least they’ve always looked green to you. You used to trust her but you broke your bond with her. Hale’s right, she’s lied to you enough. You can’t trust her.

The beeping of a machine pulls your attention over to Fleur. Piper gets up to her and you lean forward in the bed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching as Piper flicks a switch. You hear a hissing watching as she pulls a mask over her face.

“Nothing. She just needs a little help to breathe.” Piper says, that doesn’t sound like nothing. That sounds like something very serious. She goes over to a cupboard to take out another juice box.

“It doesn’t sound like she’s getting any better.” You say taking the juice box out her hand. She turns around pulling a key of her hip and opening the medicine cabinet and taking something out.

“It’s good, it means her lungs are still working.” She pops a pill out the packaging and hands it to you. “You still need a good night's rest. Now more than ever.” You nod, taking it and drinking the juice.

“I won’t tell John. That you told me about Vanessa.”

“I can talk to him if you want?” She asks. You shake your head.

“I think something is wrong.” You say hanging your head.

“What do you mean?” She asks, frowning at you.

“John has been busy lately, he’s been quiet.” You say looking up at her, she still looks strange without her glasses.

“He’s had a lot on his plate lately. Nothing you need to worry about though.” She says.

“Why don’t you wear your glasses anymore?”

“I lost sight in my eye when Hales mansion exploded.” You look up as she points at her eye.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” You say feeling guilty all of a sudden. You’ve not spent much time with her since you found out she was alive. You should spend more time with her, she sacrificed her life for you. It’s the least she deserves.

‘Don’t forget she lied, she deserves to lose her eye.’

“It’s okay.” She smiles then lets out a sigh, you watch her take the needle out your arm throwing it in the trash. “You should really be getting to bed. You need the rest.” You nod at her as she presses the machine and you feel the blood pressure cuff tighten round your arm.

The door to the room swings open, you hold your breath expecting to see John red faced and angry. Piper turns in her chair and you see Simon walk in, he looks over at you both straightening up and crossing his arms.

“What's going on Piper?” His voice is low, commanding. You can smell his alpha in the air.

“I wasn't feeling well.” You say looking at him, you don’t know if he believes you or not. Maybe you’re lucky that Piper just started the blood pressure machine.

“Is she okay?” Simon asks coming over to you. “Where’s Price?”

“Sleeping.” You say.

“She’s okay.” Piper says. “Her iron levels are low, she was feeling faint but that's to be expected. She needs rest.” You smile at him trying to put him at ease, his eyes linger on Piper as you swing your legs off the bed. He seems to buy it, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back.

“Do you need to do anything?” He asks Piper.

“No, she should go back to bed.”

“How’s Dr. Goodwin?” He asks.

“Small changes. It’s still too early to say anything.” Piper says rubbing your thigh. You hop off the bed as she pulls the cuff off your arm. Your body feels heavy again, you feel your head swim as you lean against Simon.

“Take her to bed.” Piper says. Simon nods leading you out the room. You turn back watching as she bends down to pick up the bag of blood she kicked under the bed. You’re saving her life, you need to make sure Fleur lives because she deserves that.

She deserves to live. Simon takes you over to John’s room cracking the door open. You turn in his arms reaching up to plant a quick kiss on his lips.

“I love you, I’m sorry about worrying you. I just didn't want to bother John.” To your surprise he seems to believe you, his thumb coming up to brush your cheek.

“We’ll always worry about you and it’s never a bother. Are you feeling better now?” You nod and he squeezes your hip. He leans to press a kiss on your forehead.

“Get some rest.” He says. You nod and watch him walk away as you go into John’s room. You stand with your back to the door. He’s still snoring softly, you don’t want to be in bed with him. Not after what you’ve done. You let him down, you betrayed his trust. He doesn’t deserve that.

You turn walking back out of the room and into yours. Even your nest doesn’t feel like a safe place right now. You pull your duvet off the bed and curl up in it anyway. Your body and eyes are starting to feel heavy, you can’t tell if it’s because of the blood loss or the sleeping pill.

‘You’re a bad omega. Your alpha will never trust you again.’ He’s right, you let the pack down. They’d be better off without you.

You’re sitting on a chair looking into a room through a glass window. There’s a beta strapped to a chair. You know who she is, she was helping Piper over the last few days. Hale is leaning on the console, you look at the flashing lights and buttons, you’ve always wanted to know what they all did.

A door opens and you hear the click of heels. You know who it is before she makes it into your line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Piper asks, Hale stands up and turns, he looks at you quickly then back to her. He moves to the side pressing play on the computer. You don’t bother watching the video you’ve seen it already. You hear your voice fill the room, then her voice.

‘I’ll get you out of here.’ She says on the recording. It makes you feel sick. Maybe she would have been able to get you out but you will never know. Instead you were scared, so scared that you thought it was a test, a trap by Hale.

You turned her in and now she’s going to die. The video stops and Piper walks over to you.

“You don’t have to do this Hale.” She says.

“No. I don’t but what choice do I have? You know very well what’s at stake here, Dr. Montgomery.” He snaps. You look up at her, her body stiffens as she looks past him into the room. Hale looks away and she squeezes your shoulder, it’s the only comfort you’ll get today.

“How long has she been bonded?” Piper asks. It’s routine at this point, they’re going to forcibly break a bond you’ve made, by killing the beta.

“Long enough.” Hale spits. It always hurts, not physically but emotionally. You’ve done this before but this time you did cause this. You didn’t have to turn her in and now you’re being punished for it, which is what you deserve.

“Let's get this over with already. I don’t have all day.” Hale says, stepping back to stand next to you. You see Piper hesitate before pressing a button on the counter, she quickly turns back to look at you. You can almost hear her voice in your head.

‘It will be over soon.’ You hang your head, you can already feel the sadness bubbling in you. A deep feeling of dread that makes your stomach drop.

“The drugs are in.” Piper says. The tears come next, you try not to sniffle, you don’t want to give Hale the satisfaction. A lump rises in your throat as you try to hold the tears back, you feel sick. It's less of a sadness more of a horror. A sob leaves your throat as a beeping starts.

You hear Hale sigh before he reaches down to pull your chin up. “How do you feel?” He asks moving to stand in front of you.

“Fine.” You lie, he knows it's a lie. Piper who goes into the room with the dead beta knows it. That's what Hale wants to hear though because he doesn’t want to be around you when the only scent you’re protruding is sadness.

“Smile then.” He says. You obey, forcing a smile as his thumb comes to brush a tear away. Piper comes back into the room with a stethoscope in her hand, Hale drops your chin and you blink tears away.

“Let me know when the autopsy is finished.” Hale says gripping your arm and pulling you to your feet. You look over at her quickly before you’re pulled out the room. You’re taken in silence to his office while you fight while holding back the sobs. It almost feels like you’re choking on them, each one forces you to swallow hard and is followed with tears.

Hale goes over to sit on his leather sofa, you stand there watching him get comfortable before he pats his knee. You sit down next to him laying down looking out into his office.

You project your scent for him because that is what you’re supposed to do as a good omega. His hand runs over your head as you feel him relax into sofa, the leather squeaking beneath him. His thumb brushes the back of your neck, it makes you tense but you tip your head for him anyway.

“Such a good omega.” His thumb digs into the back of your neck. “Not long until your next heat. Then you will be mine.”

It makes you feel sick but you don’t have a choice. You just close your eyes and focus on making sure your scent isn’t tainted.

You wake to John’s hand squeezing your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says as you sit up. You don’t feel well rested at all. “What happened, why are you in here?”

“I wasn’t feeling well. I went to see Piper but I didn’t want to wake you.” You say sitting up. Why does the lie come so easily?

‘Because you’re a bad omega.’

“Are you feeling better now?” You look up at him and sigh. His thumb comes to stroke your cheek.

“How about you go back to sleep. I’ll get Piper to come and check on you in a little while. I’ll send Kyle up with some food.” He says. Now you feel guilty, you don’t need taking care of, it’s your guilty conscience making you feel ill. You nod anyway, if not just to get him to leave.

He deserves better, better than you being a bad omega. He kisses your forehead and stands up, you lay back down and close your eyes. Hale’s right, you were never a good omega.

…

Kyle wakes you next. He has a plate in his hands. You’re not hungry, you don’t move, you feel a chill in the room. He puts the plate and a bottle of water on your bedside table.

“How is Fleur?” You ask.

“No change yet. Piper is working hard though.” You nod pulling the duvet tighter over you. “Do you want me to stay?” You shake your head. He looks disappointed but nods and leaves anyway.

You look up at the plate, you’re not hungry, all you want to do is help Fleur, help Piper and you’re not allowed. Maybe you could sneak another pill into John’s tea again and give some more blood. If Simon catches you again though he’ll probably get suspicious.

You turn over, you don’t want to do it again, it feels like the guilt is eating you alive. You close your eyes, at least when you’re sleeping you’re not feeling guilty.

…

“Hey,” You wake to Piper shaking your shoulder. She's smiling, you look confused sitting up. John is stood in the doorway. ��Fleur’s awake.” Your head snaps to Piper, for a second you feel like you’ve misheard her.

“She’s awake?” You ask letting out a long breath. Piper nods, suddenly the room doesn’t feel cold anymore. Suddenly the guilt goes away. She’s alive, she’s awake and she’s going to be okay. You throw your arms around Piper who hugs you back.

“Is she going to be okay?” You ask.

“She’s going to be okay.” Piper says. You almost want to cry, you squeeze your eyes closed and hug her tighter. When you break from the hug you look up at John, he’s smiling too. It was worth it, she’s safe and you helped keep her alive.

“Is she normal?” You ask looking back at Piper, she nods.

“So the cure works.” You say.

“Technically yes but it would be nice if it wasn’t trying to kill you first. It needs a lot more work.” She explains. You nod. She gets up to her feet.

“If you’re feeling up for it later Fleur would like to say thank you.” You nod smiling at her as she goes over to the door, John moves to the side to let her out then comes over to you. You stand up letting the duvet fall to the floor. His hand runs down your arm picking up one of your hands.

You look up at him lacing your fingers with his, he leans down to kiss you. You wrap your other arm around him pulling him closer to you. You don’t feel guilt, you feel at peace, you sink into the kiss. His hand lets you go and runs up your arm to your shoulder.

You kiss him deeper letting your fingers dig into his hip. He picks up on your eagerness pressing his hands on your face. You moan as he gently strokes your cheek and plays with your tongue. Before you know it you’re pressing against him trying to move him to the bed. He breaks from the kiss looking down at you.

“You need to eat, you’ve been asleep all day.” He says. You don’t care you reach up pressing your lips back onto his, you run your hand up his shirt you feel the familiar muscles and scars. Your fingers lace through his chest hair. His kiss is nice, his hands running over you are grounding. This is what you’ve needed.

“Christ love,” John breathes, breaking from the kiss and looks down at you. You can see the shine in his eyes, you can smell his scent in the air, you project yours for him smiling as you watch his nostrils flair. You don’t stop touching him, running your hands over him. You’re not sure what you want but you want some silence, you want him.

You want to spend time with him, let him do what he wants. You smile reaching back up to kiss him as he walks you over to the bed. When your legs hit it you break from the kiss sitting down.

He bends down so his head is level with yours, your foreheads are pressed together, your lips quickly brush. “What do you need?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“You alpha, please.” You say reaching out to grab his shirt as you chase his lips. He hums kissing you again. His hands grip your waist before he gently runs them up under your top. He’s about to make it to your breasts when there’s a knock at the door. You both break from the kiss looking over.

“John, you’ve got a visitor.” You hear Simon say. You hear John sigh and he stands up straight.

“Who is it?” He asks. Simon doesn’t reply right away.

“Are you decent?” He asks. John sighs again going over to the door. You stand up to follow him.

“Kate, what are you doing here?” He says, Kate? You walk up behind him seeing Kate Laswell standing with Simon.

“Shadow Company are on the move, I sent a million messages.” She says, she sounds mad about it.

“Shadow Company?” You ask that's commander Grave’s people. They were the ones who looked after the base in America.

“Laswell, let's talk about this in my office.” he turns to look at you. “Why don’t you go see Fleur?”

“What's going on with Shadow Company, are they coming here?” You ask, feeling a lump rise in your throat.

“No, probably causing problems elsewhere.” John says smiling. “Nothing to worry about.” You don’t believe him, you look over at Kate. She smiles at you too.

“It’s nice to see you again.” She says as they turn to leace and Simon comes to stand next to you. You nod at her, Simon’s arm wraps around your waist.

“Sorry for interrupting you.” You watch as Kate and John walk over to the stairs. You see Johnny jogging up saying hello. When he spots you and Simon he comes over. You start walking with Simon meeting him halfway.

“What's Laswell doing here?” Johnny asks.

“You’ll have to ask Price.” Simon says, Johnny raises an eyebrow then looks down at you.

“Hey, did you hear the good news, love?” Johnny asks cheerfully.

“We’re going to see her now.” You say.

“I’ll take her, you can go find out what Laswell’s here for.” Johnny winks, throwing his arm over your shoulders. Simon doesn’t protest, or maybe he doesn’t get a chance because before he can say anything Johnny’s already pulling you to the stairs.

“She said Shadow Company were moving or something.” You say.

“That can’t be good. But I bet they're messing around in America with Shepherd.” He says.

“What if they come here?” You ask looking over at John’s office door.

“Na, no reason for them to come here. Besides, we’ve got a whole army surrounding us.” He says, well that's true at least. You are on a military base. You feel nervous all of a sudden. Maybe this was why John has been so distant lately.

That all seems to vanish when you make it into the medical room and see Fleur sat up in the bed. She doesn’t look as pale anymore. Piper is sat on a chair talking to her, she stands when she sees you and Johnny step in.

“Hey Piper. Kate’s here, let me catch you up while they talk.” Johnny says. Piper frowns for a second but nods and walks past you. You go over to sit on the chair.

“How do you feel?” You ask. That seems like the best place to start.

“Tired, weak but I think that’s normal after you almost die.” She chuckles, you’re not sure what to do so you just smile at her.

“I wanted to say thank you. I heard what happened and I know you risked your life for this.” Her smile doesn’t falter but she shifts in the bed.

“John wasn’t too happy about it.” You smile. She reaches out to touch your hand, you almost want to cry, you thought she was going to die. Last time you saw her she looked so sick. Before you can stop yourself you’re on your feet wrapping your arms around her.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” You say. She hugs you back, rubbing her hand up your back.

“It’s okay. I’m fine now.” You break from the hug but her hands land on your arms, you still have bruise marks from giving the blood, it’s the first time her smile fades.

“You’re normal again.” You say, getting her attention back.

“Yeah, it was interesting being an omega for a few days.” She smiles, you smile back and sit back down.

“I was surprised that the alpha’s smell so mellow. I thought it would be extremely overwhelming.”

“They smell like the ground after rain.” You say. She smiles nodding her head.

“Petrichor. That's what they call the smell of the ground after rain.” She smiles. “So who’s kate?”

“Kate is the American woman who works with John. She works for the CIA. She’s very nice.”

“Ah yes, the woman Piper stayed with while she was recovering in America.” You nod.

“And what's Shadow Company?”

“They’re military contractors I think. There’s this guy Commander Graves, I don’t like him very much. They destroyed my nest in America.” You say.

“That's not very nice.” She says frowning.

“No, but at least he doesn’t give me the creeps like Shepherd did.”

“Shepherd?” She asks, frowning.

“He was a Commander, or a General I think. In America.”

Before she can respond you hear the door open. Piper comes back into the room.

“We should let Fleur get some rest, she’s still got a long recovery.” Piper says. You nod getting up, Fleur is still smiling.

“Come and visit tomorrow?” She asks. You nod smiling at her and follow Piper out the room. You follow her into the lab. You can see the sun setting, lighting the trees up in shades of orange. It’s spring now and the trees are starting to sprout new buds of green. The trees are different over here, not like the massive evergreen trees in America.

“You did well.” Piper says, pulling your attention from the window to her. You’re not sure what to say.

“I’m glad she’s okay.” You say, Piper's hand strokes your arm.

“How do you feel now we’re closer to a cure?”

“It’s good, it’s what they want.” You say, she sighs squeezing your arm.

“You don’t need to take the cure.” She says. “You will always have a choice.”

“What would be the point? Not much point in being an omega without a pack.” You say. She lets out a sigh, dropping her arm.

“There is still a long way to go, months maybe. I don’t want you to worry about this.” She says, you nod.

“You should go get something to eat. Johnny’s waiting for you.” She says smiling. You hug her, you can tell she wasn’t expecting it but she hugs you back instantly. Maybe you do want to repair your bond with her. You’re about to break from the hug when goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

It’s like things happen in slow motion. A gasp leaves Piper's throat, your head turns to the window, there’s someone standing there with a weapon. You don't even get time to scream before the man opens fire.

Dividers by @gild-ui & @plum98

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fairytales-and-folklore · 4 months ago

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Jump Scare

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Jump Scare

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Stiles and Derek stay up all night together playing a scary video game, shrieking with laughter and clutching each other every time there's a jump scare.

By the time they reach the end credits, it's early morning, summer sunlight pouring through the trees outside of Stiles's bedroom window, igniting the room in a golden glow and warming Derek's back as he snuggles in under the covers and buries his face in the hair at the back of Stiles's neck. A few moments later, the bedroom door clicks open, and the sheriff pops his head in to say good morning before heading to bed after a long overnight shift. The words have barely left his mouth when he stops short at the sight of the local ex-murder suspect turned alpha werewolf curled protectively around his son, the two of them fast asleep, looking more peaceful than he's seen either of them look in years. He glances around the room, noting the empty popcorn bowl tipped over onto its side, the discarded sleeves of cookies, the headphone wires wrapped around Stiles's left ankle as it dangles from the side of the bed, and slowly turns back around, gently closing the door behind him.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

The first thing Derek notices when he's in the neighborhood just passing by is that all the lights are off, save for a sudden flash of blinding white light that dances across Stiles's bedroom wall in a strobe effect. The second thing he notices, because he's got Stiles's signature scents memorized better than his own phone number, is the pungent spike of all-consuming terror, thick as the smoke from a brush fire as it wafts through the open window.

Without a second thought (because rational thinking is a thing that typically goes out the window — sometimes literally — when it comes to Stiles) Derek scales the side of the house and vaults through the window frame, crimson bleeding into his irises on instinct, claws and fangs at the ready to destroy whatever poor sick son of a bitch decided to fuck with his m— his Stiles.

But instead of a threat, he's met with the vision of a pajama-clad college sophomore curled up in the center of his bed, hair sticking up at gravity-defying angles like he'd nervously run his fingers through it more than a dozen times, brandishing a playstation controller and screaming bloody murder.

"Holy fucking— Derek?" Stiles gasps, clutching at a stitch in his chest and hastening to free himself from the chokehold his headphones had become in all the panic. Clocking the fact that there's no immediate danger, Derek lets out a sigh of relief and holds up his hands in surrender, eyes returning to their usual forest green as they fall on a peculiar image lighting up Stiles's computer screen.

"What are you doing?" he asks, tone curious but eyebrows narrowed and wary, crowding behind Stiles's shoulder to get a better look at the — what is that, a dungeon? — and picking up an entirely different kind of scent, far more intoxicating than the first, delighting in the little frisson that runs down the length of Stiles's spine as Derek's breath ghosts across the back of his neck.

"I, uh—" Stiles falters, nervous swallow audible. Derek withdraws to look him in the eye, and Stiles shakes his head, coming back to himself. "I'm playing this new horror game that just came out a little while back. It's called Little Nightmares."

"All alone, in the middle of the night, in the dark?" Derek smirks.

"What can I say? I like to set the mood, create an ambience," Stiles retorts, rolling his eyes at the implication that he's too much of a chicken shit to play scary games all by himself in the dark. He's literally battled real life monsters, for fuck's sake, he can handle a little puzzle platformer. That janitor, though…

"Can I play?" Derek surprises him by asking in a voice that's so small and unsure of himself Stiles could weep, and Stiles practically flails off the bed in an attempt to make space for him, scowling at the little snort of laughter Derek huffs out while his back is turned, shucking off his boots and leather jacket and climbing onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to Stiles.

"Okay, so," Stiles prompts, dropping the little black controller into Derek's open palms and rifling through his bedside drawer for an audio splitter and an extra set of headphones. "Left joystick lets you look around the room, right joystick lets you move, and then the touchpad—"

"I know how to work a playstation controller, Stiles," Derek grumbles, watching as his character — a little girl clad in a bright yellow raincoat — begins a slow descent down a long, dark hallway. "Just tell me which button triggers jump, and—"

Derek lets out a yelp as a spindly-armed monster drops down from the ceiling and starts chasing him, controller flying halfway across the room just like his character's little silver cigarette lighter the moment she's caught by the horrifying creature. The screen fades to black, and Derek works to quell the sudden spike of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he goes to collect the controller from a nearby pile of laundry, the sound of Stiles's raucous laughter filling his ears.

"Welcome to the chicken shit club," Stiles quips as he plucks the controller from Derek's hands. "You're in charge of the t-shirt order."

"I want another go," Derek insists, gathering up Stiles's laptop and holding it hostage until Stiles relinquishes the gamepad with a soft, surprised little chuckle. Derek settles in, cracking his knuckles and wiping the sweat off the palms of his hands, before diving in for round two.

They end up spending all night together playing through the rest of the game, taking it in turns to try and figure out all the puzzles, one hunched over the laptop screen trying to concentrate while the other plays backseat gamer, shaking each other's shoulders and shouting useless commands: run, jump, hide, holy shit we're gonna die! Startled shrieks giving way to breathless laughter as the two of them clutch onto each other for dear life every time there's a jump scare, pausing only to grab reinforcements — a family sized bowl of buttered popcorn and a couple of sleeves of oreos — before jumping right back in.

The words have barely left his mouth when he stops short at the sight of the local ex-murder suspect turned alpha werewolf curled protectively around his son, the two of them fast asleep, looking more peaceful than he's seen either of them look in years. He glances around the room, noting the empty popcorn bowl tipped over onto its side, the discarded sleeves of cookies, the headphone wires wrapped around Stiles's left ankle as it dangles from the side of the bed, and slowly turns back around, gently closing the door behind him.

"About damn time," he murmurs under his breath, smiling in spite of himself, and thinks he distinctly hears a gruff little chuckle from the other side of the door.

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #jump scare #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore teen wolf #fairytalesandfolklore sterek

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multiheadcanons · 6 months ago

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MERCS VS SAXTON HALE

cw: gore and violence

we’re going to begin this with a general statement that really, it didn’t matter how the mercs felt about saxton before he forced this idea on them. after its implementation, every single one of them hate him. with a burn in their souls so bright that when hale gets the itch, the base is silent. everyone is preparing.

scout: initially— and frankly this goes for the whole team— he was incredibly excited for the idea of getting to beat the shit out of saxton. but that was not at all what happened. scout was incredibly easy pickings. overconfident. treating it like any other fight. he really didn’t even feel it happen. he just blinked and he was in the respawn room. and as he turned to look at everyone else, they had to come to the conclusion, as a team, that they lost. but as scout learned hale, he got very good at learning exactly what his role is to take the australian down. and it’s hard, but scout can outmaneuver him, if only for a moment. the first time scout cinched a win was when he chickened out and capped the point while his team got obliterated. by the time he capped it everyone was dead. it was a long walk back to base. it hurt to tell them they actually won. as it’s gone on, he’s gotten better. faster. more flexible. but there gets to a point where it’s still not enough. the first time he got the killing blow he stood there in shock. everyone did. but the uproarious cheers from the few survivors filled him with something unspeakable. he’s gotten hale once. he can get hale again. has a playlist for fighting hale.

soldier: soldier still looks forward to fighting hale. if only for those times when he gets the final blow and gets to watch his rocket blow that man to pieces. those moments are euphoric. he laughs and kicks the body parts around, feeling the squish of a monster under his boots as he steps in the viscera. but he can’t hold his own against him. he becomes even more team oriented, he calls everyone in for a strategy session, and everyone is there. the meetings are hushed, and serious. they are never laughing matters. he spends the night before cleaning and polishing his weapons. inspecting his helmet. and rises first in the morning. he can only stomach a couple of hits. and they hurt. if he wasn’t grateful for medic on the normal battlefield, he definitely is in that arena. kisses the doctor’s boots if he survives to the end. there have been many times they have rushed hale together and barely escaped to live for the next few minutes. they have trauma bonded over this now regular event.

pyro: pyro is never ready for what’s to come in the arena. and frankly, and has only ever made it to the end once. and the one time they made it to the end, out of the sheer shock that they were there to kill him, they unloaded the clip on the corpse. torched it. left for more ammo. came back. unloaded again. left again. came back. did it a third time. and a fourth. and a fifth. the team stepped in after the tenth time. they prayed he would not get up. they don’t get why he keeps coming back. they wish he would stop. tried to boycott the fight, and was physically dragged to the arena by hale. that was the day pyro absolutely torched his remains past the point of ash. they can’t outrun him, and they have to get too close to do damage. they just don’t make the cut. so it’s always a guaranteed death and the most stressful ninety seconds of their life. always tries to push medic to heal the others because they can actually do damage, and let pyro crawl somewhere and hide, or die.

demo: get his fuckin sword right now. immediately. it is increasingly less rare that he gets to get a good hit in on the australian, and every hit fuels him to kill that son of a bitch. regardless of whether they win or lose, he’s drinking himself into a stupor. it’s not even fun to win. he gets no joy from his final blows. he gets no joy from the news when he shows back up in the respawn room. he can’t wait for the day that man dies a bloody, painful death. or loses the company. both work for him, frankly. whatever stops these godforsaken fights. he’s well aware he can’t hold his own against hale in standard conditions. he certainly doesn’t try if he doesn’t think he’s up for it. and those blows… he’s grateful when he can’t feel them. it’s the only time he’s sober on the battlefield. he needs every wit about him to be of any use to his team.

heavy: you know, the first few times he won against hale… no. he got no joy from it. he just ached, profoundly. his body, his heart, his mind. most of the wins happened with three quarters of the team dead, and those who survived mainly wished they didn’t. as he’s faced off more against the australian, he has grown to hate that man so much every hit he lands is a blessing. every bullet is a prayer answered. always aims for his nose as they fistfight. he wants to absolutely wreck that man’s face. permanently scar it. hale’s punches hurt still, but now he just doesn’t even feel it. the burn of a broken rib, teeth knocked loose, his arm snapping, all of that is nothing to the utter burn of hatred in his soul for hale. he doesn’t even consider saxton a person anymore. that is a goliath he regularly has to fight and regularly loses against. but he’s getting better. and if hale doesn’t regain some sense and end this madness heavy is going to wipe him off the face of the earth, permanently. when hale tells them to get ready, his face is stone. in the arena, his face is steel. there is no more reaction to the pain. there is no more ache. only the resolve to hit back harder.

engineer: he wants to quit. genuinely a mental breaking point for him. he knows he’s got no chance. he can’t do much without his buildings, and taking a hit is a death sentence. he’s learned that aggression is his best bet, and careful consideration of where his machines go. he never lasts very long, unless hale is having a bad day. luckily, he doesn’t piss hale off as much as sniper does. but hale makes sure to keep engie humbled. there’s been a few times he’s been able to hold his own against hale, if only for a moment, but never long. sometimes he wonders if they killed him away from the arena whether he would come back. he’s very tempted to try every time hale tells them to get ready. a firm believer in capping the point and ending the carnage as fast as possible. he’s never lived to see the man die. hale hates when he tries to cap the point and call it a day. that’s not the point of him bringing them there. engineer does not give a single good god damn. but it does get him killed more often than not. when scout capped the point the first time he thought it was the smartest thing the kid had thought to do. they’ve ended a few battles that way.

medic: fighting hale is the only time medic genuinely considers if he’s cut out for this line of work. he never wanted to learn that he could survive more than one hit. the first time he experienced that, it sent him flying. he genuinely thought he died but it still hurt so much. he hit the ground limp, and frankly everyone thought he was dead. he laid there for a while, it took demo backpedaling and tripping over his body that he even registered he was alive. as he staggered to his feet, he immediately doubled over and vomited. and he throws up every time he gets hit. he’s had to learn to swallow it back down. the only time he is genuinely terrified is going against hale. hale makes him feel like prey. as he’s fought against hale, he’s found he is not powerless against him, quite the opposite, even. it has taken many, many deaths to gain the reflexes and the nerve to survive going toe to toe. his medigun has never been more viable, and never made such a stark difference. he’s killed him a few times. it never feels good. there is no urge to inspect the carcass when it’s done. the first time he got the killing blow, he just kept stabbing. the team had to drag him off, and he kicked and screamed. something in him is permanently altered every time they are face to face. something about the fact that he doesn’t even seem to care. it doesn’t frighten him on its own; but it stuns him.

sniper: snipes gets a good feeling he knows why he pisses hale off so much. frankly he’s glad for it. he relishes every successful shot he makes. fuck that guy, really. of course, the second hale gets a whiff of him there’s not many opportunities for escape, but also: sniper doesn’t care. because it’s worth every connected bullet. relishes in using jarate on him. he hopes he hits him with it enough times he can’t get the smell of piss out of his skin. more than prepared to die as the man barrels toward him. and he shoots the entire time. sometimes, rarely, snipes can see him coming and move just fast enough to get out of the way, but hale won’t leave him alone, and he simply can’t outmaneuver the man. the first, and only time he got the killing blow he almost blew a load. he achieved enlightenment with that final shot. he saw god, and god looked down upon sniper, and gave him the biggest thumbs up, and his ego imploded in on itself, causing a big bang that created a whole new realm of reality that sniper entered, fundamentally changing the way in which he saw himself. hale has never let him have that again. he is one of the first people picked off every time unless the team is giving him a hard enough time. having to track hale has made him vicious on the battlefield. he’s not missing shots unless he’s not paying attention.

spy: spy does not let it show that he a: hates that man, and b: can not outmaneuver hale on his best day and hale’s absolute worst. when they fight hale, spy takes every page he can out of sniper’s book with his own little twists here and there. he stays as far out of the fight as he can. his aim has only gotten better as he snipes hale from a distance. he knows sniper pisses hale off, and he can tell he does too, especially once he cloaks and hides. he’s actually pretty sure that pisses him off more. the dead ringer is his best friend. hale falls for it every time, but the second hale realizes spy is not dead it’s like a target on his back, and he can’t run long. it’s the only time he gets ubered consistently, and he’s getting addicted to tanking punches from hale as he fervently stabs into him. even though it hurts, he just doesn’t care. nothing beats stabbing hale over, and over, and over. when he fights hale, he almost gets why medic acts the way he does on the battlefield. there is something exhilarating taking on an opponent you know can kill you and having the wits to at least go down fighting.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 #thinking so hard abt vsh game mode #the amount of glazing medic gets is insane but i’ve watched so much gameplay videos and i do have to agree #medic is an s tier combat class in vsh #highly recommend going to watch some gameplay

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urfavoritewriter · 1 year ago

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Werewolf Appetite

A commission for an anonymous user over on Discord, a long read (~15,000 words) so grab some snacks.

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Digestion, Multiple Prey, Unwilling Prey, Cruel Pred, Sentient Fat, Permanent Fat, Teen Wolf, Incest, Forced Body Worship

The thick canopy of the forest cast dappled shadows on the forest floor as Tyler, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for ruthlessness, stalked through the undergrowth. His movements were calculated and deliberate, each step cautious yet purposeful. He wore dark camouflage cargo pants that were stained with dirt and grime from countless hours spent in the wilderness. His boots, heavy and sturdy, crunched softly on the fallen leaves beneath him as he moved. A black tactical vest adorned with an array of pockets and pouches hugged his muscular frame, the weight of his arsenal distributed evenly across his torso.

Tyler's face was set in a grim mask of resolution, sweat beading on his brow despite the coolness of the forest. His eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the surrounding foliage for any sign of movement. A thick layer of stubble lined his jaw, evidence of days spent in pursuit of his elusive quarry. Strapped across his back was a sleek crossbow, its polished wood gleaming faintly in the dim light filtering through the trees, a common weapon of choice for werewolf hunters.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush caught Tyler's attention, and he whipped around, his finger tightening on the trigger of his rifle. "I know you're out there, you son of a bitch!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the silent forest. "Show yourself, or I'm fucking shooting you where you stand!"

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent testament to the deadly game of cat and mouse that was about to unfold. And then, without warning, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with a speed and grace that belied its size.

It was Peter Hale, his lithe form darting between the trees with the agility of a wild animal. His clothes were simple yet elegant, a fitted henley shirt clinging to his muscular frame and a pair of well-worn jeans hugging his powerful thighs. His hair was tousled and unkempt, the sunlight catching the subtle highlights in its dark strands. And in his eyes burned a fierce intensity, a primal hunger that sent shivers down Tyler's spine.

But before Tyler could react, Peter was upon him, his movements a blur of motion as he deftly dodged the bullets Tyler fired in rapid succession. Each shot rang out like thunder in the stillness of the forest, but Peter moved with a preternatural speed and agility that seemed almost impossible to comprehend. He hoofed between the trees with the grace of a predator on the hunt, his movements fluid and effortless as he closed the distance between them.

Despite his best efforts, Tyler's shots went wide, each bullet finding nothing but empty air as Peter continued to evade his every move. Panic surged through Tyler's veins as he realized that he was no match for the supernatural creature before him. He was just a man, armed with nothing but a gun and his wits, while Peter was something else entirely—a being of raw power and primal instinct, driven by a hunger that Tyler could scarcely comprehend. And as Peter closed in for the kill, Tyler knew that he was truly and utterly fucked.

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Tyler huffed, out of breath as he grabbed his crossbow now that his gun was out of ammo. “We hunt those who hunt us,” He repeated, almost as if he was reassuring himself and reminding himself of all the hunter training he’s successfully gotten through.

As Tyler fumbled with his crossbow, his hands shaking with a mixture of fear and adrenaline, he felt a sudden weight slam into him from behind. With a cry of surprise, he stumbled forward, the crossbow slipping from his grasp and clattering to the forest floor. Before he could react, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him off balance and sending them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Gasping for breath, Tyler struggled against his unseen assailant, his heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. He could feel the hot breath of his attacker on the back of his neck, the scent of earth and pine filling his nostrils as he fought to break free. But whoever—or whatever—it was, they were strong, far stronger than Tyler had ever imagined possible.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Tyler spat, his voice laced with fear and defiance. But Peter only laughed, a low, menacing sound that sent shivers down Tyler's spine.

"You think you can stop me, little hunter?" Peter growled, his grip tightening around Tyler's throat. "Not so tough without your neat little weapons, eh?"

Tyler struggled to speak, his words choked off by Peter's vice-like grip. He clawed at the ground beneath him, desperately searching for something—anything—that he could use to defend himself. But it was no use. Peter was too strong, too fast, too...inhuman.

As Tyler's vision began to swim with black spots, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. He could feel the strength draining from his limbs, his body growing weak and sluggish as Peter's hold tightened around him.

As Tyler's struggles began to weaken, Peter's grip on him shifted. Instead of tightening further, it loosened slightly, and Tyler felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was like a wave of hunger, raw and primal, crashing over him with such intensity that it stole his breath away.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Peter considered ending Tyler's life then and there, the thought of his blood staining the forest floor sending a thrill of excitement coursing through him. But as he looked down at the helpless hunter beneath him, something else stirred within him; Although his primary goal was to end the lives of anyone involved in the Hale House fire, his predatory werewolf instincts have taken over, irresistibly so.

With a low, guttural growl, Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of Tyler's neck as he inhaled the heady scent of his fear. The hunger clawed at him from the inside, demanding to be sated, and Peter found himself unable to resist its call. Without another thought, he pressed his lips to Tyler's skin, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty tang of sweat and adrenaline.

Tyler gasped at the sensation, his body tensing beneath Peter's touch as a shiver of adrenaline-filled pleasure through him. He could feel the heat of Peter's mouth against his skin, the rough scrape of his teeth as they grazed his flesh, and a shudder of fear.

As Peter continued to lick and bite at Tyler's neck, his hunger grew more intense, his senses sharpening with each passing moment. His eyes burned with an otherworldly light, their color shifting from deep brown to a piercing shade of blue as his werewolf instincts took hold. His sideburns lengthened, his muscles rippling with newfound strength as he hovered over his prey, his breath hot and heavy against Tyler's skin.

With a low, feral growl, Peter leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Tyler's ear as he whispered words that sent a shiver of dread down Tyler's spine.

"You taste...delicious," Peter murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "I think I'll have you for dinner."

Tyler's eyes widened in horror as he realized what Peter was about to do, but before he could utter a single word of protest, Peter's mouth descended upon him.

As Peter's mouth closed over Tyler's head, he could feel the hunter's hair brushing against his tongue, the salty tang of his sweat mingling with the metallic taste of blood as Peter's teeth grazed against his skin. With a low, guttural growl, Peter swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat contracting as Tyler's head disappeared down his gullet in a single, ravenous gulp.

"What the fuck!" Tyler's muffled voice echoed from deep within Peter's throat, his protests cut off as Peter's esophagus closed around him, sealing him inside the darkness. But despite his frantic struggles, there was no escape for Tyler now, no hope of salvation as he felt himself being pulled inexorably downward into the depths of Peter's belly.

Next came Tyler's shoulders, his clothes tearing and ripping as Peter's jaws stretched impossibly wide to accommodate his prey. With each swallow, Tyler could feel himself being compressed, the pressure mounting as he was forced further and further down into the pit of Peter's stomach. He thrashed and struggled, his fists pounding futilely against the walls of flesh that surrounded him, but it was no use—Peter's grip was too strong, his hunger too overwhelming to be denied.

As Tyler's abdomen disappeared into the darkness, he could feel the acidic burn of Peter's stomach acids beginning to seep into his wounds, the pain shooting through him like a bolt of lightning. He screamed and cursed, his words becoming increasingly muffled as he was swallowed deeper into the abyss, his body contorting and twisting as it was crushed and compressed by the sheer force of Peter's appetite.

As Tyler's thighs disappeared into the darkness of Peter's throat, he let out one final, desperate cry for help, his voice barely a whisper as it was drowned out by the roar of Peter's digestive system. And then, with one final gulp, Tyler's legs vanished from sight, consumed by the darkness within.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of Peter's satisfied burp as he settled back on his haunches, his belly swollen and distended from his recent meal. And as he rubbed his hand over his full stomach, feeling the faint movements of Tyler's struggling form within, a satisfied smile curled his lips.

"Delicious," Peter murmured to himself, his voice low and contented. "Absolutely delicious."

Under the cover of darkness, Peter sat beneath the sheltering branches of a tall oak tree, the hunter's crossbow clutched in one hand as he idly played with it. With his other hand, he rubbed his distended belly, feeling the weight of his recent meal pressing against his palm.

As he leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, Peter let out a satisfied burp, the taste of the hunter's flesh still lingering on his tongue. He smirked to himself, realizing just how delicious humans truly were, their succulent flesh providing a tantalizing feast for his insatiable hunger.

Turning his gaze towards the night sky, Peter chuckled softly to himself, his voice carrying on the cool breeze. "Looks like you failed your mission," he taunted, his tone mocking. "Guess that means lots of people are going to end up just like you—swallowed up and digested alive."

As the nights passed in Beacon Hills, California, a sense of unease settled over the small town. Men, one after another, began to disappear without a trace, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and fearful whispers among the remaining residents.

Families fretted as their loved ones failed to return home, their absence a glaring absence in the close-knit community. Rumors swirled through the streets, whispered conversations speculating about the mysterious disappearances and the dark shadows lurking in the shadows.

Some claimed it was the work of a deranged serial killer, while others whispered of supernatural forces at play. But no matter the speculation, one thing remained certain: people were vanishing into thin air, leaving no clue as to their whereabouts; Only leaving behind a tangible reminder on Peter’s growing belly as he digested more and more.

"Come on, come on... Shit!" Stiles muttered under his breath as he crouched in front of the door to Peter Hale's penthouse, the thin metal of the hex wrench feeling awkward and unfamiliar in his hand. He glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching him attempt to pick the lock. It wasn't exactly the most legal activity, but Stiles was desperate for answers.

Lately, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Peter Hale. It wasn't just the way the man had been putting on a bit of weight around his midsection, though that certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by Stiles. It was also the sudden string of disappearances in Beacon Hills, particularly among young men. Stiles had a knack for piecing together clues, and something about Peter's behavior just didn't sit right with him.

Focusing his attention back on the lock, Stiles cursed softly as the hex wrench slipped again. He knew he was taking a risk by breaking into Peter's penthouse, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was onto something. If he could just find some evidence to connect Peter to the disappearances, maybe he could stop whatever was happening before it was too late.

“Fuck, how difficult is it to get into one old man’s house?” With a determined sigh, Stiles refocused his efforts, his fingers working deftly to maneuver the wrench into the lock. It was slow going, each movement careful and deliberate as he tried to coax the tumblers into place. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he concentrated, the tension in his muscles making his movements slightly shaky.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles felt a satisfying click beneath his fingers. With a triumphant grin, he twisted the wrench, and to his surprise, the lock gave way with a soft snick. Stiles froze for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened for any signs that he had been caught.

When no alarms sounded and no footsteps approached, Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. With a quick glance around to make sure the coast was clear, he pushed open the door and slipped inside Peter's penthouse, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He was finally going to get some answers.

As Stiles cautiously made his way into Peter Hale's penthouse, he was immediately struck by the decor. The space was adorned with sleek mid-century furniture, each piece carefully selected to create an atmosphere of sophistication and elegance. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that swirled in Stiles' mind as he took in his surroundings.

Navigating through the living room, Stiles couldn't help but notice the meticulous layout of the space. The clean lines of the furniture and the strategically placed accent pieces gave the impression of a well-organized and thoughtfully curated home. But as he moved further into the penthouse, Stiles began to notice something unsettling.

Scattered throughout the rooms were mementos, seemingly random items that appeared out of place among the carefully curated decor. A baseball cap hung on a coat rack in the foyer, a pair of sunglasses sat abandoned on a side table in the living room, and a leather wallet lay forgotten on the kitchen counter. Each item seemed innocuous enough on its own, but as Stiles pieced together the puzzle, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

These were the belongings of Peter's victims, the men who had disappeared without a trace from Beacon Hills. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized the significance of what he was seeing. These were not just random items left behind by careless guests; they were mementos, trophies collected by a predator.

As he moved from room to room, Stiles couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him like a heavy cloak. Each item he encountered served as a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows of Beacon Hills. And as he paused to take in the scene before him, a sense of dread washed over him like a tidal wave.

"What the hell..." Stiles murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he surveyed the room. The realization of what he was seeing hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief. How could Peter be capable of something so monstrous? It was a question that lingered in the air, unanswered and ominous.

With a heavy heart, Stiles tore his gaze away from the scene before him and pressed on, his mind racing with questions and fears. He knew he had to find answers, no matter the cost. But as he ventured further into Peter's penthouse, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking straight into the jaws of the beast.

As Stiles hurriedly made his way toward the exit, his heart pounding in his chest, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped him like a vice. Each step felt heavier than the last, his mind racing with questions and fears. How could he have been so blind to the danger that lurked in the shadows of Beacon Hills?

Just as he reached for the doorknob, a voice cut through the silence, freezing him in his tracks. "Leaving so soon, Stiles?" The voice was smooth and taunting, sending a shiver down Stiles' spine.

Stiles turned slowly, his eyes widening in horror as Peter Hale emerged from the shadows, his presence looming like a dark cloud. "Peter," Stiles stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "I-I was just..."

Peter's lips curled into a predatory smirk as he closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Before Stiles could react, he found himself pinned against the wall, Peter's bulging belly pressing against him with a force that left him gasping for air.

"Mind your business, Stiles," Peter purred, his voice dripping with malice. "You've done an impressive job of deducing who's behind the disappearances. But curiosity killed the cat, as they say."

Stiles swallowed hard, his anxiety reaching a fever pitch as Peter's words sent a chill down his spine. "Well, I take after my pops," Stiles retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm despite his fear. "He's in law enforcement."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Sarcastic, even at a time like this?" he mused, his tone mocking.

Stiles shrugged anxiously, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "It's all I got, man," he replied, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "Pale skin and a little bit of sarcasm."

As the weight of Peter's gaze bore down on him, Stiles couldn't help but feel a sense of dread settle over him like a heavy cloak. Whatever happened next, he knew one thing for certain: he was in way over his head.

Peter's smirk widened into a sinister grin as he leaned in close, his eyes sufficed with malice. "You know, Stiles," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "I think I'll make an exception for you. I'll take my sweet time digesting you, longer than any of the others. After all, you've been such an entertaining little detective, and it’ll be rude not to give pack members special treatment."

“Y… You what?” Stiles' eyes widened in horror at the realization of what Peter was suggesting. He struggled against the grip of Peter's belly, his heart pounding in his chest. Stiles' mind raced as he frantically searched for a way out of his predicament. How could he have been so foolish to think he could outsmart Peter? The truth was staring him right in the face, and now he was paying the price for his curiosity.

Peter's smirk only widened as he saw the realization dawn in Stiles' eyes. "Ah, I see it now," he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You didn't figure out as much as you thought, did you, Stiles? But don't worry, you'll get to experience it firsthand."

"No, no, you can't!" he protested, his voice trembling with fear. "You-you can't just...swallow me whole like that!"

Peter chuckled darkly, the sound sending a chill down Stiles' spine. "Oh, but I can, Stiles," he replied, his tone laced with malice. "And I will. Consider it a...reward for your persistence."

Stiles felt a cold chill run down his spine as the full weight of Peter's words settled over him. He was trapped, at the mercy of a ruthless predator who had no qualms about devouring him whole.

Peter chuckled darkly as he observed Stiles' futile struggles, his enhanced werewolf strength making it effortless to overpower the younger man. With a swift motion, he grabbed Stiles' legs and forced them upward, beginning the process of swallowing him feet-first.

Stiles thrashed and kicked, his fists flailing wildly as he shouted defiantly, "You won't fucking eat me, you hear me? I won't let you!" His voice echoed off the walls of the room, filled with a raw mixture of fear and anger.

But Peter paid little heed to Stiles' protests, his focus solely on the task at hand. With each gulp, he felt Stiles' body slide further down his throat, the sensation both exhilarating and satisfying. He ripped open Stiles' pants, revealing his underwear, and pulled them down to expose his manhood, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Stiles continued to fight, his struggles growing weaker as he realized the futility of his efforts. "You fucking bastard!" he spat, his voice choked with emotion. "I won't let you do this to me!"

But his words fell on deaf ears as Peter continued to swallow him down, relishing in the feeling of power and control. Stiles' protests grew more muffled with each passing moment, until finally, with one last gulp, he disappeared entirely into Peter's gullet.

Peter smirked triumphantly as he rubbed his distended belly, feeling Stiles' struggles growing weaker with each passing moment. He had claimed another victim, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

Peter paused, relishing in the sensation of Stiles squirming helplessly within his belly. He could feel the young man's struggles growing weaker with each passing moment, his movements becoming more frantic as he realized the inevitability of his fate.

But instead of continuing to swallow him whole, Peter decided to have a bit of fun. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he focused his attention on Stiles' exposed manhood, stroking and teasing it with a wicked grin as his mouth navigated around his balls and hard shaft.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief as he felt Peter's touch. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation.

Peter merely chuckled darkly in response, his fingers dancing lightly over Stiles' sensitive flesh. "Just enjoying the view, Stiles," he replied casually, his tone dripping with amusement. "After all, it's not every day I get to play with a meal as tasty as you."

Stiles gritted his teeth in frustration, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he struggled against the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through his body. "Stop it," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me go."

But Peter paid no heed to Stiles' protests, his touch paired with the licking of his tongue becoming more insistent as he continued to tease and stroke. Stiles' resistance began to crumble under the onslaught of sensation, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt himself growing more and more aroused.

And then, with one final, desperate cry, Stiles succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, his body trembling as he released his load under Peter's skilled touch. He collapsed against the wall, his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he tried to catch his breath.

Peter smirked triumphantly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Stiles' reaction. "Fucking bitch, enjoyed that didn’t you?" he remarked casually, his tone filled with amusement.

Peter's laughter echoed through the room as he continued to swallow Stiles down, his belly expanding with each gulp until it protruded out like a rounded bulge. With a satisfied smirk, he reached out and cupped Stiles' face in his hand, holding him in place as he leaned in closer, his mouth gaping wide open.

Stiles squirmed and protested, his muffled cries falling on deaf ears as Peter positioned him directly in front of the mirror. With a wicked grin, Peter met Stiles' gaze in the reflection, his eyes glinting with amusement as he slowly lowered his head into his waiting mouth.

Stiles watched in horror as his head disappeared past Peter's lips, the sensation of being swallowed whole overwhelming his senses. He struggled against the tight confines of Peter's throat, his frantic movements only serving to hasten his descent into the depths of the werewolf's belly.

With a final, satisfied gulp, Peter swallowed the last of Stiles down, his throat convulsing around the struggling figure as he disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall, his hand resting lightly on his distended belly as he let out a contented burp.

"Fucking delicious," Peter remarked with a smirk, his gaze lingering on his reflection in the mirror. "You're the best I've had yet, Stiles. Shame you won't be around to enjoy it."

Peter chuckled to himself as he stood before the mirror, his hands moving to his distended belly. With a playful smirk, he began to rub and knead the bulging mass, reveling in the sensation of Stiles' struggling form trapped within.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Stiles," Peter mused, his fingers tracing lazy circles over his taut skin. "I'll have to remember to thank you properly for that little release."

As he continued to play with his belly, Peter's gaze drifted to the torn shreds of fabric that had once been Stiles' underwear. With a wicked grin, he plucked them up from the floor and held them up to the light, examining them with amusement.

"These will make a perfect addition to my collection," Peter remarked, his tone filled with dark amusement. "A little memento of our time together, wouldn't you say?"

With a casual shrug, Peter tossed the torn underwear aside, his attention returning to his belly. He ran his fingers along the curve of his navel, teasingly tracing the outline as he thought about the other mementos he had collected over the years.

"Perhaps I'll keep them with the rest," Peter mused, his voice dripping with malice. "A reminder of all the delicious meals I've enjoyed."

Peter stood before the mirror, admiring his reflection with a smirk. The image staring back at him was that of a powerful predator, his chest bouncy and his stomach adorned with the bulging presence of Stiles, a silent testament to his latest subjugation.

"Damn," Peter muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I look good."

Peter smirked to himself as he made his way out of his penthouse, not bothering to put on a shirt despite the way his distended belly bulged out in the shape of Stiles' trapped form. He relished in the feeling of the cool air against his skin as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Beacon Hills.

As he strolled down the sidewalk, Peter couldn't help but notice the way people's eyes lingered on his bare torso, some with curiosity, others with outright shock. But Peter paid them no mind, instead reveling in the attention as he made his way toward the local grocery store.

With each step, Peter's mind wandered to the errands he needed to run, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he thought about the groceries he planned to purchase. He imagined Stiles squirming helplessly in his belly as he loaded up his cart with food, teasing the boy about how each item would soon join him in his digestive tract.

Entering the grocery store, Peter was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling aisles, the smell of fresh produce and baked goods wafting through the air. He wasted no time in making his way through the store, his bare chest drawing stares from other shoppers as he moved with purpose.

A group of teenagers whispered amongst themselves as Peter passed by, their eyes darting nervously between him and his distended abdomen. One of them, a bold young man with a cocky smirk, couldn't resist blurting out, "Dude, what's with the gut?"

Peter paused in his tracks, fixing the teenager with a cool, calculating gaze. "What are you looking at?" he replied, his voice laced with thinly veiled amusement. "Never seen a man with a healthy appetite before?"

The teenager blanched, taken aback by Peter's confident demeanor. "Uh, no, I mean... sorry, man," he stammered, quickly averting his gaze and shuffling away with his friends in tow.

Peter chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. It wasn't the first time he'd been met with such reactions, and he doubted it would be the last. But he didn't mind the attention; if anything, it only served to bolster his sense of power and superiority.

As he browsed the aisles, Peter couldn't resist the urge to tease Stiles, imagining the boy's muffled protests as he tossed various items into his cart. "Looks like you'll have some company soon, Stiles," he chuckled, running a hand over his distended abdomen. "I hope you don't mind sharing your new home with a few groceries." He grabbed a bag of apples, imagining how their crisp sweetness would lessen as he chewed it up, mixed it with his saliva, and swallowed it down, and chuckled to himself as he added them to his pile of groceries.

Moving on, Peter grabbed a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread, imagining the satisfying crunch they would make as they were crushed beneath his teeth. He tossed a few cans of soup and a box of cereal into his cart, relishing in the thought of the hearty meals they would provide as he digested his latest victim.

As he made his way to the checkout, Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought of the delicious meal that awaited him at home. With a smirk, he paid for his groceries and made his way out of the store, his belly still bulging out proudly as he headed back to his penthouse.

As the days passed, Stiles found himself immersed in a surreal and nightmarish ordeal within the confines of Peter's digestive tract. Each day brought with it a new wave of sensations and experiences as his body slowly succumbed to the relentless onslaught of Peter's stomach acids.

On the first day, Stiles was greeted by a warm, tingling sensation as the acids began to break down his flesh. It started as a gentle caress, almost soothing in its intensity, but soon escalated into a burning sensation that spread throughout his entire body. He cried out in pain and frustration, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears as Peter's mocking laughter echoed in his ears.

"You're really putting up a fight, aren't you, Stiles?" Peter taunted, his voice reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "You do know you will never beat a werewolf’s physique, do you? You belong to me now, body and soul."

Stiles gritted his teeth in defiance, his anger boiling over at Peter's smug demeanor. "Screw you, Peter!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You can't keep me trapped in here forever. The others will find out what you've done, and they'll make you pay for it!"

Peter chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down Stiles' spine. "Oh, I highly doubt that, Stiles," he replied, his tone dripping with malice. "By the time anyone realizes you're missing, you'll be nothing more than a distant memory. Just another victim of the big bad wolf."

Despite his bravado, Stiles couldn't shake the gnawing sense of fear that threatened to consume him from within. With each passing day, he felt his strength waning, his body growing weaker as the acids continued their relentless assault. But even in the face of impending doom, he refused to go down without a fight.

As the second day dawned, Stiles found himself sinking deeper into the abyss of Peter's belly, his screams of agony muffled by the suffocating darkness that surrounded him. The pain was unbearable, a constant reminder of his dire predicament, but still he clung to the faint hope of survival.

"Please, Peter," he begged, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me go. I won't tell anyone what happened. Just please, let me out of here!"

Peter's response was a cruel laugh that sent chills down Stiles' spine. "Sorry, Stiles," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You’re too smart for your good."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stiles realized that his fate was sealed. Trapped within the confines of Peter's stomach, he could do nothing but await his inevitable demise.

Day by day, Stiles felt himself being slowly consumed by the relentless tide of Peter's stomach acids. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of pain and torment, his body wracked with agony as his flesh melted away beneath the relentless onslaught.

But even in the face of unimaginable suffering, Stiles refused to surrender to despair. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he fought against the inevitable, clinging to the faint hope of survival even as it slipped further and further from his grasp.

"Damn you, Peter!" he screamed, his voice coarse with pain. "I won't let you win! I'll find a way out of here, no matter what it takes!"

But Peter's only response was a mocking laugh, the sound reverberating through the cavernous expanse of his stomach. "Keep telling yourself that, Stiles," he taunted.