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absdoll · 4 months

Note

drug dealer! ellie!! reader’s brother is a usual customer of hers but he’s busy or whatever so he asks reader to go pick it up 😈🤭

cw: car sex ♡ , kinda player!ellie , mentions of weed & smoking it , strap sucking (e!rev) , strap sitting (r!rec) <3 that’s it !

also songs are linked throughout this , just to add to the dealer!ellie hot car sex ambiance hehe ♡

“dude, can you stop being such a fucking baby and just go?!” your brother hisses at you, frantically packing for his soccer match. “if i get home from this game and i don’t have anything to smoke, i’m beating your ass.” he rolls his eyes as he walks out of the door, “i’ll text you her address and let her know you’re coming, don’t fuck this up.”

ellie. ellie williams. ellie auburnettetattedsofuckinghot williams. the scrawny masc you’ve had a crush on since junior year of high school. you’ve maybe said 5 words to each other, in passing when she glares at you with her hazel eyes, making you squeeze your thighs together. “sup?” she’ll nonchalantly throw at you, not knowing you go home and ride your fingers to the sound of her voice.

your phone buzzes as you’re about to get in your car, an unknown number.

8:29pm “yooo, u on the way? i got somewhere to be”

“ohmyfuckinggod” you mutter under your breath. you manically type a response, not even thinking before pressing send.

8:31pm “yeah! be there soon sorry!”

8:34pm “all good cutie”

the butterflies in your stomach are swarming. as if you weren’t already nervous to face your going on 4 year crush, she just … flirted..? with you? it’ll be a miracle if you even survive the drive over there.

you pull up to an apartment complex, the 3rd floor balcony lit up with purple LED lights. your phone buzzes again.

8:59pm “this u?”

you look back up to the balcony, now seeing a lanky figure in a black tank top, grey sweatpants, batman socks, and a black beanie leaning over the railing. she nods her head up at you, and you can just hear her silky smooth voice saying “sup?”, but this time you can’t relieve the pressure between your legs.

9:00pm “do i come up there or??”

it’s been 5 minutes since you sent that text.

before you know it, there’s a subtle knock on ur passenger window. it’s dark outside, no streetlights in the parking lot, but you knew it was ellie. you unlock the door, and she dips her head in, slouching down into the seat next to you.

ellie smirks, eyeing you up and down, noticing the way your thighs erupt in goosebumps at her stare. you’re wearing black denim shorts and a black tube top, ellie’s eyes immediately falling to your collarbones.

“it’s $35” she says in a low tone, handing you a sealed ziploc bag.

your fingertips touch her hand as you grab it from her, causing you to choke on your words, “c-cool, thanks” you smile at her, feeling like your nerves are gonna make you pass out at any second.

ellie’s so calm and collected, watching you nervously fumble with your wallet trying to retrieve the cash your brother gave you. and god, she smells so good. her scent is intoxicating. vanilla mixed with musk and sugar and leather.

all of a sudden you feel her hand fall on your thigh. “nervous or something?” she teases. she grabs at the jelly flesh with one hand and pulls a joint out of her pocket with her right hand. you audibly let a big sigh fall from your mouth when her hand leaves to light her joint. ellie passes the burning paper to you, and you don’t smoke so you’re just holding it, contemplating to make yourself look cool by taking a puff. she’s adjusting her sweatpants — and that’s when you notice it. the thick bulge outlined in her pants, her eyes fluttering up to yours.

“wanna sit on it?” she chuckles, grabbing the joint from your hand. you can’t tell if she’s serious or not, so you just giggle back.

“open up.” ellie takes a long drag, yellowish smoke filling her mouth.

you’re confused, but in an effort to not embarrass yourself, you open your mouth. ellie’s face now inches away from yours, her eyes staring deep into your nervous gaze. she blows the thick smoke into your mouth, “inhale.” she whispers.

within a minute, your nerves have subsided and you feel lighter. ellie watches as you shift in your seat, putting your hands under your thighs. “are you cold? i’m cold. do you care if i turn the a/c off?” you ramble at ellie. she smirks, “first time smoking?”

you roll your eyes at her, the car quieter now without the buzz of the air conditioning. “you ever heard of a hotbox?” ellie says, shifting her body towards you. you shake your head ‘no’ and ellie just giggles. “c’mere” she motions for you to sit on her lap.

“w-what? why?” you spit out, embarrassed immediately.

“your eyes haven’t left my crotch since you noticed my cock that’s tucked in my pants. if you want it, jus’ c’mere.” she hits the joint again, blowing smoke towards your face.

she adjusts her seat, making room by her feet for you sit on the floor. you’re on your knees, looking up at her with reddened eyes.

“go ‘head, take it out” she lowly mutters to you, not even looking at you, she’s preoccupied by trying to connect her bluetooth to your car speaker.

your shaky hands move to the band of her sweatpants, sliding them down just enough for her purple, curved, silicone strap to plop out onto her lap.

her eyes dart to yours, grinning at the look of amazement on your face.

ellie uses one hand to wrap around the back of your neck, guiding your head closer to her crotch, the other hand twisting the volume nozzle up, speakers blaring. “open your mouth angel” she breathes out. as your lips part, she swipes her thumb across your bottom pout, slipping the tip of her cock towards the back of your throat. her hand moves up to grab a fistful of your hair, “gooooood, good job baby” she praises.

as ellie bobs your head up and down, you start moaning around her girth. “mmm you like this baby? like my cock deep in your throat? dirty girl.” you nod up at her, causing her to throw her head back.

ellie’s one hand atop your head, other hand typing on her dimly lit phone screen. “gotta make this quick, told you i had somewhere to be.” she throws her phone into the backseat, moving both hands to the back of your neck. her thrusts are quick and steady, grunts falling from her chapped lips.

“mm fuck, you’re drooling b-baby” she half chuckles and half stutters, the base of her strap striking her clit. “uuuuuhhh fuuuuuck” she breathes out.

“f-fuck, get on top.” ellie grabs you by your hair, hands moving to your hips, setting you down slowly on her long, wet member.

“o-ooh s-shit-uuhhhh” you moan out, the feeling of her thickness sliding deep inside you. her hands still groping your ass, slamming you up and down on her length. “bounce on it baby.” she grunts out as she pulls your tube top down, revealing your fatty tits.

ellie moves her hands to behind her head. watching as your boobs slap against your chest. your moans barely audible as the rap song fills the car, “lemme hear you, l-louder” she’s doing little to no work, her hips every once and awhile bucking up into you, which causes you to yelp and ellie lets out a chuckle.

“mm-ahh ellieeeeuuhhggh” “f-feels s’fucking gooduuuhhh” you’re practically screaming at this point, ellie’s eyes filled with darkness and lust, just watching as you fuck yourself on her cock.

your legs start to shake, inner thighs sore from relentlessly pounding your pussy on ellie’s strap. “need help baby?” ellie wraps her arms around your waist, lifting her hips up. she stops her movements, grinning as you whine from sudden lack of friction.

ellie stuffs her cock deep inside you, watching her girth move in and out of you, agonizingly slow. “m-more ellie p-please” you’re whining and she takes it as her cue to vigorously thrust up into you.

“ommm-mm-g-go-god-dduuuhhh” with every slam of ellie’s hips, your moans get louder.

you start cumming all over ellie’s cock, her dark red bush covered in your slick.

your high is dizzying, you open your eyes in a tired, fucked out state to see ellie, again, typing a text on her phone.

she pats your ass, “that was hot baby, but i gotta go.” as you slide yourself off her lap, falling into your seat and pulling your shorts back up, ellie goes to open the car door. “tell your brother you’ll pick up for him more often.” she tuts with a grin.

you feel your whole face start to burn as she slams the door and walks away.

did that just happen?

a/n : hi hi ♡ i’m well aware this isn’t the best , i’ve mentioned i’m struggling to write lately & it shows ! i’m proud of the concept & whatnot , just bad writing gdjdhjsjs . anyways i need to bounce on ellie’s strap rn u don’t understand .

🌙 @whore4abby @enbesbians @hersweetheart 🌙

#🧸 bee writes ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ ✉️ : reqs #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x you

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katsukiizmoon · 7 months

Text

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒 ┊IN THE CAR WASH | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

『♡』 18+, F!reader, handjob, blowjob, mild overstimulation, cum eating, established relationship, you put a finger in his ass 『♡』 aaah this was supposed to be a drabble in tumblr mobile but ended up being a little under 2k. Happy kinktober lmao. -> I was listening to this

The car vibrates, music playing low in the background. Your hand under his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You hum and chew your bottom lip. Cool air blasts through the AC and onto you, he makes a turn and slows down to stop for a red light.

You hit skip on a song and Katsuki frowns a little, turning his head to the side and sticking his tongue out at you. Studs in his ears glisten and his skin glows with the presence of the sunlight.The cycle has a while to go with another two sides set to turn green before yours. A thick hand squeezes your palm as the large man to your left taps his foot to the beat. His lips move slightly as he mimics the words near silently, merely hushed.

Taking in the image in front of you, you sigh. The black compression shirt highlights every muscle he has. Perked nipples press against the fabric as if they’re begging to be put on display. Your eyes trail down his body for a moment, tongue flicking out to wet pretty lips. Something thick like honey starts to settle in your veins and slowly it begins to cloud your thoughts.

You bring his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and setting it down near the gear shift. He doesn’t pay any mind to it, too preoccupied with watching traffic and listening to music. Nimble fingers slowly reach toward his thigh to slide over the fabric there.

Katsuki’s tapping stops. His mind halts momentarily, carmine eyes glancing down, before he taps to the rhythm again. A horn blares in the distance and the AC is no match for the way his body is beginning to heat. The faint smell of caramel seeps into your senses and sets you on fire. It makes you bold, whispers little things to you.

But Katsuki? His mind races and goes over every possibility on the planet of what you have planned. It settles on something innocent. You’re just wanting to rest your hand there, he thinks.

He is wrong.

Your fingers trail little circles over dark fabric in repetition, while moving closer to his inner thigh. The music changes and you feel the need to wet your lips again. Katsuki begins to get cotton mouth but he swallows spit down to soothe it.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right.

Katsuki thanks his lucky stars that the light turns green with a fuzzy mind. The bottom of his shoe presses on the pedal and the car begins to speed up. He tries not to think too much about your movements. But he his only a man, who’s slowly being put into a trance.

Lord save me, my drug is my baby. I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

He swallows again and presses a button on the steering wheel, murmuring lowly to the slowed down song. The blonde beside you seems to be unaffected in your eyes. That just won’t do. He feels your fingers move upwards toward his clothed cock that’s beginning to chub in his pants and lets out a deep sigh. It goes on like that for a while, you brush your palm over him a couple times and feign innocence. And he just keeps driving, seeming unaffected despite your best efforts.

You glance over at him, his jaw is set and eyes narrow. Tension makes the air thick like the hardening length beneath his belt. You look back at the road, then lean to the side and begin unbuckling his belt. That makes him freeze. His body feels like it’s on fire.

God knows he’s at your mercy. Forced to drive while you’re toying with him, playing him like a fucking fiddle. He doesn’t even remember where he’s supposed to be going anymore, at some point he just kept driving without thinking. He lets out a slow breath to settle himself when you unzip his pants.

“Babe.” Katsuki grits, only to hear an innocent hmm? Sound in return.

He’s going to start leaking soon, cock straining against his boxers. And your start palming lightly at it like the little minx you are. He spots a massive car wash that appears vacant out of the corner of his eye and flicks on the blinker.

Your hand’s started rubbing and palming at him through his boxers. The head of his cock smears precum on the inside of them, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His hand shakes while turning the AC on full blast, desperate for something to cool him off. Glancing at the mirror, he merges over a few lanes and turns into the car wash.

When the car pulls in, you remove your hand and blink a little. Katsuki wordlessly grabs his wallet from the center console and shoves his card in, picking the most expensive and extensive wash he can.

“I thought we were going home..” Your brows furrow, looking around a little.

“Nope.” He pops the “p” and pulls in before putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. His seat slides back a little to give him some leg room. Large sprayers begin to cover the car in foam and soap. The loud scrubbers going to work.

Katsuki tugs at the waistband of his boxers, setting his cock free. It springs up toward his tummy while slick substance dribbles from the tip of it. He gives it a little stroke as his head falls back, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. His eyes are half lidded when he looks at you and grunts.

“Get the fuck over here and suck.” He reaches a hand under the side of his seat and leans the seat back a little more. You nod and unbuckle the seatbelt.

Your fingers wrap around him and stroke in a wringing motion. His cock twitches in your hand and he pants. Heat spreads all over both of your bodies and the car wash is so loud you can only hear eachother. His breaths come out in short pants like he’s catching it.

“Fuck, yeah, like that pretty.” His tanned jaw drops a little when your tongue lays flat against the head.

You lap at the precum like it’s your favorite thing on the earth to taste. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging at the roots and pushing your head down. Katsuki resists every urge to buck up into your mouth the best he can despite the coil tightly winding in his tummy. But you’re doing so good.

Sucking him like a champ, slurping and making a mess. Spit dribbles down toward his balls but soaks into the waistband of his boxers. And then you’re sinking down and humming, hand reaching down. He grabs at the side of the car door and braces himself. He can’t keep quiet, letting out long strings of groans and moans. The praise makes your pussy soak through your panties and you think about rubbing your clit for relief.

“God, take it. Suck my cock, yeah, yeah, shit.”

That’s all it takes to spur you on. You press a finger near his taint and watch his face scrunch. The car smells like his sweat and those stupid air refresher clips in the vents, leather seats becoming slippery from your fun. Your lips pop off him wetly and you look up to him with such pretty, doey eyes, that he almost cums then. His forearm veins peek out to play as the car door gets squeezed in a death grip. Your lips wrap around the head of his cock and you suck. Hard. Simultaneously you press the finger past the ring of muscle and up to a knuckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth, trying to focus.

And just like that the band snaps. Euphoria wracks his body and he fucks up into your mouth, head thrown back as he sings expletives and spills. It seeps from your lips, despite you trying to swallow it all down, but you use a tongue to swipe it up.

“Oh god, god-” He whimpers out while riding out the high.

Katsuki feels like his entire body is strung high for a moment. His chest heaves and his fingers shake when you pull your mouth off him and give him a quick kiss.Your pussy is soaked and your clit throbs like it has a heartbeat of it own. Sweat has built at the back of his neck and his nipples stay perked. You glance at the lights in the carwash and see there’s still four other things left. Something about scent and bug shield— you don’t know, there’s suds of different colors all over the windows.

You swipe a thumb over his nipple while keeping a finger still in his ass. He whimpers at that and presses his lips into a thin line, gripping your arm so hard it might bruise if he squeezes any tighter. But you persist and stroke his cock with fever.

“I can’t, oh, god baby I can’t it’s-” Katsuki whines out and shakes. His voice goes up in pitch for a moment while desperately trying to hang on to his sanity. You tighten your fingers around him and start pressing the finger inside him upwards.

His body spasms then goes completely still. Katsuki’s entire body is tight on a string, the only thing keeping him on this god forsaken earth being your pretty hands. Heaven wraps him up in a blanket and makes his chest wrack. Carmine eyes roll back, the hand that was once gripping your forearm now dragging nails down it. Your pussy clenches around nothing and the breath is knocked out of you in awe.

Hot white ropes spill all over your hand. You quickly move the finger out of his asshole and instead use it to anchor you on the seat while you suck the cum off of his cock. It twitches in your hand and mouth with sensitivity. You’re addicted to him, is reactions, his cum— like they’re a drug.

Lust clouds your mind heavier than it possibly ever has when you look into his half lidded eyes. He’s swallowing your pretty little soul whole and making it a home, making it his. Cum dribbles off the corner of your lip and Katsuki leans forward to lick it off for you.

His breathing slows and he tosses his head back with a breathy laugh. The car begins to be rinsed and you reach into the console for emergency wipes and toss one on his softening member. He cleans up with a wince and wipes some from your neck while you focus on your hands getting clean.

“We should come here more.” Katsuki suggests wit a cheeky grin, brow raised and pants now buttoned again.

“Absolutely. For now.. Let’s get home before I make you pay for another round and eat me out.” You buckle your seatbelt and roll your eyes with a snicker.

You look at him with a fire in your eyes and puffy lips. You grab his hand and kiss his knuckles again, this time linking your fingers together before he pulls out of the car wash and heads home.

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zepskies · 3 months

Text

Big & Tall

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You steal Sam’s shirt. But that simple theft comes at a big price.

Request: Can you write something where Sam notices the reader wearing his shirt?

Song Inspo: “Look At You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, thievery, kitchen shenanigans, implied smut, tinge of angst and feels.

It was an honest mistake, really.

After the latest hunt, Sam graciously offered to let you wash your clothes here in the bunker (since most of them were bloodstained). You had to pull a finished load from the dryer before you could use it, not knowing if it was Sam or Dean’s clothes you were shoving into a nearby basket.

When you later went back for your clothes in the dryer, you’d apparently grabbed one of Sam’s black undershirts in all the fabric shuffling.

An accident. Though you hadn’t realized it until you were back in the comfort of your borrowed room in the bunker, sitting on your bed and folding your laundry.

You pulled out one of those big-and-talls and took one good look—and you knew it could only fit perfectly on Sam Winchester’s extra-long torso.

A smile unconsciously drew across your face.

You knew you should just bring it over to him. His room was a mere two doors down the hall…but instead, you gave into the quiet, secret urge to fold it up and put it with the rest of your laundry, knowing full well you were going to use it from now on as a sleep shirt.

The thing was so long it reached halfway down your thighs. (AKA: the perfect length.) But you really didn’t think he would miss an old-ass undershirt like this one.

The next morning, you made sure you were dressed in some pajama pants, your most comfortable bra, and an old college shirt before you ventured out of your room and into the kitchen.

Predictably, Sam was already up and dressed for the day, making some coffee. It was early enough that Dean was likely asleep, or at least still getting himself together.

Sam turned and greeted you with a smile. “Morning.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded groggily, though you offered him a “pleasant” smile before you accepted a coffee mug from him.

Sam’s smile deepened slightly. He knew you weren’t a morning person. He sipped at his own mug while you held yours with both hands, raising it slowly to your lips. You closed your eyes at its hazelnut warmth; trust him to stock the fridge with your favorite creamer. You hummed in delight.

Sam’s gaze was warm on you too, though you didn’t realize it.

“Hey, uh…we’re running low on stuff. Want to go somewhere for breakfast?” he asked.

You met his gaze and had to stifle your smile this time.

“Sure,” you nodded. “Want to wait for Dean?”

Sam shrugged. “We can bring him something back.”

Interesting. Your smile grew, despite your best efforts.

“Okay. Let me just get dressed,” you said.

And maybe you’d put a little makeup on, fix your frizzy bedhead. Apparently you and Sam were going on a brunch date.

Not a real one though, you rolled your eyes at yourself as you trekked down the hall. You had known the Winchesters for a couple of years now, and had gone through some real scrapes together whenever they needed your help, or vice versa. They were quickly becoming part of your people. Your family.

…But never more than that, it seemed.

Your smile slowly fell before you reached your room. You just couldn’t know that Sam was staring after you, down the hall, with a similar contemplation on his face.

“Think Dean’ll crap his pants when he sees the Impala’s gone?” you remarked. You were the passenger while Sam drove. You knew he must've been savoring this, as it was one of the few times he’d ever sat in that seat.

“I left him a note,” Sam replied in amusement.

“Aw, damn,�� you teased. “Here I thought we were going on Mission Impossible.”

He shook his head, but his smile kicked up at the corners. He paused when something occurred to him.

“Hey, by the way.” He turned to you in askance. “Did you happen to see one of my shirts when you were doing laundry yesterday?”

You perked up internally, but you tried to school your features into something more nonchalant. Casual. Yeah.

“Uh, no,” you replied. Somehow, even that small lie made you feel a prickle of guilt. “What color was it?”

“Black,” he said. Good thing he was focused on pulling into the diner’s parking lot, and not on your blushing face. “Can’t seem to find it.”

You averted your gaze and bit the inside of your lip so you wouldn’t smile.

“Sorry, haven’t seen it. I’ll keep a lookout though.”

After a nice morning with Sam (you brought back a breakfast burrito for Dean), you spent the rest of the day catching up on Game of Thrones with the brothers.

It was nice to have a rare day off, even if you spent most of it trying to ignore how your thigh was resting against Sam’s. How you could feel his warmth radiating from his arm, laid behind your head on the couch, and how if you’d just leaned over a few inches, you could’ve been resting against his flannel-covered chest.

God. You’re such a girl, you inwardly lamented at yourself. Fucking c’est la vie.

At their insistence, you spent another night at the bunker while you rested up. That werewolf hunt had been particularly brutal on everyone, especially your wounded side. It was already starting to heal, but would definitely be uncomfortable while driving.

Now, ordinarily you weren’t one to let that keep you down…though it did give you an excuse to stay a little while longer.

When you all finally called it a night, you took a long, hot shower and pulled on the shirt over your underwear. It now kind of felt like contraband, but that thought also amused you. It also made you feel closer to him, in whatever small, pathetic way.

You spent the next couple of hours trying and failing to fall asleep in your room. You tried listening to music, daydreaming, even counting damn sheep for what that was worth, but your brain was wide awake.

You blew out an irritated sigh into the darkness and silence.

And then your stomach growled. Ugh, fine!

You got up. It was late enough at night that you didn’t bother changing clothes, lest you be spotted by a wild moose. You just padded out barefooted down the hall and into the kitchen, where you raided the fridge.

Geez, Sam was right about them being low on options, you thought as you perused a damn near empty fridge. There was milk and creamer, a couple cases of beer (of course), some crumpled ketchup packets, and a half-eaten burger that already had something fuzzy growing on it.

This is just sad. You grimaced, but you stuck your head in closer to see if you could find anything in the back. If you only knew about the hot gaze on your ass.

“Midnight snack?”

The voice, though familiar, startled the shit out of you. You banged your head on the edge of the freezer door when you jumped on reflex. You cried out and your hand flew to the back of your head, just before a larger hand covered yours.

You glanced up at found Sam’s handsome face—very apologetic, but somehow silently laughing.

“Uh, sorry. You okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied. You faltered a bit as you realized how close he’d gotten, staring down at you with those earnest hazel eyes. But those eyes soon dipped and took in the rest of you…clad in only a black shirt that brushed your bare thighs.

You watched it start to compute on his face, in the tilt of his head, and the subtle raise of his brows.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked.

Your lips twitched, despite your blushing embarrassment.

“No,” you replied.

His gaze flicked up to yours. He smiled a little incredulously.

He knew you were a filthy liar. But you slipped your hand from under his and crossed your arms under your breasts, leading him to drop his hand from your hair.

“It’s soft…and comfy,” you said lamely. And you wished it smelled like him.

Sam was amused, and a little surprised…and undoubtedly turned on. He couldn’t help but notice your bare legs, the smooth expanse of skin, the suggestion of curves under his shirt, and the firm peaks of your nipples through the fabric.

“Okay. You can keep it,” he said, when his gaze finally drew back up to yours. “For a price.”

Your face felt hot. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth for a moment, but somehow you managed to answer him.

“Name it,” you said gamely. Your stance became an unspoken challenge.

Sam’s lips drew closer to a smile.

He reached for your chin and tilted your face up towards his. There was a moment of uncertainty there, as if he was giving you time to pull away, if you wanted to.

The truth was, you were holding your breath. It felt like you’d been waiting a small eternity for this exact moment.

Your arms uncrossed. Slowly you reached for him, grabbing onto the front of his blue flannel, and he bent down to you. When his lips finally touched yours, it almost short-circuited your brain. You inhaled deeply and melted a bit, raising your hand to the back of his head to keep him there.

You felt the gentle way he caressed your cheek, and later the strength in his hands when he molded them to the curve of your waist and pulled you in close. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, and the kiss became a fierce, sloppy meeting of lips.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and sought entrance. You welcomed him in with a wordless moan.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, nails grazing his scalp. It earned you a deep sound of pleasure from his mouth into yours. Soon enough, those same strong hands were roaming down your waist and hips, then squeezing your ass, and pressing you against the hard planes of his body. You also felt the hardening length of him against your stomach.

“Sam,” you gasped against his lips.

That seemed to pull him out of the frenzied haze. Panting for breath though he was, he broke from you, pulling away far enough to look down at you with furrowed brows. There was a question in his eyes that he still voiced.

“Too much?” he asked.

It was a loaded question, but you thought you could read them all.

Do you want this? Do you really want me? We can stop…

Your answer was simple. You pulled yourself up on your toes and claimed his lips with a devouring kiss. Sam’s eyes closed on a sharp inhale, but his hold on you tightened again. He bent down to move his hands down the back of your thighs, and he squeezed twice, wordlessly encouraging you to jump for him.

You had electricity in your veins and a warm pulsing between your thighs. In your frazzled state, you did your best to jump up, but he helped you the rest of the way. You were able to wrap your legs around his waist, though you let out a small yelp at being vaulted so high.

Now you had the rare privilege of looking down at Sam’s amused face. You smiled down at him, caressing his cheek.

“I think I want a tour of your room,” you said.

“Good,” Sam replied. Despite the care he took in how he held you, you saw the hunger in his eyes. “I could go for a midnight snack.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. You clung to his shoulders as he carried you down the hall and into his room, where he locked the door behind him.

The man was a furnace, you discovered, after your skin was dewy and glistening against his, and the sheets laid tangled between your bare legs.

He held you to his chest while he recovered on his back. You rested there, just enjoying the sound of his heartbeat slowly coming down from its race. His fingertips traced lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

Sam had taken great pleasure in tossing the shirt along with his other clothes onto the floor. Your panties had been flung to parts unknown.

You smiled at the thought, while your nails made delicate tracks of their own across his slightly furry chest.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked you. Quiet and steady.

With a sigh, you pushed up onto your elbow on his pillow, so you could see his face. Your hand found his cheek. There his stubble pricked against your palm, and you drew your thumb tenderly across his his lower lip.

“I’m hoping you want more from this than one…very awesome night,” you confessed.

Sam smiled, reaching up to grasp your wrist gently. It was a different kind of touch, where just a few moments ago, he’d pushed your body damn near to its limits. And yet, he knew his own strength. Controlled, even in his bed.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, though his eyes gradually fell from your face. “I’ll be honest, it uh…scares me a little.”

“What does?” you asked with a frown. You waited until he looked up at you again.

“This matters to me,” he said at last. “You matter to me.”

And the people that mattered all too often got taken away from him.

Your throat constricted. Because in his wary eyes, you could almost see the thoughts that were likely plaguing his mind. Things that might’ve kept him from this night with you for so long.

In that moment, you made a decision. You lowered down to press a gentler kiss to his lips.

“Then let’s give it a try,” you said.

AN: It got a little angstier than I intended there at the end lol, but I went with it! I so hope you guys enjoy this. I love me some Sam. 💜

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @idiotdyslexic

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#big and tall #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #spn #reader request #stealing Sam's shirt #supernatural #sam winchester smuttish #fluff #tinge of angst #zepskies writes

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judebelle · 4 months

Note

trent being a clingy needy bf? xx

menace - t.a.a. x reader

a/n : i’m so fucked w finals season but it’s almost break for me 😇 just gotta make it thru this week 😞 also i made this a drabble SORRYYYY but i think this is better short and sweet!

cw : swearing, clingy trent obv, reader getting increasingly more annoyed throughout the course of the fic, sexual insinuation, fluff

pairing : trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

wc : 704

---

it started off as bearable, but god, as the day progressed, you couldn’t deal with him anymore.

the him being sir trent alexander arnold.

it had just so happened that you and trent had aligned a few days off at the same time. this was a rare occurrence since your busy schedules kept you swamped 25/8.

this was the first of many days off. you just needed to get some things done around the house, but trent had other plans.

you almost took up his many offers to just lay in bed all day, but you knew you would feel better if you got things done first.

of course, trent wasn’t making this easy on you.

“c’mere, beautiful,”

“please stay here, just for a few minutes.”

“so sleepy, just nap with me for an hour, please!”

you had to resist the urge to physically roll your eyes at his constant pestering. you had to put your foot down and stop him before you ended up giving in.

“no, trent! i have to finish some things up, i’ll be done soon.”

he was still cuddled up in the bed when you finally left the bedroom to head to the kitchen. you began putting away clean dishes and cleaning the counter tops. as you wiped it down, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist.

“y/n come back to beddd~” trent whined while propping his head on your shoulder to get a better look at what you were doing that was so important. you could feel him kiss his teeth when he saw you cleaning.

“i said, wait. if you keep annoying. me, it’s just gonna take longer!” you groaned when he didn’t let go of your body. “trent, let go. i need to go get-“

“you look so sexy in these shorts, just come back to bed.” you felt his hands slide down to cup your ass.

you rolled your eyes, a smile forming on your cheeks. “you can’t seduce me into going back into bed!” you sing songed as you turned to face him. his arms had you trapped in between him and the counter. he still his droopy eyes and his hair was a little frizzy.

you swiftly ducked out of his grip from under his arm and headed to your office, turning on your computer to print a few things. you heard the soft shuffling of socks on the floor, and low and behold-

“can you just come back, pleaseee!”

“stop it! how old are you? just give me a few minutes.” you had started to whine like a two year old, his complaints giving you a headache.

you placed the papers down and pushed past him to go to the living room, cleaning up blankets and books laying around. you grabbed the watering can and started tending to your wilting plants. all of a sudden-

“ah- get off me! trent! let go, now!”

your feet were hovering over the floor thanks to your boyfriend who had had enough of waiting. he threw your body over his shoulder easily and walked towards the bedroom.

you kicked your legs around, trying to wriggle out of his grip. you slumped against him when your efforts to escape from his death trap went in vain.

“this isn’t funny, y’know?”

he chucked despite your comment. “i can’t wait any longer, sorry.”

a stubborn smile broke across your face before he threw you onto the bed. you bounced onto the fluffy mattress with a gasp. “trent!”

he giggled softly before throwing himself down on top of you. “oww, trent you’re not light!” you found yourself laughing as he kissed your neck.

“shhh, just wanna cuddle.” he reached over and pulled the duvet over the both of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he eventually let you breathe by rolling onto his side a little bit. you finally gave into his touch with a sigh, throwing your leg over his hips.

you reached your arms around his neck and nuzzled your head into his chest, his scent all over his wrinkled shirt.

“god, you’re a menace, you know that?” you laughed into his embrace and he responded by hugging you tighter.

“you love it.”

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temiizpalace · 5 months

Text

☆┊LETS PLAY JUST DANCE !

SUMMARY: while shopping at sam’s store, you saw “just dance” on the shelves! no idea how it got here or how it exists here, but you bought it with no hesitation. you wanted to play, so you invited a friend. how good are they at it?

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: fluff, but kinda crackfic-ish

WARNINGS: cursing

readers gender is not mentioned, implied to be Yuu

actually plays correctly, but gets a low score for no reason

he is putting nothing but his blood, sweat, and TEARS into this game right now. okay, that’s an overstatement. but he’s literally doing the best he can and this game is mocking his efforts. what’s he doing wrong?! why is he so bad at this? you’re literally 10x ahead of him. when you both finish playing, he tells you this game is absolutely rigged and that you should return it. when you refuse cause it cost you an arm and a leg (and it could give you a lead home), he sighs and continues to play. sulking and sighing at his low score as you both play.

grim, riddle, deuce, trey, jack, azul, sebek, malleus

plays correctly and gets a high score

he’s actually better than you’d thought he’d be. for playing a game from another world, you’d think it’d take longer for him to understand. respect. for a new player, his score is also higher than you expected. he thinks this game is really fun! you two should play more often together, cause he’s having a blast. it’s that or he just enjoys absolutely destroying you in this game. when you both finish playing, he’s either smirking at your defeat, or smiling and wants to play again. maybe both..

cater, jade, jamil, vil, epel, ortho, silver

literally just jumping around. they don't care about the score

depending on who this is, he’s either kalim, just having fun and enjoys playing a game with you. or the rest, doesn’t give two fucks about the score and is just going apeshit. whoever he is, he’s not paying attention to the screen at all and is just having the most random movements ever. you’re shuffling to the right? well he’s shuffling to the left. are you supposed to jump? well now he’s crouching for some reason.. is this a partner dance? too bad, he’s gone solo. when you both finish playing, he doesn’t even glance at the score and had already selected another song. oh boy..

(his score is still somehow higher than the first category’s..)

grim (sometimes), (kind of) ace, floyd, kalim, rook, lilia

extremely competitive for no reason

while your having fun and enjoying something you’re familiar with, he’s doing his absolute BEST to make sure his score is higher than yours. he wants this victory, and bad. maybe sometimes over-exaggerating his movements to see if his score would go higher. like damn, chill out. this isn’t a world championship just dance game or something.. (maybe it is). when you both finish playing, he’s literally sweating beads. his attention would immediately shift to the score. if he beat you, hooray. now get ready for round 2. if he lost, oh hell no you’re playing again.

grim, ace (competitively jumping around lmao), ruggie, jamil, vil, epel, idia

literally just sitting on the couch throwing around the wii remote

leona would. there’s no denying. he scoffs and asks you why the hell would you put so much energy into this game? for the record, nobody dances like that. how will he benefit from this? hm? exercise? pshh, then he could just go play spelldrive. but if you really wanted him to play, fine. if it gets you off his tail. however if he’s playing, he’s playing his way. while you put your entire soul into the game, he’s resting his ass on the couching while swinging around the wii remote on his wrist. he gets an average score. AVERAGE. what the hell?! if you tried to do that, then let’s say your score was definitely less than average. better luck next time, herbivore.

leona

absolutely destroying you.

he’s just better. he’s already a great dancer, what’d you expect? if you try to beat him, there’s no chance. when you did win, you knew he was just pitying you. he’d smirk after the final scores were revealed and just give you a pat on the back with a “nice try.” alright you little shit you’re going down. you select another song and starting pouring your heart into this. he admires your efforts, so he’ll go easy on you. somehow he still beats you what the fuck.

jamil, vil

bold of you to assume he’s never played

new player? new player? that’s cute. well news flash: he’s already played this game, normie. don’t lie, you were shocked. idia? idia shroud? playing a game that involves needing to move physically? playing a game that doesn’t involve farming or pulling in a gacha? haha inactive idia very funny. anyway, he already knows the ropes. he bought the game when sam kept pushing him to buy it. since he was peer pressured, he bought it. but it wasn’t a loss. ortho told him to be more active so he thought this would be a shortcut. kind of is. when you ask to play, he’s already got it set up. prepare to be outmatched. ends up really tired after playing though.

idia

forgot to use the wrist thing on the wii remote. the remote is either broken or something else is

it flew.

ace, deuce, floyd, kalim, lilia

it doesn’t detect him

child of man, why can’t it detect him? he’s doing everything correctly (after technical difficulties), but it can’t tell he’s there. why? is your game broken? no, you’re score is just fine. is his remote broken? no, you replaced the batteries beforehand. is his controller is connected? yes, yes it is.. so what could it be? you look like you’re having fun though.. so he’ll power through it. (he’s pouting though.. poor tsunotarou 💔)

malleus

everything is suddenly on fire

what the fuck how’d this happen.

floyd, rook, lilia

A/N: hello I’m new to writing on tumblr lmao

hope you can welcome me with open arms (◍•ᴗ•◍)

date written: 11/23/23

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taintandviolent · 7 months

Text

feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage, and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin. “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…” He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…” You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz

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ma1dita · 6 months

Text

my love, mine, all mine

based on this drabble : mean!remus

words: 2.8k

summary: Sometimes is not enough for someone who loves Remus this much.

warnings: mean!remus x fem!reader !!!! mentions of sex; much angst they both cry, a lot of kisses & a very open ending, situationship blues, remus is a self-deprecating piece of shit!!

a/n: thank you for the request anon! i watched the eras tour movie and thought of mean!remus and reader during ‘tolerate it’.... sooo don’t blame me for what you’re about to read. title is from a song by mitski <3 always down to flesh out mean!remus and lovely!reader more if yall want--feel free to send in more requests and comments <3

(posted & edited: 10/15/23)

—

Sometimes he lets you down easy. You’ve memorized his face by now, every minuscule detail and the way it hardens when he makes up his mind. Remus is very deep set in his ways, a creature of habit forced by the resolution of hiding in the nighttime, waiting for the darkness within himself to find him under the light of the full moon. You know the whisper of a smile that dances across his face when he sees you, the way a scar kisses his brow when you surprise him, the mechanical tightness of his jaw when he dissociates himself from your embrace.

There’s a particular way his eyes drop that resembles falling snow and it tells you that he’s about to let you down again, buried under him and his excuses. It’s heavy. You wonder how someone so gentle, so fragile can leave you feeling cold, but you bare yourself to him anyway, trudging through the hope that whatever is between you can be more than sometimes. You know him intimately, wholeheartedly. But does he know you? Sometimes is the keyword here, and yet it is tiring, all of the time.

Your breaking point had to have been something big, something explosive. It had to, or why else would this facade have lasted so long? Why did you let him? Perhaps it was when he kissed your neck after Potions, asking to meet up after dinner. He moved away before you could follow him out into the corridor and joined his friends instead. The boys looked back at you, wanting to wait but Remus kept walking on. Or maybe it was when you woke up in his bed again, his side cold and your clothes folded properly at the edge. Remus was propped against his desk, mumbling that he had a very busy day ahead, and the silence that followed was enough to make you leave. Always good enough to bed, but never wanted by morning. It’s best to act like he wasn’t the one who asked you to stay.

—

None of those moments ruined your perception of him though. It was the lightest feather touch of a reaction that shattered the glass. He was walking you back to your common room after prefect duties, and you squeezed his hand gently, swinging it back and forth.

“D’you want to study for midterms tomorrow in the library? We could try to get that little table in the corner you like…” you said nudging his shoulder. He sighed, and his breath was hot against the crisp winter air as it landed on your cheek. Remus’s silence was your answer, and of course, it hurt. You’d do anything for a half-assed utterance to fill the shrill noise of your hope filling the space between you right about now. But this time was different though. This time he truly didn’t care. Remus looked at you with dead eyes, his mind somewhere far from where you were standing with him.

“Not this time, lovely.” The boy was tired, and so were you. The physicality of it was apparent in the way his posture hung low, and the way your shoulders fell from the emotional avalanche that his lack of effort pushed down on you.

“It’s okay. I hope you get some rest then.” Your eyes study his face, gliding from the crinkle of his temples to the scar on his nose and the freckles across his cheeks. He grimaces at your response. You wonder if any part of him hurts like this too.

“Will I see you before we leave for winter break? Maybe you have time during the holiday.” Remus speaks quietly as if he’s the one being inconvenienced.

“Maybe,” you say. He makes a noise in recognition of that, nodding with his eyes closed. Stepping away from him, you turn to walk away before he’s behind you, lips against your hair.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles, breathing you in like wafting amorentia. His hands are shuffling through his pocket before he pulls out the wool mittens his mother knit for him the year prior.

“Shouldn’t let your pretty fingers freeze in the cold.” He puts them on you daintily snapping the buttons closed, his nose against your ear. The corridor is silent alongside the slow thud of your heart. You walk away wordlessly, shoulders pinched like a chill has traveled down your spine.

—

Remus doesn’t see much of you in the days before winter break. Between studying for exams and his monthly run-in with the moon, there isn’t much time to catch his breath. He knows the hold he has on your heart is a devastatingly gory scene. You’ve let him in deeply as he burrows in every fang and claw he has to offer you. And in turn, he takes what he can grab with his razor-sharp touch. He tries earnestly to be gentle but the more of you he caresses, the more blood he has to mop up.

His fingers are tapping on his forearm methodically as he waits for you outside of Transfiguration. Sorting through his thoughts as he waits for the rest of the class to finish the exam, Remus’ mind always falls back to you. Love is difficult, like many other aspects of his life, you see. He knows he loves his parents and his friends, but it makes him uncomfortable, much like someone undergoing anaphylaxis, to be honest with you. To lay himself out vulnerably to someone like you…He’s worried he’ll scare you off.

Students trickle out of McGonagall’s classroom, and you step out with your friends in tow, babbling about the exam. The feeling crawls up his throat as he tries to say something, but air and any coherent thought escapes him. What he feels for you has been making him do that a lot lately.

“Hey lovely.” he blurts out, body turning as he pushes off the wall in an attempt to catch your eye. But you keep rambling with your friends, throwing an arm over your roommate as you hardly spare him a glance. It’s not until your group reaches the end of the corridor that you look back at him for half a second, lashes fluttering as you turn back to your friends. And his heart is growing desperate, swelling, sighing as you continue to walk away.

—

You left for winter break without saying goodbye. The letters that he made his owl Nougat deliver to your bedroom window almost every day had you running out of treats to give her when she’d try to nip you for sending her back emptyhanded. Poor thing is getting fat.

Your mother is so intrigued by your behavior that one night as you feed your baby brother a spoonful of mashed potatoes, she asks you something you’ve been wondering yourself.

“Honey, do you have a boyfriend?” The silverware clinks against your plate as you contemplate the answer. How do you explain this to your mother? How do you explain him? Has he hurt you so much that you bare your soul to her in hopes that she’ll put her work away and listen? Yes, but you let him, the little voice in your head says, so the guilt inside you keeps your response prompt.

“I don’t think so,” you say, your lips drawn tightly. Your brother spits out some mash and it dribbles down his chubby cheek as he laughs at the sight of you making faces at him.

“What a mess, darling. Best clean it up.” You watch your mother’s eyes flit across your face instead of his before she says no more and goes back to cutting into her roast chicken. The napkin across your lap is wiped across his tiny face as you swallow hard.

What a mess, indeed.

After washing the dishes and excusing yourself, you crawl into bed staring at the ceiling. The moonlight shines brightly, a beam of light reflecting on the pile of unopened letters on your nightstand. Turning towards the wall, you shut your eyes and try to fall asleep.

You dream of him often. And in your dreams, he’s always just a little bit out of reach, always running away as you trip over snow-covered cobblestone, arms extended toward him. Though these dreams plague you, the realization hits that dreaming of him is better than your reality. In your dreams, your love is still pure and untouched. When you close your eyes you let yourself be the girl who was hoping at the beginning of it all.

—-

The day after Christmas a pair of tiny hands shake you awake. Your eyes shift open to see your three-year-old brother peering up at you, hands tangled in your duvet.

“Your fwend is outside,” he whispers almost comically loud as you rub the sleep from your eyelids.

“What?”

“Your fwend is outside. I saw him in the window. He looks cold, sissy.”

You scoop him in your arms, carrying him back into his room and tucking him under the covers before you shuffle out front, watching Remus lean against his beat-up car. Throwing your coat on, you walk down your driveway, meeting him in a flurry of hot breath and cautious smiles.

“You’re not Nougat,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him as you stop short at his feet, crossing your arms.

“She’s almost too fat to fly now. Thought I’d get a message to you myself.” he chuckles, and it makes you remember why you liked him in the first place.

“Fancy a ride?”

He props the door open for you, hand ghosting the curve of your back. As you step past him to take a seat, he pulls you in for a kiss. It makes your knees tremble, having deprived yourself of everything about him for the past few weeks. The kiss sucks you in deeper as you anchor yourself onto the nape of his neck, and he’s moaning into your mouth. You hope your little brother isn’t watching through the window.

He drives you around in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. The heat is on high as he finally stops at the park, and he looks over at you. This time last year, he taught you how to drive here, both of you anxious for two different reasons—you trying not to crash and him discerning if you like him back. You both had sex in the backseat after you got the hang of it, windows fogged up and steamy.

“Did you read my letters?” he starts, and you sigh before the end of his question. “No,” you mutter, looking out the window.

“Hey…What’s on your mind?” His fingers pull at your chin for you to look back at him, and you jolt back like he hurt you. You lean forward, pressing your palms into your eyes, breathing hard. He’s looking at you like he knows what’s coming, but he still hopes it’s not true. A boy made from Hope and of hope, that’s all he is. But it hurts to hope though. It hurts to hope for more when he knows he’s pushed you past your limits.

“There’s only so much you can expect of me, Remus. I’m just not sure I can do this anymore,” you whisper.

“Do what?” His voice is desperate and he’s hoping you won’t end this, even though you’re well in your right to do so.

“This. Whatever this is. Sometimes it feels like we’re together, but I know we’re not, and um… I’ve lost the plot. You’ve cut me too deep, Remus.” Your bottom lip is trembling as you croak out the words feeling sorry for yourself.

Remus leans his head against the window, knuckles white as he clutches the steering wheel. He’s going to lose you, and he’s petrified.

“Look, if this is because I haven’t spent time with you at sch–”

“It is. But not just that. There are many reasons,” you cut in, your head tilting as you look at him. “You don’t make time for me, you’re embarrassed to be seen with me half the time. You act like I’m your girlfriend and Remus, you lie, constantly. I can’t keep up with what you throw at me and it’s too much, okay? I’ve let you hurt me for too long.” You get through most of it without hiccupping, but he can’t do anything but watch as you wipe your tears away.

“Do you love me?” he pleads, and if he’s ruined it all by asking that, he can’t tell. His hands run through his hair and he thinks he’s ripped to you pieces at this point. The carnage of the truth sits in his passenger seat as you sit there motionless, staring out the windshield.

“That doesn’t make me yours, Remus. It never has. My love is mine. That’s the only thing you can’t take away from me.”

Remus chokes on a sob as he watches your resolve harden. The windows are fogging up and it’s getting hard for him to breathe.

“I’m so sorry…I just don’t even know how to tell you th—”

“That you have lycanthropy?” Somehow hearing it from your mouth doesn’t scare him. This confession and your candor makes the shame he’s carried with him all these years feel lighter.

“You can say it how it is, lovely. I’m a werewolf. I– The moon shows me who I really am. A monster. I-shouldn’t��I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

Your hand brushes against his cheek, pressing the tears into the indents of your fingertips as you wipe away his sorrow. He does hurt like you do. And you’d take it all away if you could.

“A monster doesn’t worry about if they hurt people they love. You didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?”

He sniffs, wiping his nose with his sweater as he shakes his head. Both of you brush over the notion of love. There is a time and place for that, and it sure as hell isn’t right now. He’s being vulnerable to you for once, so you tell him what he needs to hear.

“You’re not a monster, Remus. You have a big heart, and you’re wonderfully sweet, but sometimes your actions hurt. I know….everything about you. And from the reasons I can’t do this anymore, lycanthropy isn’t even in the top 10.” You lean towards him, noses touching.

“But I never said I regret it.”

You wish you could find better words to tell him he’s not as damned as he thinks he is. That anyone is deserving of love, especially him, but it’s hard to convince him that. Remus surges the small distance to meet your lips, and you can’t help but indulge, because if he’s damned then so are you, pulling him over the console as he sighs in relief.

—-

Later, he drives you home, one hand on your thigh rubbing circles as you watch his side profile, less taut, but without a smile. The secret’s out, and there’s not much left to do but navigate the bloodbath. He hopes that he’s able to pick up the pieces and do you right. Remus pulls into your driveway and the car engine rumbles lowly as you sit, unmoving.

The door unlocks and he waits for you to make a move. Your hand glides over the door handle before you turn instead to look at him and his hand is extended towards you, a millimeter away from yours.

“I really am sorry. For treating you like shit.” he sighs.

“I know.” A smile graces your lips as you lean in and you kiss him again tenderly, once, then twice. It soothes the tightness of his jaw and he hopes you don’t hate him after all of this. The passenger door opens, and you climb out and look at the sky. It’s snowing. He watches you standing there, snowflakes sticking to your hair.

“I do love you, Remus,” you admit, biting your lip. “Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” The laugh that follows is humorless, his eyes wide as you shut the door. Trudging your boots through the snow, a shiver wracks your body. You peek back at the car once you get in the house and give him a kind smile before you step in.

Remus sits there with the weight of your devotion. Brave in all aspects but love, he hopes you can wait a little longer for him to catch up. For now, his eyes fall to the passenger seat as he shifts the gear into reverse. His wool mittens occupy the seat. Your hands must be cold again.

—-

“Sometimes, home is not a home, but a claw lodged inside you. A river you step into because it holds light. You are waist deep, wading in what mauls you.”

-Athena Nassar

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: my love, mine, all mine by mitski & sleep tight by holly humberstone

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#remus lupin x reader #marauders era #remus lupin is a self deprecating mf!!!#remus lupin x you #marauders x reader

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theostrophywife · 1 year

Text

in my head.

take me closer, take my clothes off—oh, i fantasize if i’m honest, it's more fun when you can't read my mind

author's note: oh, this was so much fun to write. big thanks to @azsazz for listening to me rant about this concept and giving me the idea of the daydream montage. consider this as my gift to everyone for hitting 2k! you are all lil cuties and ily mwah 💋 song inspiration: fu in my head by cloudy june

You knew that it was wrong to fantasize about Azriel.

You knew that as you sat across from him in the private library at the House of Wind, poring over the most recent reports, debriefing on your latest mission, and exchanging valuable information that you’ve gleaned from spying and scheming, that you should be focusing on the task at hand rather than imagining the shadowsinger bending you over the ornate wooden desk and pulling your hair as he fucked you from behind.

“What are you thinking about?” Azriel asked, his handsome face illuminated by the crackling hearth.

“Nothing,” you responded, hiding your blush behind a book.

Scarred fingers curled around your wrist, taking the tome from your shaking hands. The shadowsinger pulled you into his lap, fisting the hem of your cotton dress around your waist.

You swallowed as the sound of his belt hitting the carpeted floor echoed in the library. Azriel bent you over the desk and gripped your hair in one hand, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I’ve seen you looking at me all night.” You whimpered as he traced the curve of your ass, teasing his tip against your slick folds. “Is this what you want? For me to fuck you against this desk until you’re nothing but a pathetic, whining mess?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “That’s what I want.”

Azriel chuckled, dark and low and all too seductive. He kissed the base of your spine. “Then that’s what you’ll get, princess.”

The shadowsinger thrust his cock into your pussy, eyes rolling back from how tight you felt, nearly making him come right then and there. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes and Azriel gently wiped them away with his thumb before sliding out just to ram himself back in again.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Azriel declared, cupping your cheek. “Take it. Take all of me.”

You knew that you should be enjoying the company of your friends during your night out in the city, joining in on their drinking and dancing at Rita’s instead of slowly sipping your wine, discretely ogling the shadowsinger over the rim of your glass, taking in his soft, raven hair that you were convinced would feel like silk underneath your fingertips, tracing down the elegant planes of his face, those high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the sensual, pouty lips making you bite down on your own lip as you daydreamed about what he’d taste like, how rough his hands would feel against your skin, how dominant and demanding he’d be as he kissed you.

The shadowsinger growled into your mouth as he pressed you up against the bathroom wall. He kissed you—rough and hard and demanding as though his immortal life depended on it.

“You’ve got such a smart mouth,” Azriel breathed, capturing your lips in his. You moaned as he bit down, hard enough that your bottom lip already felt swollen from the effort. “I wonder if all that sass will hold up with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Azriel groaned as you knelt before him, impatiently unbuckling his trousers. You palmed him through the fabric and his head tipped back against the wall, that molten gaze burning with desire as he fisted your hair in his hand. You looked up at him through your lashes as you gripped his cock, your hand smooth and silky as you pumped him, licking the bead of precum gathered on the tip with a flick of your wicked tongue.

The shadowsinger shuddered and his wings flared at his back as you took him into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby.” Azriel said, his voice husky and full of gravel as you bobbed up and down his length. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that.”

You knew that you should be paying attention to the spymaster’s directions as the two of you trained together, your back pressed flush against his chest as he corrected your form, spreading your feet apart and placing his arms around your shoulders, scarred hand wrapping around your own as he demonstrated the proper way to deflect a dagger, but technique and training was the last thing on your mind as his scent clouded your senses, awakening that familiar ache in your core that had everything to do with the way he was holding you rather than the hours you’d spent mastering the move.

“Try it now,” Azriel challenged. He crooked a finger at you and smirked.

You lunged, but the shadowsinger was gone in a flash. Azriel disappeared within his shadows only to reappear a few feet to your left. Truth-teller slammed down against your own dagger as you darted underneath his legs.

Again, Azriel was swallowed into a swath of darkness. Your eyes roamed over the empty training ring, trying to predict the shadowsinger’s next move. He already attempted to attack the blind spot on your left side, but you’d expected that. Had trained over and over again to make sure you were no longer vulnerable there.

While Azriel was skilled, you sparred with him enough to familiarize yourself with his fighting pattern. He was cool and calculated, often defaulting to the defensive as he toyed with his opponent.

But he wouldn’t be gentle with you.

No—Azriel knew all too well that you’d go on the offensive. So he’d place himself in the best position to strike first, which meant he’d pick his strongest point.

Flight.

Azriel materialized above you, his dark wings swallowing up every bit of sunlight. He slammed down hard, but met nothing but sand. You had already moved out of the way, sneaking up behind him and cutting him off at the legs.

You were fast, but not as fast as the shadowsinger. Azriel pinned you down on the red sand, his beloved dagger inches away from your throat.

“It was a valiant effort,” he said with a slight smirk. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that if you hope to beat me.”

You grinned. “It’s not over yet, shadowsinger.”

His confused expression served as a signal to employ the last trick up your sleeve. You tilted your chin up towards him, your face mere inches away from his. Azriel faltered as his gaze dipped down to your lips.

You could see his throat work as you wrapped your legs around him. The shadowsinger let out a sharp intake of breath as you flipped him over. This little manuever of yours placed you right on top of Azriel, your ass pressed firmly against his groin.

His hands found your hips, a soft groan escaping his lips as you pressed his own dagger against his throat. Something like awe and admiration washed over the male as he gazed up at you.

Azriel’s laugh was smoky and gruff when he realized he’d been bested. “Good girl.”

Cauldron fucking boil you.

Your grip on the weapon slipped and Azriel tossed the blade to the side before pinning you down once more. The soft sand shifted around you as the shadowsinger kissed your jaw, trailing kisses along the hollow of your throat, nipping at your collarbones as his hand slipped down the front of your leathers.

“I’m impressed,” Azriel hummed as he teased two fingers along your soaking folds. “I think you deserve a reward for that, sweetheart.”

You whimpered as his thumb circled your clit. “What if someone hears?”

The shadowsinger smirked. “Well I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, angel.”

As he plunged two fingers inside of you, Azriel’s mouth covered your own to swallow your loud moan.

“Y/N?” Cassian’s voice called out from across the room. “What do you think?”

You blinked, suddenly finding yourself seated in the game room at the House of Wind. Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel were all looking at you expectantly. The Illyrian general’s hand hovered over the stack of chips on the table as he raised a brow.

Right.

You were playing cards before you’d lost yourself to another ridiculous, embarrassing, dirty daydream about one of your closest friends. A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook the thought away. This had been happening more often than not and usually at the most inopportune times.

You truly needed to get a hold of yourself.

Beside you, the shadowsinger stirred. He looked over at you in concern and lightly touched your knee under the table.

“You alright?” he asked, low enough so only you could hear.

You swallowed, nodding way too fast for the movement to be perceived as normal. You clenched your thighs together as Azriel squeezed you playfully.

Gods, that really wasn’t fucking helping.

“I’m fine. Just got distracted.” You averted your gaze from the shadowsinger and faced Cassian instead. “Go big or go home, Cas.”

“See!” The Illyrian general exclaimed, “I knew Y/N would have my back. She’s a risk taker, unlike you two old snores.” He pushed his mountain of chips to the center of the table. “I’m all in.”

Azriel and Nesta exchanged an amused look before the latter snorted, fondly rolling her eyes at her mate.

“Let’s see your hand, then.”

Cassian proudly slammed down his cards. It was a good hand.

“Not bad,” Azriel mused. Cassian smirked at his brother, but his expression faltered when the shadowsinger’s lips quirked. “But mine’s better.”

Azriel revealed his hand, which, as always, beat every single hand.

Cassian crossed his arms, grumbling as his brother claimed his winnings. “That’s three games in a row! You have to be using your shadows to win.”

You giggled. As much as you loved Cas, the male did not take well to losing.

“Or I’m just that good.” Azriel smirked, catching your eye. He winked and you nearly choked on your drink.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I need another drink,” he clinked his glass against yours. “Want a refill, Y/N?”

You shook your head, feigning a yawn. “I’m feeling a bit tired, actually. I think I’ll head to bed.”

The Illyrian general scowled again. “Leaving me with these vipers,” he mumbled under his breath. “If all my money is gone tomorrow, just know that you could’ve prevented it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re a big boy, Cas.” You teased, patting your friend on the back as you passed him on the stairs. “I’m sure you can manage.”

Lowly, you elbowed your friend. “Watch out for Az’s shadows. They always curl to the right when he’s got a good hand.”

Your friend grinned in conspiracy. The intel on his brother’s tell seemed to brighten up his mood a notch.

“I heard that!” Azriel called after you.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You winked at Cassian and waved back at your friends. “Good night!”

It was, in fact, not a good night. After excusing yourself from the game, you laid in bed for a good hour before realizing that sleep was not coming any time soon.

You were too wound up from fantasizing about Azriel. A part of you knew that it was wrong. Azriel was your friend. If he ever found out about your filthy fantasies, you’d be mortified.

But…that’s all they were, right?

Just fantasies. Harmless as long as they stayed in your head.

You closed your eyes, letting your imagination take over. That golden brown skin covered in dark intricate tattoos. Those strong muscles, honed by centuries of combat and training, rippling in the light as he spared against you. The cocky smirk that pulled at his lips, making his handsome face light up with mischief.

Azriel was so beautiful it almost hurt.

More importantly, he was kind and good and patient. The type of friend who noticed all the little details. Who listened and learned without passing judgment. Who made you feel seen and known.

For months, you’ve had a sneaking suspicion that whatever you felt for Azriel was more than just physical attraction. It might have started off that way with all your daydreams, but even those seemingly benign thoughts that you attributed to Azriel’s obvious attractiveness and close proximity had turned into something more.

As of late, you found yourself delving into more innocent imaginations. Holding his hand. Brushing back his hair. Kissing him softly.

But you never let yourself think about those thoughts any further. You were afraid of what they meant.

So here you were, tossing and turning in bed as the thought of Azriel haunted your subconscious for what seemed like the millionth night in a row. You sighed in defeat.

There was only one way to get the shadowsinger out of your head.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as your hand trailed down your torso, sliding underneath the sheets until you reached the waistband of your lace panties. This would be it. You could pleasure yourself to the thought of him to erase the truth that you were too afraid to face. It would be the last time—or so you told yourself. Repeatedly for months on end.

Pushing all other pesky little feelings aside, you focused on getting yourself off, which would hopefully get your mind off of the shadowsinger altogether.

The shadowsinger stared down the empty hallway, his attention snagging on your closed door. After beating Cassian and Nesta three more times, the trio had decided to call it a night. His brother more disgruntled than his mate.

Azriel smirked. He’d wiped the floor with Cassian, despite the information you’d given his brother about his tell. The shadowsinger hadn’t even known about it himself. He’d have to find a way to correct that, but for now…

The Illyrian warrior paused as his feet took him directly in front of your door. His shadows swarmed around him, snaking through his wings and curling against his ears, whispering one thing and one thing only.

Your name.

“She’s sleeping,” he said quietly. One of his shadows poked his cheek in irritation to which Azriel responded with an eye roll.

They wanted to play with you. To be near you. Azriel knew the feeling all too well, but still, you had looked a little frazzled and distracted earlier and he briefly wondered if the rigorous training he was putting you through was to blame. He hoped not. The shadowsinger liked sparring with you.

You were feisty, wild, and unpredictable. Azriel never knew which side of you he was going to get. The sweet and sassy friend or the deadly lethal spy that made Rhysand hire you in the first place. You challenged the shadowsinger and he loved every second of it.

Azriel smiled quietly to himself and as he was prone to do for the past couple of months, he hovered near your door and though he was sure you had long fallen asleep, he still leaned in and whispered.

“Good night.”

He was perfectly prepared to retire to his own room, his scarred hand already twisting the doorknob across the hall when he heard it.

The rustling of sheets. The restless tossing and turning. And then—a soft moan that made the shadowsinger freeze in place.

Azriel took a deep breath, desperately trying to shake the desire to come closer to your door. But there it was again. That breathy crescendo that ensnared his attention.

Even his shadows tugged him closer—pulling and pushing in the direction of your room. Azriel was vaguely aware that it was wrong to eavesdrop on a friend, but he couldn’t help it.

The shadowsinger pressed his ear against the wooden door, listening intently for that sweet, smooth voice.

“Azriel.”

His hand flew off the handle of your door as though it were on fire. There was no way you knew he was out here, listening. Azriel was far too silent and stealthy for that.

But you’d said his name all the same.

No, you moaned it.

Before he could truly comprehend what he was doing, Azriel pushed the door open and crossed the threshold of your bedchambers.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

You were laying in bed, your hair unbound and cascading around your shoulders, your eyes squeezed tight as little pants and whines slipped past those always bitten lips.

“Az, please.”

He inhaled sharply as his gaze zeroed in on your hand nestled between your legs, rubbing back and forth with increasing pace as your back arched off the bed.

How many times has he found himself in the same position? How many times had he pleasured himself to the thought of you right across the hall, picturing this exact image in his mind, imagining the soft breaths and sensuous sighs that were now coming out of your pretty little lips?

A shadow curled around your wrist, startling you out of your daze. You shot up in bed, panic and alarm flooding your features as you watched Azriel step out of the darkness. Inky shadows wafted off of him, curling around your other wrist and both ankles as they pulled you to the edge of the bed towards the shadowsinger.

“Say it again.”

“Who—I—what are you doing here?”

Azriel stalked towards you like a predator tracking its prey, his golden eyes burning with a hunger that made the air in the room crackle with electricity.

“Say. It. Again,” Azriel growled.

“Azriel,” you breathed softly as his hand came up to brush against your cheek.

You held your breath as Azriel traced the curve of your cupid’s bow, his rough, calloused thumb dragging your bottom lip down.

“When you were touching yourself,” he said, his voice low and dark and dangerous. “What were you thinking about?”

Blush bloomed high upon your cheeks. It was bad enough that he’d caught you in the midst of pleasuring yourself. You didn’t want to admit that it was his hand you were imagining between your thighs, those slender, scarred fingers working you towards release.

The shadowsinger spread your legs apart and you inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering involuntarily as his hand crept up your thigh. “Were you imagining this?” he asked, dipping his head down to place a soft kiss against the hollow of your throat.

Azriel caressed your skin, teasing, testing, taunting as he drew patterns along your bare legs. “Do you fantasize about me doing dirty, filthy things to you? Do you moan my name in the night as you get yourself off on the thought of me?”

His teeth grazed your jaw, sucking harshly as you released a shaky breath. Azriel looked at you expectantly and you nodded, confirming his suspicions.

“Tell me,” he breathed. “Tell me every dark fantasy that crosses that beautiful mind of yours.”

“I think about you touching me. I think about you kissing me. I think about you fucking me,” you confessed. Azriel’s eyes were dark, bottomless pits of desire as you continued to speak. “When we’re alone in the library, I fantasize about you bending me over the desk and fucking me until I’m hoarse. When we’re out in the city, I dream of breaking away from our friends and letting you have your way with me in the bathroom. And when we’re training, I think about you pinning me down and using me whichever way you desire.”

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. “How long? How long have you wanted this? Wanted me?”

“For as long as I could remember.”

The shadowsinger was quiet as he appraised you. “I’m sorry.” Your throat worked, dread filling your core. ”Are you mad?”

“No,” Azriel said decisively. “I have wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He tilted your chin up, kissing your jaw. “I’ve thought about all the things you’ve thought about and more. Filthier, dirtier, and kinkier than anything you could ever imagine.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice breathy as he continued peppering your neck with kisses.

“Because,” Azriel snarled, nipping at your ear lobe. “I like you and I didn’t want to fuck this up. But now that I know you feel the same…” He grabbed your wrist, fingers still glistening with your own arousal.

You watched with rapt attention as the shadowsinger took your fingers in his mouth and licked away every drop of your juices.

Azriel moaned. “Gods, you taste even better than what I imagined.”

He pushed you into the mattress, his lean body hovering above yours. “We’ll do everything you fantasized about, sweetheart. Every single dark, depraved daydream. But first, I want to taste you.”

You shivered as the shadowsinger buried his head between your legs. His cool breath fanned against the inside of your thighs, his soft, wet mouth placing kisses along your mound. Then, he started devouring you.

With his tongue flicking wickedly past your soaked folds, you moaned and writhed off the bed. Whatever you were imagining, whatever fantasies you may have had, shattered into pieces as reality slammed into you. Azriel’s lips worked you better than your fingers ever could, sucking and prodding, his expert movements making you come undone with each stroke.

Your breathy moans echoed off the walls as the shadowsinger gripped your thighs. Azriel was kneeling at the edge of the bed, one hand moving to hold your hips down while the other squeezed your breasts. He looked up at you as one of his shadows tilted your head down.

“Look at me, kitten.” Azriel said, your slick juices dripping from his mouth. “I want to watch you come.”

Cauldron fry and fucking boil you.

As he sucked harshly on your clit, you came fast and hard, your mind a blank canvas as white noise rang in your ears. Azriel held your hips down as the orgasm racked through your body. He didn’t stop feasting on you, devouring every last drop, and heightening your pleasure until you were coming a second time.

The shadowsinger glanced up at you, kissing the side of your ankle as your legs fell slack behind his shoulders. You didn’t even notice when you’d wrapped them around his neck.

Azriel brushed stray strands of hair away from your face. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Softly as though he hadn’t spent the past few minutes making you come in record time.

He hummed, savoring the taste of you, exploring every inch that you yield to him. Despite the back to back orgasms, you were insatiable, pulling Azriel’s head down so you could kiss him deeper. He smiled, pulling away briefly to catch his breath.

Golden eyes trapped you in place, making you feel like you were swimming through honey and sunlight. “Beautiful,” Azriel murmured in appreciation. “You’re beautiful.”

You grinned. “So are you,” you declare shyly, caressing his cheek and sighing dreamily. “You’re so pretty, Az.”

His lips quirked. “I’d prefer devastatingly handsome, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Azriel winked, making you blush furiously. He kissed your cheeks, your neck, your jaw, taking the time to commit all your little moles and freckles to memory. Gathering your wrists in one hand, he looked down at you through his dark lashes.

Shadows snaked through your skin and gently removed your nightgown until you were completely bare before Azriel. You watched as he palmed himself in his large hands, his cock hard and thick against your stomach. You strained against his hold, wanting to touch him. To feel him.

“No,” he said softly. “I want you to watch. I want you to see how desperate you make me.” He tugged at his proud length, his breaths ragged as he groaned. “This is what I think about when I’m alone in the middle of the night. After restraining myself from touching you, kissing you, fucking you. This is what I have to do to keep myself from yanking your door open and taking what I want.”

The arousal pulsing through your veins drowned out every other sensation. You watched as Azriel continued to stroke himself, feeling the bead of precum sliding against your stomach as he pleasured himself to the sight of you. A heady sort of rush blurred out all the rest as his moans increased.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, rubbing your slick core against the underside of his cock. Azriel jolted from the friction and his movements turned frantic as he worked towards release. His head dropped down to yours as he kissed you roughly, all teeth and tongue and tension while the orgasm tore through him.

The sound that ripped through his chest was animalistic. You’ve never heard such filthy sounds come out of anyone’s mouth like this before. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I need to be inside of you, now.”

“Gods, yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

There was no preamble of shyness or hesitation between you as Azriel guided his cock into your slick folds. The two of you had been waiting for this moment for too long to feel a hint of apprehension.

The shadowsinger pushed and pushed, his cock stretching your silky walls as he buried himself inside of you. When Azriel was finally fully sheathed inside of your pussy, you both released a satisfied sigh.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grunted, relishing the way you hugged around him. “It feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimpered as he slowly slid in and out, building your pleasure with slow strokes. Despite the steady pace, it felt like the sheer size of him was splitting you apart in the best way possible.

You raked your fingernails over his back, inhaling sharply as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “You feel so good, Azriel. My imagination is shit compared to this.”

He chuckled, kissing the hollow of your throat. “I aim to please, angel.”

Azriel’s lips found yours in the darkness. As he deepened the kiss, his thrusts turned sharper and faster, his hips snapping to yours at a relentless pace. He held you throughout it, kissing you, intertwining your fingers, pulling away every once in a while to make sure you were comfortable.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Azriel asked gently, the soft tone of his voice providing a sharp contrast to his punishing pace.

You nod, smiling up at him. “Better than alright.” Wrapping your legs around him, you squeezed your walls and Azriel released a string of curses under his breath, making you chuckle. “Don’t go easy on me. I want you to ruin me, Azriel.”

The shadowsinger’s wings flared behind him. Those giant, mighty wings swallowed you whole and plunged you into darkness. Your words flicked a switch on within him that he hadn’t even known was there.

Electricity crackled between you as Azriel hiked your legs over his shoulders, pushing you into the mattress until the back of your legs were pressed against the front of his thighs. He was a male unleashed—restrained be damned, Azriel fucked you rough and hard, digging his fingers into your hips as he rutted into you, leaving half moon bruises on your skin as he made a mess of you.

“Fuck, Az,” you whimpered, tightening your grip around his trim waist. Your head lolled to the side as he fucked you dumb. All thoughts vanished from your mind and the only thing you could focus on was that familiar feeling budding in your core. “That’s it—right there. So close.”

“Open your eyes, angel.” Azriel murmured, locking your fingers together. You peered up at him, a prince of shadows and darkness, perfect and beautiful in every way. “Together, baby.”

You nodded and as he kissed you again, you succumbed together. Your bodies melted into one, limbs locked and lips fused in heated embrace as the force of the joined orgasm wiped the world away. At that moment, it was only you and Azriel.

The shadowsinger moaned your name, his head falling slack against your shoulder as his teeth grazed your collarbone. You held him against you, panting while the two of you came down from the high.

Azriel sighed softly as you played with his hair, twining your fingers in his dark locks as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Az?” you murmured shyly.

He looked up at you, his eyes full of earnest desire. “Yes, angel?”

“When you thought about this…what did we do? After, I mean.”

The shadowsinger smiled. “You asked me to stay and we cuddled and I told you how adorable you are when you get shy around me.” He kissed your shoulder. “It was always the best part of the fantasy.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “I think I’d like that,” you whispered, smiling. “I think I like you.”

“Good, because I have no plans of letting you go.”

You smiled and for once, you didn’t drift off into a daydream because the reality of Azriel was better than the fantasy.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

#why did he put his whole azussy into this #nah i'm going to jail for saying that #but it's okay only those who read the tags will know #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader

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abbyonmars · 4 months

Text

gf!abby hcs xmas edishhh ♥ wlw

hi!!!! im back

sorry if the title is hard to read i was feeling festive: 'gf!abby hcs xmas edish' short for edition hahaha hahahaha haha ha

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . sfw.... i think

one day after gf!abby came home from patrol, she walked into your shared apartment one day, only to have walked in on you preparing a stocking with her name on it. it made her feel so touched — since she was a girl, she'd always secretly dreamed for a day where she would be shown as much love as she was worth. safe to say this brought her to tears.

you didn't even notice her initially since you were facing the fireplace, stocking in hand, with your back to the door where she entered. you were softly humming some obsolete christmas song as you picked a variety of small and delicately wrapped presents from the mantel, placing them each carefully into the stocking.

she just stood there and stared at you. it was as if she was frozen, shoes glued to the floor. not to mention the shock on her face — soft lips agape, slowly widening eyes and a gentle flush that eventually covered her freckled cheeks. it was the sight of you making time for her that did it. you had thought about her, her happiness, your love, and you made an effort for her, which was something she wasn't so used to; eventually you noticed her tearful presence behind you once you heard a tiny sniffle that made your heart jump in surprise.

"abby, baby," you cooed, immediately hooking the stocking onto the mantel. you rushed over, cupping her slightly dampened cheeks in your hands, wiping her tears away with your thumbs. "are you crying? what's wrong?"

"oh.. i - n-nothing," she chuckled, sniffing once more, "i just - never thought anyone would love me this much to actually make me a stocking."

gf!abby loves to cuddle you by the fireplace — she likes to have you close and in between her legs with your back to her chest, tracing absentminded circles into your skin with her thumb as you read her a book or talk to her about your day. although, she's not really listening; she pays more heed to the glow of your skin by the fire, or the way your voice sounds when you talk. maybe specific ways in which you enunciate each word, or how passionate you sound when you speak. either way, her mind is immersed in the way you are and your person as a whole — she feels so lucky to have you by her side.

gf!abby was never really up for christmas traditions as a whole until she met you. you happened to bring the light and spirit into her eyes, and she now finds herself looking forward to each year where you'd put up the tree together, bake cookies together, kiss under the mistletoe — even to matching ugly christmas sweaters with you. whatever you want to do, she'll do for you, eventually coming to warm up to the annual routine.

gf!abby likes to bake with you in particular — she's a huge sucker for hugging you from behind, using fatuous excuses that she's helping you mix your batter, or that there's something in a top cupboard that happens to be right above you, all in effort just to tease you.

but once those baked goods in the oven, you know she'll be right behind you. once you're bent over to close the oven door, she likes to creep her hands onto each side of your hips, hooking her fingers around the hem of your matching pyjama pants to guide your ass perfectly into her crotch, which earns a low, quiet chuckle from her smartass once she hears you whine. done more or less to tease you, but also because she literally can never keep her hands off you.

once you rise, your back presses directly into her chest and the intimacy radiates profusely between you two as you sway together. her head dips into the crook of your neck and she presses her nose into your skin with a soft sigh of content as she whispers with love into your ear, the sweet nothings only manifesting butterflies along with a familiar warmth in your stomach that grows worse the longer her thick fingers trail along your hipline.

here r some less fluffy hcs :p

gf!abby hates cinnamon. she hates the smell, the taste, maybe even the colour for no reason

one of gf!abby's pet peeves include when people eat their whipped cream separate to their hot chocolate. she gets so unnecessarily stressed about it, her head starts to hurt the longer she thinks ab it LOL

gf!abby likes to get alice different xmas costumes every year. she can't decide her favourite between these three ⤵

HAHAHHAAH

u can imagine the laughs she gets outta seeing her in these

gf!abby isn't a massive spender on gifts. she prefers to spend individual time with each of her loved ones on the build up to xmas, but if she knows the other person would prefer something materialistic, then she'll get them a gift. she accommodates for each person.

gf!abby rolls her eyes at carol singers. she thinks the practice is stupid, unfortunately

gf!abby gives the vibe that during present opening, she'll be ready with a black bag to immediately get rid of the discarded wrapping like those over-prepared dads on xmas morning the second it lands on the floor

gf!abby hates winter :( the needed coats restrict her huge juicy muscles too much and she tends to feel suffocated in comparison to the freedom allowed by the simple wife beater tank or sports bra 😛

gf!abby the type of mf to wear shorts even if it's snowing and -1 degree celsius and once someone asks her if she's cold she'll look at them like ???? no???????

gf!abby draws dicks on the fogged windows of manny's car for fun. doesn't even tell him about it

she might even act like she has no idea what he's talking about when he complains about it. she's a horrible liar tho

gf!abby has a specific christmas song that she refuses to listen to cause it's so overplayed and now annoying to hear

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

hiii im not a huge xmas person but i enjoyed writing these

if you don't celebrate christmas, i wish you love and support regardless :')

generally speaking ik it can be hard as we approach the colder season — i hope you all are able to stay safe and cozy this winter :)

anyway i wish i had someone to make me a stocking. i'll be cold and miserable yall wlw couples on tiktok baking cookies w each other in the matching checkered pjs...... maybe if you squint you can see me face down on the road outside the window /s

anyway i want more moots :( yous can hmu i dont bite swear down

ok bye!!!! see u guys again at xmas :3

#abby anderson #lesbian #the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #fluff #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #abby the last of us #wlw #lesbian pride #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader

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guyfieriii · 11 months

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Fair Game

This piece is dedicated to @soapskneebrace. Loosely based on the song Fair Game by Sia and a particularly horny tiktok. Thank you for always indulging my crazed Price thoughts and I’m sorry this took so long. It started out as porn, then porn with a smidge of angst, then too much angst which I scrapped and started over. And I know I promised to let smut be smut, but I cannot help myself. I hope it’s worth it!!

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Warnings: Explicit Sexual Scenes

His hands trace your skin. Coarsened palms kneading into your flesh, firm and unyielding they keep you anchored to the present. Your mind is in a haze — the past few hours are all a blur of direct commands and strident whispers. You’d have confused them to be almost brutish if you didn’t know any better.

You’ve been teetering on the edge of an orgasm for far too long. He’s kept you bound, but not through any physical tether. It’s through his voice alone. Like sandpaper against the wood grain, sanding you down to what you need to be. For now, you simply need to be in place until you’re told otherwise.

You’re a creature of habit. Following orders is second nature.

“Stay still.”

Yes, captain.

With each approaching climax, you find it harder still to keep it at bay.

“You won’t come, will ya? Until I say?”

No, captain.

No matter how hard you will yourself to seem unfaltering, your limbs tremble beneath the strain.

He notices but stays the course. Unforgiving. Relentless. Exacting.

His lips at your ear, teeth grazing against the lobe. You sink further into the mattress under his weight, chest pressed flush to your back. The cold air is now replaced with the scorching warmth that rolls off of him in spades.

It was just you and him sheltered in what remained of some untenanted house at the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar. Breathing was a laboured task to begin with, but the cold turned every inhale into sharp sting that settled between your ribs. You take in one breath for what should be two, a vain effort to try and reserve some warmth.

One. Two. In.

One. Two. Out.

Until—

“Let me help.”

Heat — you find it’s synonymous with him. His hands are recalescent, branding the memories of his touch into your skin. Now, the very thought of him has sweat pooling at your brows. A single look from him has you flush and feverish.

“Had ‘nough, have ya?”

You’re throroughtly fucked out to have a response more eloquent than your meagre uh huh.

You feel the rumble of his chuckle in his chest before you hear it. Deep and low.

“Wan’ come, eh?” You feel him glide down your body, his breath tracing the curve of your spine and his tongue following suit. It’s a torrent of stimulation across the expanse of your back. Lips. Tongue. Teeth.

Lower.

His hands cradle the curve of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh, his tongue pressed flat against your perineum and then flicking upwards.

You’re prepared. More than.

He fucks your ass with his tongue, lapping at the circumference, flattening his tongue against it before plunging back in. Eventually, your hands replace his and you hold yourself, spread wide open as a way of libation for him to feast at.

He travels downward to give a few rewarding licks, lips latching to your clit, he sucks.

It’s a mess of you and him — wet, tacky.

Eventually his fingers replace his tongue. He makes the swap quick, not giving you a moment to adjust to the change. His ring and middle finger pulse in and out of your cunt with his thumb firmly hooked one knuckle deep in your asshole.

Your hands fall back down, fingers gripping the bedsheet for purchase while his fingers thrust in and out of you. With a steady rhythm, he fucks you, murmuring a recital of praise of which you feel wholly unworthy.

“None of that, now.” He urges, like he knows what you’re thinking. “Just fuckin’ take it.”

You feel it again, the coil unfurling deep in your belly. The hairs across your body have risen. Your limbs tighten, something you no longer thought than capable of.

John constantly made you do things you didn’t think yourself capable of.

Your body is the instrument, and he’s tuned it to him. Entirely.

Made for him, he’d say.

On a night like tonight, when he’s worked you to your limits, you find they are preconceived.

You might have thought you’d be taken under the overstimulation, being brought to the bring of orgasm time and time again only for it to be snatched from you. But you withstand.

Sometimes, you think, he knows you better than you know yourself.

So when beg and mewl and promise that you’ve had enough, that you just need to come, he’ll say try for me in such distinct assurance like he knows you’ll do it. How do you say no to that?

“I know it.” He’ll say.

“You have more in you.” He’ll say.

And well—

You do.

The walls of your cunt flutter around his fingers as you writhe against his touch. The zenith of all these hours of strain comes closer. You’re hoping he’ll let you meet it just as the pressure builds and builds and—

He stills.

Your whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“John, please just—”

His fingers are entwined with the roots of your hair in an instant, fingers closing around the nape of your neck to lift your head backward.

“You’ll come when I let you.” It’s an order, a threat, and a promise all in one and your ensuing protest dies at your lips.

If you could turn back time, you would. You’d go back to when you thought it was wise to pursue your captain as a way of a game, a distraction in recompense for a disobeyed order.

You were meant to be the balm that soothes his day. The final scratch to every itch he’s had. He buried himself in you in more ways than one. You found yourself in him in just as many ways. It was something both of you recognized and wordlessly acknowledged.

You were his relief. His oasis. His absolution.

He was your compass. Your levee. Your reliquary.

Then you went ahead and did something that threatened to wipe it all away.

It was very telling how he avoided you right after it all went down. Once the dust settled and he knew you were safe—

“Is she— Just fuckin’ tell me she’s okay.” His voice broke over the radio, but the desperation in it rang clear.

You’d heard him voice his desperation in the past but in an entirely different way.

He’s held you and pleaded. Pleaded for you to touch him, to take him. It came from a place of unsoiled longing. Pure and utter want.

But this time it was overcast with fear. You hated it.

He met your eyes once, as he stormed into the infirmary. Like he had to make sure you were alright for himself. He gave you a once over and before you could mutter any approximation of an apology, he walked right out.

It hurt more than it should have. More than you were capable of handling, and it made you foolhardy.

In hindsight, you realize, you should have taken the time to disassemble the consequences of your almost folly and approached him with genuine regret rather than—

“Challenge me then, captain.”

Famous last words.

Maybe it’s not too late to—

“‘M sorry, John.” You offer in a strangled whisper as his and travels to grasp your throat from the front, fingers digging into your pulse.

“What was that?” He grunts in response.

He heard you. You know he did.

Nevertheless—

“I’m sorry, John.” You echo. “Please, forgive me.”

The apology leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as it escapes you because there’s more to it than that. There are words neither of you would dare say out loud because what you have remained unspoken. It’s understood, despite your efforts. But to say it—

I’m sorry you almost lost me, John.

“Never again, hmm?” It’s back in his voice, the desperation. This time, it’s a bit of both.

Yes, captain.

You needn’t acknowledge it. He knows. And he shows it.

He shows it in the way he fucks you.

When he tightens his grasp around your throat just for a passing moment before letting go. It’s in that instant when his pent-up anger and fear, all his abrasiveness washes away like pebbles at a shore. What remains in its stead is relief.

You’re flipped over to your back — finally, you think. You’re being met halfway here, he’s accepting your apology and letting you witness him in this moment of weakness and despair. When your eyes meet his, you’re submerged in an Aegean storm that threatens to pull you overboard.

You let it.

You’ve half out of your mind from the liberation from your punishment to be able to finally savour this with him.

It’s his lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth. Sloppy and reverent. He tastes of the earth and of you, intermingled with the salt from the tears that you hadn’t realized had spilled.

His hands cradled the crown of your head while he nestled himself between your legs, cock positioned right at the entrance of your cunt.

He’s waiting—

“Please, John.” You beg, against the cusp of his lips, and with a resounding grunt he obliges.

He fucks you deep and slow. Not allowing you to adjust to his girth of him, he buries himself in you to the hilt and remains.

Positioning your hips so you can take him deeper, he shushes your whimpers of being just too full. “Take me so well, love. Fuckin’ made for me, weren’t ya?”

Yes, you were.

And you almost weren’t.

“Shit— John, I—” You can’t find the words, but he can feel you clench around him and his pace grows steadier, the head of his cock hitting that spot deep within you over and over and the overwhelming pleasure of it shrouds over you like a canopy.

His head drops to the nape of your shoulder, teeth grazing across your pulse as his lips latch around it while grinds his hips against yours.

“That’s it, fuckin’ come on my cock, dove. Come for me an’ I’ll—” You’re caught in rapture — cunt squeezing him in a vice and he pounds you mercilessly now.

“Keep fuckin’ comin’.” His rasps out, his thrusts now quicker and uneven. “Don’t stop don’t stop don’t— I’m gonna—”

You milk him for every drop.

He stays within you till he’s soft. And when he finally pulls away it’s a laboured task, like he’s not ready to be apart.

Neither are you, but—

“Keep me in there, yeah?” An order. A plea.

Yes, captain.

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lomlhwa · 1 year

Text

thigh highs (h.k)

pairing: bf!heuning kai x gf!reader

preview: kai knows you like to look cute. he even funds your shopping sprees for more cute clothes. but he can't control himself when you wear your thigh highs. you just look so fuckable.

tags/warnings: fem reader, thigh highs fetish obvi, degradation, pet names (slut, whore, cockslut, good girl, baby), breath play, lots and lots of spit, fingering, squirting, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, cum eating

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.6k

song recs for this fic: at night by simon dominic, whiplash by nct 127, lay back by verivery, focus on me by jus2

a/n: i have only ever owned one pair of thigh highs since i was born. they're low-key uncomfortable. anything for kai tho <3

you’re doing it again.

you’re modeling your cute little outfits for him.

he did ask for this though. he knew this was a component when you asked him to take you shopping again. you and your short little skirts, your little crop tops and your god forsaken thigh highs.

the thigh highs. his biggest weakness.

the way they cling to your legs, the way they barely pass your knees, the way they make your legs look so soft and touchable.

everytime you wear them, it makes him want to bend you over every surface he can find. table, counter, chair, couch, even just press you up against a wall and have his way with you.

now, you haven’t worn any thigh highs in your little fashion show yet. so far, you’ve worn a collection of soft sweaters and slutty skirts. he’s really hoping you have thigh highs in store for him though.

while his thoughts wander, you come skipping out of your room in another outfit. lilac colored skirt that barely covers your ass, fluffy white sweater that’s long on your arms and white fishnet stockings with cute little pink bows on the knees.

stockings. we’re inching closer to thigh highs.

“what do you think, heuningie?” you ask, doing a little twirl. your skirt lifts up just enough to flash your pretty white panties at your boyfriend. they look so innocent, a soft white lace lining the hem.

“you’re so cute. i love your skirt” he says, admiring you. he loves how cutely you dress. how innocently you ask him his opinion of your outfits when you know you’re dressing so scantily on purpose. he knows your tactics. he loves you for how much effort you put into teasing him on a daily basis.

“thank you, my love” you walk over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. “i have one more outfit. i think you’ll really like this one” you bite your lip and pad your way back down the hallway.

something he’ll really like? he really doesn’t think he bought you any thigh highs today. but, maybe he did? he really didn’t pay attention while he swiped his card and put in his code. he barely even took a second glance at the grand total of 258$.

when he hears the door open, his heart almost stops. what if you do come waddling down the hallway, acting all innocent wearing his biggest weakness? he might have to fuck you braindead immediately.

unfortunately for his tight pants, that’s exactly what you do. you come sauntering into the living room wearing a fluffy pink sweater, a short white tennis skirt and white lacy thigh highs. as you walk further into the room, he comes to find that your stockings are attached to a garter belt.

he can feel the tent in his pants grow as you repeat your previous actions. your little twirl, this time revealing cute little baby pink panties. all of you seems so innocent but the thoughts in his mind are quite the opposite.

“i told you you’d like this outfit, heuningie” you say, wiggling your ass around to make your skirt swish around. he can’t see behind you, but he knows that your ass is fully peeking out of your skirt at your slightly bent over angle.

“i do like this outfit, baby” he licks over his bottom lip. he shifts uncomfortably in his spot on the couch. he wants to just pull you onto his lap and have his way with you. “i love it.”

your eyes are basically begging him to throw you around and have his way with you.

“you’ve got quite a problem growing, don’t you” you tease. he gets up off the couch and walks towards you. he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. his hand travels to your ass, gripping it hard enough to leave a light handprint. it feels so possessive.

“you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you baby” he smiles at you. there’s something lustful behind his eyes. that’s exactly what you’ve been working on drawing out of him.

he flips you around, bending you at the knees and shoving your face onto the table in the middle of the room. “you just want to be treated like a slut, don’t you?” your thighs tremble at his suddenly vulgar words. he doesn’t apply too much pressure to your head, just enough to keep you pinned down.

“of course, heuning” you wiggle around again, this time your ass brushing directly on his bulge. he groans in your ear, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

he picks you up with one arm, wrapped around your waist and carries you to your shared bedroom. if this was a tactic to show off his strength, it’s definitely got you soaked.

he throws your new clothes on the floor, all of it ending up strewn all over the room. he admires the way your skirt flips up when he throws you onto the bed.

“my perfect little slut, always dressing up so pretty for me” he climbs onto the bed and grabs your face. “open up” he squeezes your face to get you to open your mouth. he spits directly down your throat, kissing you immediately after.

you pass saliva back and forth between your mouths. honestly, one of your personal favorite activities. as gross as it sounds, it really feels quite intimate. sharing the hot, gooey essences from each other’s mouths, the wetness spilling out and covering each other’s mouths. it feels like such a connecting experience. the slobber collects all over your faces, your skin becoming slippery.

“messy whore” he bites your lip. you let out a sharp, shaky breath. your back arches and stutters back down. he slides his hands under your soft sweater and takes it completely off you. he loves the sweater. a lot. that’s why he was so careful with it.

he slides your little skirt off too, revealing your garter belt attached to your thigh highs. god he loves when you tease him like this. as much as he’d like to fuck you in the skirt, he knows you wouldn’t be too happy with him if he stained it the same day you got it.

he shoves your panties to the side and plunges two fingers inside you with no warning. your breathing catches in your throat, and he wraps his hand around your neck. his fingers dig into your neck enough to cut off your airflow, borderline completely. you wrap your hands around his wrist, gasping for air, but the sensation heightens your pleasure.

“ffffuck” you manage to gasp out. he releases your throat long enough for you to take a few gasping breaths before cutting off your airflow again. he adds another finger, thrusting them in and out at an unfathomable pace for your oxygen-lacking brain.

your legs shake as he brings you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. he watches as his fingers disappear in and out of you, the way you just suck him in so perfectly.

“c-cumming fuck kai” your voice is just barely above a whisper. you explode all over his hand, the bed and his shirt. he releases your throat, you gasp loudly, your body full of post-orgasm tremors.

he strips himself of his pants and underwear, intending to wash them sooner or later. he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor along with your clothes. he doesn’t even bother to remove any of your lower undergarments. he just moves your panties to the side and shoves himself in.

“my pretty little slut” you whine into his ear. “you love being full of cock, don’t you? you’re just my little cockslut” he bites down on your neck, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave a mark. “you dress all slutty for me just so i’ll stuff my cock in you, don’t you?”

“yes, fuck, oh my god kai” you scramble to dig your nails into his back, holding him as close to you as possible. “all i ever want is your cock” you whine and plead as your orgasm builds up in your stomach.

the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing fill the room. your quiet whines fill his ears the most. little squeals of pleasurable sounds, repeated moans of his name. you make him weak.

“aww my cock-drunk baby. you’re clenching so hard. do you wanna cum?” he taunts you. he taunts you and it makes you want to cum even more. you nod vigorously. “yes, wanna cum kai” your eyes fill with hot tears. “then beg for it” he sneers at you, his hips picking up the pace.

“please please please let me cum, heuningie. please, i need it. need it so bad” your voice gets progressively louder as it becomes more and more difficult to hold back your orgasm. tears spill out of your eyes, forming puddles next to your head. “cum for me, my beautiful baby” his sudden sweetness sends you spiraling, orgasming so hard that your brain goes foggy and your vision blurs.

“where do you want it?” he groans. you struggle to get words out. “in-in-inside” your stuttering sets him off. he releases his fat load inside of you, sweat dripping off his forehead.

he pulls out and gathers some of his cum and your own on his fingers. “open” you open your mouth, inviting his dirtied fingers into your tongue. you savor the saltiness and the bitterness. you swirl your tongue around the tips of his fingers, licking them clean.

“please, never stop wearing thigh highs.”

#lomlhwa #txt #tomorrow x together #tubatu #heuning kai #hyuka #heuning kai smut #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut

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desert-fern · 9 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 14: ‘Cause I Need You (Like the Flowers Need the Rain)

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*GIF is not mine, found on Pinterest*

A/N: Chapter title from the song Flowers Need Rain by Preston Pablo (and yes, I know that this song is waaay too upbeat for this chapter)

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: CPR, broken bones, mentions of death, brief description of injuries, mention of the crash, emergency surgery mentioned, grief, sobbing, vomit, drug haze, just straight pain in the last half (lmk if I’m missing anything)

Word Count: 5.3k

Masterlist >> Part 13 >> Part 15

===

It was the beeping that woke Jake up. Then the pain hit him and it was all he could do not to pass out again. It felt like his whole body had been dipped in fire. His ribs burned with each breath he took, lungs struggling to inflate fully against the pain of what he knew to be broken ribs. Jake groaned low in his throat, reaching up in a stilted manner to try and prod at the tender places in his chest, trying to investigate the bandages adhered to his torso.

But then someone caught his hand, gently placing it back against the bed, and through the haze of pain medication, he swore he saw the woman he loved sitting next to him. “Teddy…” he slurred, his other hand coming up to grab at hers, or who he thought was Bear. “‘S’okay, Imokay darlin’.”

Distantly he heard a gasp and then a flurry of voices but he was being pulled back under the blanket of haze that had settled over his mind and body. A few sleepy blinks later and his eyes fell shut again, his mind and body too tired to see who was actually sitting beside him.

===

Phoenix had taken her shift next to Jake’s bed when he had begun to wake up. It had been four days since he’d been brought back from the desert. Four days since Bear had sacrificed herself for her team and for him. Four days since the Seals had practically shut themselves away to try and plan, but Phoenix didn’t know how much planning was actually being done because every time she passed Bug in the halls, the Indian woman always appeared to be ten seconds from crying.

Not to mention Flare. The intelligence operative, usually bubbly and positive, was a shell of her normal self. She seemed to be wracked with guilt and it seemed to the few pilots that saw her that Flare was far more skittish than she had ever been. It looked like she was being eaten from within over her fear for her Commander. She had almost become a ghost, her skin pale and brown eyes watery and red from tears, it nearly made the Daggers worry about her being overworked.

Nothing the Daggers said or did gave them any indication of what the Seals were planning. Any communication or comradery that had been introduced by Bear’s efforts had disappeared the second she hadn’t returned. Since Bug had to tell Maverick that the Commander was gone, taken by the enemy.

But when Jake’s eyes opened, and he called her Teddy through glassy green eyes and slurred speech, it broke her heart for him. Hangman had always been a pain in her ass, much like a brother would be. But she didn’t think she could ever get over the sight of seeing his near lifeless body pulled from the helicopter, placed on a stretcher as FAK performed CPR, doing everything they could to keep Jake alive.

She prayed that it wasn’t her who had to deliver the news to Jake. Natasha didn’t think that she was strong enough for that. So when he’d fallen back asleep, she sank back in her chair, blowing out a breath to keep her tears at bay. “Poor man has no idea,” she mumbled to herself, swiping her arm over her face, taking one last glance at Jake’s sleeping face. Her heart broke for him.

“Hey Nix.” Bob appeared at the doorway, a dinner tray in hand. “How’s our sleeping beauty doin?”

Phoenix smiled at her WSO gently, taking the tray from his outstretched hand. “He woke up 10 minutes ago. Called me Teddy before passing out again. He doesn’t know she’s gone.”

Bob’s face fell at her words. “God, I feel awful for him. He damn near died and has no idea that Bear is gone. Who’s going to tell him?”

“I don’t know, Bobert. I honestly don’t know.”

The two sat in silence as Natasha ate. Neither pilot said a word for a long while, communicating with glances when they felt it was necessary. Both offered the other silent support as they sat in vigil around Hangman’s bed.

Rooster snuck in at some point, joining them. He looked rough, eyes red from his own tears. No one spoke of their own grief for Bear and for what had happened to Jake. It was a given considering everything that had happened not even a week prior, and not even the Seals were talking about it. Rooster had caught the sound of Bug shouting at someone in the room they locked themselves in for hours at a time every day since FAK had returned without Bear. The crack of her voice had been enough to bring on a wave of his own tears. He had barely hidden them long enough for him to get in the shower, letting the salt water of his tears mix with the cold water that fell over his body as he mourned both a good friend and a tremendous leader.

The vigil around Jake’s bed grew. Every Dagger found their way in at some point, crowding into the room, showing their silent support for one another and for their wounded teammate.

It was promptly at 2 in the morning that Jake woke up, his mind clearer than it had been the previous day. But with that clarity came pain. Shooting up his leg from even the slightest pressure. His lungs burned with each breath and forget about coughing. It felt like someone had landed a plane in his chest, and Jake groaned.

On his right, Rooster stirred from where he’d passed out in a chair, somehow folding his large body into a position comfortable enough to sleep in. A few sleepy blinks had him meeting Jake’s gaze. “Nix, he hissed.

Startled, Phoenix fell out of her chair, knocking the empty dinner tray to the floor with a loud clatter that woke up the remaining pilots. Lights were flicked on as everyone squinted at where Phoenix had fallen, not yet noticing the fact that Jake was awake. “Nix, you good?” Rooster asked from across the room.

“I was fine until you scared me,” she hissed, glaring at him.

“Guys…” Bob began, but Phoenix waved her hand at him to shush, as she continued to give Rooster shit for waking her up for no good reason.

Bob sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Hi Bagman.”

“Hey Bobert,” came Jake’s gravelly reply that had everyone jerking their heads around to stare wide-eyed at Jake. “Hey guys.”

The room exploded with sound as all the pilots began talking excitedly over each other, all of them ecstatic at the fact that he was awake. Coyote had broken down in the corner, trying to hide himself from his best friend’s gaze.

Halo just gave him a hug, pulling the much larger man close and just letting him sob in relief. She knew the grief he had carried with him since everything had gone down. Coyote had spent a lot of time with her, each of them just providing comfort for the other as they tried to cope with losing one friend and nearly losing another.

Jake tried to clear his throat but found he couldn’t. His hand fumbled at the bedside table, nearly knocking everything from its surface to the floor. Phoenix was quick to realize the struggle, grabbing the water that sat nearby, and helping him up enough to drink some. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Despite seeing his team, Jake felt that something was wrong. “Where are the Seals? Thought some of them would have been thrilled I nearly died. Especially that one dick, what’s his name, Danger?,” he tried to joke. But it fell flat. The room fell silent, as the Daggers all glanced at one another. Panic lay behind most of their gazes and Jake just looked adorably confused as he sat in bed, eyes a little watery from sleeping so long with his blonde hair stuck up all over the place. “What? Was it something I said?”

“No. It’s all good,” Fanboy spoke from near the door. “We’ve just been worried about you. And that fucker’s named Hazard.”

Jake shrugged before continuing on. “Please. You’re just saying that,” he scoffed, looking around the room again. “You weren’t worried. It’s me.”

Coyote made a pained noise. “You almost died, Jake.”

“What?”

Halo placed her hand on Coyote’s arm, steadying him. “Your tail was hit by a truck-mounted missile and you crashed in the desert. Doctors told us that you had a piece of metal roughly the size of a dinner plate embedded in your thigh. It was millimeters away from the femoral artery.” Her voice was calm, but there was the underlying panic seeping into every word. It was like she was desperate to make him understand that he wouldn’t just walk away from this. He had done serious muscle damage when he had walked from his crash site to what remained of his plane.

Jake glanced around. There was panic in his eyes, the emotion shining so clearly within them that it nearly made the room full of pilots start crying again. “How long was I out?”

“Just about five days.” Bob swallowed thickly, trying his best to keep his voice even. “You gave us all a real scare.”

Jake blinked. He knew he was in pain, he knew he’d crashed, but somehow he’d pictured his accident to be a blip on the radar of his team. Their support, all eleven of them, plus Maverick, crowded in his hospital room gave him pause. Why were they here? “Guys, I’m fine. I promise. Why do you look like someone died?”

“Because you nearly did,” Coyote snapped. His emotions were frayed like a ribbon that had been tied one too many times. “You burned in. You crashed harder than anything we’ve ever seen, man. You just about fucking died. They found you clinging to life, bleeding out. They had…” he paused, trying to keep his emotions at bay, furiously pushing away his tears. “They had to do CPR because you fucking coded, you ass!” The man broke down, tears racing down his cheeks despite his best attempts to hold them back. “And here you are! Making fucking jokes like nothing happened! Like five of us in this room didn’t watch your plane explode!”

“Javy…” Jake began, but his best friend just shook his head.

“Don’t.” Coyote pushed through the others, disappearing through the door and down the hall.

He looked at Phoenix, who shook her head gently. “We really did think you were dead, Bagman.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice small. He remembered next to nothing of what happened to him, just a few flashes of light as he went down, and the jerk of the parachute, lifting him up and out of the burning jet. “I didn’t… I don’t remember.”

Payback gave him a sympathetic look. His friend’s eyes were kind, and looking around, he saw that the eyes of more than one of his teammates, Maverick included, were red rimmed and puffy. “We know dude. Javy was worried as hell. They couldn’t help you, the Seals ordered them to retreat.”

“Why?” That didn’t sound like Bear. Bear would never abandon any of her team, he knew that much. “Why would they do that?”

“Because any one of them could have been shot down as well,” Maverick replied from the doorway. “They didn’t want to take any chances. Ordered a full retreat until one of the recon teams spotted your chute, then they sent a skeleton rescue crew.”

Jake sat in silence, absorbing what was being said. “So, you all thought I died…” he said slowly. “That I burned in. Right?”

“Exactly,” Rooster replied, swallowing hard. “We got word that Nix, Halo, and Javy were coming home, but that you…” he trailed off, tipping his head toward Jake.

He fidgeted with the bandage holding his IV in place, running his thumb over where it sat as he tried to process everything that he was being told. “Shit, you guys… I’m sorry,” Jake said, meeting Bob’s eyes. He made eye contact with those still in the room, hoping that they could see it in his eyes, that he meant what he said. “I had no idea.”

“You’re forgiven,” Phoenix replied. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile as she watched him. “I mean, you nearly died. It would be rude if we held a grudge.”

“Especially since you’re still on pain medication, and likely high as a kite,” Fanboy chimed in, making Jake huff a laugh, wincing after.

“Careful.” Maverick approached the bed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “FAK broke three of your ribs trying to keep you alive on top of the one that was already broken.”

Jake could only grin widely. “Guess y’all are stuck with me, huh?”

“Shut up.” Rooster just rolled his eyes, making the rest of the room chuckle.

They continued like that for a while, talking and laughing. But from where Bob stood, all he could focus on was Bear and the Seals. “He has to be wondering,” the WSO thought to himself. “He’s too in love with her not to be.” But there wasn’t anything he could do about it, so Bob and the others just had to sit and chat with Jake like nothing had happened. Like the woman they all knew he cared for was just in a different room instead of hundreds of kilometers away.

===

Jake was in the hospital for a week and a half. Most of his visitors were those of his squad, all of them splitting most of their time between his room and their own. Only two Seals had come by to see him, and it wasn’t who he had expected. Bug, Flare, Fireball, and all of the others he had come to befriend over the past few weeks were MIA. No one had seen hide nor hair of them since Jake had been brought back to the Air Base.

Hazard, or Colton as he was known, had entered his room a few days after Jake had woken up. It was an awkward, stilted conversation between the two men, both unsure of how to talk to the other, but they made do. Eventually they discovered that they had grown up not fifty miles from one another and bonded over what they missed about Texas now that they were permanently stationed in California.

The only thing that stood out from the conversations had in the early days was Hazard’s incessant need to know what happened to him. He had thrown in a few mentions of Flare, another oddity. Jake had just assumed that Colton was trying to tell him that the others were worried, but then Hazard let slip something about the smaller woman acting strangely. Jake shrugged it off as he knew how close Flare was to her Commander, the latter seeing a lot of herself in the young lieutenant. The Seal had also hardly been satisfied by Jake’s recollection of a flashing light and some mechanical issues prior to the rocket’s impact. It struck him as odd, but he had been under some heavy painkillers at the time and Jake wasn’t totally sure that the conversation had taken place.

But it was strange.

Especially when Dodger, another Seal, had done the same a few days later. Jake and Isaac had spoken a few times before, but were nowhere near close enough for the pilot to feel comfortable seeing him alone in such a vulnerable state.

His concern was only added to when a break in was reported to the room Jake had been staying in. His blood pressure had crashed to what FAK later called 50/Jesus, and he was hauled into emergency surgery within minutes of the incident. So when his room had been broken into, Jake was lying on the operating table surrounded by doctors as they tried (and succeeded) to repair the damage to his lung from a dislodged shard of his rib.

Hazard had come by a day or two later, reporting that he had been sent by Bug to check in on him. He didn’t say why none of the other Seals had come to see him, nor did he comment on where Bear was. It seemed like all of Jake’s questions were brushed off in favor of Hazard stealing slurred answers to questions asked a million miles an hour. Questions he didn’t remember hearing and answers he didn’t remember giving.

It was just weird. He’d made a mental note to talk to Mav about his suspicions, but had suddenly felt incredibly sleepy and had been dragged into slumber, his little note forgotten.

Yet, despite everything, Jake was healing. Slowly but surely. Two weeks after his emergency surgery, Jake had been given a tentative okay to return to his quarters. By then, the aviator could get up on his own, the shooting pain in his leg was managed with medication, and he had recovered enough to walk slowly by himself.

But that didn’t mean he was back to his old self. No, Jake found himself often angry at himself for not being able to do something as simple as getting dressed on his own, resorting to asking Coyote for help. The two men had reconciled, a reunion that resulted in tears from both of them that they swore one another to secrecy.

===

It was slow going as Jake walked along the tarmac, running his hand down the side of Coyote’s plane, mourning the loss of his own. He knew it was dumb, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little. His plane had kept him safe, technically its sacrifice wasn’t in vain, but that meant he was grounded until he got back home. Not that his injuries meant he’d be flying anytime soon, especially since his bout with his lung and a piece of his rib no bigger than two popcorn kernels.

In the moments when he was walking, either by himself or with one of the Daggers, that he found his mind wandering to Bear. He hadn’t seen her in over two weeks and no one had said anything. When he asked, all he got was a cryptic answer of “The Seals are in another meeting.”

It made him wonder. Was Bear okay? Did she know he was alright? Jake hadn’t told anyone, but he swore he remembered seeing her face in the desert. Whether he had hallucinated it or not, it had stuck with him. The grief he had seen on her face, the blood on her arms, sprayed on her uniform. Was it hers? Or was it his? He didn’t know. Right now, he didn’t know a lot of things. But he knew that he wanted to see her, wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to get back home so that they could have their chance.

That was another thing that didn’t make sense. Jake could travel. The doctors had okayed it and there were medical personnel on the ship, so why the fuck were they still here? The Daggers could fly back, and Jake could ride with the Seals in a helicopter, so it wasn’t a logistics thing, at least not to his knowledge. Maybe an information hand-off had to happen. Something didn’t add up.

Rounding a corner, Jake saw Hazard walk out quickly of a distant hangar, three more men scattering in different directions on his approach. Jake hadn’t seen Hazard or Dodger since their visits that always seemed to take place at odd times and when he was often under the pull of his medications. Neither man had made an appearance since Jake had left the infirmary, the pilot having been told by Mav that today, all of the Seals were off-base for an exercise.

So why were Hazard, Dodger, two more unknown Seals splitting up after meeting in a hangar?

His curiosity was piqued, so Jake slowly made his way over, calling out the man’s callsign. However, Hazard glanced his way and hurried off in the opposite direction, leaving Jake confused and standing in the middle of the tarmac.

“Hangman!”

He turned, catching a glimpse of Fireball standing a ways off, waving his arms at him. Had he been lied to? Why? How could Fireball be here if he was supposed to be off-base today? The other man made his way over, but even at a distance, Jake could tell that something was affecting him. Marcus’s usually chipper grin seemed forced, his eye betraying the deep sadness that was plaguing his every move.

Jake’s stomach dropped. The Seals had lost someone. One of their team had died in combat. Bear had to be taking it hard, her team was her family. So Jake made a mental note to go and check up on her as soon as he could.

“Hey man.” Jake clasped hands with Fireball, pulling him into the typical bro hug. “Haven’t seen you around in a bit.”

Fireball nodded, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, we’ve…we’ve been busy lately.” The Seals were under strict order from Bug not to say a word about Bear to anyone that didn’t already know what had happened. Which included Jake. The other Daggers knew about Bear’s capture but not about Bug’s suspicions and it would stay that way. Especially since Maverick had informed Flare that Hazard had been coming around Jake a lot more often. Another abnormality.

While combing through and inspecting Bear’s computer, Flare had found a keystroke logger hidden under the space bar that recorded every word she typed as well as several remote data downloads that happened when the computer wasn’t on. All they knew was that someone on the inside was responsible for what had happened to Bear and Bug was determined to figure it out, suspecting either a Seal or a Dagger.

“It sounds like it. Haven’t seen you guys at all,” Jake continued on. He shifted his weight to his other leg, relieving a small amount of pressure from the wound that now ached instead of burned. “Mav told me that you guys are in meetings or out training all the time.”

“Yeah, we have some more stuff to finish up. Not just a one and done bombing run, got a lot of paperwork to fill out too. Especially since Wasp was killed.” Fireball finished lamely. The excuses felt awful. Between hunting for the mole, and planning Bear’s rescue, Fireball was hardly sleeping. No one was.

“Shit.” Jake blew out a breath. “I’m sorry for the loss. He seemed like a good man.”

“He was.”

The two fell silent, standing awkwardly in the middle of the asphalt between the two hangars. “Hey. I wanted to ask. Where’s Bear at? I haven’t seen her at all,” Jake asked as casually as he could. It wasn’t like he was planning on kissing her and telling her that he loved her, not at all. Jake just wanted to have a normal conversation with her, no kissing.

Marcus froze. He had been dreading being asked this question, especially since he had clocked Jake’s feelings for Bear early on in their training together. He swallowed thickly, his own emotions choking him as he let out a ragged breath. “Umm… I think you should come with me,” he told Jake in a low voice. “We need to chat with Bug.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me. Please.”

===

Jake followed Fireball slowly and quietly down the hall to the meeting room Bug was holed up in. She had only left on the odd occasion to shower and change when either F.A.K. or Fireball forced her from the room to get food or fresh air. Priya hated the way she had come into her position. Hated how Bear was gone and unable to help filter her through the mess she found herself in as she skimmed through file after file, making note after note. She was shaken from her task when a knock sounded at the door. Two quick raps followed by three, then another two quickly afterwards. “Come in,” she called, her voice rough from disuse.

Fireball stuck his head in through the crack in the door, mouthing “It’s Jake” at her. Bug quickly closed her laptop, moving her folders so their contents couldn’t be seen. She gave Fireball a quick nod, and he opened the door all the way.

Jake’s mouth fell open as he gazed around the meeting room. Papers were everywhere. Stacked on chairs, spread across the table, and crammed into file folders that lay scattered through the room. “Hey Bug,” he finally spoke, meeting her eyes but finding no emotion there. Bear’s eyes never looked that blank, he thought. Her emotions swam in her brown eyes like the hot chocolate his mother made around Christmas. They remained there even as she led her people through Hell and back, and especially when she teased him, when she smiled at him.

“Hi Hangman.” Priya was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. Bear’s capture marked the first time a Navy Seal had been captured since the branch’s conception. That knowledge was taking its toll as Bug tried to balance leading her (Bear’s) team, updating the leadership back in the US, and trying not to burst into tears every five minutes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now. Ribs still hurt like a bitch, but my leg is doing better. Thanks for asking,” Jake replied almost hesitantly. Something wasn’t right. Bug wouldn’t look like this. Hell, the whole team wouldn’t look like this if this was intel related. No one would look like the floor had been pulled out from underneath them, like they hadn’t slept in days. “Remind me to thank FAK for their efforts.”

Bug gave him a grim smile. “I will let them know.”

Fireball took this moment to jump in. “He… he wants to know. We have to tell him, Priya,” he insisted, brown eyes pleading with Bug.

“Tell me what?” Jake glanced between the two Seals in confusion. “What’s going on? Where’s Bear?”

Bug pursed her lips, sighing. “We don’t know,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Jake asked in a small voice. His heart was pounding in his chest, anxiety filling his body. “It’s Bear. How do you lose a person?“

“She… she didn’t get on the helicopter. Bear led your rescue. She was there. But FAK told me that she gave herself up. She sacrificed herself to save you,” Bug replied. She could barely look Hangman in the face, she had known that she would need to tell him at some point, but the words never felt sincere and the timing never seemed right. But the cat was out of the bag now, and she knew that there was no going back from this.

It was like he’d been plunged into a cold bath with how suddenly Bug’s words hit him. “What?” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This can’t be right. Please.”

“I’m sorry Jake.”

“NO! WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!” He glanced at Fireball, biting the inside of his quivering lip. Tears had begun to slip down his face, dampening the collar of his shirt as he glanced between the two Seals. “DON’T YOU DARE KEEP THIS FROM ME! WHERE IS SHE?!”

Fireball shook his head sadly. “Jake…”

“No.” And it was like the dam burst. He collapsed to the ground, ignoring the pain that erupted in his leg as he crumbled. He was shaking and crying, begging for someone, anyone to bring Bear back. “Please…” he whimpered, burying his face in his arms as he sobbed. “Sh-sh-she can’t…”

Around him, Fireball and Bug were openly crying too. The devastation in Jake’s sobs broke them and they couldn’t hold back their own grief as they finally allowed themselves to mourn their Commander. Their friend.

But Jake’s pain was different. It was all-consuming. Every inch, every fibre of his being ached for Bear, mourned for her. He would give anything to have her back beside him, but it was all he could do to stay seated as he sobbed for her. For what could have been. The terror he’d felt when he thought he was going to die was miniscule compared to the gaping cavern the news of her disappearance left in his chest. He was truly terrified. Jake loved her. Like he had never loved anyone or anything before. No one had ever touched his heart like she had. And she was gone. No one knew where she was and that was enough to send him into a fresh wave of tears.

Fireball had gone for one of the Daggers, finding Phoenix who saw the look on his face and raced after him, finding Jake curled up in a ball on the floor, crying. His stitches had torn and blood was seeping through his pants but he couldn’t feel it. He could barely feel anything. Not when she was gone. Distantly, he felt someone pull him into a hug, their own tears dampening his hair, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. Nothing mattered except getting Bear back.

It could have been minutes or hours later when his sobs subsided, leaving Jake empty. The only way he could describe what he felt was how a stuffed animal would feel if it had its stuffing pulled out. Just a shell of himself. “So,” he said, his voice hoarse from his sobs. “What are you doing to find her?”

Bug glanced at him, then down at his pant leg. “You should get that checked out first,” she told him softly.

“No. Not until someone tells me how we are finding her.”

“Jake…”

He shook his head, pushing himself up. “No, Bug. I can’t do that. Not while she could be dead or hurt or something! She deserves more than this!” He was yelling, when had he started doing that?

Phoenix touched his arm gently and Jake swatted it away. “You can’t make me! I need to find her, Bug! I need her back! Please!” The rational part of his brain knew that Bug was right, he should get medical attention, but the grief and pain that losing Bear caused him made it so he couldn’t see any other option.

“Don’t send me away when she could be…” The words died on his tongue, tasting like bile. “Don’t-”

Bug closed her eyes, screwing up her face as she tried to find some way to explain why Jake couldn’t be here. He was too close to her, he was hurt, he was grieving, all possibilities, but she was too tired to fight with him. So she said nothing at all, just listening to his begging and pleading, willing herself not to cry.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER THERE. DON’T LEAVE ME IN THE DARK RIGHT NOW!” He was yelling again, anger filling his green eyes that were lined with tears yet unshed, tears he didn’t want to fall. “Please…”

“Come on, Jake.” Phoenix led him gently from the room, her arms holding him upright and he let himself be led away. For now anyways. They had just left the room when Jake lunged away from her, vomiting. And he just couldn’t help it. Losing Bear felt like a part of his soul had been ripped from him and the pain eclipsed anything he had ever felt. The pain from his leg and the ripped stitches weren’t even a blip on his radar as he slid down the wall, his body wracked with sobs.

“Shh shh shh.” Phoenix knelt beside him, her own pain written in her face. She didn’t know what had hurt more; hearing Bug’s words for herself or watching Jake fall apart in front of her as she stood still at the magnitude of his grief. “I’ve got you.”

Her words made fresh tears fall, soaking her shirt as he cried in her arms, any sense of shame lost with half his heart that had vanished when Bear had.

They sat like that in the hallway, until his shoulders stopped shaking and his sobs quieted. Slowly, Jake let Phoenix pull him to his feet, and they made their way down the hall towards the infirmary.

But they couldn’t take care of what was really hurting. No doctor could heal a broken heart. They couldn’t bring Bear back to him. No one could.

===

A/N: Okay, okay. So, this week has been one hell of a hurt Jake week and I’m only slightly sorry. We do get Bear’s POV in the next parts. So stay tuned! Big thanks to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s for proofreading, and all the love to @dakotakazansky who helped me do some restructuring of the plot and later chapters!

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