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readngandweepng · 1 day ago

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needed to put my thoughts on paper about screwing daisuke or curly in the main lobby + some tidbits (pre-crash)

MDNI gn amab top reader, bottom character. can honestly be any of them i guess?? but i wrote this with curly and daisuke in mind lmao. basically just a horny post about same-room sex. half proof-read and probably ooc

imagine fucking him while he’s either sitting on the kitchen counter or laid against the table when everyone’s sound asleep in their respective cabins. he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck where you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he’s trying oh so hard to keep his volume down. his hands clutch the back of your shirt so tightly you think he’s going to tear it. he bucks his hips, sending a shake bolting through his body. the moan it erupts is muffled by your neck, as are the rest of them. with your fast fucking he has to take a deep breath before hiking a leg up over your waist, angling your cock just a little bit deeper inside of him where he needs you most. the fear of getting caught has dwindled down, too distracted by the feeling of you pounding into him to even give it a second thought. all he can do is hook his legs around your waist and take your cock. he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep his moans repressed as he arches his back and cums. your cum filling him up is almost rejuvenating, and suddenly the consequences of getting caught means absolutely nothing as he rocks into you, his legs around your waist keeping you, and your cock, perfectly in place.

both daisuke and curly would really enjoy the humiliation aspect of something like this. actually getting caught would be absolutely mortifying, but if you were to successfully have sex in the kitchen or on one of the couches without anyone knowing or catching you? say goodbye to your dick because it's curly's now. it wouldn't be an insanely common thing between you two, but i do think that he would secretly be kind of in love with it. daisuke would enjoy it but i don't see him as too much of the exhibitionist type; he prefers getting caught being lovey-dovey.

curly definitely has a rebellious side, and if he was feeling frisky enough he'd lean against one of the kitchen counters while daisuke and swansea were at the dining table, bending over just enough to catch your eye. he might even brush himself against your crotch when passing by, but it wouldn't be noticeable to anyone other than you or someone actively looking for it.

though i don't think daisuke would be forward like that in public, (the most he'll do is give you kisses or sit in your lap while he's playing) he wouldn't mind if you kissed up his neck while he's playing sorry! or rifling in the kitchen for something to eat. swansea would scold you and it would make his face red, but he does enjoy the little thrill he gets out of someone catching you sneak kisses.

(i'm not entirely sure what their sleeping quarters entail, like if there's bunk beds and everyone sleeps in the same room) but in this case that is the set-up, and neither daisuke nor curly would be opposed to riding you on your bed while everyone else is asleep.

daisuke is like a bunny, riding you too fast for his own good until the creaking of the bed forces him to slow down. really, if you actually want to get caught this is the best way to do it, but to ensure there's some kind of dignity left, sitting up and controlling his speed while he has something stuffed in his mouth to keep him from whining is the way to go. otherwise he won't have the self-control to cover his own mouth where your hands are too far away to cover it for him before he wakes everyone up.

riding you is definitely one of curly's favorite things to do, so he would be great at it, even in a situation where you have to be quiet. he'd like leaning over and kissing you with his hands by your head and your arms wrapped around him. the main concern here is having the self-control to not buck your hips up into him, yet your feet are still planted flat on the bed, just in case. he's not the worst at being quiet, so why not make things exciting?

daisuke would love sneaking into bed with you, even if it really is just so sleep. he loves having his back flush against your chest as your hand goes down the front of his pants to stroke him. sometimes he'll just rock into your hand until he cums, and sometimes he'll take off his pants and slip your cock inside, rutting back against you until you push him down onto his stomach and take him. you have to be careful with daisuke because he's noisy, and if you can't tire him out he'll just ask you for more, and by that point the whole crew will know what you've been up to at night (as if they don't already know).

curly, depending on the circumstances, can a lot of the time be the one to start it. playing it off by giving you kisses on the corner of your lips and acting like it's just to send you off to sleep. but then he'll move his lips down to your jaw, and to your neck. you'll feel his hand palm at you through your pants, but if you try touching him he'll shush you, taking your cock out and stroking it painfully slow. you can kiss him, but then he won't throw the blanket over his head and mouth at your dick to slip it down his throat.

ftm!curly would adore having you eat him out under the covers. the feeling of your fingers curling inside of him is intoxicating, and having to keep his voice down and his breathing even just adds to the pleasure he feels. curly is good at keeping his volume down until you start sucking on his clit, then he has to turn his head and pull the pillow over his mouth to quiet himself. he bucks into your tongue a lot because even though he won't outright admit it, he revels in the thought that others might hear how wet you make him.

ftm!curly, if he's feeling too shy, likes when you fuck his thighs, being perfectly content with your cock grazing his cunt. he'll tweak his nipples and watch your dick being sandwiched by his thighs. if he doesn't cum, he's not opposed to finishing things quickly and having you just rub his clit while you kiss and nip at his chest.

ftm!daisuke also loves being eaten out but he's not as good at being quiet, so he'd prefer being fingered where the pleasure being inflicted upon him isn't as overwhelming and direct. he likes when you slowly drag your fingers in and out, spreading him open little by little while thumbing his clit every now and then. he gets very wet very fast, so being under the covers is ideal to drown out the sounds his cunt makes, especially when you begin to speed up and his thighs clamp around your hand because the feeling is too much.

ftm!daisuke loves dry-humping too, and he cums a lot quieter. he'd like having you hold him as he rides your thigh, clothed or not. daisuke also would love to feel the head of your cock rubbing against his pussy, teasing his entrance. absolutely can cum from just your dick gently slapping against his clit.

these thoughts honestly spawned from the very minute i saw the bedrolls on the ground in the lobby. i'm not even a horn-dog but one of my first thoughts was damn imagine fucking there so now here is this post to finally relinquish weeks of 'what-if-'s and 'i-would-totally-'s. i am really into the whole having sex with the chance of getting caught but would hate actually getting caught thing if you couldn't tell lmao.

#mouthwashing x reader #bottom mouthwashing #top male reader #daisuke x reader #captain curly x reader #the more i write for him the more i love curly #i have so many thoughts about this btw #this is my roman empire #dont even care if this is ooc cuz damn #afab character #ftm character #my writngs

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zepskies · 19 hours ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 2. As you saw, it's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. 😅

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

LOL girl I don't blame you for being distracted. The mental image of Dean manhandling in Protective Mode does things to me too. 🤣

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

You just wanna go:

Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships. Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

Oh my God, yeah. I considered having her be the one to face her "mistake" and talk to the mother, but I felt that having Sam take that on would be better, even as it added to the reader's guilt (and it would keep the story moving).

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

Lmaooo I knowww, I'm sorry! All the angsty feels in this one. 😭 Now you see the full weight of why Dean popped off the way he did. He just feels things so deeply, it comes out sometimes in anger, when at the root of it all, it's fear.

Thank you though for that compliment! I think this is the only time I've written that Dean trope. Because I honestly think it's overused, but I tried to do it in a way that made sense for the ultimate growth of their relationship and who Dean is.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

Thank you so much!! 🙏🏽🥹🥹 Yeah same, and it's definitely a contrast with Dean, who obviously cares about helping people and takes way too much responsibility on his shoulders, but he's been doing this so long and seen so much that he's learned to compartmentalize a bit more.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Oh girl yesss! If you make it to the last two stories in the series, remember this moment. 😏💜

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless. And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Ahaha thank you so much!! I LOVE me some salsa music, and it was a fun challenge to try and transition between these scenes. From one writer to another, I always appreciate those "technical" observations. 💓💓💓

Oh big YEP!! "Devorame Otra Ves" was the first song I thought of when the salsa idea came. Dean, in fact, is that guy. 🤣🤣

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

LMAO Oh yeah, the gif was a dead giveaway for what was coming later on. 😏 And thank you for shouting out the “What, now you’re shy?” line! It's a special kind of intimate, I thought, for her to be kind of embarrassed about what she's just done, but Dean like, "uh-uh, you're not getting away that easily." 😂😂

Also I love you for using a Chicago Fire gif!! loll Was a big fan of that show back in the day.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

Awww thank you! I love me some fun giggly romantic smut. 😂

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

Lol but seriously, I really appreciate that, thank you!! This story was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so glad you enjoyed it though!! 💕 ...And Sam's little mishap LOL. Dean has very little shame -- something he's going to prove later on again in the series. 😂

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Very late and very many thoughts, so I'm gonna utilize the read more function

“How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.” Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

😬😬😬

The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm.

Not me adding "learn basics of fixing a water heater" to my to do list lmao

Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.

💔💔💔

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision.

Bob is just such a good soul 🥺

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.” “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

This broke my heart.. it shows how truly broken Jake is and that every day is a struggle with her for him💔

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.” Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

He is still so in love 🥺

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

The way he believes and trust in her more than she does herself 🥹

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs.

I just wanna give him a hug, this is a lot 😭

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—” “Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.” “W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say. It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

He is desperate for a moment of solace and how it was 2 years ago that he is willing to die for that 😭

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.” “I want you to,” he whispers.

He is so done with this life 🥺

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.” “You don’t know what you’re asking.” “You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

😭😭😭

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters. Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

He has already made his peace 🥺

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

❤️��🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

He truly would do anything for her 🥺

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

Poor Bob 🥺

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands.

Of course she does 🥹

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

What a small but beautiful goodbye between them 😭

Then she raises her flashlight. As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours. Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”. Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.” Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

Together 😭❤️😭❤️😭

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.

A beautiful ending together, like they deserved🥹

Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

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“No….No!”

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?”

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both.

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head.

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze.

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself.

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that.

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor.

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results.

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles.

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits.

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest.

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse.

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–” As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head.

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop.

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out.

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands.

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place.

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.

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