#why is there water dripping from under the tile

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[seitmai]

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! 💗

Series Masterlist

“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.   

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. 

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. 

“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—”

“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?”

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.”

“Jake–” 

“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–”

“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.”

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. 

“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.”

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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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. 

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. 

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…”

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.

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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[andreeds]

gonna invent a time machine to go back in time, find every single person whos ever told teenager me that "it gets better" and kill them with my own bare hands

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

[princessbrunette]

thinking about showers w s3 rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐣

no because we all know the gif.

୨୧ . ﾟ ㅤ૮꒰ ⸝⸝ ◞ ˬ ◟ ꒱ა

thinking specifically about seeing his big strong figure under the stream of water after he’d had a particularly rough day— struggling to make sales, fighting with his dad, barry acting up. you were the only person in his life currently behaving, and you just wanted to prove your loyalty and make him feel better.

his head turns when he hears the bathroom door open because it snaps him out of his deep thoughts, and when you slide the shower door open — blinking up at him with the sweetest doe eyes completely naked — he has no choice but to silently make space for you.

it’s almost awkward how fast his cock naturally hardens when you appear beneath the shower stream, promptly standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a slippery bone crushing hug. you feel him sigh against you, a warm release of air and his toned chest constricting against you as he wraps his thick arms around your back, squeezing you there for a moment. he honestly wasn’t planning on doing anything about his hard on. he was a guy, sometimes it just happens — it wasn’t nothing to two of you hadn’t seen before.

it’s why he doesn’t notice you slip behind him when you let him back under the stream, the water running down his back as he leans his forearm against the cool tile, resting his forehead in the crook of his arm for a moment as he feels you hug him from behind — your warm slick tits pressing against the muscles in his back. he lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, just because it feels nice — and suddenly his jaw is gaping, looking downwards at the way your hand wraps around his length, starting to twist your wrist up and down as you jerk him off.

“shit.” he whispers, one hand bracing the wall and the other resting atop where yours wraps around his stomach to embrace him. he feels your plush lips kissing at the skin of his back and he shudders, continuing to watch the way your smaller hand works him. “thats good, baby. yeah.” he moans quietly but it echoes, bouncing off the tiles which makes you smile softly against him before gently sinking your teeth into the hard planes of muscle in his back.

he lets this go on for quite a while, the steam obstructing everything in the room but the two of you — until he’s had enough and he’s pushing your hand away to back you against the cold shower door, undoubtedly leaving a print of your silhouette in the condensation.

“real good to me aren’t you, huh? shit i’m not ever lettin’ you leave. my fuckin’ girl for ever, hear me?” he breathes into your mouth between parted lip kisses, his hands sliding to grope your tits and cunt, sliding fingers through your sodden folds. “fuck this. fuck your shower, alright? want you in there on the bed, go — now.” he breathes hurriedly, spinning you around and sliding the door open for you, slapping your ass as you step out onto the shower mat with a giggle.

“kay.” you grin, clutching your tits because of the cold air hitting them before disappearing off into the bedroom leaving a trail of dripping water — neglecting the idea of a towel. he tsks at the way you didn’t dry yourself off as he switches off the water and steps out, soon to be following your footsteps.

୨୧ . ﾟ ㅤ૮꒰ ⸝⸝ ◞ ˬ ◟ ꒱ა

[megalony]

Wish I Knew

This is an Evan Buckley imagine based on an anon request, I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: While (Y/n) is out with Athena, she collapses and Evan and her dad, Bobby, rush to find out what happened.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tilting her head forward, (Y/n) pressed her temple against the cold, damp tiled wall. She could feel the water from the shower beating down against the back of her neck and it felt soothing to have tepid, lukewarm water rushing down her skin.

There was barely any swirls of steam surrounding her when the bathroom was cold and the shower was even colder. Not like the burning hot showers Evan took when he came home from shift.

Her eyes fell closed and she let the water dance through her matted hair that was stuck to the back of her neck and tickling the back of her shoulders.

One hand pressed into the wall to steady herself while her other hand dragged through her hair, keeping it pushed back and away from her face. But (Y/n) opened her eyes and tilted her head to the side when she heard the bathroom door open.

It always worried her that their bathroom was right next to the front door. If ever she was home alone, (Y/n) hated taking showers. If someone tried to break in or wandered in, she was in a vulnerable position very close to the front door like this. But she knew Evan was home today.

"Hello," She murmured quietly when the shower door opened and Evan let himself in.

Her hand dropped from her hair and her eyes closed automatically when his arms circled around her waist. But she felt the way he shivered and hissed against the side of her head when he stood under the water with her.

Evan kept his left arm tightly bound around (Y/n)'s waist but he reached his right hand out and turned the tap, heightening the temperature just a little. He was used to hot showers, especially after work, and Evan wasn't a fan of cold showers like this. Why was (Y/n) stood under cold water like that? She would make herself ill.

"Jesus baby what're you doing having it that cold?" He tilted his head down so his lips smothered her shoulder and the water battered down on his neck and slithered down the groove of his spine.

He felt the water drip down and flatten his curls and when it traced down the bridge of his nose and fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, he felt her shiver against him.

(Y/n) opened her eyes and looked down when she felt Evan's hands curve round from her hips to grab and squeeze at her waist. His thumb brushed up and down her skin against the water cascading down around them and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when he suddenly bit down on her neck like a vampire.

"I was boiling."

Her lips curved into a grin when Evan lifted his head from the bruise he'd just created on her neck. He leaned over and pressed his wet lips against her temple and stayed there for a few seconds, determining her temperature.

Her skin was rather warm, despite how cold she seemed to have had the shower.

"You okay?" He mumbled against her skin and leaned forward until every inch of her back was moulded up against his chest.

"I'm fine, just a bit queasy."

Taking care to be slow, (Y/n) turned around so she was facing him and dragged her fingertips up his biceps and over his shoulders until she could cup the back of his neck. Her thumbs smoothed across the side of his jaw and she smiled when his hands found her hips and he carefully nudged her back until she was pressed up against the tiled wall.

If she had been feeling more like herself, (Y/n) would of gasped or scolded him for pushing her into the cold wall that made her skin crawl with goosebumps. But the low temperature was soothing on her skin and feeling the water beat down on Evan first made it less powerful when the droplets fell onto her instead.

Most of the water from the shower trickled down the back of Evan's neck but the leftover droplets fell down his forehead and jumped onto (Y/n)'s skin.

"You sure you're good to go out today?" He spoke against her lips that were almost touching his with only a hairline fracture of space between them.

"I'll be fine, I promise." She wasn't cancelling on Athena again. They were heading out with Athena on a shopping trip and then out for tea later. Since both Evan and Bobby were at work, it was going to be the two of them having a girls day.

(Y/n) hadn't spent a lot of time with Athena recently with everyone being busy at work and she missed the woman she classed as her mum.

Her eyes lifted to scour down Evan's chiselled features and she found herself admiring him more than usual.

She liked the way the water dripped down from his pale pink lips and jumped free from his chin. Each droplet made (Y/n)'s chest tighten until she pushed her hands against his neck and pulled him down to her level. Her fingertips stayed pressed into his skin as she connected his lips down to hers.

She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a little bite until Evan growled and pulled her chest up against his.

His hands moved so he had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other moved to grip the underside of her thigh. (Y/n) could feel his fingertip pinching into her skin so he had a good grip and she squeaked when he hoisted her up. He kept her shoulders pressed against the tiles and pulled her leg until she took the hint and wrapped both legs around his hips so she was sitting on his torso.

"Evan…" She muttered his name against his lips and he seemed to swallow up her moans with deep kisses and a smirk that spread across his face. "You've got to go to work soon."

(Y/n) didn't know what time it was, but she knew it would be around about the time for Evan to get changed and head out on shift.

"Hm. Think you can last without me tonight?" His voice was deeper than before and each drop of water that fell from his lashes mesmerised (Y/n).

"I don't have a choice." She mumbled back and stole another kiss from his lips.

She didn't like him working nights, she couldn't sleep without Evan in bed with her and she didn't like being home alone in the apartment. But she wouldn't be alone today, at least. She would be spending the day with Athena and since Athena wasn't on shift today or tomorrow, they would most likely spend the evening together catching up. (Y/n) could occupy herself until Evan came home from work tomorrow afternoon.

"Let's go get ready then." Evan pecked her lips and kept one arm bound around her lower waist to keep her on his hips while he reached out and turned the shower off.

As much as he wanted to stay here all morning, they both had to get ready. And he couldn't stand the shower being that lukewarm any longer.

He walked out the shower and carefully let (Y/n) unhook her legs from his hips and stand back on her own two feet. But his arm stayed bound around her waist and his lips faltered into a frown when he watched (Y/n) sway and dig her nails into his shoulders.

"Babe?"

"Queasy… don't think I'll be eating anything when we go out today." (Y/n) forced herself to smile and swiped the droplets of water from her eyes and nose.

She felt like her stomach was weighing heavy and starting to cramp, but she dind't really feel sick which was a good thing. (Y/n) didn't want to cancel today if she was sick.

"Promise to take it easy today, just come home if you don't feel good." Evan dried off and reached for the pile of clothes he'd brought into the bathroom with him while he watched his wife. He didn't like the way she leant her back up against the wall to keep her posture and balance as she started to get changed. And Evan could see the discomfort hiding behind her eyes.

"Promise."

"Good. Do you want a lift down to your dads?" Evan knew Bobby would already be at the station by now, but he was happy to swing by and drop (Y/n) off at Athena and Bobby's house on his way to work. It would save (Y/n) driving down there herself and leaving her car there to go out in Athena's car.

When she nodded, Evan leaned over and pecked her temple while he dried his hair with the towel. "Alright, let's get ready then, sexy."

***

"What about this one?"

Turning her head to the right, (Y/n) looked across at Athena and pursed her lips, shaking her head. She didn't like that shirt, it wouldn't suit either of them.

Athena nodded and placed it back on the rack, scouring through for another top that she could wear to the station party next week.

(Y/n) held her breath for a few seconds and tried to see if it would clear the building headache behind her eyes. This shop needed some aircon, the room place felt like it was on fire. (Y/n) looked up at the ceiling and tried to see if she was stood beneath a heating vent, but she couldn't see one. Why was it so warm and stuffy in here?

Her hand moved to the collar of her top and she pulled it down to try and see if it would make her feel any better, but it didn't help.

She was on fire. She was starting to sweat and her stomach was beginning to cramp until (Y/n) was finding it hard to stay stood upright.

Her hand moved to her hip and she dug her nails deeply through her leggings and into her flesh until she was sure she was going to draw blood. The tension and sharp scratch drew (Y/n)'s mind away from the dull cramps in her stomach that made her wonder if she was coming on her period or if she was getting some kind of stomach infection.

Either way, she was now starting to feel sick. They needed to go find a store with aircon and maybe get a drink and see if that would settle (Y/n)'s system down a bit. Her free hand reached out for the rack of jackets in front of her and she leaned into them and let the metal rail hold up her weight.

"Why don't we look for some shoes, we both need a few new pairs." (Y/n) swiped her hand against her forehead and cleared away a sheen of sweat while she tried to plaster a smile on her face.

When Athena nodded, (Y/n) felt grateful and relieved and she reached out for her. She let go of the rail and curled her left arm through Athena's elbow, tucking up into her side as her right hand punctured into the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink first."

"God yes, and some fresh air." (Y/n) waved her hand in front of her face to try and create some sort of breeze as they headed down the stairs.

She leaned her head on Athena's shoulder and let a little of her weight drop on Athena.

God, she hoped a drink would sort out her system and make her feel better. All (Y/n) wanted was to spend some time with her family and enjoy herself. She didn't want to come down with something and have to go home early and alone. Or have to drag Athena back home with her and turn into a movie night rather than a day out.

They had been out for a few hours though. The pair had gone to a cafe for some drinks before they came to the shopping centre and they had been here for a while already.

Bobby had texted them both and told them to have fun and enjoy themselves and Evan was praying for his shift to go quickly. Because Eddie and invited Evan and (Y/n) to join him and Chris at the cinema tomorrow afternoon and then go round to Eddie's place for a games night.

The last thing (Y/n) wanted was have to go home now and cancel their plans for tomorrow.

"Didn't you want to find a new watch for Buck?" Athena leaned her cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head as they finally exited the shop and went back into the main floor of the shopping centre.

The breeze swirled around them and made (Y/n) feel like she was suddenly getting a high and had become lightheaded. But the fresh air out here wasn't as cold or as refreshing as (Y/n) wanted it to be. She could still feel heat crawling up the back of her neck and licking at her skin like she was being cooked over a fire.

"Yeah, surprise surprise he broke the last one, again." (Y/n) had taken to getting Evan a new watch every now and then and she always got a guarantee on them.

Her husband was clumsy. He would fall or trip or bash about and he had forgotten to take his watch off a few times while at work and broke the links. This time he had caught his wrist in the jeep door and luckily, his watch saved him from a broken wrist but the glass on the face had smashed.

He needed another one.

"What does that boy do with them?" Athena ticked her head to the side and pointed ahead of them at a jewellery shop. They could find Evan a new watch after they had a drink. (Y/n) knew what type Evan liked and how many links he needed so it wasn't too tight or too loose.

"God knows," (Y/n) muttered back but she was relieved to head over to the food court. She wasn't too pleased at how busy it looked, though. Crowds and (Y/n) didn't work together very well.

"Okay, you find a table and I'll go order. What would you like?"

"Anything with ice please." (Y/n) didn't care what drink she had as long as she had something cold, preferably with a full cup of ice cubes tossed in. She needed to cool down before she combusted.

She felt Athena's hand on her back and a kiss against the back of her hair before they parted in different directions.

(Y/n) glanced around but it was like she was seeing her surroundings but not fully taking them in. She needed to find an empty table but her mind wasn't focusing. All she could see were gleaming white tables and a range of lime green and brick red plastic chairs dotted all around her. It looked like she was walking through hundreds of sets of traffic lights.

Finally, a table on the left corner of the food court looked to be empty and (Y/n) made a stumbling beeline towards it. She slung her bag down to the floor and dropped her weight down into a red chair that scraped horribly against the polished floor when she went to sit down.

She folded her arms on the small circular table and leaned her chin on her arm, trying to find something to focus on and look at.

There was a small wooden fence around the perimeter of the food court with lots of multicoloured, fake flowers and green vines and tissue leaves dotted around. It looked lovely, but the colours were starting to blur together in (Y/n)'s eyes as if the shopping centre was a canvas and someone had thrown a bucket of water across the paint.

"Here you go honey- are you okay?"

(Y/n) pushed herself to sit up straight and lean back in her chair when Athena came back over with a drink in each hand.

"Hm, just a bit flushed. Thanks," She took the glass of lemonade she was handed and relished in the condensation clinging to her palm and coating her fingers. Ice. Just what she needed to cool her system down and try to perk herself back up again.

Last time she felt like this while she was out, a drink and something to eat had done the trick and made (Y/n) feel better.

(Y/n) took a sip of her drink, listening to the way the ice clinked together, but she quickly set the glass down when she felt her hands beginning to shake.

She moved both her hands to her stomach and bound her arms around her abdomen, trying to take deep, calming breaths to make the sudden horrid feeling go away. Whatever Athena started to say went in one ear and out the other. (Y/n) couldn't hear her anymore. She couldn't hear anything.

The sound of the other conversations surrounding them, the clicking of heels on polished tiled floor, the various automatic doors opening and closing. The rustling of bags clashing and banging together. None of it got through over the static building up in (Y/n)'s ears. She couldn't hear any of it.

When her eyes started to blur and she couldn't see Athena properly anymore, (Y/n) tried to say her name. She tried to call out and override the panic building up in her system but all that came out was a quiet, mumbling groan.

Her shoulders slumped and her body fell forwards, crashing into the table with such a loud thud that it stopped every passing conversation nearby.

Her arms stayed bound around her waist and when her weight shifted to the right, (Y/n) couldn't stop herself from falling off her chair. She didn't feel anything when her body collided with the floor and her legs got tangled between the table and the chair she had previously been sitting on. The way her head bashed into the floor seemed to flick a switch in (Y/n)'s brain and it kickstarted her hearing and shocked her body back into action.

She stayed slumped on the floor, but she could finally hear what Athena was starting to say and she could control herself enough to whimper and press her burning forehead into the freezing cold floor.

"(Y/n)? Honey, honey are you with me?" Athena crashed down to her knees and reached her hands out to carefully hold (Y/n)'s neck and tilt her head back so she could see her.

The girl she classed as her daughter didn't look good. Her eyes couldn't open properly and Athena could see her pupils rolling towards the back of her head. Sweat flushed her exposed skin and the heat was coming off of her in waves. A light tremble had set across her system, shaking her arms against her stomach and causing her legs to jitter against the floor as she writhed and tried to move.

"Shh, stay still, let me look at you." She pressed the back of her hand against (Y/n)'s temple. She had a fever. When her fingertips pushed down over (Y/n)'s pulse, she could feel each thundering beat of her heart that was going way too fast to be considered normal range. "Can you tell me what hurts, honey?"

She brushed her thumb across (Y/n)'s cheek and tried to smile at her while her other hand fumbled in her back pocket for her phone.

When Athena lifted her head, she could feel her upper lip curling in distaste. People were starting to crowd and gather round, some were even taking their phones out and snapping pictures, but none of them were helping. Her daughter was clearly in agony and distress and all these onlookers thought it was okay to watch and gawp without giving any sort of assistance.

"You." She pointed at a woman close by who was staring and holding both hands to her chest. "Go find security and get a first-aider down here, now. Everyone else, I want you to step back and evacuate this food court. All of you, out now."

The woman in question grabbed her handbag and bolted to find the nearest person who worked here. This was a large shopping centre with two floors and thousands of square foot to cover. There would be a lot of security on each floor and they would have selected first aid workers and probably their own medics on standby for this sort of emergency.

And Athena didn't want everyone crowding round and watching her daughter while she was in distress like this, it wasn't fair. They could all leave and make room for when help arrived and stop overpowering the scene.

(Y/n) uncurled a trembling arm from her waist and flapped her hand out until she managed to grab Athena's wrist. She coiled her arm close to her chest and groaned before she started to gag. She was going to be sick.

"Alright, into the recovery position you go, honey."

(Y/n) let herself go limp and her eyes closed when Athena held her leg and her shoulders and carefully rolled her over onto her left side. She straightened (Y/n)'s legs out for her and tilted her head forward. (Y/n) could feel Athena's knees pushing into her back and her hand stayed on the back of her neck for support just as (Y/n) threw up.

"There we go," She rubbed her hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm for a few seconds, and when (Y/n) finished, Athena scrolled through her phone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"This is seargent Athena Grant, I need paramedics to the lower level food court in the West Side shopping centre. My daughter's collapsed, she's feverish, barely conscious and she's throwing up."

"Paramedics are two minutes away and being redirected to you. What's her name?"

"(Y/n) Buckley." Reaching down, Athena started to smooth her hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm again to keep her calm and try to comfort her. But when she tilted her head down, her lips pressed together tightly and her breath got caught in her lungs. "She's starting to bleed."

Athena could see a patch of blood smeared into the back of (Y/n)'s leggings and around her inner thighs. It wasn't much or drastic, but even a small drop of blood was a bad indicator and signified that this was more than some sort of stomach bug or a sickness fever.

"E-Evan… dad," (Y/n) kept her left arm bolted tight around her lower abdomen that felt like it was on fire. But her right hand clutched onto Athena's wrist and held so tightly Athena had no choice but to lean her chest over (Y/n)'s back and arm.

"I'll call them when we get you to the hospital, honey. I promise, I'll get them to meet us there." She wasn't calling either of the boys until she knew what was wrong with (Y/n) and had spoken to a doctor first. Then she could tell them to get down to the hospital without frightening them. She had to have some answers first.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to reach them. By then, most of the onlookers and crowds were hovering just outside the fence of the food court.

(Y/n) let Athena ease her onto her back again, ready for the medics to assess and move her. And she kept one arm pressing into her waist while her other hand stayed tightly clutching Athena so she knew she was still here with her.

"It's alright, help is here now."

***

"Athena! W-what's happened, where is she?"

Evan couldn't catch his breath properly as he and Bobby weaved down the corridor until they found Athena.

They had only just got back off a three-hour call when Bobby went into his office and realised he had half a dozen missed calls from his wife. She couldn't tell him what was wrong. All she knew was that (Y/n) had collapsed and was now in the emergency room getting tests done.

As soon as it registered in Bobby's mind, he ran into action. He found Hen and told her she was in charge for the remainder of the shift and grabbed Evan, telling him they had a personal emergency and needed to go.

Evan glanced his eyes around the corridor but he could feel his heart jumping up into his throat. They weren't in the emergency room anymore. The receptionist had told them to go down this corridor and follow the signs for X-ray and they would find (Y/n) and Athena halfway down the corridor. But there were no cubicles or rooms here.

They were in a seemingly abandoned corridor with the X-ray department at the end of the hall and two other halls leading to the operating theatre and one leading to the MRI unit.

Where was (Y/n)?

Evan's heart thundered against his ribs when Athena pressed her hand into his chest to stop him from wandering off or going on a rampage to find his wife.

He could see she was close to crying. She had been swirling her ring around her finger which was a worry sign for her and the way she bit her lip and looked up at Evan was another bad sign. Usually he was used to his mother in law frowning at him or telling him off for doing something reckless. She never usually had a reason to be calm and gentle with him.

"She's gone into surgery." Athena looked up at Bobby as his face fell and his shoulders dropped down.

Why was his daughter in surgery? What had happened today while the boys had been at work?

"Surgery? Why?"

Athena didn't know what was wrong when she called them, all she knew was (Y/n) had had bloods taken, been put on a drip and was having scans to see what the cause of her pain was. How had things gone from that to surgery in less than an hour?

"Sit down."

Shudders jumped along Evan's back and he slumped himself down into one of the plastic chairs. This couldn't be anything good.

He watched Athena sit in between him and bobby so she was close to both of them, but Evan hated how she reached across and took hold of his hand. She was trying to comfort him and he didn't like it. Why did he need to be soothed and calmed down like this? What was she going to tell him?

"They did bloods and an ultrasound… (Y/n) was pregnant, but she's had a miscarriage."

Athena pursed her lips and tightened her hold on Evan's hand when his face fell completely.

That wasn't right. Evan would have known. (Y/n) would have told him if she was pregnant or if she suspected she was. She wouldn't leave him in the dark and not tell him. He should have stayed home this morning. He should have made (Y/n) stay home with him too and looked after her and checked if she was okay. He should have examined her better and made her see a doctor earlier.

"She didn't know, and… it didn't come away properly, she got an infection. They had to take her to surgery to remove the tissue and she will be on antibiotics so she won't develop sepsis. As soon as she's out of surgery, the doctor will come and get us and you can both go and see her."

When Evan stood up, both Athena and Bobby worried that he was going to try and bolt down to the operating room and find (Y/n) for himself. Or that he was about to turn and leave, too overwhelmed by this information to sit around and let it sink in.

Neither of them were expecting him to lash out and smash his fist into the wall with enough force to break the plaster and leave a crumbling indent.

When he did it again, hard enough to split his knuckles and splatter blood across the plaster, Bobby rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Evan. He reeled his son back into his chest but he took a step back when Evan turned and deadlocked him in a hug.

Evan held Bobby like the world was about to crash and burn around them and he didn't know what he was meant to do.

"It's okay."

But it wasn't. How was any of this okay?

***

"Do you still feel sick?" Evan pushed the bathroom door aside and crouched down behind (Y/n) with his hands clasped together between his knees and his lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn't like seeing his wife knelt on the floor in front of the toilet, unsure if she was going to be sick or not.

He knew the antibiotics the doctors had given her weren't agreeing with her. They were doing the job clearing up her infection and preventing it from spreading or from her body developing sepsis. But the tablets were making (Y/n) feel sick and dizzy and giving her hot flushes.

"Hm. Haven't thrown up yet though."

Small mercies.

(Y/n) pressed her hands down on the rim of the toilet and tried to push herself up but all she wanted to do was lay down and curl up so she could sleep.

"Good. Come here baby." Evan cupped his hands over her hips and stood behind her, gently turning her around until she was facing him and he smiled softly when (Y/n) leaned forward. She tipped her forehead down into his chest and gripped his biceps tightly to keep herself upright.

"You don't have to carry me, you know."

(Y/n) didn't want to rely on Evan like this. She didn't want him to have to help her up and down the stairs and do the cooking when they usually shared the jobs around the apartment. She didn't like relying on him like this.

"I want to. You're not well, so I'm gonna take care of you."

(Y/n) let herself go limp so Evan could move her easily. He cupped her wrists and lifted her arms to curl them around his neck. Then his hand moved down to hold her chin and let her chin rest on his shoulder as he leaned down to be level with her.

His hands cupped the back of her thighs and he lifted her up with ease, securing her legs around his torso so she was sitting on his hips. He kept one arm around her bum and his other hand cupped the back of her neck as he leaned to smother his lips against her temple.

It wasn't as if (Y/n) was asking or forcing Evan to look after her. He wanted to. He wanted to do whatever he could to look after his wife and nothing she could say would change his mind on this.

He headed out the bathroom and walked slowly towards the living room where they had been laid all morning. For the last two days since he brought (Y/n) home, they had been cooped up in bed. But Evan thought it was better to stay downstairs now so (Y/n) was closer to the bathroom if she felt sick and be near the kitchen for drinks and food.

And he knew Bobby and Athena and probably Maddie would be popping round in the next few days. They had all agreed to give the couple a few days alone together and Evan told them he was fine looking after (Y/n) on his own. But he knew they would want to see (Y/n) now and check she was okay and on the mend.

When he reached the sofa, Evan dug his hand into (Y/n)'s thigh and kept her secured on his hips so he could turn around and ease down onto the sofa with (Y/n) on his lap.

He slouched down and propped his feet up on the coffee table, loosening his arms enough so (Y/n) could move around and get comfy. She shimmied so she was sat on his lap, her legs stretched out across the other side of the sofa and her head tucked back into his chest. He could feel her breaths fanning through his shirt while her arms stayed curled around his neck and he just knew she had her eyes closed.

With his right arm curled around (Y/n)'s waist, Evan tilted his head to the side and moved his other hand to her shirt.

He liked the fact that (Y/n) was living in his clothes since they came home. She was wearing his loungewear shorts and plain grey shirt that slipped off her shoulders.

"Can I?" He murmured softly and when (Y/n) nodded, Evan rolled her shirt up and feathered his fingers across her stitches.

She had two small incisions in her abdomen with three stitches on each to keep them together. In two weeks, the stitches should dissolve naturally, but Evan wanted to make sure they weren't coming loose or becoming infected.

"They don't hurt, do they? You don't feel too bad?"

"I'm okay." (Y/n) feathered her fingers up and down the back of Evan's neck, but she felt the way he tensed. And the way he sighed as he kissed her temple told her he either didn't believe her or wasn't happy.

"You had surgery, that doesn't class as being okay." Evan kept his lips against her temple as he pulled his hand away from her stomach to cradle the side of her face. "I could have lost you."

He let his body slouch down and tipped his head forward until his nose was buried in her hair and his lips were merged against her temple.

If (Y/n) didn't collapse when she did, if her infection went unnoticed for a while longer, they wouldn't be sitting here. Evan might still be sat in the hospital holding her hand and praying she would pull through. She could of gotten sepsis from that infection and she could of been seriously ill or even dead by now. And Evan had no idea.

He had no idea she was that ill or that she was pregnant or had lost a baby she had no idea about.

Evan didn't like it. He wanted a sign. He wanted to know if he had missed the signs, if he should of been looking out for signs to tell him his wife wasn't well. He should of looked after her better so she wouldn't have needed surgery in the first place.

"But I'm here, Evan… just without a baby, this time." (Y/n) moved her hand from his neck to cup the side of his face and drag her thumb along his jaw. She pushed up from his chest and pressed a slow, tender kiss against his freshly shaved cheek as he tensed beneath her. "I'm s-"

"If you're about to apologise, we're gonna fall out." Evan tightened both his arms around (Y/n)'s middle and pulled her tighter into his chest until it felt like she was about to suffocate him.

He didn't want her apologising. Not when she hadn't done anything wrong. (Y/n) couldn't help getting sick, she couldn't help miscarrying or the fact that she didn't know she was pregnant and Evan would fall out with her if she tried to apologise to him or anyone else for something that wasn't her fault.

"Just wish I knew, you know? I might of gone to a doctor if I knew, I wouldn't of caused such a scene-"

"Baby, you didn't cause a scene, you were ill. I don't want you saying sorry or thinking like that. This shit just happens, but it's not happening again. I won't let it. If you're pregnant again, we'll know and it will go smoothly."

Evan was taken by surprise when (Y/n)'s hand moved to his jaw and she tilted his head in her direction so she could steal his lips in a kiss.

The touch was sudden but welcomed and inviting and Evan pulled her lower lip between his teeth and drank her in. He panted against her lips until he was seeing stars and the noise from the tv turned into nothing but background static.

And when (Y/n) pulled back to try and gasp for air, Evan cupped her wrist and moved her hand up from his jaw to loop it around the back of his neck again. (Y/n) scratched her nails against the short hairs at the back of his neck until Evan was clenching his jaw and leaning into her so there was no space between them. And his lips found hers, stealing them away.

(Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded again, especially when Evan seemed to draw all the air out of her lungs and gulp it down for himself. His warm lips smothered hers and bit her lower lip until he was going to leave a bruise in his wake, but (Y/n) didn't care.

All she wanted was to stay wrapped up in Evan's arms. Forever.

[philistiniphagottini]

hiiiiiiiii!! I would like Dan Feng x reader x Dan Heng (canon universe) where they are in the bathtub n reader gets smushed between them. They swore they would just have a nice bath together but it turned into rough sex :3c thanku!! -🐉

Thank you for coming back and requesting dragon Anon, i enjoy seeing you in my inbox :D Okay, so I tried to put plot in this originally but my brain said "no plot. only smut." oh and btw, they both have two pps, so there is four pp in total. Is it realistic that you can handle all four? Fuck no but it was hot writing it. Now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go pass the fuck out from the horny overload but i'll probs be back on my bullshit tomorrow. Enjoy~

cw. smut, penetrative sex, double penetration, threesome, bath sex, female reader, chubby female reader, minors DO NOT interact, 2.6k words

“Dan Feng, you promised.”

A shuddering breath breezed past your parted lips, goosebumps prickling along your searing flesh despite the warm waters of the bath lapping at your bare skin. Every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation as Dan Feng moved behind you, long wisps of his dark hair sweeping over your shoulders and tickling your skin as he trailed his fingertips along your sides. His long, black nails scratched along the curves of your sumptuous body as they disappeared under the shallow waters to curl around your plump hips. You squeaked loudly, your voice echoing around the tiled walls as water spilled over the lip of the tub from your abrupt movements. A warm chuckle stirred in the back of his throat as a long, serpentine tail coiled lazily around your thigh, the feathered tip swaying hypnotically above the surface of the water. A pleasant shiver rolled down your spine as he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, his hot breath puffing against the sensitive skin as he stared at the side of your face with lidded eyes. 

“Oh? And what did I promise, little dove?”

It was hard to think past the thick haze swirling in your mind, the steam permeating the bathroom curling in your lungs with each breath you took. You struggled to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth as Dan Heng pressed closer to you from the front, hunger stirring in the depths of his gorgeous eyes as his hands trailed along the plush insides of your thick thighs. You couldn’t escape them. You were all crammed into this tiny tub together, smothered between the scorching heat of two dragons and at the mercy of their undivided attention. It made warmth pool rapidly into the pit of your stomach, slick gathering along the seam of your cunt as Dan Heng pushed your legs wider and nestled comfortably between them. His tail swayed from side to side in excitement, beads of water dripping from his damp hair as the droplets trickled down your skin. Your breathing wavered, lungs pinching in your chest and eyelashes fluttering over your burning cheeks as your body sank further into the warm waters of the tub. Another amused chuckle stirred in the back of Dan Feng’s throat as he traced patterns into the plump skin of your soft stomach, pawing at your irresistible love handles until you squirmed with sordid bliss in his lap. 

“What’s wrong, little dove?” he cooed, sharp fangs grazing the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You seem to be speechless, all of the sudden. You were quite chatty just a moment prior. Hmm, I wonder why that is?”

His teasing words sank their teeth into your skin, gnawing at your senses and causing your blood to simmer in your veins. You sputtered, stumbling over your words as Dan Feng dragged the slick muscle of his tongue over your ear and enjoyed how you squirmed from his touch. His tail coiled tighter around your leg, ushering you closer as he pressed his chest into the warmth of your back. Another salacious moan bubbled up your throat as Dan Heng cupped your soft breasts into the warm palms of his hands, kneading at the pillowy softness as your eyes threatened to slip close. Your fat tits eagerly bounced into his firm touch, fingers pinching the pert, puffy tips of your nipples as a loud moan fell from your plump lips. 

“Stop teasing her” Dan Heng muttered under his breath, his bright gaze flickering over your shoulder to level a stare at the man behind you. “She’s referring to your promise about keeping this to strictly bathing, remember?”

Another hum rumbled in Dan Feng’s chest, the vibrations dancing along the notches of your spine as his fingers traced up your torso once more. A moan tickled your throat as Dan Feng’s fingers traced along the seam of your mouth, your lips parting and allowing him to push two digits inside with ease. You moaned around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut for a few, brief moments as the hot coil in your belly twisted tighter. 

“Oh, I remember” Dan Feng chimed. “Did you also not promise the same thing, Dan Heng?”

A soft hiss whistled through Dan Heng’s lips, the tips of his pointed ears flushing red as they twitched forward to the sound of your sweet moans. You drooled around Dan Feng’s fingers, hips canting forward as your pussy throbbed with want. The heat of the water was making you dizzy as your pulse pounded in your ears like the loud beat of a drum, heart fluttering wildly and ready to leap up into your throat like a startled rabbit at a moment’s notice. Your body was burning up from the inside under their caress and you were starting to lose track of whose hands were upon you. Another thoughtful noise fell from Dan Feng’s lips as his free hand crept between your parted thighs, playing with the chubby folds of your pussy as your arousal webbed between the tips of his fingers. You twisted in his grasp as another moan vibrated against his fingers, your tongue curling between the slender digits as you gently sucked on his skin. A smile curled his lips.

“Ahh, but who can resist such fine ambrosia?” he mused. “You’ll forgive us if we indulge, won’t you darling?”

You nodded along dumbly to his words, all coherent thoughts having drifted from you a while ago as you simply melted into the mind numbing bliss over their blistering touches that bestowed unparalleled bliss. Dan Feng pulled his fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, only for Dan Heng to immediately swoop in and claim the bruised skin in a searing kiss. You moaned as his forked tongue slipped into the hot cavern of your mouth, lapping at the saliva that pooled into your mouth like it was a sweet nectar. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, both of his draconic cocks swollen with arousal and jumping eagerly between your plump thighs. Dan Heng moaned into the heat of your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his slender waist, water sloshing and spilling onto the bathroom floor as you yanked him closer and you were pleasantly squashed between your two lovers. You wanted your bodies pressed and tangled as you revelled in the confusion of it all. 

Dan Heng parted from your lips, a thin strand of saliva breaking from the kiss swollen skin as a sharp gasp tumbled from your mouth when Dan Feng swiped his thumb over the weeping hood of your clit. You could feel the wet slap of his cocks rubbing against the small dip of your back, causing more heat to flood into your core as your fraying nerves tingled with anticipation. Your back curved into a beautiful arch as Dan Feng sank two fingers into you, only for Dan Heng to eagerly stuff one of his own digits and join the fray. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as you threw your head back with a loud shriek, face buried into the crook of Dan Feng’s neck as you were stretched around their fingers. Your pussy fluttered as they fingered you open, enjoying the way your body swayed and twitched between them.

“Good girl” Dan Heng praised softly. “You’re doing so well.”

Dan Feng hummed in agreement, your pussy squeezing tighter and soused walls drooling over the press of their fingers as words of encouragement made you feel light headed. Dan Feng pressed his lips to your sweaty temple as he lined one of his cocks up to the tight, puckered hole of your arse. Your hips jolted forward as the tip pressed into the ring of muscles, only for Dan Feng to drag you back by the scruff of your backside and seat you back into his lap. His sharp tongue clicked behind his teeth, your ears burning with a furious itch as he continued to rut the fat head of his cock between the soft cleft of your arse cheeks. 

“Do not run” he whispered with a husky purr of your name. 

Your mind swirled as you tried to focus on the way Dan Heng was curling his finger inside of you, twisting the digit until he brushed up against the hot bundle of nerves that made stars waver in your vision. It was a pleasant distraction as Dan Feng pressed forward, sheathing his boiling cock into your arse and forcing the air from your lungs in only a few, brief seconds. You whined loudly, nails scratching along Dan Heng’s torso as your eyes threatened to slip into the back of your head. A hot grunt puffed against the nape of your neck as Dan Feng seated one of his cocks inside of you, nose pressed into your hair as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

“So tight” he growled, tail coiling tight in a possessive grip. 

His horns glowed softly with a faint light, the ethereal glow bathing your skin as the water surrounding you almost turned scalding from the heat emanating between the two dragons. You didn’t have much time to gather your bearings, heart still stammering to an unknown rhythm as they slipped their fingers from you; not giving you much time to mourn the loss before Dan Heng was pushing into you. You moaned and whined until your voice scratched in your throat, water rippling violently and soap suds clinging to your pruning skin as you were filled to the brim. At first it was one. Then there were two. Until finally, a third cock was stuffed into your fat cunt, splitting apart the creamy folds of your silky lips. You could scarcely breath as your chubby pussy struggled to swallow around them both, a wanton moan pushing past your spit soaked lips as your insides turned to mush around their thick shapes. Your eyes were just as dazed as your mind as you stared up at Dan Heng, steam curling around his lips in visible puffs as he tried to reign in his erratic breaths. He was struggling to keep himself controlled with the tight heat of your cunt hugged around both his engorged cocks. 

“Dan…” you croaked.

A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes as Dan Heng started to move, bumping his hips into yours as he rutted his cocks deeper into your soused walls. Your nerves shocked you like a live wire as the bumps and ridges lining his cocks dragged against your plush insides, whines rolling unabashed from your tongue as the hot knot inside your stomach twisted tighter. Dan Feng’s hand found its way back between your parted thighs to play with the swollen pearl of your clit, pinching the tightly packed bundle of nerves between his fingers as you shuddered in ecstasy. His free hand rubbed at your swelling stomach, the tips of his fingers tracing over the bump where they were both intimately moving beneath your skin.

“Such a pretty little mate” he sighed with bliss. 

Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth and you couldn’t force a single word out no matter how hard you tried. It felt like you didn’t have control of your body anymore; your senses spiraling as all sentience seemed to suddenly dissipate. The intoxicating smell of sex curled deep in the pit of your lungs with each haggard breath, only to be punched straight out of you as Dan Heng thrust his hips forward and carved a path deeper into your slobbering cunt. You blindly reached behind you, tangling a hand in the silky tresses of Dan Feng’s hair and tugging at the roots as you felt him bump his cock a little deeper into your arse. Shared moans of passion were exchanged, more water out of the bathtub than in it as more perspiring drops spilled over the porcelain rim. Dan Heng’s knees ached and almost slipped on the bottom of the tub as he pitched forward, burying his face into the scorching valley of your supple tits as his hands squeezed your plump hips and yanked you closer. 

Pinpricks of blood bubbled to the surface of your skin as Dan Feng dug his sharp fangs into you, tongue chasing away the sting of his bite as your lips parted in a silent scream. You screwed your eyes shut against the onslaught of writhing rapture tickling the base of your skull, the pressure in your stomach ready to boil over and shatter something inside of you without remorse. You mewled as Dan Heng dragged his bruised lips across your skin, nipping and laving his tongue around your breasts and leaving behind a garden of bruising marks as the pace of his hips grew delirious. You could feel the thick heads of their cocks all fighting to press against the boiling hot nerves of your cervix, battling to see which one was going to have the honour of impregnating you first. You doubted either of them could get you pregnant but the frantic push of their hips were determined to convince you otherwise. A spine tingling shiver raced along your back as Dan Feng whispered honeyed words into your ear, making you tense up as the taut cord inside of you finally snapped. 

You screamed so loud it made your ears ring, the wet sound coming between your bodies joined in fervid rapture only drowned out by the utter filth spilling from your mouth as the coil shattered into a million tiny pieces. Your hot walls squeezed your dragons tight as they smothered their cocks in you, bullying the entrance to your womb and emptying your head of every thought. Your veins were seared with white hot relief, your clit kicking weakly against the press of Dan Feng’s fingers as crystalline tears of pleasure stained your flushed cheeks. Your eyes lulled into the back of your head as the rapture continued to overcook your nerves and you almost passed out when you felt Dan Heng’s cocks explode with his hot, viscous seed that drowned your walls with sticky relief. 

Dan Heng’s hot pants buzzed in your ears as you were filled to the brim, pearls of his cum dripping from your dripping pussy as Dan Feng succumbed to his pleasure only a moment later. You squirmed in his lap as both of your holes were drenched in creamy warmth, his thick seed gushing from your overly stuffed cunt as burning like wildfire. The tips of your fingers were numb as you tugged on Dan Feng’s hair one last time before your digits slipped through the silky tresses. You could feel their cocks throbbing for another release, your pussy trembling in the aftermath even as the last dregs of pleasure chewed through your overstimulated nerves. Your senses were slow to crawl back to you, skin clammy and sticky despite the puddle of water lapping at your skin. You were vaguely aware of Dan Heng’s strong hands on you, his touch like a soothing balm as he eased the tension from you and kept you tethered to this plane of existence. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “How are you feeling?”

Your body tingled as you stirred, offering Dan Heng a giddy smile as you relaxed further into Dan Feng’s embrace. 

“Warm” you replied, voice scratching your throat and leaving behind an itch. “So very, very warm.”

Dan Feng chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your cheek as his arms coiled loosely around your plump waist. He hushed you when you twisted, so pleasantly helpless in his hold as his rough tongue lapped at the drying tears on your heated skin. 

“Such a good girl. Just relax now and let us pamper you.”  

[whatthefishh]

I’m so ashamed to be requesting this… but I’ve been looking everywhere for a shower smut with Miguel O’Hara and I feel like I can trust you not to let me down😩😩😭 if you can, ONLY if you can I don’t wanna be a bother.

Hey, no need to be ashamed haha! That’s so sweet of you, thank you for trusting me with this 😉 and I hope this short blurb doesn’t let you down… I wrote this instead of focusing on my assignment lol!

Miguel smut under the cut, 18+ only

Your muscles were aching, the hot water spraying down your back helping to release some of the tension there. You had a long day and couldn’t wait to get home for some down time, and a hot shower was the perfect start to your relaxing evening. You hear the bathroom door open and the blurry large shadow of Miguel in the doorway. You know it’s him just by his sheer size, nobody else you knew took up that much space.

“Mig, can you grab me a towel? I forgot!” You shout, turning to rinse the shampoo out of your hair.

“You always forget,” he grumbles lowly, thinking you can’t hear him but he’s closer now.

“Yeah, I know I know, can you just get me— no, no! You can’t just—!”

It was too late. Miguel had stripped his clothes in record time — or maybe he walked into the bathroom already naked — and joined you in the shower, his height effectively blocking the water from spraying on you as his broad frame took up most of the shower space.

“You got me all wet, nena,” he says looking down at you, slowly backing you against the tile wall behind you.

“I didn’t tell you to come inside…”

He sniffs out a laugh.

“Actually—“

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

Reaching a hand up to pull him by the neck down, down, down to meet your lips, your tongues collide hotly under the spray of hot water. Pretty soon, you’re a moaning mess under his skillful tongue and roaming hands, lost in the sensation of your lover’s touch.

Miguel lifts you against the tiles and you gasp into his mouth at the cool wall against your back while he groans at the feeling of his hard cock bobbing against your core. He’s rubbing himself against you, effectively making you drip for him while the water ran down his back.

Both of you were wet now.

Removing himself from your lips for a moment, he rests his forehead against yours to look into your eyes and smile, a rare one, a real one. You don’t see this one often.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Tan buena que eres conmigo,” Mig tells you quietly before lining up his fat tip with your entrance and slowly pushing forward, kissing you again when you start moaning at the intrusion.

It’s always a stretch, no matter how much he tries to prep you. Inch by thick inch, he bullies his way into your cunt, massaging your breasts and mouthing at them to distract you. The sound when his lips wrap around your slippery skin is sinful, popping off your peaks with a satisfied hum while your chest heaves from everything you’re feeling.

He’s everywhere, around you and inside you all at once. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

Once he bottoms out, he waits for your go ahead, a small nod while you rest your head against the cool tiles has him starting to pull out nefariously slow, intent on making you loose and pliant by the end of the session. Bucking his hips, he fills you again and again, pressing your body into the shower wall and grunting on every pass.

The water was already hot and the way he’s fucking you has you burning up, the coil tightening in your belly so much that you’re about to pass out. He notices your breath coming out shallower.

“Needed me to loosen you up, isn’t that right nena? Uh huh?”

You’re whining incoherently, eyes shut against the tiles as he plows into your pussy. You try to answer him but all that comes out are pathetic noises that you know only feed his ego.

“What was that, baby? You’re close, aren’t you, can feel you— ahhhhh!” He groans out loud when you finally gush around his girth, body shuddering in his arms.

Completely reliant on his strength to hold you up — the way you’re impaled on him also helping — you let go. Utterly and entirely, you let yourself go in his arms, trusting him to take care of you.

Gripping your ass as he holds you up, Miguel continues to fuck into your fluttering hole, bucking his hips untimely as he nears his own end after feeling yours. His growls and grunts are bordering on animalistic, the smooth golden planes of his body catching your eyes as you ride out his assault on your pussy. The way his biceps ripple when he flexes his hands holding you up, the way the vein in his neck throbs when he’s breathing heavily, the way his abs flutter when he’s close to cumming —

He’s absolutely stunning, and he’s all yours.

And he’s making you his, coming inside you and pressing his hips into yours, after essentially drilling you into the shower wall, he holds you there while groaning through his release.

The stress you were carrying was all gone, replaced with everything Miguel. You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your evening with him.

S/o to my translator — @xbellaxcarolinax ❤️

[hotchscoffeecup]

savoring the moment

summary: it’s hotch’s first case back after recovering from being attacked. he returns home to find you caught in the throes of a panic attack. he guides you through it and takes care of you afterwards.

rating: t to be safe

tags: panic attack, hyperventilating, crying, minor blood, implied sex (at the very end), scars

word count: 2.3k

pairing: hotch x reader

the idea to have reader having a panic attack and being comforted by hotch was submitted to me anonymously. thank you for the request! and as a reminder, my fic requests are open!

Pulling your knees against your chest, you wrap your arms around them and rest your forehead against your knees.

“He’s okay,” you tell yourself, repeating it like a mantra. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”

Rain patters against the windowpane and you try to focus on the sound, trying to let it ground you back to reality and failing to do so as the pounding of your own heart threatens to drown out the sound of everything else around you.

These are the early onset symptoms of a panic attack and you know it’s only a matter of time until it hits you with the full force of a storm like the one that’s raging outside. They’d been far and few between lately, but this was his first case back in the field since he’d been attacked and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. You know the risks, and you know he’s capable of keeping himself safe. The team always has each other’s backs and they’ll do anything to keep one another safe. Why hasn’t he called?

You take in a shuddering breath and exhale it just as shakily. Your hands tremble as you swipe them through your hair.

Water. Maybe a glass of water will help. You slide out of bed and stand. The blood rushes to your head, which causes you to waver on the spot.

“He’s okay,” you whisper to yourself. You clench the hem of your sweater, rubbing the fibers between your fingers. “Five things I can see,” you whisper to yourself as you move towards the bathroom. As you reach for the empty glass on the bathroom counter, you take a shaky breath and speak on the exhale. “Counter, cup, mirror,” your eyes flick up and meet yours, the purple rings under them more like bruises. “Myself, sink.”

You take another breath and try to keep moving through the exercise that your therapist taught you. Twisting the knob on the faucet, you place the glass underneath and watch it fill. “Four…four things I can hear.” You struggle to turn the water off for the shaking in your hands. “Rain, the air conditioner…” you pause and try to strain your ears, failing to pick up on any other distinct noises. That’s when you become aware of your racing heartbeat again. It’s so fast; slamming up against your ribcage. You envision the organ bursting free of your chest and your hands start to shake so violently that you drop the glass. It shatters against the bathroom tile and you gasp, cursing as you kneel down to pick up the pieces.

You try to be careful, but your hand slips and a shard of glass slices into your palm. Immediately, you clutch your hand with the other and roll onto your hip. As you watch the blood drip between your fingers, a vision of his blood staining the hardwood flashes in your mind’s eye and suddenly you’re back in the hospital waiting room waiting for him to come out of surgery. The dam bursts then and you can’t fight the monster inside of you that is the anxiety. It bites and claws at your insides until it bursts free from you in an explosion of tears and guttural sobs. You struggle to take in a full breath as you begin to hyperventilate. You’re not sure how long you sit there feeling wave after wave of panic crashing over you, holding you under and dragging you further and further away from yourself, lost in the throes of an aggressive undertow. Your vision starts to blacken around the corners and you don’t even register the hands on your shoulders or the man kneeling in front of you.

Your pupils rapidly dart back and forth, desperately trying to make sense of your surroundings but all you can make out is your name. It's faint and faraway, like a ghost whispering on a midnight wind.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to focus on the sound of your name until it becomes clearer. It’s Aaron.

Aaron. Aaron. Your partner. Your fiance. Aaron, yes, Aaron. You swallow hard and open your eyes, vision blurring momentarily before clearing. He’s on his knees in front of you, brown eyes warm albeit concerned. He’s holding a rag against your bloody hand. He applies pressure to the wound to stem the bleeding and the pain oddly brings you closer to baseline. It’s something real and tangible you can hold onto as the panic tries to pull you back under.

“Honey, breathe,” Hotch prompts. “Listen to my voice. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You reach for him, cupping his cheek in your uninjured hand. Stroking your thumb against the cut of his jaw, you find solace in the depths of his eyes. It’s him. It’s really him. Your lip quivers and you fall into him. His name rattles out of your mouth as you collapse into him. You throw your arms around him and sob into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you.

“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing his hand in circles against your back. “Deep breaths,” he says and you feel him inhale beneath you. He exhales and inhales again, modeling the pattern you need to follow to reach baseline.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “You didn’t call. I was—” You breathe in and release a shaky breath. “I was so afraid that—”

Hotch cradles you against him, one arm looped around your waist while his opposite hand tangles into your hair to hold you close. “My phone died. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He guides you through several more long deep breaths and your temples pound from the dehydration that comes with crying from a place so deep inside yourself.

As your heart rate finally drops back down to normal, the weight of exhaustion slams into you and you feel it dragging at all of your bones leaving all of your limbs feeling leaden.

“Why don’t you take a shower with me, hmm?” Hotch asks gently.

You nod against his chest, feeling the sticky sheen of tears wetting your cheeks. He helps you up and helps you sit on top of the closed toilet seat. He cranks on the shower and disappears out of the room for only a second before returning with a small broom and dustpan. Steam is billowing out from behind the shower curtain by the time he finishes cleaning up the broken glass. He helps you shrug out of your sweater and while he undoes his tie and dress shirt, you shimmy out of your sweatpants. When you step under the steady stream of hot water, you hiss as it stings the open cut in your palm. Blood washes down your hand, swirling down the drain in diluted pink rivulets.

Hotch joins you in the shower, stepping behind you to let you enjoy as much of the warm water as possible. “Let me help,” he says, taking your hand in his. After lathering the soap bar in his hand, he gently cleans the inflamed area. You wince and he apologizes, “I know it hurts.” He rinses your hand and leans out of the shower to grab another washcloth off of the rack. He presses it into your hand and softly instructs you to hold pressure to it.

You laugh weakly, “Aaron, I’m going to ruin all the washcloths.”

He bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll buy more. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He turns you around and presses himself against your back, threading his arms through yours and holding you close to him. You just stand like that, under the steady flow of warm water.. You close your eyes and lean back against his chest. Aaron hums and rocks you gently.

“I love you,” you murmur after a while.

You feel him smile against your hairline. “I love you, too.”

You turn then, holding your injured hand over his shoulder out of the stream of water while your other splays against his chest. You feel the raised scar tissue under your hand, bumpy and rough. Your eyes trail down the length of his torso, identifying each scar. Hotch places his fingertips beneath your chin, tilting your face up so that you can look at him. His features are relaxed, his gaze steady. “Honey,” he says, almost sternly. “I’m okay.”

You nod, “I know that.”

“Then let me help you be okay, hmm? Does that sound alright?”

Again, you nod.

He spends the next fifteen minutes taking careful care to wash and condition your hair, massaging your scalp and combing through your hair before rinsing it out. He lathers soap against your skin after, using the palms of his hands to smooth it over every curve and fold of your body; littering kisses across your skin as he does so. For himself, he takes very little time; just a quick scrub and wash of his hair before he cranks the water off.

He wraps you in a fluffy towel before wrapping one around his waist. He dips into your shared bedroom and returns moments later with your robe and the first aid kit you keep in the hall closet. You finish towel drying your hair before letting him help you into your robe, which he loosely ties around your waist. You sit on the edge of your bed and let Hotch work on your hand.

“The bleeding stopped, that’s good” He observes after peeling away the wash cloth. He applies a small bit of antibiotic gel across the length of the cut and places a fresh gauze pad against it, which he then secures by wrapping a roller bandage around your palm and wrist.

“Have you ever thought about quitting the BAU and becoming a paramedic?”

Aaron breathes out a laugh as he tucks the tail end of the bandage in. “Definitely not.”

You pout, sticking out your lower lip. “But you’d look so sexy in that uniform.”

He laughs and shakes his head before placing a quick peck against your cheek. “There’s that sense of humor I love so much.”

He stands and discards the soiled rag and paper wrappings in the bathroom trash can. He washes his hands and uses the towel around his waist to dry them. He puts on a pair of sweats, the words FBI ACADEMY faded and worn running down the one leg.

“How does tea and ice cream sound?”

You smile, and for the first time that evening it feels genuine. “That sounds perfect.”

While he busies himself out in the kitchen, you tie your hair up in a loose knot on top of your head and finish your skincare routine.

As you’re crawling under the covers, Aaron enters the room. He’s cradling two bowls against his chest with one arm while he holds two steaming mugs by their handles in the opposite hand. He crouches awkwardly by the bed, safely placing the bowls of ice cream on the nightstand. He rises to his full height and passes the mug to you.

“Sleepy time tea?” you ask, recognizing the smell.

“I felt like you could use the extra help tonight.”

He tosses the covers back and climbs into bed beside you, placing his own mug down on the nightstand. He lets you take a sip before he takes your cup and sets it beside his.

Taking your hands in his, he strokes his thumb along the back of your uninjured hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am now that you’re home.”

His eyebrows turn, “Honey, I can take some vacation time. I know you’ve been doing better since my attack, but it makes sense that my return to work would serve as a trigger and—”

“Aaron,” you chide. “You’re profiling me.”

He presses his lips together and smiles apologetically. “All I’m saying is if my going back right now is too much for you, I can try to limit my presence in the field.”

You eye him knowingly, “Yeah, because that worked so well when your ear was damaged in that explosion.” Your brow pinches as you regard your fiance. “Well, that’s not something every couple can say, huh?”

Aaron chuckles and stretches an arm around your shoulders, drawing you in close to his side. “Definitely not, but nothing about our relationship has ever been normal, has it?”

You lean into him and press a kiss against his jaw. “I’ll be okay, Aaron, really. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a panic attack like that. I think it was just because it was your first case back since…” You hesitate. “…the incident.” You reach over him and grab the two bowls of ice cream off of his nightstand, handing one to him before settling back against the pillows.

You dig your spoon into the vanilla ice cream, stirring it some before taking a bite. You close your eyes and savor its sweetness.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asks.

You open your eyes and look up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’m sure. I’m working with my therapist. I’m coping. I’m taking it day by day, just like I know you are.”

“One day at a time.” He leans down and kisses you softly. “Mmm, you taste like vanilla.”

You smile against his lips. “My therapist did advise us to prioritize living in the present moment.

He sets his bowl of ice cream aside and loops his arms around your waist, heaving you onto his lap. “Did they now?”

You laugh and feel it deep in your belly, the panic you’d felt earlier seeming so far away now. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

He pulls at the tie on your robe. “Oh, I bet I can think of something.”

You dip your spoon back into your bowl of ice cream, an idea of your own coming to mind. “You said you like the taste of vanilla?” You slip the spoon between your lips, amusement glinting in your eyes.

Aaron nods, taking the bowl from your hands and capturing your lips with his. As his hands fold around your body, you feel him smile against your lips. “I love the taste of vanilla.”

And you’ve never felt safer than in his arms right then, savoring the moment.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Kim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : established relationship ; none ; just fluff ; Word Count : 0.9k Request : nope!

“Minnie-ahhh!!!” You called from the bathroom, your hair dripping droplets of water onto the tile floor, your body wrapped with the shower curtain as you foolishly remembered that you had forgotten to grab a towel before you got in. “Seungmin!!!” You called once more, dropping the cute name now as the vent turned on and blasted cold air against your still wet skin. 

In the living room just a few feet away sat your boyfriend on the couch, unbeknownst to you, his headphones were covering his ears and blasting the ever so calming music of Animal Crossing. He couldn’t hear you at all, it was his day off, and he had decided- with your help -that it would be a day of pure relaxation, and to him, relaxing was being able to keep up on his little village and hopefully invite a couple more residents to his town. 

The air had gotten too cold, and at this point your body had either absorbed all of the little beads of water or they had just trickled down to the floor. The only thing that was still wet was your hair, but you didn’t really mind if it air dried, as long as you’d be able to cuddle up with your boyfriend to keep you warm. 

You padded across the floor to the living room, dropping down onto the couch beside Seungmin, who still hadn’t even looked up from his screen, and then shimmied under his arm to lay your head on his lap. “Aish… your hair is freezing!” He finally pried his eyes away from the console to stare down at you, the most adorable scowl on his face that you knew he didn’t mean. “Why didn’t you wrap it up this time?” 

“Because someone didn’t hear me calling for them.” You sassily retorted, purposely pressing your head further against his lap and stifling a giggle when you heard him sigh. “You’re so warm, Minnie! I need your warmth! Give it to me!” You continued to tease, shoving your hands now into the pockets of his hoodie, and you could feel his body vibrating with the laughter that he was trying so hard to suppress. 

“So annoying… pabo…” He muttered, playfully flicking your nose, but when your face scrunched up he couldn’t help but break character and smile down at you. It was hard for him to not react to how cute you were. “Get up real quick.” He said, and your lips turned down at the corners into a little frown which made him roll his eyes. “Just for a second, jeesh, I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn’t give you much time to move, instead he carefully lifted your head from his lap and got up, chuckling a little too deviously when he watched your head drop back down to the cushion. “Meanie…” You huffed out the word which only made him laugh more. You loved him though, you loved that you could tease each other and bicker because you knew that through it all, he loved you too, the two of you just had a slightly different way of showing it than most couples. 

When he returned to the living room, he was carrying the thick comforter from off the bed, and while he tried to play the annoyed act, you could see right through it. He was softer than butter, and it made your tummy feel fuzzy and your heart race. “Sit up, come on… You wanna be warm, let me keep you warm.” He said, and you quickly obliged, scooting as far against the back cushions as you could to give him room to lay down beside you. 

His arm quickly wrapped around you, trapping you against his chest, not that you minded, as he continued to play his game. Your head laid upon his chest, and you could tell that he was comfortable. Even though he didn’t say it much, he loved moments like this just as much. His heart kept a steady rhythm and his breaths were calm, you’d almost think he was sleeping if he wasn’t still playing the game. “Are you comfy?” You whispered, snuggling closer against him, and he let out a soft hum of agreement, letting go of the console momentarily to run his hand over your hair. 

“Are you warm now?” He asked just as softly, and you nodded quickly, tangling your legs with his and you could feel him smiling, his cheeks rising up just slightly before he turned his head just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “If you get uncomfortable just let me know, we can go to the bedroom.” He reminded you, and while most people would assume that there was some ulterior motive to the words, you knew better, and you knew your boyfriend better than anyone else. 

“I like it here… I can be closer to you…” You murmured, wrapping your arm around his waist and somehow managing to move ever closer. “You know I love you, right?” You asked, holding tightly onto the loose fabric of his hoodie, your eyes slowly closing as your body threatened to fall asleep against him. 

“I know you do, you tell me every day.” He said, his voice holding a false, teasing coyness that had you scoffing, and inevitably it had him laughing once again. “I love you too, bubs.” He said once his laughter had died down into a small snicker. “I know you’re tired, you can take a nap. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

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[eiightysixbaby]

this is heaven, what i truly want

oliver quick x fem!reader

you’re never truly alone at saltburn. there’s always someone watching. (3.4k+)

18+ only! oral f receiving, voyeurism, unprotected piv, creampie, spit kink, use of pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, etc.), one use of ‘sir’, cum eating (just a smidge), biting and choking (literally one brief instance of each), edging. lmk if I forgot any!

a/n: hooooo boy I wanted to try something new, so here it is! promise I’m not fully veering away from my usual stranger things content, I just desperately needed to write some filth for ollie 🤭 hope you enjoy!! I proofread this a couple times but if there’s mistakes iM SORRY. my closing statement: I can fix him your honor.

Watched. For days you’ve felt like you’re being watched. Carefully, closely, tracking your every move. Maybe the walls have eyes, who knows with a place as eccentric as this. All of the ornate fixtures and ancient paintings do have a bit of an eery, haunting feel to them.

Or perhaps it’s just because you aren’t used to having housekeepers around at all hours of the day. Duncan has always been off-putting; every summer you’ve spent at Saltburn throughout your life there’s been an energy about him that’s made the hair on your neck stand up.

Regardless, you’ve tried to shake off the feeling, wondering if you were finally losing your mind. Because here, with Felix and Venetia, Elspeth and James and Farleigh — you’re safe. They’re lifelong family friends who, as strange as they may be at times, make you feel secure. Nobody would have any business spying on you.

But oh, you should’ve known better.

You slip out of the large clawfoot tub, bare feet planting themselves on the white tile floor. Water drips from your body, the tiniest puddle forming at your feet. Grabbing your towel, you begin to dry your body with the soft fabric. You hum softly to yourself, reaching for your satin robe where it hangs by the vanity. For a moment you think you hear something, the tiniest creaking sound, and you move to look around the unnecessarily large bathroom. It’s dark in the corners where the light doesn’t quite reach, but even squinting you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You’re fucking losing it, you mentally scold yourself. It’s an old house, it’s going to make noise.

You lean against the vanity, palms flat on the marble countertop. Letting out a heavy sigh, your head hangs low, eyes closed. Get it together.

When you’ve finally steadied your breathing, you look back up to greet yourself in the mirror. You work your hairbrush through your wet hair, taking care to untangle any knots. The feeling won’t go away, your defenses raised. Eyes on you. There’s someone watching. There has to be.

You see him in the mirror before you actually see him.

Turning on your heel, a loud gasp escapes you. Your heart pounds behind your rib cage, your eyes focusing in on the figure lurking in the dark hallway. The bathroom door is open a crack, eyes you know to be blue piercing through you.

Oliver.

“What the fuck, Ollie!?” you shout, watching as he slips fully into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

You retreat, back pressing against the counter behind you. He stalks calmly towards you, caging you in. You swallow, unable to stop the way your eyes study his muscular frame, his tank top clinging tight to his torso.

“Now now,” he says, soft and steady. “We don’t want the whole house to wonder what’s up, do we?”

“What are you doing here?” you grit, nostrils flaring as you exhale heavily. Your posture stiffens, tense under his chilling gaze. “Why were you watching me?”

“Don’t act so offended, darling,” he says, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your lips part, breath hitching in your throat. It’d be a filthy lie to act as if you haven’t been admiring him since he first arrived, under Felix’s wing like a timid little animal. Something about him has captivated you, intrigued you, lured you in. He’s just so quiet, so skittish. So beautiful.

Being as close to family as you could get, you didn’t want to make things awkward by putting the moves on Felix’s friend, so you avoided him when you could. But that only made things more unbearable for you. Many a night was spent with your hand between your thighs, softly crying his name into your dark bedroom. Imagining he was there with you. He couldn’t know about that… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Lying through your teeth. You should know he can practically smell the nervousness on you.

It’s cute that you think he’d buy this.

“Oh, save the games, sweetheart,” he tuts, taking a final step closer to you. His chest fully pressed against yours now, his face dipping forward until his mouth is right beside your ear. “I know you touch yourself at night, stretching open that pretty little cunt, wishing it was me.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you really think you could be slick? Think I wouldn’t catch the way you stare at me all of the time, think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask quietly, your voice meek now.

“Not any longer than you’ve been watching me.”

“I haven’t—” you start, but he presses a finger to your lips, quieting you. He raises a brow, as if to say ‘Do you really want to go there?’

God, you were so stupid. Staring at him any chance you got; looking out your window at him while he’d lounge shirtless by the pool, or peering through his cracked bedroom door one evening after dinner in hopes of seeing him changing. You were sick. And here you are, chastising him.

You keep your gaze directly on his, feeling your heart rate increase under the scrutiny of those piercing, gorgeous blue eyes. He gently holds your chin, keeping you focused on him as he studies your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his free hand come to rest on your waist. You’re reminded then that you’re only in a robe, and suddenly your skin feels like it’s ablaze.

“Oliver—” you start, your eyes big and pleading as you stare at him. What exactly you’re hoping for you don’t know, you just want him to do something.

His gaze flits to your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. Leaning in, his mouth ghosts over yours, barely grazing your waiting pout. He pulls back, teasing, and you chase him. Seeking out his lips until he gives in, one hand on your lower back, holding you against him as he kisses you roughly. His tongue licks into your eager mouth, swirling around yours, tasting you. It feels as though you’re nearly devouring each other, teeth clashing as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair.

You whine, a high-pitched and pretty thing when he lets his mouth find your neck, sucking harsh on the delicate skin. Rolling your hips against his, you can feel the bulge straining in his boxers and he groans at the sudden friction.

“Ol— Ollie, please,” you beg, for what it isn’t clear, but he removes his lips from your pulse point to look at you.

“Such a needy little thing you are,” he says, regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “And to think five minutes ago you were acting like I wasn’t welcome in here…”

You chew at your bottom lip, thighs pressing together involuntarily at the way he speaks to you. His tone is ultimately patronizing, and you’d have no complaints if he spoke to you like this all of the time.

He dips his head back down, this time kissing over your collarbone. Every inch of skin he kisses seems to ignite, electricity coursing through your veins. He unties the fabric belt securing your robe around your front, letting it instead fall open for him. You’re completely bare beneath the black silky fabric, and you watch the way his eyes trail down your figure. He studies you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and there’s an insatiable hunger behind that stunning blue. He’d eat you whole if it were possible.

Continuing his descent, he takes the nipple of your right breast into his mouth, kneading the left with his hand. You gasp, tipping your head back as his tongue rolls over the sensitive little bud, sucking on it. He diverts his mouth’s attention to the other side, then, making sure he gives equal attention to each of your tits. You can feel yourself throb for him, nearly dripping at your core in anticipation.

“Such pretty tits,” he mumbles, lips trailing against your skin. He lets his face linger between them for a moment, caressing them with soft hands.

Your mind wanders as he works his way down, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips. You wonder how often he’s spied on you without you catching him — exactly how many times he’s seen you touch yourself to the thought of him. It only drives you further up the wall; picturing him peering through a crack in your bedroom door on nights where you’d lay completely bare on your bed, pleasuring yourself to thoughts of his fingers and tongue. He’s sick, you’re sick, and maybe you’re perfect for each other.

You’re brought entirely back to the present when you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, his eyes peering up at you from where he rests on his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings two fingers up to swipe through your folds, collecting your slick. You shiver, mouth agape as he brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweet honey from them.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, darling. And you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pressing his face against your mound. He inhales, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit, making your hips jerk slightly. “Smell even sweeter,” he praises. He’d bottle up your scent and wear it like cologne if it were possible, anything to feel close to you all of the time.

His lips part, hot breath fanning against your exposed cunt as he collects himself. You feel his tongue lick a delicate stripe up through your folds, a barely-there sensation, but it makes your back arch regardless.

“Oliver,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You hear him exhale in a smug laugh before you feel his tongue again. He’s far more intentional this time, letting it lap up your juices from every crevice. You tug hard on his hair when you feel the wet muscle breach your entrance, lewd slurping sounds coming from the way he pleasures you. His strong hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, keeping you right where he wants you.

It feels like you’re levitating, ascending to a higher realm as he licks and sucks at your pretty, glistening pussy. He allows his mouth to focus on your clit, teeth grazing it in a greedy little nip before he soothes the area with his velvety tongue. You’re seeing stars when you feel two of his fingers slip generously inside of you, scissoring within your walls.

“Oh��� oh my god,” you whine, your eyes pinching shut as you tip your head back.

“That’s right, baby — I’m your God. Worship me like I’m your God,” he growls, in a different headspace entirely.

While he’s usually so soft-spoken and polite, in this moment he’s cocky; more confident than you thought he’d ever be. You can’t fault him for it, though, because you do want to worship him. You want to get on your knees and pray for him.

Weeks of yearning, lusting after him from afar have come to fruition. Your longing now seeps out of you, with his eager mouth to swallow it all. He fucks his fingers harder into you, curling into your sweet spot as his tongue flicks rapidly back and forth over your sensitive bud.

The thing is, it’s been weeks of yearning on his end, too. This place, warm and wet between your thighs, is his altar — his holy ground. He wants to worship you just as much as he wants you to worship him. He’s dreamt of what you would taste like, how you’d suck him right in, and now that he has you he never wants to let you go.

“Fuck, Ollie, don’t stop,” you plead, letting loud rhythmic moans fall from your lips. At this point you don’t care if the entire house hears you; so fucking be it if they do. You know Farleigh would love something to gossip about; what better topic than how Oliver gave you a religious experience right under this massive roof?

Reading your mind, he speaks from his spot between your legs. “So fuckin’ loud, darling. You want everyone to hear us? To hear how good I make you feel?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you pant, grinding down on his fingers, nearly humping his face.

He hopes in his twisted mind that someone is listening. Hearing him claim you, mark you as his. He shakes his head back and forth, tongue laying flat as it swipes over your clit messily. You can feel yourself about to let go, to come completely undone for him.

But he can sense it, he can see it on your face that you’re so deliciously close to release, and he’s not having it yet.

Your brows furrow when he removes his fingers from your cunt, pulling his mouth away as well. You’re about to protest, about to plead with him to keep going, but he’s standing and pressing his lips to yours before you can get a word out.

There’s a painful ache in your core, and you can feel yourself still soaking wet for the man before you. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it while he studies you with half-lidded eyes. He rolls his hips against yours and you can feel his excitement, his cock stiff in his boxers.

You paw at the waistband, attempting to free him from his confines, desperate to feel him. His fingers wrap around your wrists, stopping them from getting any closer to his cock.

“Don’t get greedy, sweetheart,” he warns. “I call the shots.”

He grabs you by the waist, encouraging you to sit on the counter behind you. You jump with his assistance, your skin cold where it rests on the marble surface.

His lips latch onto your neck once more, sucking on delicate skin, leaving tender bruises. He takes his sweet time, drawing out your agony as your arousal drips down your thighs. Pitiful whimpers crawl their way out of your throat, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. He nips at the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, licking the stinging spot afterwards to calm the ache. His thumbs tease your nipples, palms squeezing your breasts and making your back arch into him.

He removes one hand, reaching down to discard his boxers onto the floor. Finally, he grips his weeping cock in his fist, thumb running over the angry red tip. You gasp at the size of him, letting your eyes take in every inch, every vein. Committing him to memory.

“So fucking big, Ollie,” you murmur, reaching a tentative hand out, running a fingertip gently along his shaft. You’re almost surprised he lets you, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches in an attempt to keep his composure.

His large, warm palms move to your thighs, parting them for him. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips at the sight of you spread open for him, completely bare and wet with both his saliva and your arousal. In a moment of boldness, you pull him to you by the chain around his neck, your tongue instantly finding its way into his mouth. He exhales heavily, your tongues licking fervently into each other’s mouths, lips grazing.

You register the feeling of him lining his cock up at your entrance, the tip pressing against your folds. He slips inside, a groan leaving his lips as a shrill moan of his name leaves yours. The way he stretches you is bliss, there’s no other word for it. Pleasure that just barely teeters on the edge of pain, his cock reaching spots inside of you that your fingers could only hope to. He dips his head slightly, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your ear, biting at the lobe. He starts with slow, calculated thrusts, his fingers digging harshly into your hips.

Your breathing is ragged, sinful sounds leaving you over and over as he starts to fuck you faster.

“Bet I feel so much better than your fingers, hm? Is this what you wanted all along? My cock stretching you out?” he asks, voice breathy and low. His words send shockwaves right to your core, turning you on even further.

“Yes, god, yes. Thought about this every night, Ollie. Wished you’d sneak into my room and have your way with me,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm as he smirks at you.

“Dirty little girl,” he tsks, letting his forehead rest against yours, fucking into you hard and fast.

The sounds of skin on skin mix with his pretty noises and yours; grunts and whines and sighs that reverberate off of the walls. Your nails claw at his shoulders, grounding yourself as his cock drives into your sweet spot again and again and again. Your eyes go wide when you watch him dip his head, spitting down onto your pussy, adding to the slippery mess that you’ve already created.

When he looks back up at you, your lips are parted in awe, your eyes begging for him to give you more. Spit in my mouth, please, is the unspoken cry that he understands instantly.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks hard enough that your lips part further. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he lets a string of saliva fall into your waiting mouth, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin twice, encouraging you to close your mouth and swallow. You do as he wants, willing to swallow whatever he’d give you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, slowing his thrusts briefly, giving you long and passionate strokes before returning to his previous quick pace.

“Oliver, oh my god,” you cry for him, your eyes screwing shut. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You can feel your previously staved-off orgasm approaching once more, the coil in the pit of your gut tightening more and more with each snap of his hips against yours.

“You getting close, baby?” he asks, letting his fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. It gets the reaction he wants, your eyes snapping open and focusing on him. “That’s right, you look at me when I’m making you feel this good,” he instructs, letting go of your neck. “Otherwise, you don’t get to cum.

“Y-yes sir,” you comply. “Please make me cum, I’m so fucking close, Ollie, need it so bad,” you beg, making sure to keep your eyes on his. That stunning, icy blue pierces through your soul, sending a chill down your spine. His stare is intimidating, raising the hairs on your neck just as it did each time you weren’t quite sure who was watching you.

He bites down hard on your shoulder, rutting into you faster and faster until you’re finally tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves, your walls clenching tight around his thick length.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” you chant his name, a prayer being raised to the sky as he shows you pure ecstasy.

His movements don’t slow, his lips greedily sucking at your neck before making their way back to your mouth.

“Gonna let me cum inside you sweetheart?” he asks between desperate kisses, your instantaneous nod nearly embarrassing.

“Please cum inside me, need your fucking cum, Ollie,” you respond, lips brushing against his. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

He groans low at your words, eyelids fluttering closed as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Warm, thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, shuddering breaths leaving him as his head tips back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, giving you every drop that he has, continuing to rut into you until he’s completely milked dry.

Heavy breaths fill the room, his spent cock slipping out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip out and onto the floor. Trying to catch your breath, you watch in shock as he drops to his knees once more.

“What are you… what are you doing?” you ask, a sly smile on his face as he looks up at you.

“Just making sure you’re properly cleaned up, is all. Can’t have you going to bed like this,” he muses, collecting some of the sticky mixture with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Just lean back and relax, darling. Got to make up for all those nights you spent alone.”

[conkreetmonkey]

trick or treat

You reach out and knock on the rusty old bulkhead, yelling "trick or treat!" as you do.

It produces a hollow, resounding clang that echoes around you, a vibration you feel in your bones.

Wait, where exactly are you? How did you get here?

Looking around, you find yourself in what could only be described as a "facility." You seem to be at the bottom of a rusted metal stairwell you have no memory of descending. The walls are of a rough, filthy concrete, skirted in decaying institutional white tile up to about your shoulders. The floor is of much worse-off dark green tile, accented with the occasional aquamarine one.

Everything is covered in a layer of dry dirt, building up in the corners and missing tiles, save for where the criss-crossing pipes snaking up and down the walls and ceiling drip foul water from corroded fittings, supporting pockets of green algae and moss, and the occasional unnatural-looking mushroom. A completely rusted drainage grate sits in the middle of the room, revealing only darkness beneath.

The air is stale and musty, with an acrid chemical tinge to it. Motes of dust hang languidly in the air, illuminated by buzzing, half-dead flourescent tubes. Wait, this place looks totally abandoned, why is there still electricity? You have no clue what purpose this area could possibly have served. There isn't even an indication of what floor you're on, let alone who built this place and for what.

The door in front of you is all there is down here, save for a few strewn-about pieces of trash, and some ominous neon yellow barrels in the far corner. You don't even want to know.

The door is odd, clearly old and abandoned, yet at the same time bearing evidence of regular use. The valve that presumably opens it is well worn, darkened white paint rubbing away to reveal fresh, unrusted steel. One of the hinges looks newly installed, its gleaming metal surface starkly contrasting its dull surroundings. Shoeprints not matching your own cover the dusty floor, most saturated at the base of the door.

Most damning of all, though, is the laminated piece of printer paper taped to it, reading "NO SOLICITORS" in calibri bold. Somebody definitely lives here, in the rotting guts of some Soviet-ass brutalist hellhole, and you just knocked on their door and yelled "trick or treat!" Uh oh.

As if on cue, the moment you think this, the valve begins to turn with a mechanical squeak, and the bulkhead opens outwards just a sliver, a seemingly gloved hand curling around the edge as somebody peeks out a-- what.

"Ah! I was starting to think there wouldn't be any of you this year!" a nasally male voice says as the door is heftily shoved all the way open, forcing you to take a step back.

Standing before you is some sort of freak.

The man(?) before you is slightly above-average in height. His baggy avocado green t-shirt obscures his midsection, as do his maroon pants, but based purely on the way they hang off his form and the look of his hands and forearms, you subconciously clock him as scrawny to skinnyfat in build, clearly no athlete. His worn black and white sneakers peek out from under the cuffs of his too-big pants, whatever's holding them up obscured by his even more ill-fitting shirt. Both seem to be scavenged from scraps, repaired over and over again with sloppy hand stiching and the odd strip of duct tape.

This is where the normal aspects of his appearance abruptly end.

His hands were never gloved, it turns out; rather, they, along with the rest of him, is a deep, unnaturally saturated bondi blue, seemingly the actual colour of his skin. Even his battered fingernails are a tealish cyan, his lips and lower eyelids fading to a darker, comparatively less ostentatious shade of catalina blue.

A thick, wild mop of taffy pink hair hangs down to his shoulderblades, and would likely reach down to his mid back without its fluffy, springy texture. It looks coarse and unpleasant, but at least not greasy.

A pair of inhuman eyes stare excitedly into yours, neon yellow scleras clashing against red-40 irises in tones typically reserved for candy or tropical fish. They seem far brighter than they should be in this light, and his pupils glint in the industrial gloom like those of a raccoon or similar nocturnal garbage animal. His boyish face sports a five o' clock shadow of pink facial hair, implying it's his natural hair colour, which wouldn't be too surprising considering the rest of him.

He overall looks rather scruffy, yet at the same time clearly at least somewhat takes care of himself. His stubbly face and tangled hair bring up imagery of some sort of basement gremlin, and your surroundings do little to contest this. He smells like sour fruit gummies an-- Wait, what's that on his lip?

Some sort of ooze is trailing from his mouth, luminescent neon green, looking like the liquid inside of a green glowstick. Before you can get too good of a look at it, he licks it up. Then he speaks.

"Here ya go, little guy! A li'l snacky-snack for ya!" he says, plopping something cylindrical and heavy into a plastic bag you just now realize you've been holding. The blue man, despite looking like somebody rubbed magnets on a TV screen tuned to a documentary about homelessness, clearly means you no harm, even if his demeanour is a little eccentric, his scent a little unusual. Before you can thank him, the door slams shut with a "Happy Halloween!" and the squeak of the valve. You're alone down here once again. You look into your bag and remove a strange object:

Huh, weird. It seems metallic, and your hand tingles against its lukewarm surface. What kind of candy is this? Wait, is it even Halloween?

You look around yourself, weighing your options. You don't want to disturb the blue man, him having been so kind as to give you this... whatever it is. It's not like there's anything else to do down here.

With no other directions avaliable to walk in, you start up the rusty industrial stairs, your strange gift sitting heavily in the bottom of your bag.

[miasmaghoul]

moutaindew frotting <3

"You smell different."

Dew offers a questioning chirp, lays his head back on Mountain's chest to peer up at him. Water splashes against the sides of the tub, carries the sweet-scented suds over the sides to drip onto the tiled floor below. Mountain noses at his temple, sniffs at his soaked hair.

"How can you tell?" Dew settles back against his chest, stretching sore legs with a groan. "All I smell is oranges 'n dirt." Mountain snuffles against his ear and Dew squawks, slaps at his leg under the water. "Quit it, you weirdo."

Mountain ignores him for the most part, and Dew doesn't have the energy to balk at the attention. They'd spent a large portion of this sweltering summer day in the orchards, picking peaches and citrus by the bushel. Delivering some to the kitchens and the rest to the truck waiting by the greenhouse, all destined for the abbey's farmstand in one form or another. Dew hadn't minded the work, but it left him with jelly legs and a crunchy spine that demanded a nice warm soak.

Thankfully, Mountain hadn't objected to his request for a piggyback ride to get there.

"You need a better nose," the other ghoul rumbles, dragging the tip of his nose from the crown of Dew's head to the base of one horn. "What hair treatment did you use?"

Dew shrugs, letting his eyes slip shut. Resting one hand over the arm Mountain has looped around his waist and the other on a muscular thigh. Mountain's other arm rests on the rim of the bath, fingers swirling through the surface of the water. It's started to go cool, and Dew sighs.

"Dunno."

The little ghoul up his temperature until the tub is steaming again, pouring warmth into the broad body behind him as a bonus. Mountain clearly appreciates it, judging by the way he holds him a little tighter. Task accomplished, Dew waves at the bevy of bottles on the shelves next to the tub.

"Whichever one's in front," he mumbles, tipping his head when the other ghoul moves to sniff at his neck instead. "Didn't care what I got, just needed the gross gone."

Mountain chuffs, warm breath flowing over his wet skin. Dew hums with it, a sound that melts into a gentle exhale when Mountain presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"The blue one?"

"Maybe?" Dew strokes the soft skin of Mountain's thigh, an unconscious motion that mirrors the way Mountain's lips travel down his neck, across his shoulder. "Maybe green. Why, s'it smell bad?"

"Far from it, droplet," Mountain assures him. "Just...interesting. Different, but familiar."

Well that explains a lot.

"Are you tellin' me I stink or - ah!" Dew squeaks in when Mountain nips at his shoulder, fangs he's not expecting pinching his skin. "Hey, what the -"

"You smell good," Mountain whispers, and whatever Dew was about to say fades into nothing when he feels something stir against his lower back. "Really good."

Dew gasps when a rough tongue laves at his shoulder, shivers when it glides up his throat. His own cock twitches despite the ache still threaded through his muscles, and the little ghoul sucks air through his teeth when Mountain sucks his earlobe.

"Shit, Mount," he groans, raking his claws along the taller ghoul's inner thigh. "Thought you were tired."

"I'm fucking exhausted," he confirms, shifting his hold to splay a large hand over Dew's belly. "But you just smell so good..."

Mountain drags him closer, until he's fully flush with his chest and Dew can feel his half-hard cock mold to the small of his back. Mountain buries his nose in his hair while more water splashes to the floor, taking a long, deep inhale.

"So you keep saying," Dew mumbles, but he really can't complain when every breath seems to make Mountain throb against him. He wiggles as best he can, just to make the other ghoul gasp. "This thing seems to agree."

"Can't help it." Mountain's other hand sinks beneath the suds, grips Dew’s skinny thigh. "Dunno why, but -"

"'S fine," Dew sighs, working to make himself sound put out despite the fact that he's gotten all chubby himself. "But since you want it so bad," he lilts, a gentle tease, "don't expect me to do any of the work."

He means it to sound haughty, like a taunt, something for Mountain to bounce off of. To call him lazy, or a princess, or any of a thousand other things that would only add fuel the embers starting to burn in his belly.

"Okay," Mountain breathes instead, and Dew doesn't have time to process it before he's being moved.

Not far, mind, but still. Mountain hooks his hands under each of Dew's thighs and lifts him, the water aiding the motion. He sits the little ghoul higher in his lap, thick shaft dragging between Dew's cheeks and wringing a surprised sound out of him.

"Mount, what -"

"Shh," Mountain soothes, slouching further into the water until his knees break the surface. "Just let me have you."

Well, it's not like Dew would ever say no to that.

He's not sure what to expect with the way Mountain's arranging them, but it becomes clear soon enough; he settles Dew against his chest once more, but further up. Far enough for the little ghoul to rest his head on Mountain's shoulder. He rests Dew's legs between his own, keeps them spread just enough to -

"Oh."

Dew sucks his lower lip between his fangs when he feels something hard and hot insert itself between his thighs, pressed right up against his tight sack, and despite the warmth of the water Dew shivers eyes fluttering shut. He squeezes his legs together and loves the loud thud of Mountain's head hitting the porcelain wall of the tub. He snickers, rests his hands on Mountain's exposed knees.

"Like that, big guy?"

Mountain doesn't answer with anything but a low purr, the vibration lovely against Dew's back. Encouraging him to relax even further, to slip a little deeper. He can't even be bothered to open his eyes when one of those massive hands slides up his thigh, over his hip, fingertips drifting through his sparse happy trail. Mountain finds his stiff little dick, gives it a single stroke, and Dew doesn't bother hiding his soft moan.

Then the other ghoul chages his grip, presses Dew's cock against the firm shaft of his own, and as Mountain takes both of their lengths in one hand Dew feels him nosing at his scalp again.

"Who'd think you'd get so boned up over some soap," Dew mutters, as far from complaining as he could be. Mountain chuckles as he fists their cocks, one long, slow stroke.

"Can't help it," he repeats, and Dew responds with the tiniest roll of his hips. One that makes Mountain choke and hold them even tighter. "Fuck, Dew -"

"Just keep sniffin' me, weirdo," the little ghoul teases, happy to do nothing but lay back and enjoy the way Mountain's veiny shaft feels against his own. "But if you cum first you're suckin' me off."

[sarathrwizard]

7 Day Camp Stay. Breaking camp.

Yay! This is it! Got the art done and everything!

Kind of sad it had to end so soon...

Thank you all for commenting, leaving hearts and just reading it in general!

Hope you enjoy the last day! (Under the cut)

7 Day Camp Stay

Breaking camp:

Donnie woke up bright and early. 5:00 in the morning! ... just kidding he slept till 9:45. But this was it! It was packing day. He got out of bed and gathered his stuff together. Donnie checked his phone and the weather said it'd get pretty windy around 2:00 this afternoon. Best that they got the tents down before then.

Donnie went outside to find breakfast. I mean, his breakfasts have consisted of many things. But three times it had something to do with bread and cheese. Surely he would have something different,  right?

So there he was, eating cheese... and bread... boy there wasn't many choices, was there? He didn't care, he'd be home soon enough where he could eat whatever his heart desired. We all know what that is.

The others were starting to crawl out of their cocoons. There wasn't anything planned for the day. If anything, they planned to get home before supper.

About an hour later, unpacking was in full swing. Chairs were being folded up and sleeping bags were being rolled. Mikey spent his time making lunch so that everyone could have the energy. Donnie walked over to the restrooms one last time.

*Flush* went the toilet as he opened the stall door. We walked over to the sink to wash up. Boy, whoever was in here last left a huge mess around the sink. How can you even spill that much water? Donnie was practically stepping in an inch deep puddle in front of the sink. He pocketed the soap and looked underneath the sink to see one of the pipes leaking.

"That would do it."

Donnie confirming to himself. He would fix it if he had his tools. Donnie stood back up to see a giant garden spider right on the lip of the sink, slowly crawling closer to his hand. In a panic, he ripped his hand away with full force, throwing his body weight from one direction to the other way too quickly. His foot slipped from under him and he landed smack dab on the tiled floor. Right onto his bruised hip.

Donnie quickly got up and slid himself away from the sink. Leaning himself on the wall, he checked his hip. Whatever had healed from the last time he bruised it, just got reset. But this time it felt like it hurt worse. Maybe because tile doesn't give like dirt does. Tears were escaping his eyes once more.

"EVERY! SINGLE! DAY!"

Donnie yelled. The walls yelled back at him. Sobs escaped his throat as tears flowed down his face.

"...Why can't I go through one day without getting hurt?"

Donnies voice cracked. Tears dripping off his chin, adding to the already large puddle on the restroom floor. Just then, the door opened. An orange colored coat sleeve poked through.

"Hey, Donnie! I just came to tell you-"

Mikey cut himself off when he saw the distress on Donnie's face, the way he was slouched against the wall, and how he wrapped his hands around his hip. Mikey quickly came over and crouched down.

"Hey, what's wrong, Donnie? Does your hip hurt again?"

Donnie being babied by his baby brother? This was priceless. Donnie needed to keep it together! Cause if he continued to cry, Mikey would start crying too! He tried, he really tried! But he didn't have the energy to tough it out. More tears started dripping from his eyes. He could feel his little brother getting worried. Mikeys fingers tightened, gripping harder to Donnie's coat sleeve.

"I'll be fine."

Donnie said through a sigh.

"Just, please help me get up, okay?"

Donnie asked as politely as he could. Mikey grabbed onto his arm and helped pull him up. He put some weight onto his leg and, yup! It hurt like the dickens! Whoever they are...

Donnie and Mikey slowly made it back to camp, limping along the way. They turned the corner to see the others finishing their lunch. Donnie looked over at Mikey.

"Don't tell the others about my hip."

Donnie whispered. Mikey creased his brow. But Donnie's eyes had a sense of pleading in them.

"Please."

Mikey gently nodded. Donnie got onto his own two feet and tried not to limp as much as he could. Mikey and Donnie made it to the picnic table and sat down to eat. It looked like it was turkey sandwiches one last time. There was so much running around in Donnie's head, he could barely eat. Every bite felt like it was going to choke him.

Mikey must have seen him struggle. He reached out and gently grabbed Donnie's hand. Donnie gripped back harder every time he swallowed. Mikey had finished his sandwich already. He grabbed a cup and filled it with drinking water, then handed it over for Donnie. If Donnie couldn't swallow the food, then he'd wash it down instead.

Lunch felt like it took twice as long to finish. But he got it done, with some emotional support on the side. Leo and Raph were getting more of the stuff packed away. Donnie lifted himself from the table.

"Let me do the dishes."

Donnie said as he got back onto his feet.

"Are you sure?"

Mikey asked, tilting his head slightly. Donnie nodded and got the stuff ready. He started scrubbing, feeling his hip scream in protest. He tried his best to ignore it. He had to ignore it! He wanted to be useful! To help with packing up anyway he could.

The winds started to pick up. Was it 2-o-clock already? Donnie picked his phone up to check the time. It was only 12:40. The winds came early! Donnie looked up to see the others having a heyday with folding up the tents. As Leo and Raph were trying to fold up the tent, Mikey was just having fun wearing the tent fly as a cape.

The pain in Donnie's hip was only getting worse and worse. He could barely stand anymore. Raph was walking by with the tent all folded up and packed tightly into it's zipper bag. Raph must have gotten the big brother tingles again cause he stopped and looked over at Donnie.

"Hey, you doing okay?"

Raph asked as he placed the tent bag down on the picnic bench.

"Yup! Just peachy! Totally not in excruciating pain right now!"

Donnie said through gritted teeth. Raph looked down to see the bruise on Donnie's hip had spread down his leg and looked much darker than it did yesterday. Raph grabbed Donnie under the arms and lifted him up. Donnie wiggled his legs and flapped his hands.

"Hey- no! I'm almost done with the dishes anyway! Just let me finish them!"

Donnie argued, though it wasn't very convincing. Mikey quickly took over doing the dishes. Leo grabbed the tent bag and brought it to the Taxi rockets trunk. Raph carried Donnie over to the car and sat him down in the back seats.

"When did your bruise get that bad?"

Raph asked, his brow creasing. Donnie looked at Raph. Dang, he just wanted to cry again. He hated it when Raph acted like their Dad. But telling Raph what happened was probably a better idea then keeping it bottled up.

"Earlier this morning. Slipped in the bathroom."

"Why didn't ya say anything? I could have handled the dishes!"

"I wanted to be useful! I wanted to help with packing! Not sit on the sidelines because my hip hurt again..."

Donnie hugged his stomach. These emotions were just churning inside of him today! Practically building a home in there! He rubbed his hands together. He felt a hand lay on his shoulder.

"I get it. But there's no harm in asking for help when you need it. That's what I'm here for!"

Donnie looked up at Raph and wiped away a few stray tears with his sleeves. Raph gave him a few pats on the shoulder.

"You can hang tight, we're about done with the packing anyway."

Raph got up to finish breaking camp. Donnie got into his seat properly and leaned his head back. He got some of the dishes done. At least he help with something.

...

The four of them were in the car and had just started on their journey back. Raph was driving, Mikey got the front seat cause he called dibs, so Leo was stuck in the back with Donnie. Donnie was reading on his phone while gently laying his hand onto his bruised hip.

Drip! Drip! Drip! Water sprinkled onto the windshield. Rain? But there was no rain predicted for today? The trickle got heavier and heavier. All conversations stopped. The cabin went silent as all eyes were glued onto the road. The rain was so heavy you could barely see 3 feet in front of you, and it was still daylight!

Donnies stomach clenched as he nervously clung onto the back of the front seat. Raph seamed like he was going to power through it! The Car suddenly swerved. Donnie's heart dropped into his stomach. Oh, the adrenaline was kicking in now!

"What did you do that for!?"

Leo asked as he leaned forward.

"There was a big tree branch on the road. I didn't want to hit it."

Raph said as he kept his attention on the road ahead. Donnie groaned nervously. Leo looked over to see Donnie gripping onto the front seat with his head leaning against it. Donnies cheeks were pinker than usual. that wasn't a good sign.

"Raph, pull over and turn on the hazards."

"Don't worry! Raph's got this!"

"Raph! Please...!"

Raph gripped the steering wheel. He did as told and slowed down to pull over, Flipping on the hazards. Leo unbuckled himself to get closer to Donnie. He wrapped his arms around Donnie and let him lean his head onto his shoulder. Donnie knew it was a mistake to read in a moving vehicle. It always make his stomach turn. But that sudden jolt only made it worse.

The wind knocked against the car, making it slightly sway. Donnie could hear Mikey start to whimper. But Raph was already on top of it. Raph adjusted the seat back to make room for Mikey. Mikey unbuckled and hopped into Raphs lap.

The rain consisted of a shower head on full blast and literal buckets being dumped. Donnie's heart felt like it could start a moter. Fear was creeping around him again. Donnie folded his hands together and closed his eyes. He began to pray. He prayed for so many things. He prayed they would get back home safe. That no one would get hurt. That the roads wouldn't be flooded. He prayed that the pain in his hip would go away. That his stomach would settle down. He just kept on praying.

After a few minutes, the rain began to slow down and the wind calmed slightly. Donnie opened his eyes when he heared the engine starting. He looked around to see the rain was much more gentle now. His stomach felt better too. Leo buckled himself into the middle seat to stay near Donnie. Mikey had crawled back onto his seat and got secured.

They got back onto the road and continued on their way. Donnie sighed and released his hands from his death grip. Boy, his palms were sweaty! Donnie couldn't wait to get home and have some pizza. Donnie's sure the others wouldn't deny him of it. He laid his head a little further on Leo's shoulder and got more comfortable for the journey home.

The end.

_____________

Oh my goodness, that camping trip was relaxing and exhausting all at the same time!

I hope you enjoyed reading, 7 Day Camp Stay!

Lord bless all of you! And thank you again for you comments and likes!

*little happy dance!*

Last

[lokisgoodgirl]

Absolutely Dripping [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A very wet towel-clad god interrupts your prank. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Extreme Loki Thirst. Language. Based on my Hot Gif Drabble: The Towel (w/c 2.9k)

You bit your lip, nerves of excitement flushing through your blood as you rounded the corner toward the men’s locker room. Revenge sat snug in the pocket of your jeans; the small bag of powder nestled against your hip. The plan was perfect. That smug bastard wasn’t going to know what hit him. You’d been planning this all week, waiting until he predictably spent Saturday morning in the Tower gym with Wilson. This’ll teach him to mess with me, you thought; grimacing at the memory of your most unflattering underwear decorating the Avengers common room like goddam bunting.

You looked around, registering the patter of a shower in use down the hall. I’ll be in and out, you thought; frantically scanning the benches. A few kit bags lay dotted around. You squinted, reading the names embroidered into their fabric; Wilson, Barton...Barnes. You smirked, tiptoeing like a cartoonish villain across the tiles, incandescent with silent glee. You unzipped Bucky’s kit bag, rummaging for the prize you sought. Why does he need so much shit for the gym, he lives upstairs; you thought, while one hand fumbled inside the pocket at your hip. Your eyes widened with excitement as they fell on the item in question. His trousers. “Reduced to indulging yourself with the stolen scent of Barnes’ raggedy sweatpants, Agent?” You froze, eyes flickering back and forth against the lockers as you stood hunched with the offending article in your hands. “You really must work on your clandestine techniques, darling. I could hear your elephantine footsteps from the shower-room.”

You spun around, clutching the black sweatpants to your chest. “Loki. Hi.”

Laufeyson leant against the open doorway, a fist holding a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. Clearly, he had been in a hurry. A dark trail of fine hair bordered the towel's edge over his Adonis belt, skin still glistening with fresh droplets of water. You swallowed.

He was soaking. Absolutely dripping, in fact. The dents in his chiselled torso glimmered with a mirrored sheen, flicking his sodden hair back from his face. Water ran down his biceps, catching in the crook of his elbow before pattering to the floor. He crossed his ankles, the jaunty confidence of his stance making it difficult to retain even a nugget of dignity. You felt your cheeks begin to burn under his amused stare.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.” you chuckled awkwardly. Loki shrugged, inspecting his fingernails. “Not really. There is a degree of inevitability within this scenario that cannot be denied.” You frowned, glancing back at the benches. “Do you...do you need your kit bag? Sorry, I’ll get out the way-”

“I do not require a kit bag.” he snapped haughtily, pacing forward across the tiles. He ran his hands through his sodden black hair, dripping tendrils pasted against his long neck. Fuck, he looked good naked. Well, almost naked. Fuck me, you thought; feeling heat rising in your cheeks. He's even hotter without the leather. He's fucking hotter. If you’d known there was even the possibility he’d be here to catch you, you’d have worn something a bit less...tragic. “You also ‘do not require’ a towel.” you sniffed, trying to sound clever and immediately regretting it. An amused smirk flickered at the god’s lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “Is that so, Agent? Perhaps I should divest myself of it, then.” he purred, careful footsteps edging closer as you shuffled, knees hitting the back of the bench. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t mean now, I meant... because you can dry yourself...you’re always saying you can just dry yourself...oh-never mind.” you spluttered, throwing the sweatpants back on top of Bucky’s bag.

The small plastic square filled with powder fell to the tiles, landing perfectly beside Loki’s left foot. The two of you stared at it, eyes rising in tandem. Loki was brimming with mischief, his wide pupils glimmering with interest in the unexpected drama in which he had become immersed.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” he said, tilting his head as you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “It’s uh...itching powder.” you muttered, pulling at the sleeve of your baggy sweatshirt. Loki couldn’t be standing more than a foot away. You could feel the heat from his shower-fresh skin wafting across the space between you. Clean, fresh musk hung in the air; like warm pine and wet leaves and sandalwood and bergamot. The scent of him. You'd always assumed it was cologne. Christ, you thought; feeling your chest tighten under a roll of feral desire. Keep it together. Trickles ran from his hair to his glistening collarbone, gathering in the hollow. Some made paths over waves of abdominal muscle, soaking into the rich cotton hanging dangerously on his hips. You swallowed, unable to draw your eyes away. "I was under the impression that on Midgard it is considered rude to stare." Loki hummed, rolling his shoulders back and readjusting the fingers toying with the tuck of the towel. "Is that not so?" Your eyes snapped upward, lips opening and closing as you searched your empty brain for a sentence that wouldn’t make you sound like a pervert.

"Mmmm..." he murmured thoughtfully, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he marinated in the awkward silence. "So, are you going to get that?" The side of his foot nudged at the baggie lying abandoned on the tiles below. Even his toes are sexy, you thought with an internal whine; noticing your breaths quickening as you lowered on your haunches reaching for the bag. You wobbled, hands flying to the nearest surface to steady yourself. His thighs. Oh god, no. You grimaced, feeling Loki rock into your pathetic grip above his knees. “Sorry.” you mumbled, looking up. His pointed chin was cast down to his chest, the symmetry of his face heartbreakingly perfect. You let out a light whimper.

How many times you’d fantasised about kneeling in front of him just like this, worshipping him with aching slowness. You would trap every growl of pleasure from his throat in your memory as you sucked him dry. Relishing every desperate rut of his hips further into your mouth, fingertips sinking into his bare, godly ass. You could feel wetness sliding in your panties as you bounced weakly on your calves, trying to gain purchase to come back up. They were jelly. His long thighs bulged against your hands through the towel. Imagine how he can fuck with legs like these, you thought; feeling another tide of arousal seep from your pussy. The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, making his cheekbones sharpen in the bright overhead lights as he observed you through half-lidded eyes. The angle of his jaw highlighted his flawless bone structure as he leant forward, the sharp edges making you dizzy. His patient stare filled your head with absolute filth as you hovered with your mouth level to his crotch, rendered mute. Drops of water from his dripping locks spattered your upturned face. A solitary drip rolled down the side of your nose, catching on the edge of your upper lip. Without thinking, your tongue flicked out, drawing it in. “Are you alright, Agent?” Loki murmured with faux concern, enunciating every word as his keen eyes searched your face. Your thighs began to quiver as you balanced weakly on the balls of your feet. Loki pursed his lips, his voice as richly seductive as it was in the darkness when your fingers crept between your spread legs, alone in your bed. “Do you require some...assistance?” he purred knowingly, the slant of his eyebrows making you feel faint.

“Yes.” you said quickly, the solitary word catching in your throat. Loki smirked, his open palm appearing by your shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, darling.” He raised you slowly as pangs of discomfort shot up your legs. How long had you been down there? It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds, surely, you thought; as his warm breath skated over your lips. You realised you didn’t want to know.

“Since you are so brazenly flirting with failure in this prank of yours, perhaps it’s time to enlist the professional?” he hummed, his thumb wiping trails of moisture from your temple before resting on your cheekbone. Loki’s gaze hovered on your lips, his wide fingertip rubbing the angle of your jaw twice, before releasing you. You nodded, dazed. What the hell is wrong with me, you thought, holding up the baggie of itching powder beneath his sceptical gaze. He pinched it from your grasp, observing it with mild interest. “Well for one thing, Agent...it’s white. Even a simpleton like Barnes will notice a dusting of suspicious powder adorning his black sweatpants, wouldn’t you agree?” Your face fell, realising he was right. “But never fear, darling. Your saviour is here.” Loki winked, shaking the bag as you watched the white powder turn dark. A sly smile spread across your face, mirroring the devilish glint in Loki’s eye. He nodded, an unspoken understanding as you took the bag and opened it carefully. You spread the waist of Bucky’s sweatpants holding the legs in a tight fist and sprinkling the powder liberally in the crotch. “Give them a shake.” Loki whispered gleefully, lips stretching in a broad smile as he relished the mischief afoot. You shook the trousers, scraping the sides together to mesh the powder deeper into the thick fabric. “Good girl.” Loki murmured, folding his arms approvingly. The sound of raised voices echoed in the corridor. “Shit” you gasped, dropping the sweatpants on the floor. Loki’s hands clasped your shoulders, his broad chest inches from your face as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. His features were set in determination, fair skin and emerald eyes accentuated by wet, slicked back hair. God, he was so fucking hot. “If you are to evade discovery, drastic action is required.” he grumbled, ushering you to the side as he snapped his fingers. The sweatpants flew neatly folded into the kit bag, contents re-arranging of their own accord.

“Drastic ac-action?” you stammered, wondering what the hell was happening as your shoulders bumped against the tiled wall in the corner of the room.

Loki had manoeuvred you to a tight L shape space, a row of lockers to the side blocking your view of the door. Panic rose in your stomach, “They’ll see me, Loki, when they come across for the bags...” you hissed, craning around the corner before he pushed you back against the wall. “I think you’ve had enough opportunity to prove your skills in the art of mischief, pet.” he whispered, his forearm pressed against the wall above you, “And sadly lacking, I’m afraid.” The mockery was palpable. You grimaced, making Loki chuckle. Fat strands of sodden hair brushed your cheeks as he towered over you, encased by his semi-naked form against the cold wall. You felt yourself clench, the mess in your panties becoming untenable as he lowered covertly to your ear, lips grazing the skin. You let out a light gasp, a shudder making your knees buckle. “Just stay quiet.” he murmured, as the voices drew closer. “I have a plan.” Your eyes hovered on his twitching pectorals, an impossibly firm bicep flexing as he fiddled with the side of the towel. Moisture glistened against the veins protruding against tight skin, endless drips still caressing down the side of his stomach through deep grooves of muscle. Loki turned, the expanse of his triangular back close enough to bite. Fuck, you thought; as he raised one arm to rest on the side of the lockers, his thick trunk concealing you. You devoured the sight of his shoulder-blades adjusting, the rear of his arms even more toned than the front. Not a fingernail scratch in sight, you thought with interest, before your eyes flew wide; lips pressed tight to conceal a gasp.

He had dropped the towel. You stifled a whimper, unbidden delirious laughter building in your belly as you heard the owners of the voices fumble with the door. “Jesus Christ, Laufeyson...what the hell, man?” Wilson yelled, coupled with a low yowl of surprise from Bucky beside him. "Is it not enough you’re swingin’ that thing around in those tight leather pants 24/7? Fuck, man...puh-lease.” You bit your lip hard, the sharp pain settling rising giggles as you flattened against the tiles. Loki turned to the side, extending his arm to its full length against the wall of lockers. Wilson’s shoes were all you could see of him, the toes shuffling back and forth as he clearly tried to avert his eyes. “Apologies, gentleman. I wasn’t expecting company.” Loki purred, his ass clenching. You sucked your lips between your teeth, a silent girlish scream ringing in your brain as blood thundered in your ears. His rear was an absolute monument to marbled masculinity; it was all you could do not to sink to your knees. Imagine what he looks like from the front, you thought; cupping your mouth with your hands. A silent scream puffing out your cheeks. “Expecting?! Can you believe this guy? Dude, havin’ your dick out is cool, fine...but don’t stand there like one of your brother’s fangirls in the lobby with their ya-ya’s out, c’mon man; this is a public locker room not an Amsterdam shop-window.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about Wilson. This is perfectly normal on Asgard. A little post-workout self-care, if you know what I mean." he said knowingly, a sly twinge in his voice. "Which you just interrupted, actually.”

This was met by a humph of disapproval from the men, low tsks peppering the air as Loki re-adjusted his stance, spreading his legs wider. Wilson’s hand appeared beyond the lockers, a finger waggling toward the belligerent god. “Laufeyson. Do not stand there with your schlong in my face and tell me you were about to masturbate in the same room as my stuff. Please. Tell me that is not what I’m hearing right now.”

Loki chuckled, running a hand through his hair as you slid further down the wall; squeezed as far into the corner as you could get. From this angle, you could see the profile of his cock bobbing adjacent to one muscular thigh, semi-hard. A violent shiver rolled down your spine, brow furrowing with utter, disgraceful need. Bucky piped up. “Go wack it in the showers like a normal dude. Haven’t you just been in there?” From the direction of his voice, you guessed he was facing the door. “Whatever gave you the impression I was one of these...‘normal dudes’ of which you speak, Barnes?” the god hummed, leaning seductively against the lockers. The shoulder closest to your face tightened, his hand shifting across his hips, brushing his growing manhood. “You got that right.” Wilson spat, the squeak of trainers on the tile signalling the stand-off was over. “You got five minutes. And don’t go near my bag. I’ll know, ass-hole.” The door slammed shut, raised voices sounding from the hallway growing fainter as silence reigned in the locker room once more. Loki’s back rose and fell, the scent of his skin hanging in your nostrils like incense. How easy it would be, you thought, just to lean forward and bite him. Right there between his shoulder-blades. Loki cleared his throat. “I’m going to bend down now, Agent” he murmured, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder at your contorted body pressed feverishly against the wall. You nodded; eyes glazed. This is a dream, you thought; watching Loki’s long, lean body squat and gracefully scoop his discarded towel from the floor. This isn’t happening. Not really.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, darling. I’m sure you’d agree.” he purred, rising and spinning on his heels, the loose towel clutched to his groin. You traced the twin valleys of definition with wandering eyes, on the thin wires of pubic hair creeping beyond the cotton’s reach. The long drape of towel swayed gently between his spread legs; the fist he was using to hold it aloft probably unnecessary.

You took a sharp breath, words forming on your tongue that choked behind your teeth. Loki stepped forward; the fine trail of darkness ghosting his lower stomach becoming a shadow.

The scent of his clean musk was overwhelming, the soaking mess in your underwear sliding against your clit as you squirmed. His bare chest pressed lightly against your sweatshirt, trapping you in the corner under his smouldering stare. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, eyes wide in faux-innocence. “You were desperate... weren’t you, Agent?” “Yes. Thank you, Loki…” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. He hummed approvingly, stepping back to let you pass. “Forget you saw anything with the powder” you said hastily, “and I’ll um, do the same. I never saw...anything.” You waved your hands in front of your eyes for effect, casting them downward as you made your way quickly to the door. Loki’s velvet chuckle sent shivers down your spine as your fingers gripped the doorknob, his palm sliding around your waist from behind; the other flat against the door; holding it shut. He wasn’t holding the towel. Loki pulled you back against his chest, a wall of stomach muscle straightening your spine. You could feel his cock hardening furiously against your ass, rubbing upward as he thrust gently against the soft flesh. His wetted lips grazed the edge of your jaw, making your head tilt to the side. You exposed your neck with a soft moan as more droplets from his hair rolled against your skin. “Don’t you dare forget, Agent.” he purred darkly, messy kisses melting into your heated skin. “We both know that I was not the only one absolutely dripping in this locker room today.”

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[hedwig221b]

[narrator's voice] Derek is not human, despite what Stiles thinks. Derek also knows something that Stiles doesn't - that Stiles is pregnant

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Cold blood slithered down his forearms to his elbows and dripped on the floor. His hands were slick with it, oily with all the fat that saturated the flesh.

His sharpened teeth dug into the meat and tore chunks of it out. He swallowed it almost without chewing, so hungry he was. The sounds felt too loud in the silence of the night, the whirring of the fridge the only accompaniment to his long-awaited feast.

It didn’t matter that he was used to the hot flesh. No, this was good, too, even with the faint notes of grass throughout—

“Stiles?”

Stiles froze.

Suddenly, he saw everything — the opened fridge, the dim light from inside; he felt the cold kitchen tiles under his bare feet, the chill that stuck to his skin. Something cold and soft and slick in his hands.

Stiles let it go.

The half-eaten steak smacked onto the floor right between his feet.

No. No, no, no.

Stiles didn’t want to turn, deathly afraid of what might happen after. He just stood there, staring at the meat, waiting for Derek to shout, to yell, to call him insane and kick him out—

Strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and turned his body away from the fridge. Familiar hands cupped his undoubtedly pale and bloody face and turned up.

Derek’s wide eyes were full to the brim with concern.

He will leave, he will leave, he will leave.

“Baby, listen to me, it’s okay.”

Stiles opened his mouth to talk, but the taste chose this exact moment to remind him about what he had just done. Everything tasted like meat, like blood.

Whatever expression he had on his face made Derek frown even harder. The man shook him a little.

“Focus on me, Stiles. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m here. It was probably a dream, that’s all.”

That was no dream.

Stiles didn’t remember waking up or walking to the kitchen. If Derek didn’t snap him out of it, he could’ve… could’ve…

“Come here, sweetheart.” Gently, oh so gently, Derek took his wrists and led him to the sink. He washed Stiles’ hands himself, holding them as if they were more fragile and thinner than crystal.

Stiles watched his hands move and barely had any feeling in his own. He was only vaguely aware of the wall of heat that was Derek’s body in front of him, of his muscles flexing under his movements, of the edge of his clenched jaw.

What had he done?

“That’s it,” said Derek, turning off the water. He dried his hands, then led him to the bar stool, helping him up. “Come on, arms up.”

Stiles lifted his arms as if in a trance. He didn’t understand why Derek asked him that at first, but then felt the cold seep into his skin as the man took off his shirt.

Oh. Right. It was probably covered in blood, too.

Derek’s shadow disappeared then returned a couple of seconds later. Something warm and wet touched his face — his own t-shirt, Stiles realized. Derek was cleaning his face. From chunks of meat, fat, and blood.

Stiles lifted his eyes.

Derek met his gaze for a fraction of a second, then returned to cleaning.

“Derek.”

“Shh.”

Stiles shut up. His eyes stung, and his whole body was breaking out in shivers.

Derek noticed, of course, always weirdly attuned to Stiles’ body. Putting the t-shirt aside, he hopped over into the living room and came back with a blanket in his hands, which he then promptly put around Stiles.

God, he probably thought Stiles was such a fucking freak. Derek was probably in shock himself.

“On a scale of one to ten,” said Stiles in a shaking voice, “how much do you want me to leave and never come back?”

He was probably going to be told to pack his things in three, two—

Stiles didn’t expect Derek to step between his spread legs and sweep him into a tight hug.

Fuck, he didn’t need to add tears to the horror scene, not now.

“Never joke about it,” said Derek into his ear, grabbing his waist harder. “Never.”

“But—”

“I swear to god, if I have to lock you inside, I would.”

Stiles wanted to curl into himself from the heaviness of his voice. He dug his fingers into Derek’s shoulders and sagged against him with his chin against the man’s shoulder.

“So we’re going to, like, pretend nothing happened? Is that what you mean?” he asked.

“No. No, of course, not. Look at yourself, you’re trembling like a leaf.” Derek rubbed his back as if it would help. As if anything would help. “I told you, it’s okay. You’ve just had a very intense dream and sleepwalked.”

Oh, Derek. Stiles was honestly flattered and a little bit horrified by the lengths Derek was willing to go to delude himself into thinking Stiles was normal.

Fuck, Derek was such a naive human. Stiles couldn’t let him think that. It was simply dangerous.

“Derek, sleepwalking or not, you cannot tell me it wasn’t freaky.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“And it’s my fault anyway.”

“How the fuck was that—”

“How are you feeling?” Not listening to a word he said, Derek put his palm against Stiles’ stomach, rubbing the skin with his thumb. “Nausea? Pain?”

“N-no?”

“Do you still want to eat?”

Now Stiles really looked at him. What was he supposed to say? Wasn’t that kind of a strange question? Stiles was, like, fifty percent sure that when humans got food poisoning they were put on a diet of chicken broth and crackers. Did Derek think he had just got poisoned?

What was he supposed to say?

“Uhh,” Stiles blinked at him. Well, maybe if he went for the truth… Derek was human after all, he had to know what to do. “Kind of?”

“Okay, that is fine.” Derek nodded at him as if talking to an idiot. “Sit here, baby, okay? Just relax. I’m going to cook something for you.”

After pressing a light apologetic kiss on Stiles’ forehead, Derek left him sitting alone. Stiles watched in confusion (mixed with something shaking, warm, and aching) as he marched to the fridge, took something out, then plopped the pan right on the stove.

He always loved watching Derek cook. He did it with a strange grace, his movements quick but precise. The muscles on his back and shoulders played delicately in the low warm light; his grey pants rode low on his hips. Derek was cooking for him.

For him.

Stiles crossed his arms on the table and laid his forehead on his hands.

Breathing, listening. Trying not to fall apart completely.

He didn’t deserve this man. Never did and never will.

Something hissed and sizzled. Fat or oil bubbled on the hot surface, sputtering droplets everywhere. Soon, the kitchen filled with a delicious smell of…

Grilled meat?

Stiles looked up.

Derek stood by the stove, leaning with one hand on the counter, and holding the steak with tongs in another. He remained silent as he cooked, turning the meat and pressing it on all sides. Shoved it in the oven, then stared with a blank faraway gaze at the stove as it cooked. Took it out after a few minutes, back into the pan, basting it with butter, garlic, and some herbs.

Not a single word, until…

“Here.”

…a plate with a perfectly grilled juicy rare steak was put in front of him.

Stiles stared at the bronzed buttered surface of the meat, then swallowed the spit that instantly filled his mouth.

He licked his lips, cleared his throat, then turned a hesitant gaze up at Derek, who was watching him like a hawk.

“I can eat it?”

Derek’s eyes drilled into his.

“I cooked it for you.”

Stiles wiggled in his seat. “Yeah, no, I meant…” he had to keep his act as a human so Derek would have to bear stupid questions. “Can I eat it so soon after?..”

Derek was… yep, still staring. “Kitten,” he started with a strange smile on his lips that didn’t match his wild gaze, “you bet your pretty ass you can eat anything I put in front of you. I’ll always give you the best. That steak you ate? “Premium” doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m also quite sure that your stomach can handle it. You’re human, yes, but you’re still a predator.”

Stiles’ whole body went still as a statue.

Does he kn—

No. No, stupid, how would he fucking know? If Derek knew what kind of predator Stiles really was, he would run away instead of trying to soothe him with a treat.

“I know what you need, Stiles,” Derek added, a touch softer than before. “Eat.”

Derek had no idea what Stiles needed. However, this time, he guessed right.

Stiles licked his lips discreetly, pushed the plate towards himself, and began eating.

He ate the whole thing under Derek’s heavy stare. When Stiles offered him the bite, he only stretched his lips in this secretive smile of his, this time full of… pride? Satisfaction? Pleasure? Whatever it was, Derek refused.

If only Stiles allowed himself to dream, it would be of this. Of Derek accepting him for who he was. A predator.

Yet, usually, the human-eating predators didn’t have the same respect as others. And no matter how much it was romanticized, Stiles did not want to die from his lover’s hand.