#smart reader

[amber-aura]

When The Choir Goes Quiet [Oneshot]

Remmick x black!reader (and it's one sided) 7k words

👯This was just a concept idea👯

Warnings: reader is actually smart! mild blood and gore, slur mentioned, mentions of death/suicidal ideation

The night air in Mississippi hung thick as molasses, clinging to skin and soul alike. Cicadas sang their endless hymn in the trees, a shrill lullaby that rose and fell like breath. The wooden porch groaned under the weight of stillness, boards swollen from the day’s heat, now giving way to the hush of darkness.

A single lantern flickered behind the gauzy screen door, casting honey-colored light over peeling wallpaper and worn floorboards inside. The smell of boiled greens and woodsmoke lingered in the air. Outside, the stars blinked through a curtain of humidity, watching in silence as the world held its breath.

You sat by the open window, elbows resting on the sill, listening to the whispering wind rustling through the cotton fields beyond. Your nightdress clung to your rich skin, damp from the heat, and your hair was in a low braided bun. The house was quiet, a bit too quiet. The old grandfather clock in the hall had long since run out of ticks.

Somewhere far off, a dog barked once and then fell silent.

You didn’t know why, but something in the night felt…different. Not wrong, exactly. But different, like the world had turned ever so slightly to the left.

You were just about to close the window and surrender to another night of sweating through your sheets because Lord knows you weren’t about to crack it open for air. Not with the way folks went missing, robbed, or worse. And besides, the air outside was hot too. Thick. Like trying to breathe through soup.

Still, you turned your back for a second- just a second…and heard something outside.

Click. Window shut. Lock turned. You weren’t stupid.

You crouched and peeked through the curtain. Yeah, safety first. If you accidentally summoned some thief into your life with your restless thoughts, you were more than prepared. Your parents made sure of that. You knew how to fight, and you weren’t one of these naïve girls who’d get caught slippin’ just because someone looked pitiful in the moonlight.

No. You lived in a time where danger wore a pale face and carried laws in one hand and rope in the other. And even if they did have a so-called biological advantage, that didn’t mean you were gonna make it easy for 'em. If one of ‘em tried you, they'd get a mouthful of resistance and a lungful of buckshot.

You squinted.

There he was. A man. A white man. Of course.

He was limping toward your house like death himself had tapped his shoulder. Worn-out clothes, hair matted from sweat, eyes not quite right from this distance. He looked hurt. Or he wanted you to think he was.

You didn’t hesitate. You backed away from the window and reached under the bed. Your fingers found the smooth, familiar wood of the shotgun. Cold. Comforting.

You took a slow breath through your nose, steadying yourself. Then you went to the door. And waited.

Because if he knocked, you'd be ready. And if he didn’t?

Well. You’d be ready for that too.

One second… 

Two seconds… 

Thr-

Knock knock knock. 

Yep, there he is. 

You debated on opening the door or not. You had nothin' against helping folks, in fact you took pleasure in it. It was always nice to feed a hungry person or defend someone in an inconvenient situation. And this man, from what you could see when you peeked out the window wasn't armed. But that doesn't mean you're going to lose your caution. You're better than that. 

You don't open the door. Instead, you talk knowing he could hear you. The walls and doors alike were thin. You were kind of poor after all, but you were still thankful to have a home and not be a slave. At least personally. Everyone was still a slave to the system. 

“Who’s you, why you here?” You ask with a commanding voice. You'd be able to tell if someone was lying by the way they spoke, if you found any holes in their story, or if their breath so much as changes. You would know. You learned how to pick up on these things as you became a young adult woman. People often lie for survival…you'd know. 

“Ma’am…if it ain’t too much trouble, I was wonderin’ if you might spare a lil’ fruit. I been walkin’ a good while now, and I ain’t got no money left on me. Ain’t askin’ for much- just a handful o’ grapes or some berries, if you got any to spare,” he said all in one breath. 

“And- now I don’t mean to be a burden, but I wounded my ankle not far from town. It’s somethin’ fierce. If you have a drop of alcohol and maybe a dab o’ cream…a bandage too, if it ain’t too dear- I’d be mighty grateful, ma’am. Truly.”

Uh uh. 

“Why didn't you just go into a shop to get the bandage, alcohol, and cream? There are many around here,” You press him. Because why couldn't he just do that? He said he twisted his ankle “not far from town” that indicates he still had time to buy what he needed. And this is a white man. 

A pause. 

Then he answers again. 

“I ain't got much money on me, y'see. Could only afford a bandage, nothin’ else. And that just wouldn’t do, would it?”

His tone? Manipulative. Too smooth for someone claimin’ to be broke. “That just wouldn’t do, would it?” You mocked in your head. Typical tactic. You've seen it before. Especially from those folks.

“Yeah, it would, actually,” You said flat. “Better than nothin’. Now, what kind of fruit you want?”

If handin’ over some grapes meant he’d get off your porch, fine by you. You still had your shotgun close anyway, just in case he decided to get funny. You ain’t playin’ good samaritan with a stranger who talks in circles. 

It's bad enough you're even helping a white man, you tend to help your people only. And it's hard to see those folks as human after everything they've done, but you can't help yourself sometimes. A little fruit wouldn't hurt. 

You opened the door.

There he was- leanin’ just a bit, hand restin’ on your rickety table where you put a little plant for decoration. A touch of green you thought might cheer the place up. His hair was curly, dark brown…maybe black. Hard to tell in the dark. His eyes though, blue? Or black? Couldn’t say for sure. Something about not knowin’ made your grip tighten on the shotgun.

Striped light blue shirt, suspenders hangin’ like he hadn’t clipped 'em proper, trousers dusty. He was sweaty, breathin’ heavy, like he’d just come from runnin’.

Oh! Another red flag. He asked for fruit, but he clearly needed water. What kinda fool asks for berries when he’s dyin’ of thirst?

Yeah, nope. You slammed the door shut. 

A confused “Ma'am?” was heard on the other side of the door. 

“Leave my property. Quickly. I don't have time for lyin’ fools,” you simply said. And if he didn't leave? Well. Hopefully nobody knows you've killed a white man. You'd get killed for that. You've never had to bury a body before but you will with this one if your life is going to be in danger tonight. 

Silence. 

“Ma'am…do you always turn down folks in need?” He asked. 

Ooh, more manipulation! 

“Didn't I say to leave my house, you cracker? I meant what I said. Leave. Now,” you said again, more firmly this time as you kept the shotgun in your hand. You did lock the door but you noticed he had some muscles underneath that striped shirt. You wouldn't underestimate him. But if he did try to break down your door, he's immediately gettin’ shot. You do not care. 

A sigh. “Ma'am…please, at least give me some water…” he said with a slightly exasperated tone. 

“You're askin’ quite a lot for someone who claimed he didn't want to be a burden. First it's fruit, then it's a bandage, alcohol, cream, and now it's water. You just want to take, take, take huh? I wouldn't expect less from your people. In fact, why you askin’ a colored girl? Wait until daytime and ask one of your folks.”

For the first time, he laughed. Not a full laugh, just a lil’ chuckle. 

“Ma'am, I don't see color. Is that what you think of every white person? I would ask anyone for help, regardless of their race.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“I don’t care,” you said, voice low but firm, steady as a loaded gun cocked behind the words. “I got every reason not to trust you- yeah, based on your race alone. 'Cause of what your people done to mine. Still doin’, if we’re bein’ honest.”

The message was clear.

“Now, I done asked twice. This is the third time. Step off my property.”

“I-” he started but you interrupted. 

“Most folks ‘round here? They see you out here creepin’ on a black woman’s porch in the dead of night- they’d shoot first, not ask a damn thing later. You’re lucky it’s me you’re talkin’ to. I'm givin’ you a warning, and that's more than most would. You best heed to it.”

Silence. 

“Okay ma'am…you enjoy the rest of your night,” he said and you could hear him walking away. Wait. 

You quickly raced to your bedroom and peeked out your window again. He was walking! Not limping! So you were right, the man was a liar. You shouldn't be surprised though. 

But then he stopped walking. You furrowed your eyebrows. What was he about to do this time? He better not turn around and try to knock on your door again. You had enough. 

No, he…turned around and looked directly at you. You gasped. How would he have known you were watchin’ him from your window? You couldn't see his expression clearly, but you knew he smiled. You quickly closed the curtains, heart beating fast. 

How creepy that man is! 

You double checked all the windows and doors were locked because him smiling at you like that made you that paranoid. You did not want to be found in the morning dead by a white man of all ways to die. 

You couldn't even sleep properly. 

_________________________________

Morning came soft but stifling, like it didn’t have the decency to bring a breeze with it. The birds chirped, sure, but they weren’t singing, not really. Just quiet little tired sounds, like even they were worn out from the heat.

You were already awake. Been awake. That man from last night kept swirling through your mind like smoke that wouldn’t clear. You sat on the edge of your bed with a sour look fixed on your face. You should’ve ignored him. Pretended you weren’t home. But no, your damn heart had to twitch. Curse your sympathy sometimes. It stayed getting you in trouble.

You stood with a groan, bones still stiff from the night’s unrest, and made your way to the washroom. The shower was lukewarm at best- cold water had to be pumped and boiled if you wanted it hot, and you weren’t about to put in all that effort this morning. Not with this heat. Not with that memory.

After rinsing the night off your skin, you pulled on your favorite simple dress. Baby blue, buttoned up the front, hem kissing your knees. Modest, proper, but still sweet. You slipped on your low black heels, the ones with the scuffed backs but reliable soles. And then came the hair.

You undid the bun and let your braids fall. Long, thick, and soft like velvet ribbon. They touched your back like a whisper, and you smiled for the first time that morning. You had spent years loving that hair, caring for it, feeding it like it was a secret garden only you knew how to tend. A few weeks ago, you decided to braid it; small sized braids, neat, and stubbornly yours.

People always asked how you kept it so healthy.

“Love it like it’s alive,” you’d say. “Like it feels what you feel.”

You didn't care that the magazines and polite society said a lady’s hair ought to be short, curled, and tucked away like some dirty little secret. No ma’am. You liked yours long. Wild in its own quiet way. Let it hang like a crown nobody could take from you.

Out in the streets, some women would look at you like you’d spit on the sidewalk in front of the Lord himself. Nose up, brows high. Others, kinder, would smile like they saw a piece of freedom trailing behind you. The men? Just as mixed. Some looked at you like you were alien. Others, the good ones- the rare ones- tipped their hats with respect.

You liked the ones who smiled. You trusted the ones who didn’t stare too long.

Now dressed, hair hanging proud, you were about to step outside then paused. 

Something told you the day wasn’t done with last night just yet. So you went ahead to your bedroom to grab your little gun. You rightfully had a lot of precautions in your house. How could you forget to stay strapped? You took off your heels to put on stockings with a strap at the thigh- no one would see, your dress covered it. You then put the gun in the strap just in case more weird fuckers wanted to try you today. You put back on your heels.

You checked all windows and your back door was locked. 

And now you were ready! 

You stepped outside on the porch, locked your front door and greeted your little plant that remained untouched on your table. Then you began walking out into town. 

You hadn’t meant to end up on the bustling side of town, but your feet carried you there anyway. The dirt paths were crowded with chatter, clinking glasses, wagons squeaking down the road, and the occasional sharp whistle from some man who thought he was funny. You weren’t in the mood. Not today.

Truth be told, you didn’t want to buy a thing. You just needed the walk. A mindful one, where you could let the rhythm of your steps drown out your thoughts. But that wasn’t workin'. That man…that man from last night was still in your head like a stuck splinter. Why? 'Cause now you had to be even more on edge. 'Cause you were a walking target. You were already a threat- a reason for white folks to clutch their pearls. And now? You had a new memory reminding you just how easy it is to let your guard down and how fast that could get you hurt.

You were so lost in the flood of those thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone was hugging you.

“Y/N!” a voice squealed in delight, arms squeezing you from the side.

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up. Your knee almost shot up just like your parents taught you. If they grab you, don’t freeze. Aim, strike, escape.

But you caught the voice just in time.

“Mary!” you gasped, eyes wide with disbelief, and returned the hug with half a laugh. “Girl, I was about to kick you!”

Mary grinned, all teeth and trouble, and pulled back with a gleam in her eye. She looked like sunshine in a pastel dress, gloves daintily hugging her hands, curls bouncing with every movement.

“I haven’t seen you in a week! What, you up and found yourself a husband or somethin’? Why ain't you invite me to the ceremony, huh? What? Y’all been busy?” she teased, wiggling her brows.

You sighed, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Girl, no! I haven’t found anyone yet…still lookin’. And how ‘bout you? How are you and your…husband?” you asked, voice dipping into flat territory, the word husband tasting like ash in your mouth.

Mary’s smile faltered.

“Oh…” she sighed, voice losing all its shine. “Just the usual. Don’t want to be with him. I really miss Stack, you know?”

Her eyes wandered as she twiddled her gloved fingers, staring off like she was chasing a memory down the street.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Mary and Stack. Whew. You never told her how you really felt about that mess. But from what she’d confessed over the years? That relationship sounded like it was built on gasoline and cheap perfume. A lot of heat, not a lot of heart. Toxic, twisted, and tangled in sheets more than trust.

But hey, if that’s what she wanted, more power to her. You weren’t the type. You wanted something solid. A partner. Not just some man who knew how to make you scream in the bedroom but disappear when the sun came up. Stack was charming, sure. Respectful when he wanted to be. But commitment? Please. The man was more slippery than an oil spill. At least Smoke had some decency. You missed seeing him and Annie. Oh Annie. You should visit her at some point. 

Mary wasn’t much different. Always runnin' toward flames, callin' it love, then cryin' when she got burned.

You looked at her now, still beautiful, still longing for a man who left her with only memories and a craving. But you didn’t judge- at least, not out loud.

That’s hers and his. Not you and yours. Yours being a lack thereof. 

You gave her a small smile. “I hear you. But you know what I always say. If he wanted to stay, he would’ve. And if he comes back, make sure he’s bringin' more than just sweet words and bad habits.”

Mary blinked, then let out a little laugh. “Ain’t that the truth…”

But you could tell she was still holding on. And part of you pitied her for it.

The two of you started walking together, hips unapologetically swinging in rhythm, your braids brushing your back like a protective charm, her gloved hand looping through your arm.

Whatever the day had in store, you’d take it. But you’d take it on your own terms.

_____________________________

You ended up back at home during evening. You and Mary had fun, she ended up getting you a perfume you've been wanting. She did have some money after all, especially from her rich white husband. 

You didn't visit Annie today though. Maybe tomorrow would suffice. You missed her cookin' and her stories. Most of all, you missed her. You loved her morals, her character, her ideas, her soul- God you loved that woman. She was like a second mother to you. You haven't seen her in two weeks, you can barely go without seeing her for three days. It was settled. You'll be visiting her tomorrow. You'll bring gifts too- homemade gifts. You liked to craft. 

With newfound energy, you went to the washroom to get the sweat off you, to change into your comfortable nightgown. After that, you put your braids in your typical nightly low hanging bun, some braids coming out but whatever. Personally, you thought it made you look ethereal. 

You placed your small gun in the box under your bed, where your shotgun and other guns were. Gifted to you by your parents since you were now living alone. Extra bullets too. They weren't about to let their daughter live alone without any protection. They almost didn't leave you here at all…since women were expected to live with their husbands, or a male figure in general. 

You were used to the stares by now.

The way folks looked at you when you passed, some with confusion, some with admiration, some with that pitiful tilt of the head as if to say, “Poor thing… still no man to look after her?”

Ha.

You wanted love, sure. A good man to walk beside you, not in front of you, not behind you, but beside you. But in the meantime? You weren’t about to sit on a porch like a waiting dog with a dusty hope chest full of dreams. You were living- truly living.

Your parents were probably the only ones who fully understood. Maybe because they saw your spirit from the start. Even as a little girl, you never needed someone to tell you who you were. You’d always had your feet on the ground and your eyes on somethin' higher. So when they handed you the keys to this old house and told you, “It’s yours now,” they weren’t giving you just a home. They were handing you freedom.

And you made it yours. Sewing needles and thread scattered across tables. Jars of buttons. Fabric swatches hanging like flags of a quiet revolution. And in every corner, plants- ivy climbing walls, little pots of herbs in the windowsill, flowers that looked like they were always listening to your thoughts.

You didn’t need the world’s approval. You had peace. Peace that you earned stitch by stitch.

Folks never understood how you lived alone. But that’s the thing. You had yourself. And not many people could say they were content with that. There was no husband, no scandal, no heartbreak lingering in your past. Just choices. Your choices. And the older you got, the more you realized how radical that was. To be a black woman living by choice instead of survival. To not shrink yourself just because someone said “you’re too pretty to be alone” or “a man would fix that.”

No. A man might be a joy someday. Might. But he wouldn’t be a fix. Nobody can fix their problems but themselves. 

Some folks swore up and down you were meant to be a singer. “You have such a sweet voice!” “You could make money in the joints!” “Honey, people would come just to hear you hum!”

You always smiled, gentle and grateful, but firm. “That’s kind of y'all, but I’m happy just singin’ to my plants and hems.”

And that was the truth. Music was a whisper in your home, not a spotlight on a stage. Just something soft in your throat when the world got too loud. You liked your joy quiet like warm tea. 

You remember walking past a pair of old church ladies, whispering to one another behind their fans.

“She ain’t even got a man. Still livin’ in that house by herself?”

“Must be a widow…”

“No, no, never even been kissed, I heard!”

“Lord have mercy…”

You could feel their words trying to cling to you like lint, but you brushed it off. You’d been called a “spinster” more than once. What did that even mean anymore? A woman with sense?

You let out a quiet snort.

Let ‘em talk.

You had work waiting. A velvet collar that needed finishing. A lemon balm plant that needed repotting. A sunbeam that was waiting to warm your shoulders through the kitchen window. You had a life- full, precious, and real.

And as you kept walking, head held high, you thought:

Let them call me what they want. They don’t even know what freedom tastes like.

Getting out of your thoughts, you noticed it was night time. Sometimes you swear you work better at night than you do durin' the day. So you began sweepin' your living room because you liked cleanliness. You wanted your home to look lived in but not messy. God, no. 

And-

Knock knock knock. 

You paused. Your breath hitched. Your heart beat- did it quicken or slow down? You couldn't tell. One things for sure though, you learned your lesson last time. What did you say? You should've ignored the knocking? Yeah, that's the decision you'll be making this time. 

Let ‘em knock. Whoever it is. God forbid it's that man again. In fact, you put the broom down as quietly as possible and crept up the stairs to your bedroom to grab your shotgun. You weren't taking any chances, not one. You also slightly- very slightly, moved your curtains to see who it was. You made sure to barely even show your face when doing so because you didn't want that cracker to notice you again. 

You could've fainted when you saw who it was. 

It was him. Again. Well too bad, you're not answering the door or talking for that matter. You're just gonna go back to the living room with your shotgun because if that motherfucker tries to break down your door, he's gettin' shot immediately. Just as you were prepared for last time. You don't know what this man is capable of. 

What kind of guy just comes to you at night in a consistent pattern like that? Creeper. 

You went back down to the living room and just sat down on your couch, shotgun in hand. Staring intently at the door. 

“Darlin’, why don't you open up this door for me? I promise I have no ill intentions…” he spoke, and you could hear the malevolence in his tone. You didn't speak. You couldn't pretend like you weren't there though because your living room lights were on. It was night time! So he knew you were there. Oh well, then he should know you're not dealing with his bullshit this time and give up. 

“Darlin’...can you at least come greet me?”

Sure, you should say hi to the creepy man that won't leave you alone at night. Does this man have any social cues? The answer is no, he's severely lacking. 

It was silent for a moment, since you weren't speaking. He stopped speaking as well. Then you heard it:

Tap tap tap. 

Your head darted towards your kitchen window and you saw him. Smiling at you like the creep he is, just standing there. 

You took your shotgun with you and quickly closed the curtains on your kitchen windows. All your other windows were covered, you just left the kitchen windows uncovered because you like how the moonlight reflects in your home but not anymore with this creep on the loose, you suppose. 

You took a few steps back and then you heard him at your door again. How did he get there so fast? 

“Darlin’, y’know I'm not lettin’ up right? Why can't you just open the door? What do you think I'm gonna do to ya? Do you want to open the door...or should I just visit Mary instead?”

It felt like a bucket of ice cold water just got dumped all over you. Would've been great to imagine in this heat if only it wasn't caused by the threat that came out of the man's mouth. 

You knew you had to speak then. How does he know who Mary is? You assumed Mary doesn't know who he is otherwise she would've mentioned him. That means he's also been stalking her! And knowing Mary, she would open the door to someone. Gun in hand like you, but she would open the door. She has a white husband for crying out loud, if he saw his people at the door, he would probably let them in! 

You couldn't take it. 

“Fuck off! What could you possibly want at this time of night? I don't know how you “know” Mary but I swear on everything I love, I'll put a bullet in your gahdamn head before you can even make it to her home!” And you weren't kidding. You weren't. 

If he indicates anything verbally or physically that has to do with Mary, you gon' open the door and shoot his brains out. 

But he laughed. “Sugar, just open the door and I won't have to do that!” He said it with such playfulness, you'd think it's a banter between friends. 

“You might be klan! You think I'm riskin’ that again?”

You could hear him sputter just a bit. 

“Ma'am,” he said, and he said it like he was about to scold you for even thinking that way about him. How is that your fault? Is he just unaware of the times? Seriously, what is wrong with this man? 

“I have nothin’, and believe me- nothin’ to do with that God forsaken group. I believe in equality.”

What even was this anymore. Here you are scared for you and possibly Mary's life over this guy who won't leave you alone, but as it turns out, he's not afraid to stalk people yet he agrees that racism is bad? What the hell does this man got goin' on?

“'Kay that's nice, can you kindly fuck off now?” 

A chuckle. “No ma'am, I can't. I can fuck something else though…nah, I haven't done that in a while…oh but I can make an exception…” You could just imagine him saying this with a finger on his mouth like he's really considering this. 

“I don't care to- you know what…” You were getting fed up. 

“You gon’ open the door now?” He asks mockingly. 

“Nope,” you say. But you will. If his next words are going to be a threat at Mary, you will. And you will shoot him. Right here. Right now. 

“I guess I'll go and pay lil’ Mary a visit then!” He said, but it sounds like…he knew something. In his tone. Something was wrong. But your emotions took over, you weren't about to have Mary going through what you're going through right now. 

The logical side of your brain ignored that Mary has a husband that can protect her and Mary can also protect herself but a switch went off in your brain. 

You sped towards the door, hastily unlocked it, slammed it opened and just-

BANG BANG BANG BANG!

Four bullets to his body. He fell down on your porch, the little table with the plant getting covered by mass droplets of his blood. Your porch was now blood stained. 

You have just killed a white man. You weren't about to get punished for this. You looked at him for a second first, to check if he was breathing. He wasn't. So that confirmed his death. 

You dropped the shotgun and quickly took hold of his body, about to drag him to your backyard when he moved. 

….

Moved…? No, he raised his head to look at you. 

NO! HE SHOULD BE DEAD! 

You quickly dropped him and turned to get your shotgun, but he was quicker. He pulled you by the back of your nightgown and slammed you down on the grass right next to your porch. Someone would've heard the commotion but as it turns out, your house is on a little land a bit far from the streets and close to the forest. 

You gasped, your heart racing as your survival instincts have turned up a notch. You try to get up but he holds your head down on the grass, straddling you. 

Oh no…you swore on everything, if this man was going to assault you…

“Now now, stop fighting so much darlin’! I got what I wanted…” he said and you could feel something drop on your shoulder. You would've assumed it was his blood if it didn't feel…so…what is that? With all your strength you turned around, but he still had the upperhand and straddled you, your torso now since your back was on the grass. 

You weren’t prepared for what you saw.

His eyes- they weren’t eyes no more. Just two glowing red pinpricks, burnin’ like coals in the dark. His teeth had gone sharp, all jagged and wrong. His hands weren’t hands either, not really- those nails had grown long and black, curling like the claws of something that belonged underground. And his mouth, Lord… thick, stringy spit hung from it like the drool of a sick hound.

You screamed.

You had to. You ain’t proud of it, but what else could you do? Every cell in your body told you to run, to cry, to beg the Lord himself to turn back time. But your feet? They stuck to the grass like they knew movin’ wouldn’t help.

You could’ve fought him. You were taught how! Knee to the gut, then swing like hell- but this? This weren’t no man. Weren’t even close.

Your mind scrambled, grabbing at memories like loose laundry in a storm. And you remembered something- something Annie told you, sitting on her porch shellin’ peas one summer evening.

“Folks who get cut off from they kin in the spirit world… sometimes they come back wrong,” she said. “Lookin’ for somethin’ to fill that hole. They’ll take it from whoever too- blood, breath, soul, don’t matter. They call ‘em nightwalkers. Ain’t supposed to be here, but they are.”

You waved it off back then. Thought Annie was just deep in her stories again. You believed in spirits, sure you did, and you were spiritual yourself…but vampires? Sounded like some white folks’ nonsense.

But now?

Now your faith had to stretch itself real wide, ‘cause there was somethin’ unnatural standing in your parlor, mouth slick with hunger. 

And Lord help you… it made sense now. All of it.

He never tried to break in. Never once. Just stood outside your home waitin’, watchin’. You thought maybe he was just a man tryna play you sweet. But he never stepped foot over your threshold. 

He needed permission.

You loved your life. You loved living. You liked that you had a chance to live, even with all the sick shit going on with your people and them crackers. Yes, there were times you wanted to die just because of that. But you loved…life. You valued it. 

Upon realizing he was a vampire, all you could do was ask. 

So you looked him in those burning-red eyes and said, steady now:

“Who were you before you lost your soul?”

He froze.

Like your words had slapped something awake.

“Who were you before the hunger? Before the blood?”

He looked at you, eyebrows furrowing. His grip barely lightened and you didn't try to get up just yet. That would be too soon. No, you had to trick him just as he tricked you. Reverse the snake bite. 

Your tears still wet, your chest still heaving, you told him, “Somebody made you forget…but you won’t make me forget who I am.” You meant that. 

You would hope if he turned you that somehow Annie would find out and drive a stake through your heart so you can be freed. You despised the idea of having your humanity ripped from you and being forced to live by drinking blood and returning the favor to other folks. Lord, that's so evil. 

He continued to look at you. “My name is Remmick sweetheart. It's awful kind of ya to care about me, despite what I've done,” he grinned. 

“But I have you now, y'see…” he grew closer. “And you're mine for the takin’, and ya know what?” He leaned back up. “I might still go and pay Mary a visit…poor darlin’ is terribly lonely. That husband of hers, she don't even want him. You…you're lonely too. I'm jus’ tryna save you is all,” he said with a faux pout but one look into his eyes, you could see there's some truth to what he said. 

“Remmick,” I say his name and he raises an eyebrow. 

I then lift my knee and kick his abdomen with all the strength I could muster and he yells, falling off of me. So I get up as if I was being attacked by fire ants and run inside my home, picking up my shotgun on the way. I didn't close the door. He knew he couldn't get in. I turned around and looked at him from the safety of my home. 

“Why don't you just die? Stand in the sun and die. Why do you continue to live like this?” I ask him, breathing hard. 

He looks at me, frustrated for a moment before he answers. 

Remmick stood just outside the doorframe, his chest still from where you kicked him, lips curled back- not in a snarl, but a smile. A sad, bitter, tired kind of smile. Not smug like before. His red eyes flickered, dimming for a breath.

“You think I ain’t tried?” he finally said, voice low like thunder rollin’ in the distance. “You think I ain’t begged for the sun to take me?”

He laughed, once- hollow, no joy in it. “Ain’t nothin’ natural about what I am. Even death don’t want me no more.”

You dropped your shotgun since he couldn't be killed by it. Though your hands still shook- not from fear, but from the weight of what he said. What he was. What he used to be.

“Then why keep livin’ this way?” you asked again, softer this time.

Remmick stepped closer to the line he couldn’t cross, shoe to the edge like temptation. The shadows clung to him, but even now he looked too human. Like someone you could’ve passed on the road once. Like someone’s son.

“’Cause I still remember just enough to hurt,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. “Just enough to know I was once a man. I had a mama, a daddy. I still remember their laugh, would you believe that? That’s the last thing I got left that’s mine. But the rest?” He tapped the side of his temple. “Gone. Ripped outta me. Now I want that back. My community. I crave what was stolen from me by those goddamn colonizers.”

You raised an eyebrow. Colonizers? 

He looked at you with a faux grin. “Yeah, darlin’. I'm Irish. I've been livin’ for centuries after they done took my land and my people. And now…I want to rebuild what was taken from me. I offer you freedom away from all of this.”

“I wasn’t lyin’ out there,” he continued. “You are lonely. I can feel it, same as I feel the blood in your veins. You ain’t had nobody hold you in years. Not proper. Not the way you been wantin’. And your heart?” He placed a hand over his own chest like he was pledgin’ allegiance. “It seems too full for this world. Too warm. You're starvin’ for fellowship and love just as I am.”

And for a second, just a second, you saw something. His face flickered. His eyes dulled. His body seemed tired. So tired. Like the years had hollowed him out and now he was just echoes and ash.

You stood there, sympathy and disdain mixing for him. Your voice dropped.

“You don’t get to save me by destroyin’ me, Remmick.”

He blinked. The wind shifted.

“I could’ve forced it, you know,” he said after a long silence. “But I didn’t. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”

You stared him down. 

You stared him down, trying to read the truth in all that strange poetry he’d just spilled. 

“That don’t count for a damn thing,” you finally said. “Not when you talkin’ ‘bout freedom and fellowship while you got blood on your hands.”

Remmick flinched like you’d struck him. You had. Just not with bullets this time. 

“You call this rebuildin’?” you went on, voice low but fierce. “You call this reclaimin’? You ain't settin’ up no kinfolk, Remmick. You makin’ more ghosts.”

His jaw tightened. Something wild flared in his eyes, and then- just as quickly- it died down again.

“You speakin’ from the safety of your doorway,” he muttered. “But what happens when they come for you next? When the world tells you you ain't worth protectin’? When those folks look at your skin and forget you bleed like they do?”

“I already live that,” you snapped. “But I don’t turn around and do it to somebody else.”

The air hung heavy between you. Crickets somewhere out in the tall grass kept singin', unaware of the standoff playing out under the moon.

The silence stretched like a noose. Your eyes never left his, and Remmick…he just stood there. Hands loose at his sides, jaw tight, looking like a man who’d been dragging his coffin behind him for centuries.

Finally, he said, real quiet, “You ever been so alone you start hearin’ voices that sound like your mama, just so the silence don’t eat you alive?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t here to comfort him.

He licked his lips, slow. “I ain’t makin’ ghosts. I’m gatherin’ ‘em. You think this world ever gave a damn about us? Black. Irish. Poor. Strange. We was born ghosts, sweetheart.”

“You ain’t gatherin’ nothin’ but victims,” you bit back. “You think feedin’ off people’s blood is fellowship? You think Mary wants your cold hands crawlin’ on her neck ‘cause she’s tired of her husband? You don’t want love, Remmick. You want obedience dressed up in a slow song.”

He tilted his head at that. Not angry. Amused.

“Well,” he drawled, “I do like a slow song.”

You didn’t smile.

He took another step closer to the threshold, shoe nudging the edge again. The air around him didn’t stir, didn’t chill- but your spine tingled anyway.

“I just want my people back,” he muttered, more to himself now. “And if I gotta build a family outta dust and blood to get it, then so be it.”

“That ain’t a family,” you said. “That’s a cult.”

He grinned. “Same thing, far as history’s concerned.”

“If you touch Mary, I’ll end you. I don’t care how old you are, I'll come after you with the sharpest stake. Or you'll be forced under the sun's mercy. You may have lived for a long ass time but you can't underestimate the resilience of a human. You should know, right?”

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes glinted- something dark curling behind them.

“Fair enough,” he said. “I ain’t here to make enemies. I’m here to make sure someone remembers my name when the choir’s gone quiet.”

You stare at him. 

Remmick sighed through his nose, slow and deliberate, like the wind trying to remember how to breathe.

“I ain’t gonna touch Mary,” he said. “You have my word.”

Your jaw tensed. “That supposed to mean somethin’ to me?”

He looked at you then- really looked at you. Like he was peeling back the layers of your soul with his gaze alone. “It should. I don’t hand it out often.”

You didn’t believe him. Not for a second. But you clocked it anyway. The way he didn’t blink when he said it. The way his fingers twitched just slightly, like a lie itched beneath his skin.

“The way you look at me makes my stomach turn.”

“Don’t blame a man for wantin’ softness in this kinda world.”

“Don’t feed off it,” you growled. “You’re not lookin’ for love, Remmick. You’re tryin’ to bottle it. You’re tryin’ to trap it like a firefly.”

He chuckled, a low, tired sound. “Maybe. But ain’t we all tryin’ to catch somethin’? You got that fire in your eyes. That same ache. You think I don’t see it? You lonely, just like me. Difference is, I ain’t lyin’ to myself about it.”

You stepped forward then, just one step- close enough that he could see the warning carved in your expression.

“Difference is,” you said, voice sharp enough to skin bark, “I ain’t takin’ anybody down with me.”

A long beat passed. His grin faded into something older. Worn. Less devil, more grave.

He nodded slowly. “You always been like this?”

“Like what?”

“A storm in a woman’s shape.”

You ignored the compliment. “Don’t mistake mercy for weakness. You have a choice Remmick. You do, I do, and Mary does.”

“And if I take that from her?”

“Like I motherfuckin’ said- I’ll end you.”

The way you said it- so calm, so certain, it chilled even him. In a good way. A flicker passed behind his eyes. Not fear, exactly. But wonder. 

Remmick stepped back off the porch at last, one slow, theatrical motion. Like he was backing out of a scene, curtain dropping on an unfinished play.

“I’ll be seein’ you,” he said, turning.

“You better hope not.”

He hesitated again, like he wanted the last word. But whatever rose in his throat died before it left his mouth. He disappeared into the dark, the tall grass swallowing him whole.

The crickets sang on, oblivious.

You exhaled slowly. You wanted to fallout, but your spine stayed straight. There’d be no sleep tonight. Once again. 

You turned back into the house, feet thudding against the wood floor. The silence inside felt heavier than the night outside. You still had to spray his blood of your porch and clean your table…and unfortunately get rid of your plant since it became a victim of his blood. 

Tomorrow was gonna come quick. And you had things to do.

First thing in the morning, you had to see Annie.

[huffelpuff210]

Connection part 2

Summary: Steve and everyone finally find you, but not in the condition they were expecting.

You were so glad you excelled in engineering and tech, even though you were still severely injured you decided to upgrade the place, the house had a under ground home under the foundation, you upgraded everything starting with the steel paneled door,

Making sure no one could just walk in if they found the hidden door upstairs,

Finger print security locking, you put cameras up outside the house at every angle,

Alarm trip wires, upgraded everything you could think of, you couldn’t risk getting caught off guard

Sure at the time when the avenger were together you were just tech support and engineering, but you did take training with Nat and Clint, they showed you the weapons and escape training that you would need,

Steve taught you combat, all the training came in handy,

You were currently in the shower when the trip alarm went off and you could hear talking from above, you were extremely sore, you never properly stitched your deeper injuries you just wrapped them with gauze, you were also exhausted you couldn’t sleep properly because of your spiraling thoughts,

You step out of the shower putting on a pair of plaid pajama shorts, red and blue and a black tee shirt, you didn’t bother drying your hair, you knew if it was the government you had to move quickly,

You grab your tranq gun from the counter, you still didn’t have what it took to kill someone,

You take one of the hidden entrances you made, it was dark pitch black,

You were up in one of the beams in the house, near the roof,

You counted at least six of them,

“You sure this is the place?” One of them ask

“Positive, she’s definitely here” a female voice says,

There was no doubt they were looking for you,

“spread out” another says you watch as they separate

You watch the leader,

‘Always go for someone the group can’t function without’ Steve’s words echo in your mind

You take a deep breath jumping from the beam landing on the man, you both fall to the ground with a thud, you pistol whip him causing him to grunt, you straddle his waist about to tranq him in the chest,

“Whoa, whoa, Y/N it’s me, it’s Steve!” He says with his hands up in surrender,

You stop your movements.

Your eyes widening seeing it was indeed him, he had a bit of a beard going on,

“Glad to see your still in shape.”Natasha says from behind you

You look at them all shocked,

You couldn’t believe that they were here you were unsure if they were really here or if you were dreaming,

“Umm, Y/N could you…” Steve said motioning to you still straddling him,

“I’m so sorry.” You say getting flustered standing almost wincing,

“I thought you were.. I mean I didn’t mean..” you began

He chuckled,

“It’s fine.” He says,

“Come on in,” you say opening the hatch in the floor they follow you into the new space you created,

“Damn, this place is..” Sam be fan but couldn’t fin the right words,

“Incredible.” Bucky finished,

You stare at the man then smile,

“thank you,” you reply

[myceliumsunshine]

Pony - Sam Winchester

Dude, the last lap dance you had was - was - was at Christmas. It was a gift paid for by me. You spent the entire song trying to convince the girl that she should go to nursing school. or you give sam a lap dance, and he tries to convince you to go to nursing school A/N - not smut but nsfw so be safe people word count - 720

“Dude, the last lap dance you had was - was - was at Christmas. It was a gift paid for by me. You spent the entire song trying to convince the girl that she should go to nursing school.” Dean exclaimed.

Sam remembered it clear as day.

You’d strutted up to him, pointed his direction by Dean, an unknown amount of 100s in between your fingers like a cigarette. He’d protested, but you’d put the roll of money in between his lips, effectively silencing him as the next song queued.

Pony by Ginuwine.

You’d sat down on his lap, facing him with a bright grin as he pulled to notes from his lips with gentle care. You’d made him a promise, something about taking care of him, and Sam had nodded silently, giving you back your money. You tucked it in between the valley of your breasts, looking into his eyes, before standing, turning, sitting back down and grinding yourself into him.

“This is my song, you know?” You’d said. “I’m just a bachelorette, looking for a partner.”

Sam had basically choked on nothing as you said it, grinding particularly hard into his lap. You smiled, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t often you had men as attractive as him coming into here, not knowing just how attractive they were, not acting like they owned the place.

“You could probably be a real nurse,” Sam had whispered, hands tentatively touching your waist, referencing the slutty costume you had on. You threw back your head in a laugh, the weight landing on his shoulder.

“You’re funny.” You giggled, spinning in his lap to face him. “I like funny guys.”

Sam closed his eyes as your breasts pushed up into his face. When he had opened his eyes again, you were frowning, eyes slightly narrowed, grinding slowly into him again.

“I mean it.” Sam said softly. “I’m sure you’re a smart girl.”

You rolled your eyes, placing a finger over his lips to silence him, shushing him as well. “I can be smart and a stripper.”

Sam grabbed your hand, pulling it away from his lips and staring into your eyes. “I know. But you could be anything you wanted. You don’t have to be a stripper.”

“I like being a stripper. I like pole dancing. I like doing lap dances. I like making more money in a song than a doctor makes in an hour.” You stood, turning and giving him a good view of your ass, bending over so that he could see your matching panties up your skirt. Sam’s eyes looked down to his lap. You stopped, standing upright with your hands on your hips. “I like the attention. And right now, you’re treating me like trash.”

Sam looked up, eyes wide. “No, no, no, no. I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re beautiful. I just didn’t want to objectify you!”

“I’m a stripper. It’s my job to be objectified!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. Sam had looked up, trying not to look at your breasts as they threatened to spill out of the tiny little shirt you had on. “Look at me!”

Sam slowly looked back down at you, uncomfortableness clear on his face. You frowned.

“Why did you even come here if you didn’t want a lap dance, or to look at the women?” Sam sighed.

“My brother dragged me here. The guy who paid you.” You turned, looking over at the guy, who gave you a flirty wave. You waved back, smiling slightly.

“Okay, well. Do you want to respect me?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed, eyes wide once more.

“Then let me do my job, and look at me like I’m pretty. Don’t look away like I’m something disgusting. I chose to be a stripper.” You tilted your head. “You’re right. I could have been a nurse. Or a doctor, or a lawyer, or whatever I wanted. I was top of my class and I was accepted into an ivy league school. But I chose to be a stripper.”

Sam blink, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Then, I think my brother paid for the rest of the song.” Sam offered tentatively. You grinned.

“You horny?” You asked with a giggle, referencing the song.

“My saddle’s waiting.” Sam said, and your grin widened. “Come and jump on it.”

tagslist - @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[cyberkitty1]

Ever since you were a kid you loved engineering/ science so when he told you he was the prowler you kind of used him as your test subject for your new inventions.

Crawling through your window after another successful night of being Ney Yorks most vigilante Miles has little to no injuries after you update his suite to be able to withstand a lot more than it could previously.

“Cariño, where you at?” he calls after he takes off his mask and the remanence of what is supposed to be his claws. “ Im in the bathroom give me a minute” as you walk out the first thing you see are his mangled scrapped claws. “ Miles, I told you to be carful I just fixed it last week” you say reaching for it.

“ I'm sorry these jus's were alot I'm not gon lie.” he says scratching his neck. “ ok, you should be happy I'm in a good mood and thought of some good things to add to this.’ you say studying the damage.

“thanks ma ‘ppreciate it” ne says giving you a kiss on your forehead.” you give him a loving smile. He then walks off to go take a shower.

While he's showering you get to work. Al claves were practically shattered and the joints in between making it difficult to bead your fingers. After fixing it you set it down moving onto his suit fixing minor damages such as scratched paint, some dents and some gashes.

He walks out of the shower seeing his fixed suit. “ooo your fixed the point too? You know yan did have to.” you turn to him” genus, but I wanted to cant have you walking around with a dingy suit, i would be a bad inventor” you say to him mater offactly.

“ You know I appreciate everything your do for me, right?” he says holding you hands and kissing your knuckles. “ I know miles, you tell me everytime you get the chance” “well I just have to make sure” he says looking inti your eyes trying to figure out what words to say next.

“Te amo más que todo en el mundo”

.

.

.

🏷️: @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @ivys-graveyard @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf

[bee-writes-weird]

Rise! Donatello x Female! Smart/Nerd! Reader || PART 1 || A New Aquaintance

This is my second story so im still getting better at writing (kinda 💀) so…yea also I have like zero requests PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING

___________________________________________ not proof read

parings: Rise! Donatello + Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/her

words: ??? Idk but it’s short

key words (FN1/2)= Friend name 1/2

___________________________________________

It was a getting cold in NYC, because it was October and around 8pm. Y/N was walking down the street with her headphones/Ear buds on blast. Here’s the question, why was Y/N out at 8:23pm (to be exact). Well short answer she snuck out; long answer Mom & Dad we’re fighting—again! Mr & Mrs.L/n were fighting over their daughter. You see her dad said it was not ‘lady like’ for a young 14/15 year old girl to be making inventions, codes, engineering, etc.

But did that stop Y/N from making inventions; Hell no!! She was at the top of her class she was not gonna just give up now, because she had a great future ahead of her. Her Mom, April (her best friend), (F/N1), and (F/N2) all supported her.

Everything was going perfectly normal until one night, which was that(this?) very night. She heard a weird crash sound coming from the alleyway. And this crash was LOUD Y/N could hear it through her headphones/Earbuds. Out of instinct she Stoped and flinched as well. She walked towards the alley slowly turning on her phone flashlight, and what she saw next made her freeze. Y/N saw a giant mutant turtle with a purple mask, metal shell with a hovering thing.(?) The two just stared at each other for a couple of minutes until Y/N broke the silence.

Just make the lens you fav color

“I like your goggles, they look but mine look a bit different from yours.” She said. 15 seconds later he responded “Your not scared of me- I mean like how..” she tilted her head “Why would be scared? I mean yea you are different so what, I’m different too.”

“Right, im just not used to people not screaming and running away..” At this point the girl thought that she should introduce herself “Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself! My name is Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She said while she held out her hand. The purple clad turtle shook it “Donatello. Donatello Hamato. Or just Donnie for short.” He gave a small friendly smile. “Well it was nice to meet you Donnie I really should get going tho.” She said as she checked the time ‘CRAP!! How is it 10 o’clock?!?’

Donnie was about to grab his tech-Bo he had sat up against the wall of the alley way, until She said something else. “Wait before you go do you want to hang out sometime?” He looked at her and said a plain ‘Sure’ it sounded blunt when he said that. (If that makes any sense) || So the give each others number :p

Y/N Went home and tried to go to bed, yet should couldn’t something…no someone’s keeping her awake. She could could not get him out of her head. Y/N I just drawn to him somehow. She liked the sarcasm in his voice, and the way the purple compliments his skin. She was not the type of girl to think love at first sight was real; now that she has met Donatello….she might just believe that it exists.

————————————————————————

YAY!! Got that done Ik it was short but should I do a part 2?? I really enjoyed writing this it’s not fully edited I will do that as soon as possible hopefully 🤞

[obsesssedblerd]

little megumi is so smart for his age. of course he's going to be slick and try to get you and toji back together after you've broken up. he'll do little things, like "accidentally" get off at the wrong bus stop after school and go to the cafe you're at every single afternoon so you can walk him home, where you'll find toji outside working on a car since he had the day off. or "forget" his favorite dog plushie at your house, so toji has to go and get it. of course he'll stay for a little bit to catch up. or his favorite, looking up at you with puppy eyes and sweetly asking for just one more movie, which eventually leads you sleeping over for the night and spending the morning with the fushiguro family. megumi will smile to himself as he watches you and toji make his and tsumiki's favorite breakfast, quietly laughing together over old memories and stupid jokes. you'll get back together and move back in any day now.

[nanaslutt]

the jjk characters finding ur smut

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, shiu, higuruma, ino, uraume, shoko

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, crack, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

[sturnschris]

SIT ON IT.

pairings: smart!goodgirl!reader x bf!chris (everything to them here)

content: riding your boyfriends face beacuse your turned on my his nose

warnings: oral, face riding, pet names, nose fetish, kinda dumification kink if you squint. etc

lowk inspired by this edit haha

a/n: been gone for a bit but i hope this makes up for it!!

952 words.

love ya!💋

chris’s hand rests on your thigh as you sit next to him, your head on his chest. you’ve been wanting to watch this movie for school—it’s supposed to help with a report you’re working on. but you can’t focus. all you can think about is chris’s stupidly perfect features, especially his nose. it’s so perfect you just wanna… sit on it. “baby, this movie’s so dumb,” he says casually, his voice pulling you halfway out of your thoughts. “mhm,” you mumble, not even registering his words, too busy staring at him like he’s the only thing in the world. he glances down at you, his lips pulling into a soft, innocent smile. “you okay, princess?” you blink, snapping out of your trance, your face heating. “huh? yeah, i’m fine.” he nods, still smiling so sweetly it makes your chest ache. “okay, baby.” he pats your thigh gently, his hand staying there as he turns back to the screen, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through your head. chris’s hand stays on your thigh as he keeps watching the movie, but he can’t help the way he feels your gaze burning into him. “you need something, ma?” he asks, glancing down at you. “wh- n-no, m’fine, chris,” you stammer, your voice betraying you. he doesn’t buy it for a second. his hand moves to your hip. “no, you’re not. c’mere,” he says softly, pulling you onto his lap like it’s second nature. “what’s wrong, hmm?” his lips brush against your neck, leaving soft, lazy kisses. you squirm slightly, heat rushing to your face. you can’t escape it—you have to be honest. but how are you supposed to tell your boyfriend that you’ve been staring at him because you want to sit on his face? “okay… but don’t be mean,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. he nods, his smile so sweet it makes your heart skip. “promise,” he says, his voice warm and soothing, like he has no idea what’s about to hit him.

“i wanna sit on your face.” chris almost chokes on his spit, his eyes widening as he looks at you. “you wanna what?” mortified, you bury your face in his chest, mumbling, “please don’t make me say it again.” he laughs softly, his chest shaking beneath you. “okay, baby. hop on.” you lift your head just enough to study his face, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “wait… really?” he presses a kiss to your temple, his voice low and sweet. “yeah, sure. why not?” before you can second-guess yourself, he gently lifts you from his lap, shifting to lay down on the couch, his head slightly propped up on the pillow. “c’mon, ma,” he says softly, his hands reaching for you. you straddle his chest nervously, your hands trembling slightly as they find his shoulders. his arms hook underneath your thighs, steadying you as he lifts you up toward his face, his movements gentle but deliberate. your heart races as you realize he’s absolutely serious—and you’re about to find out just how serious.

he kitten licks your clit, and you let out a sharp gasp, instinctively moving down onto his face. his tongue moves in slow, deliberate strides up and down your core, brushing his nose against your clit every time. it’s exactly what you wanted. you let out an extra loud moan, hoping he’ll get the hint without you having to say a word. to your surprise, he does. his tongue focuses there, his nose pressing against you just right, giving you everything you didn’t have the courage to ask for.

he thrusts his tongue into you, his nose hitting your clit every time. it feels so good, you can’t keep the words from tumbling out. “chris, fuck—” you whimper, squirming on his face. his hands move to your thighs, massaging them firmly as his tongue moves faster and faster, his nose bumping your sensitive nub harder with each movement. “feels—haa—mm—” you stammer, the pleasure making it impossible to form a coherent thought. “c’mon, baby,” he mumbles against you, his voice muffled but teasing. “you’re a smart girl, what are you tryna say?”“feels so—ah—s’good,” you manage to moan, your voice shaky as chris moans beneath you, clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. you grip the pillow behind his head, desperate for something to hold onto. “tastes so good, baby. shit—” he groans against you, his words sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. “m’gonna cum,” you whimper, your body trembling. he nods, patting your leg, his way of telling you to let go. “give it to me, ma,” he murmurs, his voice full of need. you let go on his tongue, grinding your clit against his nose as your release washes over you, leaving you breathless and completely undone. after you cum, you can’t even register what’s happening when chris picks you up effortlessly and flips you over so he’s on top of you. he kisses your temple, his lips soft and comforting. “y’did so good, my love,” he murmurs, his voice full of affection. your cheeks flush as you lean into his kisses, feeling safe and warm in his hold. “can i ask you something?” he whispers, his tone gentle. you hum in response, still catching your breath. “where did you get this idea?” he asks, curiosity laced in his words. your face heats up even more—how could you possibly explain that you were staring at him and got horny because of his nose? “i just… i like your nose,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. he raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. “my nose? mkay…” he chuckles softly, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, like he’s never letting go.

a/n: lowk based on a sexy guy in my class w a big nose😝😝

all divider from. @issysh3ll

@delooshunalhoe @chrisdollete @christophersturnn @sturniologirlzz @sturnxies @lov3bug @mattsside @emely9274 @sturnlovematt22 @sophand4n4 @sfoiasturn

[lilacgaby]

dunno if you take reqjests but

reader drawing on bakugos hand while theyre studying

PLAGUESMMY DREAMS BRO I WANNA SEE UR TAKE ON IT

katsuki had dragged you to his room to start studying for the practical exams. you groaned and whined the whole way, he was an academic, and so he was really big on being ‘focused’ and ‘committed’ to the work.

as he questioned you on quadratics and gave you a question to solve, as if you'd be able to solve it. you slammed your head against the table in frustration, as he continued solving the problem as if nothing was wrong. you pouted, you chin on the table as you watched him. one of his hands free as the others did all the work.

you were just so bored, your palms were already out of space from when you were doodling earlier so,

you started to draw on his hand, he was startled by the sudden feeling of a pen on his hand, jerking slightly. “don't move you're gonna ruin it!”

“fuck are ya’ doing anyways? we're supposed to be studying?”

“i'm bored. just do it yourself.”

his face scrunched up in annoyance as he finished up his work, doing his best not to move his hand.

you were actually really focused, or maybe you were just taking a long time because you wanted to hold his hand. who knows.

when you finished, clicking your pen again with a satisfied nod, he looked over his hand, eyebrows raised in surprise.

he actually really liked it. it looked like a mosaic almost, you drawing whatever had come to your mind, some of the things invoking his interests. small explosion doodles mixed in with flowers, chibi doodles of the two of you with heart in between, and a little skull reminiscent of his shirt.

he was so distracted by it, he didn't notice you copying down all of his answers.

almost.

he grabbed your face in his other hand, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout. he silently looked over you for a second, pecking your lips briefly before resuming his original position.

“draw me some shit on a piece of paper next time, 'don't want it to get ruined.”

with another kiss to your lips, he handed a flustered you a piece of paper,

“but do your own work, baby.”

with a fastened heart and face dusted with pink, you'd never finished an assignment faster.

[huffelpuff210]

Bucky Barnes x shy reader Connection part 3

Summary: Steve and the others learn just how bad the government facility was,

You were showing them everything in the underground home, there were a total of ten rooms, a workout room a workshop, massive living room and kitchen everything was solar paneled each room had a bathroom,

“So I know it’s nothing like avengers tower.. but you are all welcome to stay I did quite a few upgrades,” you say your voice scratchy and squeaky from all the screaming from being tortured and not to mention one of the men squeezed your throat so hard he damaged your voice box you couldn’t talk for the longest time

“We would love to stay.”Steve answered,

Your back still facing them you are sure they haven’t seen your mangled face yet,

You nod

“Good pick any room, I’m gonna have to make a run for supplies and food..”you began

“don’t worry about that, we’ve got plenty food and supplies,” Natasha says

You nodded still not facing them,

“Okay make yourselves at home, excuse me I have to check on the system…” you say walking away

After checking cameras and wire’s making sure the steel door has some counter measures in case someone tries to force their way through, you are in your workshop tweaking the AI watch you have been working on, a giant magnifying glass as you continue working on it.

your thoughts drift back to the facility….

Blood was all you could taste in your mouth your breathing ragged as one of the agents had a fist full of your hair making you look up at him after he beat the shit out of you,

“You know he is not coming for you. You might as well tell us where you last saw him or where he went.” The man says

You chuckled,

“Good as long as he and the others are safe that’s all that matters to me, you never will figure it out just like you will never crack my computer..” you say with a dry laugh

He backhanded you making you fall to the ground he started kick you,

“You will crack they all do eventually!” He says as he kicks you

********

You shake your head trying to rid yourself of memory, you look at the watch your hands were shaking you put down the tools in your hands taking a deep breath,

You hear a knock on the door,

“Yeah.” You answer it

“Hey you just-“ Nat says cutting herself off seeing your face

She gasps grabbing your chin,

“Christ Y/N! Why didn’t you say anything look at these injuries!” She said clearly upset

You pull your chin out of her grip,

“Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” You say

“Well it is!” She says pulling you out of your seat

“Are there anymore injuries?” She asked pulling your shirt up a little to see,

Natasha was shocked, not only at the injuries you have but your overall health, you were underweight pale and by the looks of it you haven’t slept in a good while.

She grabs your wrist, leading you out of the room,

“Where was the medical room?” She asked

“Second door on the right.”you say

She nods talking you there you hear a few footsteps behind you, she Ordered you to sit on the medical table,

You sighed

“Nat it’s really not-“ you began but she only pointed

You sighed sitting on the table where Steve got a real good look at your face and injuries this only made him feel more guilty, what you didn’t notice was the way Bucky was looking at you with eyes filled with sadness and anger

[darkstaria]

"Hehehe..." You snickered quietly to yourself, rapidly pressing the buttons on your remote. The ceiling reflected your desire, rapidly changing colours as you did so. Smart lights were so cool.

A knock sounded at your door.

"Hello!" Called the bane of your existence.

"Not here!" You called back.

"I'm coming it anyways!" Dick sauntered in through your door as if your four individual locks meant nothing to him. Damn. Next time you're buying a barricade. Jason could probably be persuaded to install it. Stick it to the old man and all.

"Get out." You stated.

You changed the light into a deep, dark red.

"I'm here because Bruce is busy." Your unwanted visitor explained. "It's great that you're having fun and all, but using your light to flash SOS in morse code is going a bit too far, wouldn't you think?"

"No." You replied, a deadpan expression on your face.

"Well Bruce thinks it is, so this is your warning. Stop flashing in morse code, or he's talking the bulb out."

"You would take this away from me?" You pleaded, tears welling up in your eyes. You had gotten extremely good at that lately. "My one solace in this cruel, lonely-"

"We're always extremely happy to hang out with you." Dick cut in, bemused.

"-mansion." You continued as if he had never spoke. "You would really do that? To me? ...your sibling?" The tears were perhaps getting a bit out of control, but you'd rather be overacting than under.

"Unfortunately yes-"

"Unfair!" You shouted. "Besides, Tim taught me how to use the light this way, if anything you should be blaming him! Favouritism!" Yous screeched. If tears didn't get him out volume would.

Dick winced, so you were clearly doing your job.

"I'll.. see what I can do." He muttered, turning away.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, alone once more.

"Oh by the way!" He turned back.

Damnit!

"It's family movie night tonight! You know the rules, whoever caught you in your last escape attempt gets to cuddle you for the whole night, and you know who that was!" He laughed. You hated him. That attempt was one of your best yet, until he showed up.

Dick left, laughing all the way.

You sighed, a deep and long breath. How frustrating.

After a little bit, you looked up again, turning your room into a brilliant pink.

"Hehehe..." You continued fiddling with your remote. It was really fun.

[boombams]

she yoo... on my han... till i kim.................

[priceinjection]

thinking about older bf john or simon who holds me accountable to study. like, oh, you wanna go out tonight? don't you have an exam tomorrow? constant check ins etc. god forbid he catch my ass procrastinating too much

oooooh yeah you get it

even better though, you're dating both of them and they are ON YOUR ASS

I feel like they're weirdly controlling over it. Like they have the log in to your canvas or whatever site the college uses and they are constantly checking your assignments and checking in. Literally does not matter if they're halfway across the world on assignment, you're getting texts about your paper due this Friday and it better be submitted if you even THINK you're going out this weekend.

Helicopter parent type shit with them, if you have to study for a test they're heavily involved. Simon has you sat on his lap while Price is across from you two, quizzing you on different terms and practice questions. No matter how much you squirm or try to rile them up into just bending you over the table and fucking you instead, they wont budge. It's absolute torture for you but goddamn do you do well on your exams every time.

Writing papers is the worst of it though. With the amount of paperwork your boyfriends do at work they are absolutely BRUTAL editors. Showing them your first draft has you absolutely shaking handing the paper over. The worst part is they're dead silent while they mark your paper, only the sound of their pens scratching and scribbling. You practically have to rewrite the entire paper by the end of their editing. Which of course they sit with you to do.

John and Simon are absolute nightmares when it comes to your school work, but you always get good grades.

And they always reward their little academic weapon generously.

[koipudding]

being with kaiser means having to dissect your own heart while stitching up his.

chewing on him jn the tags and etc. don’t mind me

he’d be pretty mean at first. he’s gauging your reactions; would you run if you saw everything that haunted him? how he haunts himself? Kaiser does nothing but spit and snarl at you, like a stray cat that’s only been kicked to the curb.

but you don’t leave him alone. not like every other one-night stand he’s had—no, you’ve made him breakfast—a traditional german faire—and brushed and put oil in his hair (his favorite scent too; you tell him it’s been your favorite for a few years. something in him softens).

It’s so domestic he almost vomits after that, but on his first night away from your apartment, he can’t sleep. Practice is shit and he’s not performing well, to the point where he initiates a facetime call (kaiser hates initiating. it feels like begging for your attention, when yours should be solely on him anyway.) and you pick up instantly.

the time difference makes something shatter in him. You’re just waking up… hair messy and eyes bleary. You can hardly speak or hold up the phone…

“Mihya…? You okay?” you’re slumped in bed, wearing his sweater. He might combust (when did Michael become so attached to you? He doesn’t know, but he whispers your name like a prayer, like you’re his guiding light).

“I’m better now, dear. Let me tell you what that idiot of a striker did at practice—“ he rambled on, and watches you nod along. You him and agree with him, and a weight falls off of his shoulders. Kaiser can love you. Perhaps he already does…

[alrightberries]

*heavy sigh* barbarian bkg kidnapping the princess from the neighboring kingdom as a strategic move to lure out your father's knights and slaughter them as revenge for the warrior your people have killed, but it's been two full moons and neither the king nor his knights have come for you

and you... you've been the freest you've ever felt, with no knights guarded by your doors or tutors drilling politics in your head while your father pretends that you, the bastard daughter, has never existed and kept you either busy with extracurriculars or locked in your room so he never has to face you

and bakugou... watching you play wrestle with his tribe's children, pick the loose scales off his dragon's back, read the scrolls to learn his language, chew out the elders when they mentioned your name and the word 'sacrifice' and bakugou's never laughed harder in his life at their stupid dumb founded faces

and that was— that was all you were to him. a sacrifice, he reminds himself. a pig waiting for slaughter while he rethinks his strategies and reorganizes his plan to get revenge at your tyrant of a father who killed his men.

...but later, of course. not now. not when you're dancing around the fire with his people, in his home, singing the songs of his tribe and looking every bit like the woman the oracle described to be his future queen, while his parents share a knowing look

[hehearse]

the duality of man......