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#the others don’t stay still long enough
moonstruckme · 2 days
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hi!!! i love all ur marauders works they’re seriously so cute and i love how you write them!! idk if you’ve done this one already and if you have just ignore this lol but could you do remus having a nightmare and reader comforting him? ik you’ve done the reverse but i wanna know what he’s like lmao. i need to see more confer remus i can’t get enough
Thank you lovely <3
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
It’s already graying outside the window when you wake. Remus has been having some agitated nights lately, and the dim lighting of the bedroom lets you see that this has been another one. 
You’ve probably woken from the cold, all your sheets and blankets kicked mercilessly to the end of the bed. Remus’ face is twisted up tight, his hands twitching like they’re trying to grab for something, and he’s making soft, distressed little sounds that threaten to crack your heart clean in two. You hate to think how long he’s been like this without you waking. 
“Rem,” you start soft, reaching for his hand as you’ve learned to do. Touch his shoulder or any other part of him and he’s likely to wake jolting, your offending hand gripped cruelly by the wrist. Once, before you’d learned your lesson, he’d kicked himself fully out of bed from the start you gave him. You’d sat in the living room with a hot pack on his tailbone, murmuring apologies back and forth until the sun came up. 
You needle your fingers underneath his gently. “Remus, honey, you’re okay. You’re home.” His fingers twitch closer around yours, and you’re careful not to grab him back even though you want to, running the pads of your fingers down the length of his to loosen them. “You’re safe. You’re at home.” His eyes start to move faster behind his lids. “Rem.” 
That last whisper does it. He doesn’t startle, which is always a victory, but Remus still inhales sharply as he wakes. His muscles seize as though they mean to propel him somewhere, then relax shudderingly. 
You entwine your fingers with his, stay quiet. You know he knows you’re here but he won’t look at you just yet, hiding away the most frantic parts of himself before he’ll let himself turn towards you. You don’t love that he does it. You know better than to push him, though. It unnerves him worse when you try to jimmy your way into his thoughts while he’s still raw like this. 
“Sorry,” he says on an exhale. 
“Don’t be.” You start to stroke up his wrist, but Remus pulls his hand from yours, slipping out of bed and walking from the room. 
You tail him. This is part of your routine, too. You think he likes to give you the option of going back to sleep, though you can’t imagine he’d actually feel any better if you did. He’s fooling himself. (It’s okay; you’re a fool for him sometimes, too.) 
Remus isn’t surprised when you wrap your arms around his middle in the kitchen, resting your cheek against his back. He’s already got the kettle going. 
“How are you?” you ask, though you think you have some idea. He’s still trembling gently under your hands. 
“Alright.” He sets one hand over your two clasped around his front. “You should go back to sleep.” 
You almost smile at his predictability. Remus isn’t usually so stiff around you, but even he has admitted he reverts back to a younger, terser self when he’s feeling vulnerable. You could tell him that you’d have been waking up soon anyway, or that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew you’d left him like this, but you go with the truth that you know you’d want to hear. 
“I want to be with you,” you say simply. 
Remus turns in your arms, resting his lips on top of your head. “Thanks, dove.” 
You hum like For what? and step around him as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing his favorite mug from the cabinet above. Remus lets you take care of him this little bit, but he doesn’t go to sit down in the living room until you’re headed that way too. 
You curl up against him on the couch, your knees tipped over his thighs while his legs bridge the gap between the sofa and the coffee table. He blows the steam off his mug. 
“Do you remember what the dream was about?” 
“Bits and pieces.” Remus’ voice is still a bit raspy with sleep, and you know exactly what he’s thinking when his lips twitch: you’ve told him more than a few times how attractive you find it like this. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about.” 
“Okay,” you say. You’re both speaking softly, like the house itself is still slumbering as morning creeps up on the outside world. After Remus’ nightmare, you imagine he appreciates the peace anyway.
He sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been waking you so much lately.” 
“Sorry you’ve been sleeping so horribly lately,” you counter. 
Remus smiles ruefully. “I think it’s all this stuff going on at work. Rude of it to fuck with me even when I’m sleeping, though.” 
You hum, tracing a scar near his elbow with your finger. “I didn’t realize you were so stressed. I’m sorry.” 
“I’ve hardly realized it myself,” he admits. 
You frown, and Remus looks back into his mug, shying from your scrutiny. “Do you think it might help if we relaxed a bit more here?” you ask him. “We could start reading that book together again.” 
His eyes are soft when they meet yours, the color of honey and just as sweet. “That sounds really nice,” he says. 
You smile. It feels good to have a plan. “Hug?” you ask him. 
Remus sets down his tea to make room for you, and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands spread out on your back, tentative at first and then firmer as you snuggle up to him. 
“I’ll make cheese toasties and soup tonight,” you say softly. Remus sounds almost like he could purr as you start playing with the hair at his nape. He gives your hips a little tug, getting you closer. “And we can read or watch something or do a puzzle, whatever you feel like when you get home. We could talk about the work stuff, if you wanted to.” You say this last part hesitantly, but Remus hums his approval. 
“You’re so good to me, do you know that?” 
You grin. “I do my best.” 
He huffs a laugh, the sound gruff and heart-squeezing. You lapse into a thin silence, each listening to the other breathe but feeling the beginning of the new day pressing at your windows. 
“We have some time before we’d normally start to get ready,” you try. “Want to stay like this for a bit?” 
“Yeah,” Remus sighs, settling his arms around you more securely. “Yeah, good idea.”
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lixern · 1 day
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How would HSR men feel with their tiddies being sucked? Flustered? Flattered?
Or how does HSR men suck your chest (reader receiving).
I don’t care who’s doing it, I just need SOMEONE SUCKING TITS! (Sorry if this request is uncomfortable, you can ignore this if it is).
im going on a big rant about aventurine, hes been living in my head rent free for like since the day hes been leaked. he got me leakin too like?!??!?! im sorry it took so long omg
he'd like, die suckin ur tits. in a good way! hed stay there for hours just caring for them and massaging them. i think he focuses his mouth on one and uses his skillful hands (fingers, ahem,) on the other one.. he'd be so gentle but so mean! how can he be sosososososo caring but still tease you using his mouth filled with tit. hes either talking with his mouth full or hes using his mouth to tease you even more physically. either way! he teases u, and a LOT.
or suckin his tits lawl, like just pawing at them through his boob window first, sneaking ur hands under it :3 he whimpers, definitely. more if u tease him ! i feel like if you sucked his tits, hed pull you closer to them as if you werent close enough already
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clockwayswrites · 7 hours
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Masked Tidbit: A Threat
“Sorry to intrude,” Clark said politely. They weren’t the bashful words of a Midwest raised man though, this was Superman speaking through and through. There was an undercurrent of worry under those words.
Bruce and Diana looked about ready for war.
Dick stood to face the trio and, while obviously confused about what was going on, the rest of the Titans followed suit. Phantom stayed floating in the air, but sat upright.
“There’s been a threat made against Phantom,” B said, direct to the point as always.
“Phantom?” Gar asked incredulously.
They thought that Phantom could hardly be hurt. Dick knew better. Dick had seen Phantom bleed red. His hands had been coated in that blood. He took an unconscious half step in front of Phantom, as if somehow he could protect the other from the danger; a danger that Dick didn’t even know yet.
Bruce’s eyes tracked the movement. Dick couldn’t see Bruce’s eyes behind the lenses of the cowl, of course, but he knew.
Bruce hadn’t agreed about letting such a complete unknown as Phantom join the Titans, but this was Dick’s team, not his, so he really didn’t have a say in it. Still, it had been a near argument and a long lecture on accountability. It was a little cute how much Bruce worried, and how bad he was as showing it in a normal way. By this point Phantom might still be almost as much of an unknown, but there was no denying that he had proved his metal and loyalty a hundred times over. Dick thought that Bruce had even come to appreciate Phantom’s presence on the team.
And he had honored Dick’s order not to look into Phantom.
Or Dick thought he had. This brought up a lot of questions.
“Bruce Wayne was approached in Gotham,” B explained, as if sensing Dick’s question and potential anger.
“By who?” Dick asked since it seemed Phantom wasn’t going to. He always tried to have as little interaction with the Justice League as possible.
“Doctors Jackson and Madison Fenton.”
Phantom’s feet hit the floor. “Oh. That’s… you don’t have to worry about them.”
“They seemed rather assured that they could hurt you,” Diana said, her tone both soothing and commanding in that way she had.
With how close they were standing together, Dick could feel the motion as Phantom shrugged. “I mean, yeah, they can. But they’ve never managed to that seriously.”
Dick twisted enough to send a pointed look at Phantom. “What do you call not that seriously?”
Gashes weren’t serious, barely being able to stand wasn’t serious, broken ribs and bed rest wasn’t serious; Dick didn’t really trust Phantom in this.
“I mean, I’m still—” Phantom paused with a frown before continuing oddly. “I’m still around.”
What ever that pause was about made Bruce twitch which was very concerning.
“They want to rip you apart molecule by molecule,” Bruce growled.
Gar made a wounded sounding noise at that and Cyborg outright flinched.
“And that’s not an exaggeration,” Clark said, arms crossed. “That’s a direct quote.”
Clark must have been there as, well, Clark. Dick ran through everything that had been going on in Gotham that might have Clark there. It was better than letting himself dwell on those words. Two charity events. There was some sort of conference, Tim had talked about going to look for tech…
Phantom leaned forward just slightly and Dick naturally leaned back.
“Yeah, that’s just how they are about me. They’ve never captured me, at least not long enough to actually do that. They’re mostly just talk.”
“Son,” Clark said seriously. Phantom almost jerked at the word; Dick pressed more firmly back against him. “If they’re able to hurt you, then that is not just talk.”
“They’re just misguided,” Phantom almost pleaded.
“A misguided rogue is still a rogue,” B insisted with the certainty of a man who dealt with that constantly. He might as well fired a shot for how Phantom flinched and moved further behind Dick. Of course B noticed. “We’ll continue this in a conference room.”
Phantom’s “N’s coming with” overlapped with Dick’s own “I’m coming too.”
B rearguard them for a long, still moment before he nodded and swept off with a sweep of his cape.
Dick couldn’t do anything but follow.
---
AN: You didn't think the Fentons would let go of Phantom being a hero that easily, right? And before there's any doubt, B is 100% trying to protect Phantom here and aware (maybe even more than Dick) how important Phantom is to his son.
You can find the other parts and ao3 link for the first chapter here.
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letstrip-teamblue · 2 days
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Treat you like a lady
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• Your boyfriend doesn’t pay enough attention to you. Chris doesn’t like that.
• This is extremely cheesy!! That’s just how I am. Contains smut.
• Word count: 2,031
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Sunday
Today is a weekend like any other; you’re lounging on the triplets’ couch.
The tv is playing as background noise. Chris is on his laptop working on new Fresh Love designs while you lay next to him scrolling pinterest. You've known each other long enough that you can enjoy each other's company without forcing conversation. Simply being around him allows you to relax, and vice versa. You can’t find that with many people.
A sex scene causes the pair of you to look up. You exchange looks and chuckle like teenagers at it.
Chris breaks the awkward silence.
“Is it actually that good or is she playing it up?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug and go back to my phone.
I can see Chris’s brows furrow from my peripheral vision.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never had a guy go down on me before.”
“What?”
You look up from your phone.
“…What.” You echo.
“No, what do you mean you’ve never had head before? You have a boyfriend. You’ve had a boyfriend for 3 months.”
Your cheeks get warm.
Think of a way to brush this off.
“It’s not a big deal. Not everyone’s into that.”
He seems stunned, gaze focused on his sneakers.
“... Do you do it for him?”
A sigh leaves your lips, “Chris-”
“No, listen to me. If he’s not reciprocating then the problem clearly isn't that he's uncomfortable. It's that he's selfish.”
Who does Chris think he is that he can judge your love life?
“This is none of your business.” You scoff.
“I think I should go.” You stand up and grab your bag.
Chris doesn’t give up yet.
“Okay, forget about that part for a second. When’s the last time he took you out? When's the last time he surprised you?”
You're struggling to swallow down a still-beating heart. You're avoiding eye contact with an angry version of one of your closest friends, and you’re trying to block out the possibility that what he's saying could be true.
“I’ll see you later, Chris.”
7:00 pm
Chris: I'm sorry. I overstepped earlier. just think you deserve better.
You read and reread the message. Typing out a reply and deleting it. Maybe what you need is space. You put your phone on do not disturb and crawl under the covers.
Trying to distance yourself from Chris would prove to be a waste of time because you end up having a dream about him.
“Hey gorgeous” a voice whispers in your ear.
It sounds familiar but there’s no one else with you in this room, so you can’t match the voice with a face. Whoever it’s coming from, their voice sounds like silk.
You're twisting your head around to try and find the source. Whoever’s in here with you finds that amusing because laughter follows.
“I'm over here, goof.”
It’s him. He walks over to you with a smile on his face and those big blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you asked
“I just missed you.” he says as he grabs your hand and twirls you around.
1:12 am
Well, that���s a first.
Monday
Chris opened the front door.
“Hey, I’m so glad you wanted to come over.” He said smiling.
Your face however wasn’t as cheerful.
“Yeah about that,”
You cleared your throat and walked inside.
“I think we should spend a little time apart. Like a refresh.”
His expression dropped instantly. You can’t keep eye contact. It’s too hard.
“What?”
“It’s not personal, it’s-”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“Chris , this is my relationship, stay out of it.” You say sternly.
“How can I when you’re all I think about?”
The air in the room gets thick.
“What?”
“I mean,” He scrunched his eyes and rubs his forehead. Flipping through the pages of his brain for the right words.
“I could treat you better than him.”
You laugh, “What are you talking about?”
He slowly brings his hand up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You know it’s true.”
He takes a step toward me, his breath on my cheeks.
“I can make you feel good.”
You involuntarily gulped, which caused him to smirk. He tries to hide it.
Your mouth moves but no sound emits from it. You feel paralyzed.
He must be bluffing… right?
“Let me show you.” he whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You don’t know exactly when he stepped closer but your noses are now touching.
I need to stop this.
“I have a boyfriend.” You say in a meek voice.
Chris very lightly put his right hand on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt.
“Does he make you nervous like I do?”
Chris' eyes fall to your lips.
“If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”
Shit.
Soft, pink lips touch yours. You don’t kiss back but don’t run away either. Just wanting to take in the dimensions and texture of his lips. He starts to pull back.
Wait, don’t go anywhere.
You press your lips forward, chasing him.
It makes him smile into the kiss, which in turn makes you smile. The weird sensation causes you both to start laughing.
He straightens up.
“I wanna be with you too. Wo don’t know why I was ever with him in the first place.”
Chris can’t contain his smile. He covers his mouth.
“Sorry. I know I should be more… apologetic? I guess? But I’m not. I want you all to myself.”
“Yes, you've made that quite clear.”
You pull Chris back in for a kiss by his hoodie, it makes his insides stir. He places both his hands on the sides of your face, deepening the kiss.
You pull back for air.
“I should go tell him it’s over before things go any further.”
“Ok.”
But Chris goes right back to kissing you. Sliding his thumb across your cheek.
It’s so dreamy. You have to will yourself to stop.
“Ok I’m serious this time!” You chuckle. “Can I come back tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
4:15 pm
Me: just left his house. whew.
Chris: im proud of u and so grateful.
6:00pm
“How long have you liked me?”
“Almost our entire friendship. I don’t think I realize it until you started dating Andrew.”
Laying on Chris’s chest is the happiest you’ve felt in months. You two have been talking about all the things that made you fall for each other. He’s been rubbing your back for the past 20 minutes but decides to put his hand under your shirt to enhance the feeling.
You sighed and relaxed even more on top of him, closing your eyes.
“Damn, you have some knots right here.”
“Ugh, yeah. That’s where I carry stress.”
“Here, lay on your stomach. I bet I can relieve it.”
Chris moves so you can lay flat. Once you’re comfortable he straddles your hips and brings his hand to the hem of your shirt.
“Is it ok if I bring this up?”
“Mhm.”
He lifts your shirt to where your bra starts ,then gets to work.
Maybe it’s the skin to skin contact, or the fact that your muscles were tense, but his hands feel heavenly. You can’t help but let out a string of sighs.
“That feeling good?”
“Yes, oh my god. Thank you so much.”
He chuckles. “Anything for my girl.”
After a few minutes of the same motions he decides to explore new territory.
He rubs his hands over your hips, your ribs, and now your thighs.
“Seems like there’s a lot of heat coming from your legs, baby.”
“You’re such a good massager it’s hardly my fault.” You tease back.
You try to close your legs together but he doesn’t like that. Keeping a hand right between them.
He brings his mouth right next to your ear. Lowering his voice.
“Do you need relief somewhere else, baby?”
While he talks he maneuvers his hand so it’s nearly flat against your clothed center.
You try to keep it together. You can’t already be at a loss for words.
You nod into his pillow.
“Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty face.”
Your cheeks heat up immediately as you position yourself on your back. The two of you make eye contact and any anxiety you had about intimacy with Chris is gone.
“We can stop whenever you want.” He says before kissing you.
“Let me show you how a real man behaves.”
He smirks and lowers himself to your stomach. Kissing your happy trail. Leaving tiny bites.
Since you’re wearing sweats he slides them off in seconds, taking your underwear with them. He tosses them over his shoulder and they hit some things in his dresser, causing them to fall. It makes you giggle but Chris is entranced by the sight before him.
“Jesus Christ.” He says to himself.
He runs his nose where your leg meets your hip. Kissing further and further. Creating a puddle before he even touches you. He licks your inner thighs. Painting them with purple marks.
Finally, his mouth is where you crave it. He’s apprehensive at first but once you let out your first moan it’s all over for him.
Chris sucks your clit and your mind goes blank. Nothing ever felt like this before.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
When he goes back down he licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit.
Your back arches off the bed.
“That’s it.” he says into my skin.
He’s lapping at your folds like it’s water and he’s been in a drought. Grabbing onto your thighs to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Not that you'd want to, but his actions do cause quite a bit of squirming.
“God, you’re everything.”
It almost seemed like he was saying it to himself. Like he couldn’t believe youre real.
“Next time you want something done right, come to me.”
“Fuck yes.” You moan.
When he lifts his face up again, your juices are dripping down to his neck. You’re so mesmerized by the sight you don’t register what he's saying. It just sounds like white noise.
Chris tsks.
“Looks like I fucked you dumb, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up.”
You push his face back down. He starts fucking you with his tongue.
“Yes ma’am.”
Jesus
Your thighs tighten around his neck, he squeezes them back as a response.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Like syrup.”
You can’t do anything more than whimper and grind into his face.
Chris grabbed the hand that was clenching the bedsheets and guided it to his hair. You happily thread your fingers through.
He touches you like you're all he asked god for. The sounds coming from you are his favorite song. This is the alchemy he does.
“Oh god,” your voice goes up an octave.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Please, so close.”
“Cmon, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
He made you a whimpering mess. Arousal dripping down your legs, down his lips, on the sheets. Chris continues to reach his tongue deep inside you while drawing figure eights on your clit.
In an instant your vision goes black.
The next minute was spent shaking and catching your breath. Goosebumps littered all over my body.
You don’t know when but at some point Chris must’ve turned you so you were laying on your side. He pulled a lightweight blanket over you and was now playing with your hair.
“Hey pretty girl.” He said softly as you opened your eyes.
“Hi”
“You did so well for me.” He kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t move.”
He quickly wet a washcloth and grabbed a water bottle.
You could drift off to sleep at any moment, but Chris made sure to clean you up first.
It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He made sure you were warm enough. every few minutes he laid kisses on your face. You were too tired to say anything but he could see how happy you were. That was enough for him
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iliketangerines · 3 days
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OK so like...you've seen Bi-Han's latest skin, right? The one that's basically a Magic Mike does Subzero type getup? What about a scenario where it's his new training gear and the reader loves it so much that she can't help expressing her...appreciation of how it looks on him.
let me show you
a/n: i wanted a softer bi han, so here's softer bi han
pairing: bi han x gn!reader
warnings: nsfw (MDNI), blow jobs, handjobs
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you can’t help but bite your lip as you admire Bi Han in his new outfit
it was certainly something else: his chest fully out and his pants skin tight, especially around his groin
even from across the training grounds, you can see how his cock strains against the material even soft, and an idea crosses your mind
you walk up to Bi Han giving him a small kiss, and he smiles softly at you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, as he draws you in close
you lean in close to his ear and tell him to meet you in the closet by the kitchens before sauntering off, making sure to sway your hips back and forth
you don’t have to wait long in the closet as he opens the door and closes it behind him, clicking the lock in place as you smile up at him through your eyelashes
you crowd him against the door, kissing him deeply and running your fingers through his hair as he groans into your mouth and holds onto the small of your back
your other hand trails down and squeezes at his crotch, and he moans into your mouth at the feeling, hips bucking into your hand
you smile into his mouth and pull away and drop down to your knees, winking up at him as you lean in close to his crotch
you mouth at him through the fabric, running your tongue along the outline of his straining cock, and his hand flies down to grip at your hair as you lick him through the fabric
he pants into the air and leans his head back to rest against the door as you thoroughly wet the fabric of his pants with your spit
his hips jerk into your face, and you get the idea to start undoing the buckles to release him from his bottoms
his cock springs out from his underwear insistently, tip red and flushed as pre-cum drools from the slit and drips down the length
you lick your lips and use your hand to spread the pre-cum along the shaft, and your other hand comes up to fondle his balls
he groans into the air quietly, trying to keep his noises to a minimum as you slowly pump him in your hand, teasing him with little kitten licks to the tip
finally he growls out at you for more, and you smile up at him and place your lips on his tip, pressing your tongue into the slit before sliding deeper onto him
he groans at the feeling of your wet and warm mouth around his sensitive cock, and you bob your head up and down slowly, using your hand to pump what didn’t fit into your mouth
his head is thrown back as he lets out small pants and grunts into the hair as his slowly goes deeper and deeper into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis
you focus on breathing through your nose as you stay like that, fingers flexing into his thighs as you try to focus
Bi Han grunts and his hips slightly thrust forward into your throat, causing you to gag and your throat to tighten around his tip
he can’t help it as he holds onto your head and starts fucking into yout mouth, using you as a toy as he chases his high
tears run down your face and your fingers dip into his hips, but you let him use you as he pleases
the sounds of your wet mouth around him and the sight of small tears dripping down the side of your face is enough to send Bi Han over the edge
he grunts and buries himself deep inside of you as he cums down your throat
you struggle to swallow it all, but when he slips out of your mouth, you stick your tongue out and show how you’ve drinken it all
he rubs your cheek with his thumb lovingly, chest heaving as he tries to regain his breath and his focus
he drags you back up and kisses you deeply, grunting at the taste of him still in your mouth, and he turns you around so that your back slams into the door
he kisses your neck, sucking a hickey high into the skin and trailing kisses down your neck until he sinks down on his own knees
he tugs at your bottoms and tells you that it’s time to return the favor
neither of you return to training for a while
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dreamauri · 2 days
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┇𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part four ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇this is what they call: puppy love.  ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  fem! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( - ) ╰  🫧 :: ⁠ content warning — ( google translated spanish )
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( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )
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Y/N Gemazi-L/N chats with Martin Brundle on his DREAM F1 debut 🔴🎂
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"One more lap, tsunoda ahead in p10. push for q3." "heard." You mumbled back on the radio, preparing for one more qualifying lap to be a part f the top ten. You've never raced in jeddah before as it was one of the newer circuits and you'd long left formula 2 by then.
But the track wasn't too difficult to figure out. Sure the track is challenging, especially since FP3 wasn't enough to learn the car and that you still indeed are learning the track. Qualifying laps were ok, no real battles yet, just against the clock which gave you peace of mind.
The sim helped a little, not as much as the fact that you'd be teammates with charles again or the fact that Lando has a good car and would be near you throughout the race, battening you or not. On top of that, the only reason you're going through with the race (like you had a choice anyways) is max.
You'd subconsciously called Max after Fred Vasseur broke the news to you, making him the first person to know and the first person so far this half weekend to give you real tips and advice about the circuit, going as far as staying up with you the other night after inviting you to his room to practice on his sim.
"Well done, Y/N, that is P9. P9." You heard your race engineer beep in your ears as you crossed the finish line. "WO! Q3!" "Line up so far is: verstappen, leclerc, alonso, piastri, russel, perez, norris, tsunoda, you, stroll." "Tsunoda? I thought he P10? Did i not knock him out?" "No, that was—" "Oh my god, it's john wick." you gasped once realizing. "Who?" "I eliminated lewis, didn't i?" "Confirmed. Yes." "Oh my god."
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“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled, giving a nod to return the greeting. “You’ve had an amazing debut thus far. How are you feeling?” You laughed, shrugging. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be chillaxing back in the hospitality and drinking barbican while watching the red cars. Never expected that I’d be in one of the cars. But uh, we had a good qualifying. Q3 is good for the team and hopefully, we’ll have a good pace tomorrow.”
“It is a very remarkable debut,” “It is.” You agreed nodding, brushing your hair back. “I mean, I knew I’d be driving an F1 car at some point or another. I’m glad it was a night race. I’ll do my best to seize the moment and maximize the opportunity,” you quote, joking, making the interviewer laugh. “And we’ll see where tomorrow takes us.” “Very nice, Y/N.” “Thank you-” looked back, feeling someone put a hand on your shoulder.
Max could visibly see you relax upon realizing it was him. He found the smile that rose on your face too cute. “Q3, I taught her.” He joked, making you laugh. “Which position?” “P6.” Max made an impressed face nodding. “Hands off my teammate.” Charles shooed Max, pushing him away. You watched, trying to hold in your laugh.
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“There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright, fernando.” You sang as you hugged the spaniard. “youre going to sing that every time you see me." He laughed, hugging you back and patting your back. “its tradition." You reminded him as the two of you pulled away. He ruffled your hair, cupping the back of your head. “P6?” He asked, smiling. You shrugged, smiling. “just stay behind me." “very funny, nando."
You waved him goodbye as bid a farewell, going to his car. You unlocked your phone as you walked the other way, scrolling through your contacts as you looked around, searching for a certain honda. You don’t remember the license plate so finding your ride back was difficult, especially since there were so many cars in a lot of colors and expensive models.
‘Where are you?’ You send the text message, looking around the parking lot. You were answered with a light flicker. Max’s car wasn’t too far, he’d turned his lights on and off as a signal for you. He wasn’t too far, so you made a jog for it, opening the car door and getting in the passenger seat, and placing your backpack between your feet. 
Max started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. Since you accidentally spent the night at his, and the two of you were already staying at the same hotel and you didn’t rent a car out for the weekend, Max figured: why not carpool? “Seat Belt.” the blond reminded you as the car neared the exit of the parking lot. You did catch what he said, distracted by looking out at the other driver’s who were finding their own cars.
“hm?” instead of repeating himself, max reached and buckled you up himself, smoothly merging into traffic, using blinkers and abiding the laws. You blushed, leaning your elbow on the door and watching him out of the corner of your eyes. It was a long day and you were tired. Still jet lagged, you made the mistake of waking up early to venture around unknowing that you'd be driving twice. And now that the main anxiety drilling events were over, the sleep and rest you needed was catching up to you.
Max lowered the music from the radio once he noticed your low energy and slow blinking. He'd been taking glances in your direction, keeping track of you slowly dozing off. When he parked the car at the hotel, you were totally asleep. It took max a few seconds of theorizing on what to do next before going into action.
He didn’t want to wake you up, so with two backpacks on, he managed to get you up on your feet so he could carry you. You were only half asleep when he gently and slowly opened the door, catching your elbow so you don't fall. with half opened eyes, you looked at him confused as he pulled your backpack on before unbuckling your seat.
You let him hold your hands and help you get out, before gently wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up into his chest. He kicked the door shut before carrying you away. You leaned your head on his shoulder falling back into slumberland. 
it was a shame you weren't awake to witness the journey up to his room. Max had somehow signaled a staff worker over, making him take out the wallet from his back pocket and unlock the entrance from the garage to the building, and once again to unlock the door to his room.
The truly memorable part was when Max set you on his bed. After taking your shoes off and covering you with the blanket, the dutch gently brushed your hair in a ponytail he found in your bag. When he tried to pull away, to get himself asleep on the couch, you'd held his hand in your sleep.
Max felt like he was frozen in place as if one of his cats fell asleep on him and he couldn't move so as to not wake them up. He knelt down on the floor, brushing his thumb against your cheek where you held his hand. You looked so peaceful and adorable that it took Max around 10 minutes of contemplation before slipping in bed with you where you welcomed him by hugging him and clinging onto him.
The smile and blush that covered his cheeks as he hugged and cuddled you back, stayed on his face through the night. The best sleep he's ever had.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“The nostalgia,”  “It's like a copy paste.” the two commentators laughed. “Just look at her driving style as well, she's aggressive but not over the line, shouting" I'm here, I'm going to overtake, and you can’t do anything about it.” Their explanation was on point. You got straight to the point. You caught up, intimidated, saw a gap and went for it. P6 to P3 with a good chunk of the race left. Max and Charles were ahead by a few points and it took you a few laps to catch up. Staying behind the fellow ferrari, you stayed on his tail within a half second distance.
Once you took corner #27 and the DRS was applicable, You were past Charles and chasing Max in the red bull.
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Post dive bombing max into turn one, and over taking him, you lead a difficult 4 laps where the dutch was breathing down your neck. You genuinely felt scared because he was in your mirrors the whole time, like playing tag with an adult and they laugh evilly which makes it feel real and you start screaming and actually running for your life.
Max did eventually take his P1 back and you stayed behind him. Unfortunately, under team orders, you had to switch with Charles and give him the P2 once he caught up. You looked up once someone came up from behind you, patting your back. “Rickey, when I catch you, rickey.” You laughed as you took your helmet off, watching Max go off for his post race interview. “Nice driving,” You turned, smiling at Charles and returning the fistbump. “Nice breaking.” you returned the compliment.
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not two steps in the room and max had cupped his hand under your chin and pulled you in a for a kiss. You were defiantly suppressed, not getting the chance to at least find the light switch or put the trophy down somewhere. You kissed back eagerly, a small hum leaving your throat as the two of you made out.
Max must have been continuing where you left off in the morning with how hungry and eager he seemed. Since waking up tangled in each other, the moment led to a kiss and another and another. You never realised how attracted you were to max, how he made you feel.
Dropping your bag, you used your free hand tp tangle your fingers in the hair at his nape, letting him tilt your head with the grip he hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. "I've been waiting all day." he mumbled before leaning in for another kiss.
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Text
Follow You Anywhere 5
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.
Characters: Captain Syverson
Note: still sick but still craving dick.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
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You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 
You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 
No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 
He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 
You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 
“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 
“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 
He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 
“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 
“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 
“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 
His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 
“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 
Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 
He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 
“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 
You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 
“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 
You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 
You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 
You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 
You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  
You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 
“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 
“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 
A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 
“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 
You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 
You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 
“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 
“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 
“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 
“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 
“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 
“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 
“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 
You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 
He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 
“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 
You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 
🧸
You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 
As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 
You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 
“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 
“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 
“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 
“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 
“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 
“No, um, I... just finished.” 
You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 
“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 
“Sure...” you murmur. 
He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 
Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 
You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 
Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 
“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 
“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 
“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 
“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 
“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 
Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 
You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 
He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 
You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 
You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 
You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 
You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 
You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 
“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 
“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 
“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 
“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 
You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 
“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 
“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 
“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 
You press your lips together, “mhm.” 
You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 
You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 
He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 
“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 
“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 
The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 
“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 
He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 
“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 
You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 
“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 
“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 
“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 
Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 
He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 
“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 
His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 
You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 
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janaispunk · 1 day
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no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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Number neighbors Pt.28
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
----
You wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was regularly paranoid, but recently you've been more than a little on edge. You’d given the man at the market the benefit of the doubt, chalking his appearance up to going to the marketplace when the weather was the most reasonable- like you’d been doing, but that doesn’t explain the Suvs.
You don’t know how long they’ve been following you for, you’d been so stuck in your own world that you’d barely been paying attention to your surroundings but after Saturday you’ve been more cautious of your surroundings and that’s when you noticed the black Suv.
You don’t know if it’s the same one every time, they’ve always kept a far enough distance and you haven't been able to catch a license plate but they appear every so often when you go out. The windows are tinted far too dark to be legal so you can’t see inside but you occasionally find them parked outside of buildings you frequent and it’s starting to worry you.
You don’t want to worry your friends or your mom who would buy a ticket out there first thing though, so you keep to yourself and try to keep a distance from the cars and the marketplace (it’s a devastating loss to not have Gladys’ pastries on hand)
On top of that, everyone has been on edge because of the disappearance of most of the Avengers. As far as you know, Stark, Clint, Banner, and that Spider kid are the only ones still in New York which has civilians asking questions about where the others are and why they left. 
The anxiety from the lack of heroes has everyone grilling the government for answers, especially considering the fact that the crime rate has gone up just from petty criminals getting too cocky. Due to the constant heat The government has been under, they stated that they’ll issue a public service announcement in a week to explain the situation and you can practically feel the country buzzing with anticipation.
The situation makes you think of Nat and you wonder if her “not FBI job” has something to do with this and is the reason why she’s disappeared. You hope she knows wherever she is that you would’ve understood if she’d just explained the situation to you- but maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was under some kind of NDA that could put her in danger.
Despite avoiding the marketplace you still get the feeling that you’re being watched and it makes you uneasy. You feel like you’re hallucinating with how often you see shadows moving somewhere nearby. You’re never able to catch a glimpse of anyone who might resemble the market man but the fear is enough to have you staying a few nights at your friend's house.
The Suv’s don’t appear for a while after the move and it allows you a small moment of reprieve. You push the lingering feeling of constant observance to the back of your mind despite your brain telling you to be on guard.
The stress of the situation is so tremendous you don’t even realize you’ve been forgetting to leave voicemails for Nat until your mom calls asking why you haven’t called her in a while. You don’t bring up the stalkers to avoid giving her a heart attack but you do tell her about the amount of stress you’ve been under and the toll it’s been taking on you. 
It feels so good to talk about it that you don’t even realize you’re crying until your mother's concerned voice is comforting you through the speaker. God, it was like the universe couldn’t give you a break lately. You hope whatever they’re putting you through all of this for is worth it. 
“Come home for a while, Y/n. it sounds like you need a break, I’ll take care of you.” The dismissal of her offer is on the tip of your tongue but the more you mull it over the more you think it might be a good idea. With the city on edge, the growing crime rate, and your new potential stalkers, getting away from the city is probably the best thing you could do right now.
Much to your mother's surprise, you agree and her excitement at having you come home has you smiling on your end of the receiver. The two of you spend the next hour looking for an affordable last minute and you find a plane that leaves in two days that the two of you agree on. It’s probably not nearly enough appropriate notice for time off but your boss agrees anyway and within the hour you’ve got plans to spend a week at your mother's out of town.
It’s the first vacation you’ve taken in a while and even if it was just going home you find yourself more excited than you’d been in at least a month. You hadn’t been this excited since-
Nat. You hadn’t been this excited since you were supposed to meet Nat. 
It probably didn’t matter to her that you were going out of town, it wasn’t like she was getting your voicemails anyway but- what if she showed up while you were gone? You shake your head, the possibility of that was slim to none and if she did come back while you were gone she’d just have to wait like she’d made you wait.
Still, she deserved to know about the kid on the skateboard you watched run into a pole earlier today, at least. You listen for the tale-tell sound of the beep after the long too-familiar ringing and you find yourself subconsciously smiling as you tell her random snippets from your week.
The breakfast your friend treated you to, the new show you started, the fair that got canceled due to raccoons breaking in to eat all the cotton candy. You avoid talking about the stalkers like you’d done with everyone else but you frown when the news channel starts covering another attempted bank robbery. 
Despite your own safety being in jeopardy you can’t help but worry for her wherever she may be, causing you to voice the thought, the humor in your tone replaced with a solemn resolve
“wherever you are… I hope you’re safe.” You shake your head, attempting to clear your mind from the restless thoughts in your mind “Anyway, sorry I know that was a lot- all that to say I miss you and I love you. Bye!”
You don’t even realize what you’ve said until 10 seconds later and you frantically press whichever number was supposed to delete the message. 
Shit.
It was such a force of habit to end your phone calls with an I love you. You can’t believe you almost confessed to Nat over the phone. Moreover, you’re freaked out by how much the words didn’t feel like a lie. If you were honest you’d been avoiding putting a label on your emotions because you were scared of how serious they were getting but apparently your brain had already decided for you. 
Love.
You loved Nat.
You Love Nat.
Fuck.
Your mind reels with the newfound discovery and you’re grateful you deleted the message before it would be stuck in her voicemail for her to one day hear. Your head's a mess as you set your phone down on the counter and go to pack up your stuff, you had a trip to get ready for and a relationship to overanalyze to try and pinpoint when you and Nat had gone from total strangers to you being in love with her.
 It all made sense now, the heartache, the worrying, the underlying tension between the two of you
It was just your luck that you’d discover you love her when you can’t even tell her. You’re so in your head with your emotions and figuring out what to pack that you don’t even register the sound of your phone’s female electronic voice as it declares
“Voicemail sent”
Pt.29
A/n: Classic mistake, Y/n, I’m sure everyone’s done that! Don’t worry it’s not like she can hear your voicemails or anything…or uhhh ~ Starry
---Taglist--
@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime
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stellarbit · 2 days
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Sniper's Revelation
1k words. Warning: We've all wanted to slap him, admit it.
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Crosshair pushes you to the edge and it earns him a slap.
Had to get it out of my head. Enjoyyy
  You didn’t know Crosshair could laugh like that. Eyes closed, bent over, and gripping his stomach. It might’ve been beautiful if he wasn’t laughing at you.
While finishing a rendezvous, the Batch offered you the time to use the refresher with privacy. That is, they told you to stay at the ship as backup and you took some liberties. It didn’t take you long. The longest part was waiting for the water to heat and after that you were in and out in a few minutes.
An arm’s reach away, your clothes were slung over a nearby gun rack. The fabric caught for a moment but luckily came free with a good tug. The last thing you wanted was to be caught naked in the breezeway untangling some clothes.
Still dancing into your clothes, you stopped halfway to the cockpit and doubled back to a sliver of mirror. Twisting around you angled each leg side to side until you spotted what you thought you saw. Just as you feared, when you snagged your clothes free you tore some of them too.
You were barely inspecting the damage to your pants when something else caught your attention. Across the room, there sat Crosshair, arms crossed and feet propped up, his gaze fixed somewhere in the mirror. Following his line of sight, you noticed it landed on the rip in the fabric across the backside of your pants. The fabric snagged near the hip and tore across, exposing plenty of skin.
Crosshair's eyes remained fixed on the mirror with a smarmy as he chewed on a toothpick. You suppressed a snarl, waiting until he finally dragged his gaze up your body to lock eyes with you. His arrogant demeanor, knowing that you caught him staring and reveling in it, made your lip curl.
"Looks like you're a little out of uniform," he remarked, nodding towards the mirror.
"Looks like you're slacking," you retorted, biting back.
With a swift motion, Crosshair uncrossed his legs and sat up. He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Had enough of the regs," he replied, cocking his head to one side. "Looks like you were the slacker."
Crosshair’s jabs only made you bristle more. You cut right to the chase. “I catch you every time you’re staring.” You ground out. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.
“No, you don’t.” And there it was, that shit eating, ‘do it’ look that scrambles your composure.
You stomped your way over to him, his indifference infuriating you. As he flicked his toothpick away, you stood over him, unimpressed by his attempt to meet your challenge with half-hearted defiance.
"One more word, toothpick," you warned. His cocky expression set your resolve in stone. "And I'll knock your eyes into the next galaxy."
Something flickered in his eyes before his mouth twisted into a half-formed retort. Before he could finish, your hand lashed out, striking him across the face and snapping his head to the side. The room fell into an uneasy silence as Crosshair brought his hand to his face, rubbing his jaw. Surprising even yourself, you had finally done it.
Crosshair slowly looked back at you, his breath shallow, controlled and a look on him you’d not seen yet.
Your hand was still in position when he jumped to his feet and grabbed it before you could step back.
“Cross?” You asked hesitantly, using his short name in hopes to soothe his anger. His stare made you feel like prey.
Crosshair’s feet shifted, catching your eye for an instant. With a half step he brought his body within a hands distance of you. His usual steeley tone had remnants of surprise and a muscle in his jaw feathered.
Your eyes were searching his face for any hint of what was going on when, in a low voice, he said, “Do it again.”
Instinctively you tried pull back but Crosshair’s grip on your hand anchored you in place. His grip loosened as he pulled your hand between you to the other side of your body, his knuckles grazing your chest along the way.
He swallowed and repeated, “ I said. Do that again.” Slowly it dawn on you what he was implying. He’d never been slapped before and, judging by his reaction, he very much liked it. 
In disbelief, you looked between your hand hanging in his and his face. There’s no way. Sliding your hand out of his grasp, you pulled it back coyly. “Crosshair you can’t be -”
"Hit me," he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. That was an order.
When his expression didn't change, you nodded, firmed up your grip, and slapped him again. This time with far less force, testing the waters, but still managing to push his head to the side.
Crosshair took a long, shaky breath, and you could've sworn a shudder ran through him. Those intense sniper eyes locked with yours, holding you in place. He angled his head back and loosed his breath.
He snickered, looking almost impressed, “And here I thought Jedi were opposed to violence.” 
“And I never realized you get hurt so much on missions because you like it.”
He almost got something snarky in when the Marauder’s door released and the landing steps began to extend.
You stepped back to take in the full view: his annoyed and incredulous expression, the red mark appearing on the side of his face, his body still a little stiff. You were almost proud. As a gaggle of voices and footsteps came up the steps, you brushed him off and turned around.
Until you heard a rip and felt more cool air hitting your ass. Your hands shot to the tear in your pants and whipped your head around. Crosshair suddenly coughed, which evolved into a chuckle. He folded into his stomach, bent over and holding his waist, clearly trying to contain himself. He was still snickering when he straightened up and shifted his weight onto one foot. 
With one hand holding the opposite elbow, he held up the missing piece of fabric between two fingers and then placed a new toothpick in his mouth. Passing you, he shoved the fabric into your hand. “Your move.” He mumbled as he walked by.
“Arrogant bastard,” You snapped under his breath.
Continuing to guard the hole in your pants you turned with him.
Echo’s eyebrows shot up upon seeing the red mark on Crosshair’s cheek. “What happened to you?”
“I got bit by a bug.” He hissed in his brother’s face.
Tech shot you an exhausted look, “I said do not rise to his every remark.”
Teeth clenched, you were seething. You were going to kill that sniper one day.
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Summer
Bucky x afab!reader
Summary: Summer is lazy, playful, and full of lust. And so is Bucky.
Warnings: only description of reader is a short mention of having longer hair, and of having a vagina. Feel good smut.
Notes: These warmer days got me feeling some type of way apparently. Enjoy this early in the season summer smut. I think this is my first smut 🙈 and my second Bucky fic! And as always, I’d love to see your comments!! And reblogs are always always appreciated
Masterlist
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Sex with Bucky is like a hazy summer afternoon. You‘re both home from work, ready to relax into the evening and enjoy the drowsy sunlight for as long as it lets you. There are faint sounds of cars passing by, distant sounds of children screaming as they play. The air seems still, as bugs whir around and birds rhythmically call to each other. It’s so nice out that the door’s open, and maybe there’s a breeze- enough to bring light goosebumps to your flesh.
Maybe Bucky notices those goosebumps, as you stand at the counter, mixing a drink for yourself. He’d run his hands up your arms, spreading warmth but leaving a chill behind anyway. He’d press himself up closer behind you and spread kisses down your neck, around your neck, and finally he’d just have to turn you around and plant a kiss on your lips. And your collar bone. And your chest. And then he’s got a firm hold on you and your being raised to sit atop the counter, as you giggle at his antics. Because that‘s summer - it’s lazy, relaxed, and playful all at the same time.
Or maybe you‘re on the couch, in your favorite spot with your feet propped up. One hand is holding a book in your lap and the other is wrapped around an iced cold glass of something. What are you reading? What are you drinking? Bucky wants to know. He saunters behind your chair - because we all know Bucky saunters, especially in the summer - and leans over you, so as to get some answers to these burning questions. But his eyes drift from the page you’re on… and look- there’s your neck. Of course it’s bare, it’s summer. Of course there’s a sheen of sweat glistening well into the neckline of your top, it’s summer and a million degrees, after all. But why is your hair down? Aren’t you hot? Maybe he’ll put it up for you. Use that cool metal hand to slide up your burning neck, to grasp your hair and gently pull your head back, exposing your neck for his attention.
"Bucky," you’d admonish. But as he finds himself grinning against your neck, he realizes that’s just what he wants to hear: his name coming out of your mouth. And again. And again. Because summer is also hot and lustful, dominating your senses. And Bucky is just like summer.
No matter how it might start, there’s a good chance it‘ll end in the bedroom. Bucky just wants his baby to be comfy. So he‘ll pick you up, now that you’ve got him determined to finish what he started, and he‘ll carry you to bed. The sun peaks through the cracks of your blinds, lighting up the dust that floats around; and any wood in the room will be glowing from its attentive gaze. There’s an overhead fan that‘s supposed to keep the room airy, but you don’t think it’s working because it still feels as if you’re encased in amber. The fan lazily buzzes and shakes above you, while you can’t help yourself from shaking below Bucky. He earns his name along with other slurried moans and whines, as he slowly pulls out of you and firmly pushes into you. Though he’s relaxed and even a little lazy, he still just wants to be close to you, despite the heat. So he‘ll hold you to the bed, not even aware of the firm grip he has on you. The stickiness of the sweat from being fully pressed against you might be considered uncomfortable, but not to Bucky. To him, it’s delicious. It just adheres you more to him. It’s a salt he can taste off our skin as he mouths at your neck. And when you’re both done, maybe he’ll just stay there inside you. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe you‘ll fall asleep with his weight pressing into you like a weighted blanket, only waking up with the last dregs of sunshine. Why not? It’s summer, and summer wants to be lazy.
Maybe a cold shower is necessary afterwards, to rinse off the sweat and sex and refresh yourselves for dinner. Like rinsing off a hot day in the water before being called in. Because making love to Bucky is just like summer.
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jennifer-jeong · 11 hours
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[Angst + Fluff] [Ryomen Sukuna x Reader] Next time
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hehehe see what I did with the header picture, they're leaning on each other (you'll get it if you read)
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CONTENT
Sukuna promises you he’ll be better for you in your next lives. NOT SPOILER FREE, suggestive, angst to fluff, it’s supposed to be a happy ending if you pretend that things don’t go according to canon LOL, very OC Sukuna so he actually has emotions, near death experiences, injuries, blood, death, suicide, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+
AUTHOR NOTES
I can’t write canon Sukuna because he doesn’t even like humans 💀 Basically this is pookie Sukuna LOL There’s a lot of deviation from canon in this fic. I'm probably going to make a smut portion to this in a separate fic so stay tuned hehe, I'll link it here if I finish it!
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Word Count: 2244 why did this turn out so long... maybe I actually do like him
Back in the Heian period (a millenia ago), Ryomen Sukuna, “the king of curses,” peaked in power. At the same time, you were just getting started with your adult life. Unfortunately at this moment, however, it seemed that it would be cut short. A strong, locust-like, curse manifested in your village and you’ve been trying your best to stop it but to no avail. In fact, it’s currently pinning your body to the ground, trying to bite your head off. You imagine that the curse came to be due to the fear of famine in your farms, but you didn’t think it’d be this strong. You struggle but the curse is much larger than you are. You don’t even know what your last words should be, your mind going blank in panic. Your life starting to flash before your eyes-
“I suggest you fuck off my turf,” says a dangerously domineering voice. The curse looks up down the road and sees something you can’t in your current position. You barely need to look to figure out who it is though. The curse above you freezes in pure fear and eases up on crushing your body in a jolt. You hear the same voice “tsk” at the curse’s “disrespectful” hesitation and suddenly the giant bug flies in a seemingly random direction before essentially exploding due to the force. You sit up slightly with shock evident on your face, you turn around to finally see your unfortunate savior. He takes your silent shock as confusion and explains “the area is mine… filthy curses have no right to do as they please around here.” Your body feels heavy from the sheer aura of power he gives off but you can’t help but still make a mildly disgusted face at him for what he’s saying. You’ve heard he treats humans like livestock and you have always despised him for having power like that and choosing to do this instead of something good. He makes an angered face back saying “hah?” and just when you start to regret your choice of facial expression, he rolls his eyes and walks away. You pause for a few seconds before taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You mutter a “thanks” that you don’t think he hears before heading back to your home to tend your wounds.
Sukuna had been watching you recently. It was no coincidence that he appeared in front of you that night. He first noticed you when you were able to kill any of the curses that attacked your village. He watched, quite amused, that you continued to struggle with no fear against these monsters while the rest of your idiotic village sat back and watched, some even calling you insane despite you saving their lives. Sukuna doesn’t understand why you don’t just beat up the humans that don’t listen. You let them take advantage of your kindness even though you could wipe them all out with an arm tied behind your back. You’re overly kind but you still have the guts to stand up to someone like him. He heard your small mutter of gratitude while he walked away and smiled slightly. He’s never met someone he actually felt bad for in this way. He’s found something he feels pity for, and it’s enough to make him want to protect it, treat it like it’s special.
So now you’re here, a few days later in his temple, bowing 90 degrees in front of him with an offering in your hand. You came here to show him respect for not killing you or the other villagers. He’s impressed you even found him and more impressed that you made the trek here. He walks towards you and reaches for your chin with his hand to make you look at him and stand up. His eyes inspect your slightly flustered face while his thumb very slightly caresses your chin. He releases his hold on your face and takes the offering. You stand there, still on guard and weary of the man. But you know he hasn’t done anything to your village in the time that you’ve been alive, you just know he’s the “disgraced one” and that it can’t be good.
For the next few weeks, your time is spent half at the village and half at Sukuna’s temple. He decided to help you with the journey by just teleporting you with a “simple” technique that you couldn’t comprehend. You slowly discover that Sukuna is actually just so strong he’s bored, no one really stands on equal ground with him. Even if all the sorcerers in the world fought him, he’s confident he’d win, and you don’t doubt it (canon).
He thinks it’s cute that you still go back to the village to help out here and there. He’s only okay with it now because he can watch over you and intervene if anyone wants to be rude. Many of the villagers are kind to you from a distance, only some actually approach you to thank you from time to time. A small group of the villagers unfortunately highly suspect you to be a curse of some sort though and don’t trust you because you’re so powerful. You’ve only ever done good with your power and you know that for a fact, so you ignore them. Sukuna, however, sits in his temple absolutely fuming whenever they interact with you, he’d maim them if you told him to, but you specifically told him he can’t hurt any humans unless they attack first.
Sukuna enjoys watching your little daily endeavors, smiling whenever you’re clumsy while cleaning or when you accomplish hunting down and killing some curses. It brings a sense of innocent joy to his life that he hasn’t ever really had. He’s had violent, murderous joy in his life, but nothing like this before. Some might say it made him soft, but really it made him stronger in a sense, he finally had something to protect.
As time goes on and seasons change, you and Sukuna only grow closer. You can’t explain why you’re still here with someone you used to hate with every fiber of your being. You think it might have something to do with how he actually sees you. He sees your struggle and your kindness and properly appreciates you for it. No one else in your life has done that for you. No one protects you and cares for you like he does. You also learned that he’s always been pretty good or at least neutral in using his power too. Only killing humans when attacked, beating up strong sorcerers but not killing them, and killing curses that bother him in his land. He was never actually as bad as the rumors made him out to be. Basically, Sukuna fell first and fell harder before you realized that you had fallen all the same.
Sukuna can’t help but be a little obsessive over you. You’re the only one he has eyes for afterall. He always checks in to make sure you’re safe when you aren’t at the temple and actually learns how to cook new dishes so he can feed you. His touches always linger on you: his hands on the small of your back, fingers brushing through your hair, lips ghosting over your skin. When you spend nights together, he’s essentially worshiping your body, telling you how beautiful you are and how he’s all yours. You make sure to return the favor and make him feel loved, it makes his heart feel so full and only deepens his love for you.
You’ve discovered overtime that Sukuna is actually human, he’s just so unbelievably strong and feared that people think he’s a curse. It was strange, you could almost draw a parallel between Sukuna and yourself. Both of you were feared by some because they just didn’t understand you or your intentions. It was an unfortunate part of this reality, but as long as you could live happily together, you didn’t really mind.
Another unfortunate part of this reality, though, was that things never go according to plan. Your plans of living happily together with Sukuna quickly fell apart soon after your 3 year anniversary. The sorcerers knew that they could use you to bait Sukuna and have a much better chance at defeating him. So that’s exactly what they did. They caught you when you were out in the village in the late summer. You were strong, but there were too many of them.
It was doomed before it even started.
In the end, Sukuna is out of energy, being forced to fight offensively instead of defensively if he wanted to save you. You managed to escape to return to him and help, but you were both quickly overwhelmed since the sorcerers decided to play dirty like this. You were both sitting outside of the temple, having teleported away to buy some time. You both just sit and talk. “Have we even killed anything other than curses recently?” you question. He chuckles at your seemingly lighthearted question in this situation, “not that I can think of… I think this was always coming for me though.” You look up at him with concern, he can only smile back even though you can see the clear sorrow in his eyes. “Humans are always scared of what they don’t understand. It’s just how it is” he says as he closes his eyes and enjoys the sun. The warmth drying the blood on both of you, some of it belonging to you both, most of it belonging to your attackers. You’re silent, not sure of what to say in what seems to be your last few moments. He leans on you and you turn your head to touch foreheads. He sighs and says “I’m glad I met you at all though… You showed me what being loved is like. It was something I never thought I’d find or deserve.” You start to tear up and reach a hand to caress his cheek. “You always deserved love, darling. I’m sorry the world was so horrible to you,” you say to him in a gentle voice. “Don’t apologize, love” he says as he kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around you.
“Maybe if we can get them to hate us enough, they’ll curse us together and we can live on like that” you say jokingly. He chuckles and says “wow you really do like me, huh?” You both laugh and hold each other.
A group of sorcerers are within view and are approaching fast. You give him one last kiss and speak your last words to him: “maybe we’ll reincarnate together someday. Maybe as curses, maybe as humans.” His eyes soften with sadness written all over his face “if that happens, I promise our lives won’t be like this one… I want to be a good man for you next time… I’d give all this power up if I could just live a long and happy life with you.” You close your eyes as tears fall. Your eyebrows scrunch as the pain washes over you, physically and emotionally. You see him tear up ever so slightly and whisper “I’m sorry for all the trouble, my love.” “Just make it up to me next time,” you giggle. He knows you never blamed him. He smiles.
You always knew what you were getting into when you approached Sukuna. It was dangerous, delusional, and stupid. But you know you would’ve never had it any other way.
You both still sat side by side, foreheads touching, holding each other. You quickly charged two shots of cursed energy. One piercing his skull, the other, yours.
You eventually become a small part mentioned by people when they retell the tale of the king of curses. Many described you as a traitor or as a curse. But some could see that you prevented Sukuna from spiraling deeper into his distaste for humans. Without you, he might have become a sadistic psychopath as time went on since no one would have any way to kill him. They praised you for that, thinking you did it on purpose to save the nearby villages. Both these ideas were lost in history though. In modern times it’s only written in some books at jujutsu high as hypotheses. No one truly knew what happened.
Sukuna’s powers sealed into his fingers upon death. A technique he used on himself before he met you and one he long forgot about. The sorcerers, out of fear, scattered his indestructible fingers to prevent anyone getting their hands on them and reincarnating the king of curses. Hoping to keep the man dead.
Again, reality makes sure things don’t go to plan, and it’s Yuji’s first day meeting some of his classmates. Sukuna has been wondering what to do since he’s been reincarnated into Yuji’s body. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet in Yuji’s mind and it makes everyone question if Sukuna is really the evil being they all thought he was.
Sukuna is barely paying attention until he feels a familiar warmth walk into the room, not even needing to see you to know who you were. He couldn’t believe it, he almost laughed, thinking that the universe really brought you two back together after more than a thousand years. But he paused, suddenly serious because he realized he had a chance to make things, not right, but different.
After class, Sukuna switches with Yuji, and lo and behold, you show him the exact same disgusted face you made to him centuries ago when he came to greet you in Yuji’s body. It made him smile as he let out a whisper,
“I missed you.”
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Thank you for reading!
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|| MASTERLIST <3 ||
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kel-lance · 22 hours
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Stepdad Nanami
——MDNI——GROOMING, not really incest, Age gap, manipulation, broken home, slut shaming (at ur mom lol), drug mention—————-
You knew your mom’s marriage had about 3 years at most, you had to give it toher that 5 with the same man would have been a new record if she was only with him for that time.
It wasn’t your business. If you had anything to say the men would blame you and say you were just like her. 
You didn’t care about those guys, and they never lasted long with your mother anyway. It was like this for the first 16 years of your life until your mom met a handsome man, who became your stepfather after 2 years of dating your mother 
He was always nice to you, he did everything a good dad should. He got you a car, went all out on your birthday, he wasn’t tying to win you over, he was just that great, he made you change your mind about men. (maybe it was just the kind you mother kept running to)
It was heartbreaking the day he say you down, before he could explain his face sank. He covered his eyes and sighed as he explained that he’s serving your mom with divorce papers. he feels bad to bring you into this but he had to ask
You’re an adult now, you can make your own decisions, but I wanted to give you the chance to get away from her. I don’t mean any offense, but I know for a fact she’s going to use you or worse.
he was right on the money, sometimes she used you to lure in those strange men, where she’d threaten to tell their wives or police what they thought they were doing with you. It was just her type, people who could compare her to parts of herself. In this case, she was sick enough to use her daughter as bait.
You were safe though, it never got further than forceful kisses to tape as proof. That hag just had it out for you but would never consider sharing.
You immediately take his hand as you wanted to move out for years. You’re 21 but she’s had control over you. People always say just leave, you’re an adult so she has no power.
Try living your life as a flea in a jar or a frog in a growing boiling pot, there’s a whole world out there and yet you were taught your limits. 
Your eyes pleaded for him to take you away. You didn’t care, you felt closer to him than anyone. You knew it could be wrong, but he said it himself, you’re an adult now. And your mother wouldn’t be upset about sharing since he’s leaving her. 
You climb onto his lap and lay your head on his neck, his hand now slid down his face, covering his mouth as his other hand patted your head closer to him.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He promised. 
The next week sure were hectic. You had to plan out what to take, gathering all your important documents and essentials. 
Nanami daddy got a studio for you both, in a matter days you had everything moved out of the house while your mom was on her bender. Her lapses of being with one man for months then going to whoever after was just part of her fun. She didn’t need them for anything other than attention.
Sometimes you wonder what your father was like, if he could’ve treated you better than her if she didn’t have u trapped in her body for months. U don’t want to know what she did while pregnant with you either. 
You were given this chance. Your stepdad leaving, and he was taking you with him. He saw what kind of life you both had. He found no sympathy for her as she was the adult. He stayed for you. 
A child should be cared for, loved. He didn’t get that from you at all when you first met. Just 16 and you avoided him like the plague. it gave him an indication of who was usually around.
He didn’t lure you out with gifts or make the first move. He just entertained your mother, as he did find something amusing with her. She was fun, but at home she’s a terrible mom and that wasn’t anything he found respectable. 
It wasn’t until the 4th month that he was still around that you just found it weird. No ones usually around this long. Mom was probably having a lot of fun with this idiot you thought.
The 6th month came and you started to come out when he was around. If he was in the kitchen, you wouldn’t wait for him to leave the space before making it yours. It was your house after all, you were going to remind him.
It was weird, but you were getting jealous of him being around. Your mom couldn’t stick to one thing, much less take responsibility and take care of you. Why was he so special? Why did she /want/ to see him?
You felt hatred grow in you as he noticed the posters on your wall, the music you played, how you dressed. For your 18th, he’d gotten you tickets to one of your favorite band’s shows. How the hell did he- and the small gifts like stickers of said posters, he made it so you weren’t surprised when you received yet another reward after accomplishing something, even the smallest thing. “Because you deserve it.”
You didn’t know if it weirded you out, that he was being so nice to you, or that he was your mom’s fiancé and you had him under you. 
That hate boiled over one day and you just had to get it out somehow. He was always patient with you, as you asked to talk to him. It surprised him, but it was definitely a step forward. 
He sits on the same side of the table as you, facing each other, your opposite arms touching the table.
“Are you upset about the wedding?”
You don’t say anything, your eyes darting, answering his question.
“I’m sorry (y/n), but it’s for the best. (M/n) said you’ve seemed happier since we got together.” Your stomach sank. “I could keep-“
You grasp out for his dress shirt sleeve, looking up at him, somewhat between crying and pouting, asking him to stop talking. 
His eyes widen. “(Y/n)…” You take his hand, bringing it to your body. You place his palm under your shirt, watching his face go from confused to flustered. His stoic personality wavering, you hold onto his arm and jump onto his lap. 
You could already feel it, he was so hard under you. 
“(Y/n)!” He takes his hand back, putting you back onto your chair. His stern look scared you. He’s never looked like that around you, only because you were always well behaved, or rather just kept to yourself. He never expected this from you. But you were your mother’s daughter. 
His hand around the wrist you let him feel you with. You didn’t know if you had just fucked up big time. Was the wedding off? You just wanted him to yourself and had to let him know. 
The look you gave him almost made him feel bad for treating you right the past few years. 
you werent used to that, you didn’t know any better. the anger you were feeling was from a lot of things. why did someone like your mother get to marry someone like him? 
Why weren’t there more people like him? If there were you would have been saved a long time ago, but instead, you’re giving it all to the first person who’s shown you you’re more than an extension of your mother. 
Thankfully he was just a man, and that yearnful, pathetic, desperate look a young girl could give to melt a man’s morals, he kissed you.
He keeps kissing you, almost like he was teaching you how he liked it, you didn’t mind, you didn’t care about anything else. Your mom could walk in right now and you’d show off how much better you were for nanami. 
That didn’t have to happen though. As his large hands found their way to your hips and he slowly brings you back to his lap. And after that day you were his. 
He stopped himself so many times to not take you just yet though. It wasn’t until the weeks leading up tot he wedding that he wanted you more than ever. And you’ve been more than patient. Only getting by with his touch and words of encouragement. 
You didn’t get why he still went through with the small wedding, maybe to just show off to everyone else, mislead them that he’s a good man, marrying into a good family, with an honest job and whatever else to solidify the lie. 
the next 2 years being the best you’ve ever had, up until your mothers alcoholism started to catch up with her. Her need to find solace in addictions, whether it was the validation of men, gambling, sex, any other drug, she was a mess. Everyone believed Nanami would be able to fix her, but her last blackout caused you to get a sprained wrist and black eye. That was when nanami had enough. 
Spoiler for part 2: Nanami's divorce lawyer fucks his step daughter (Hiromi makes an appearance.)
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urne-buriall · 2 days
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so you've told me now you like sotw alternate realities. well here's the river scene were Dean opens up to Cas about John's abuse way ahead of schedule, mere days after the 4th of july:
“There are things I want to tell you,” said Cas, “and questions I want to ask. But I’m never sure if I can.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dean.
“Sometimes I want to tell you about my family because I think you understand,” said Cas. “Other times… I’m just not sure.”
“You could tell me if you wanted,” said Dean. He wished Cas would say. He wanted so badly for Cas to trust him. “It wouldn’t change anything. You’d still be my friend, no matter what you said.”
Cas slowly nodded his head. “Right,” he said. He turned again. Started walking. “I don’t want to burden you. And like I said, talking isn’t my strength.”
There had been a test and Dean failed it. He was sure of it. He just didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Had he come on too strong? Had he seemed insincere?
Maybe he was supposed to offer something first. Maybe he needed to be the one to break open that levee, the one that would never close again. To find out if they shared anything, perhaps it was on Dean to say, my dad beats the shit out of me and has since I can remember.
“Cas, wait,” said Dean. He caught up with Cas, then continued walking. He didn’t quite look over his shoulder as he said, “I’ll tell you.”
At the river. He needed to be still, not in this in-between space on the path.
And as he walked, feeling Cas trail slowly after him, studying Dean, he wondered what he was about to do. How would he say it? Could he really confess this? Could he trust Cas with it?
He went to a rise above the river, where grass and clover turned into a straight-edged bank a few feet above the water. He took off his boots and set them aside, bare feet coming to rest in the cool green clover.
Cas came beside him and cautiously did the same. Dean wrapped his arms around his knees, unable to look at Cas next to him. Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.
They’d sat like this the day of the rainstorm, talking idly before the downpour. That night, Cas stayed over and wore Dean’s clothes. Had stripped to nearly nothing on the covered porch, skin gold in the light and shining with rain.
Dean buried his face in the crook of his arm and tried to forget that.
“Dean?” said Cas, patience giving way to desperate curiosity.
Cas would say he seemed upset again. And if Dean took an outside look at himself, it was laughable to try and deny. He lifted his head.
He’d promised to tell Cas. It was the only way to find out more about Cas in return, and it was something Dean wanted badly enough that it brought him here. He was going to risk everything. For Cas.
“It’s my dad,” he said, surprised by the weakness of his own voice. Shaky, hoarse.
Cas looked Dean over carefully as he waited for more. He gave a faint nod.
“He’s… Tough.” That could be taken so many ways and Dean knew it. “On me,” he added, like it clarified anything. “Sometimes.”
Cas didn’t shift his posture, but the lines of his face became more deliberately contained. He took a moment to say, clear and even, “Does he hurt you?”
Dean looked sharply to the water. Only because his eyes began to burn, because he was losing his grip on the control he thought he had. He wasn’t supposed to cry over this. He was supposed to bear it. He was just going to state a fact, a fact he had lived with for so long and was strong enough to deal with. And it would have been different if Cas asked ‘does he hit you?’ but instead he’d said hurt, and that was a different question, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be easy to say hit, yes and move on without the impact of that action. But hurt made it so much more lasting.
He winced, trying to find another way around the answer, but then he nodded, a concession timed with the tears that came bitter and fast. He quickly bowed his head into his arms, not enough to hide the catching sound his breath made as he tried not to choke on this feeling.
He wasn’t supposed to be so upset. He wasn’t supposed to be this reactive. He wasn’t dead, it was nothing worth crying over.
Cas’ arm wrapped around his shoulder, a solid warmth that gave shape to Dean, keeping him from coming apart.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said, voice deep and low.
Dean tried to push down his feelings, raising his face even if it was tear-streaked and flushed. “About what?” he asked. Cas had nothing to be sorry for.
“That you’ve had to go through it,” said Cas.
Dean had never imagined anyone saying that to him. He thought he deserved to be called weak for putting up with it, or for crying about it now. He thought nobody would care if it happened to him or not. That anywhere he might’ve grown up he’d have been treated just the same because of the way he was. Never enough. All the things John implied and made him believe.
“You should leave,” said Cas.
“Is that what you did?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t,” said Dean. “Sam—”
“Does he hurt Sam, too?”
Dean shook his head. He felt oddly defensive. Of course John didn’t hurt Sam. Dean would never allow it. “I keep Sam out of it,” he said.
“You still shouldn’t stay.”
“It’s not that bad,” said Dean, like he hadn’t been trembling with the force of his tears just moments ago. His voice came thin. “Not enough to leave.”
“Any amount is enough to be worth leaving,” Cas said, so certain of himself.
Dean retreated back into denial. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “I’m— I’m not a kid anymore so…”
Cas’ arm fell away from Dean so that he could look at him better. Which was more dangerous and less comforting than his touch had been. “When was the last time it happened?”
Dean rubbed the edge of his hand against his wet cheek, not wanting to answer but unable to resist a direct question from Cas. He looked down at the river and cleared his throat. “Day before yesterday,” he said. If Cas were to roll his eyes, it wouldn’t be undeserved, but Cas stayed perfectly still. Dean’s fingertips brushed against his throat, wanting to say what happened, but unable to describe that part. “He was mad I brought Sam home. Against orders.”
He dropped his hand again, but Cas’ eyes stayed on his throat. Where a fading bruise could be taken for a smear of motor oil. Cas sharply inhaled, putting pieces together. His eyes scanned the rest of Dean’s body, pausing on his shoulder.
“Your broken arm,” said Cas.
“Yeah, uh,” said Dean. Thinking he’d find something better. “Yeah.” There wasn’t really a way to allay it. “He caught me— We were arguing. About eventing, and Zepp, and I thought if I could just get away from him. And he caught me on the steps and I— I fell down.”
“He’ll kill you,” Cas said.
Dean’s head jerked upward, facing Cas directly. “No,” he said. “He doesn’t want to do that.”
“So he’s in control when he hurts you,” said Cas.
“No!” said Dean quickly. Because that couldn’t be true. His father loved him or could. “When he’s mad he just— It flares up and then it’s over. And he’s sorry about it.”
“So he’s out of control,” said Cas. “Which means you’re in danger. Every time.”
Dean parted his lips to answer but Cas had him in a bind. Either John’s anger was out of control and a constant threat or it was in control and was used with full intention. Neither was good for Dean.
“I don’t want to leave,” said Dean, and that was more true than any of the apologies he’d tried to make on John’s behalf. He looked down between them. “I just want it to stop.”
Cas took a breath, almost started to say something, then didn’t. There was a kind of understanding in that holding back.
“What was it like for you?” Dean asked. It was the only reason he’d said anything. So that Cas would open up to him in turn. Cas thought there were things they had in common that Dean would understand.
“Different, probably,” said Cas. He went quiet, struggling with what to say, his eyes gazing nowhere as he grouped his thoughts. It was far easier to talk about Dean’s troubles than his own. “My mother was… unstable. Religious. Which made her hard to live with at the best of times. Never knowing which mother you were going to get.”
Dean could understand that. John was volatile too. It was a lot of work just planning for what version of John he’d meet in any given scenario.
“Would she hurt you?” he asked. He used the same word on purpose.
Cas didn’t cry, but he looked distant. “Yes,” he said. “She’d… She had punishments. She’d drag me by the ear to lock me in a cupboard for— for hours, when I’d done wrong.” Dean knew without Cas having to say that ‘doing wrong’ could be anything from causing trouble to colouring too loudly. He couldn’t imagine Cas being a trouble-making kid, not on purpose. But he mentioned being different when he grew up. Too emotional, finding it difficult to connect. That would be ‘wrong’ too.
“If we didn’t listen or were found impertinent, she would slap us,” said Cas.
“We?” said Dean.
“My siblings and I,” said Cas.
“I never knew you had siblings,” said Dean.
“Four of them,” said Cas. “They never left. I think. If they had, I hope they’d find me.” He shifted, picking at clover. “Then again, they had less trouble listening or understanding the right answer. I could never seem to figure it out. I was… different. And because I was a… a target, I think they didn’t always know that they had more in common with me than her.”
“And that’s why you left?”
Cas looked away and it told Dean how much more complicated it was than that.
“You said once…” Dean wet his lips before he spoke. “You said you didn’t feel like you had a choice.”
“I didn’t,” said Cas. “It was either live the way they wanted me to live, or leave. And I chose to leave.”
That made Cas probably the strongest person Dean knew. And just as Cas found it simpler to talk about Dean’s troubles, Dean found it easier to think of all Cas deserved.
“Remember what else you said?” Dean asked, the idea lighting up his mind as a fix for Cas’ incredible loneliness. “That you’d want a place with fresh air and animals where everything’s right. What if that was us? You know, like, around here so I didn’t really have to leave, but not with my dad, and—”
Cas was looking at him strangely. Dean’s excitement must have been somehow out of place, or the idea unappealing when Dean included himself. Cas hadn’t been making an offer of somewhere to stay, for Dean, when he warned him that John was a danger. This must not be what he was thinking of it all.
“Sorry,” said Dean quickly. His face flushed again, not helped by the heavy heat of the day. “I thought— When you said that, it sounded— It sounded so nice. But you want that on your own.”
“No, not on my own,” said Cas. “That defeats the point.”
“Right,” said Dean, and he placed his hands on the ground beside him, about to launch himself away from his foolish entry into the conversation. He needed to get away from Cas. He was hot. He should swim. If he could bear to get undressed.
Cas curled a hand around the inside of Dean’s arm just above the crease of his elbow. It wasn’t an iron grip, but it was solid, keeping him in place when he otherwise would’ve gone.
“I like spending my time with you,” Cas said in a rush. It was like he was answering something else, something neither of them had said. He didn’t look at Dean. “If I could give you somewhere to stay, away from your father— If you wanted that, I would do it.”
“We’re just—” Dean hesitated. “We’re just talking dreams, Cas,” he said.
“Why should it only be a dream?” said Cas.
This was more than Dean had ever reckoned on. So heavy it felt like lifting a weight from the bottom of a river.
“I mean that if you want to leave,” said Cas, “then you should. You could do it.” He let go of Dean’s arm, fingertips dragging away from his skin.
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Dean, finding himself confused. In one breath he suggested buying a farm with Cas, and in the next that he could never leave his father. It was just that what they talked about sounded too perfect to ever truly exist. How could Dean put any faith in something that exceeded his wildest dreams like that?
“If I bought a house with space for horses,” said Cas.
“Jeez, Cas,” said Dean.
“Would you come stay?”
“Are you for real?”
“If I could do it this minute, I would,” said Cas. “I don’t want to say goodbye and know you’ll go back to that house with John.”
“Could you do it?” said Dean. “Is that even possible?”
“I could figure it out,” said Cas. “One word. From you, and…”
“You think we can do this?” said Dean. “Then… Okay.”
And that was all it took. Cas leaned forward and kissed him.
Dean didn’t have time to think of it or react. The press of their lips was warm, sudden. A dangerous spark in a dry forest. As he pulled back, so did Cas, looking anxious.
“What was that?” said Dean.
Cas hadn’t looked away from Dean’s face, although there was something to the way he held his body, like he expected to run. “I just—” he said. His voice was every bit as gravelly and flat as usual, but he sounded uncertain, a rare note. “I…”
Cas had kissed him. Dean’s brain and body couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t work together in any sensible way any longer. His heart started pounding. The heat of the day made sweat rise on the back of his neck and above the lip of his mouth. He was frozen but he was supposed to be doing something. Running from this, striking out, kissing Cas, jumping into the river.
“I shouldn’t’ve—” Cas looked stricken now. “I want to help you and it’s not— I made a mistake.”
Wasn’t this Dean’s fault? Just days ago he had wrapped himself around Cas in the shade of a garden and silently begged for his affection in any shape. He’d had that untoward dream the same night. The colour rose high in Dean’s cheeks and he looked swiftly at the river. Cas hadn’t kissed him in the dream, only touched him, but already Dean’s mind was conflating the real and the imagined, completely out of his control. Dean had stared too long the night of the rain storm. He’d been wrong to and he’d made this happen and it was all because he was broken up into pieces and he got things confused and now there was this, which was too much to handle.
Next to him, Cas rested his forehead against his fist, eyes scrunching closed. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said.
Dean’s mouth remembered the touch of their lips and wouldn’t let go. He felt they were reddened by Cas’ kiss, the same as that day in the attic, that day when enchantment poisoned itself into sharp fear and which was exactly like right now. There was something wrong with him for all of this. For the fact that he wanted to kiss Cas again and really know what it felt like. If he was damned he wanted to know what he was damned for.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said again. “I thought you were like me.”
It struck Dean for the first time what that would mean. What it would be to be like Cas. What it meant Cas was. And how if he were to say Cas was correct right now, that Dean was not like him, it didn’t feel at all true. How if he were to be able to act on what was true, that would mean giving over to what was in him. He felt so miserable and scared and all he wanted was for Cas to cover over Dean’s body with his own. To hide in Cas’ collar, in the very hollow of his clavicle, the place he’d wanted to kiss just three days ago when he stole comfort from Cas in the garden.
He dragged his gaze back to Cas, who looked equally mired in his own despair.
“Cas,” he said, not certain of what he meant to follow. And when Cas looked at him he leaned in and kissed him.
Cas lost a sound against Dean’s mouth, a melting hum. His hand found the small of Dean’s back. This kiss came with another renewed one, chasing it, then Dean bowed his head, breaking it off but not breaking away. His body shifted deeper into Cas, his hand clutching Cas’ shirt, his forehead resting against the base of Cas’ neck. Cas held onto him this time, cheek brushing against the top of Dean’s head. A hand came up to stroke through Dean’s hair.
“Cas,” he said wretchedly.
“It’s okay,” said Cas. As much as anything could be okay. For a bare second, Dean wanted to believe it would be.
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simplydannie · 1 day
Text
Velvet & Veneer Fanfic
“Unforgiven” Part 2
Trigger Warning!!
Part 1 Here
Branch finally learns to understand that sometimes people don’t want to be alone… or can’t be left alone. There is one person he finally connects with… and it’s unexpected.
@jules0511
It had been a week since Veneers encounter with Branch.
The little Troll noticed a change in behavior in the kid. Veneer was more withdrawn, he stopped approaching the Trolls in general, only to exchange a few words… and that was it. Most of his time now, he’d spent alone.
Branch couldn’t help but feel a small amount of guilt. One night he walked by the room Veneer and Velvet used to share. He heard small cries coming from inside. The small Troll hesitated, he waited a moment by the door. Should he go in? Should he check on him?…. No! Branch decided. It wasn’t his fault of the kid couldn’t take the truth.
The first to notice Veneers change in behavior was Floyd. He was the only one Velvet left a note too before she left: “Don’t leave Veneer alone for too long. Keep an eye on him.”
And he tried, but the Rageoun would constantly avoid him, only exchanging a few words and smiles…. He sensed that Veneer wanted to be alone… and that was a scary thought.
“You know what’s been up with Veneer lately?” Floyd asked Branch one day.
“No. Why?” Branch was short with his response. He knew it was his fault in the kids sudden change in behavior.
“You haven’t notice he’s been distant? Quiet actually…. I’m worried.” Floyd said.
“Why? Why do you care? Don’t you remember what they did to you?”
“Yes. But you didn’t know them like I did…. Before all this happened…. It’s always been the two of them. Now Veneer doesn’t know what to do without his sister.” Floyd hesitated a moment before choosing his next words, “Veneer can get…. Bad thoughts in his mind…”
“What do you mean?” Branch turned around and eyed him curiously.
“Veneer… He’s…. he can… hurt himself… if he really felt like it.”
“Hurt himself? Why would he want to do that?” Branch asked.
“…. I don’t know Branch. Some have ways of showing their feelings because sometimes others can’t understand it… or fail too. Which is why we need to be there for him.” Floyd had said.
Floyd walked off, leaving Branch thinking… Had the words he said triggered something in Veneer?… No he didn’t, Branch had only spoken the truth.
It was late in the night. The Trolls decided to stay the night there at the Bergen castle. Branch got hungry, so he made his towards the kitchen. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He neared the kitchen when he saw Veneer walk out…. There was nothing in his hands, no snacks, no anything, but Branch could see he walked out hiding something within his red hoodie. Veneer took no notice of the little Troll.
“Whatever.” Branch thought. He continued walking towards the kitchen…. That’s when an awful feeling hit his gut…. What if-
No. Branch was being silly, the kid was old enough to understand, old enough to take things like a man…. But Branch still stayed frozen, he didn’t move, couldn’t move… what if he grabbed something that he could hurt himself with? The words Floyd told him echoed through his mind: Don’t leave Veneer alone for too long….
“Dang it!” He grunted to himself as he made his way to Veneers bedroom.
When he approached, Branch could see the door was slightly open….
“Veneer?” He called out as he went in. There was no sign of the Rageoun anywhere. Maybe he hadn’t come in his room….
CRASH!
Branch was startled by the sound coming from the bathroom.
“Veneer?”
“I’m fine!” He heard Veneer try to call out happily. “Accidentally knocked over the hand soup!”
Branch could hear weird sounds coming from within along with Veneers hustled movements. Branch heard sniffles and small little whimpers.
“You good?” The Troll asked.
“Y-yeah.” Veneer said. Branch could hear his voice break, like he was trying to hide that he was crying.
“Open up. I have something to show you.”
“I….i am n-not d-decent…” the voice broke again.
“Okay. Then.. night.” Branch made it seem as he was leaving…. Silenced passed… he knew Veneer was waiting to make sure there was complete silence…. Branch waited…. He heard the sound of slight clanging metal…
“AH!” He heard Veneer cry, the sound of metal hitting the floor. That’s it… Branch took a running start and slid under the opening of the door.
He came into Veneer sitting on the floor, trying to hide what he just did…. Branch saw what he had gotten from the kitchen, its metal sheath shining in the light. Veneer held his arm… blood spilling from the side.
“Veneer….” Branch said softly, his eyes wide with worry.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t…. I don’t know why I did this…. I just…. I feel so alone!” He hugged his knees, his shoulders shaking violently as he cried. The small Troll approached the tall Rageoun quietly. He placed a hand on his leg…. Now Branch understood what Floyd meant… what Velvet had said…
“… I’m sorry…” Branch began, “I’m so, so sorry. For everything I said a week ago. I was mad. And I still want to be mad… but now I understand you. Veneer, what I said, I’m sorry. You were trying, and I was stubborn not to let you try, to appreciate that you tried, that you put a stop to it. Forgive me?”
Veneer peered up, staring at the small Troll, tears still streaming down his face.
“But you didn’t do anything wrong? It’s me who should apologize, I hurt your brother, I hurt you guys. I couldve stopped it sooner… I know why you hate me, why my sister hates…. I hate me.” Veneer cried, blood still trickling from his arm.
“…. I wanted to hate you…. I thought I did…but… I can’t… I don’t want to hate you.” Branch looked up Veneer.
“But Velvet left…”
“She told us to watch out for you. She still cares… and thats what I’m going to do. Me, Floyd…. Everyone.”
“…. But why would she leave me….” That’s what was wrong. Veneer was trying to fill the loneliness of his sister leaving. He hated feeling alone… and Branch understood that…
“Somethings can’t be explained yet.” Branch responded.
Veneer turned and looked him….. there was a small understanding…. A small connection…
“Let’s get you cleaned up?”
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goingmerryfics · 1 day
Note
hello there :D i just saw the requests and could I request Eustass Kid and Killer for mute s/o?
Mute/Selectively Mute S/O w/ Kid & Killer
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Content: Gender neutral reader, SFW content
Notes* Thanks for your request! I wanted to make this inclusive for both ends- those who know sign language due to their muteness and those who don’t and may just be selectively mute due to anxiety or otherwise. These two are some really interesting characters for this prompt, so I’m really happy to write it and I hope you enjoy it!
Kid
When you and Kid first met, he hated how you never answered anyone ‘properly’
He didn’t pay very close attention to you because you weren’t a bother, nor were you someone very spectacular in his eyes
You stayed out of his way, you did your tasks, and you kicked ass
He’d watch you interact with others and felt it was very one-sided. 
People would ask you questions and you’d simply answer with a nod, a shake of your head, a shrug, or a note on a piece of paper
Or if you know sign, you would speak to Killer this way and he would translate
He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just speak 
Until Killer explained how you couldn’t
Kid’s immediate thoughts were that you just needed to get over being so ‘scared’ of everyone. If you were going to be a pirate, especially one on his crew, you couldn’t be a little coward
For someone who has anxiety, he really knows nothing about it
But for someone who literally could not speak because of an accident or just birth circumstances, he’d understand that way quicker
Either way, he’d avoid speaking to you, thinking that if he did it would only anger him to not be able to talk to you in the traditional sense. But then he started sitting in on conversations that included you, and he softened
You were so… Sweet. You were kind to everyone and, not surprisingly, a good listener
Then he actually started talking to you
He would keep all the little slips of paper that you wrote him when a yes or no wasn’t a sufficient answer
Flipping through them behind the closed door of his room, thinking about your smile, cursing as his heart pounded in his chest
It graduated to flirting, and around the time when the two of you became an item publicly enough for the ship to know about it, he started asking Killer to teach him sign, too
One day he surprised you by clumsily signing that you were ‘his favorite idiot’
It made you laugh, and you signed back a thanks to him with a few tears in your eyes
It takes him a while to get good enough to translate like Killer does, but he can get the jist of what you’re saying 
Quickly sticks up for you if anyone makes rude comments (Similar to what he would have said back in the beginning)
If you have the ability to, eventually you begin to verbally speak to him in private and he’s so excited about it
The first time you spoke out loud to him, it was a ‘good night’ as you were about to leave his room to head to bed. He’d stopped in the middle of brushing his teeth and stared at you, and you had to laugh at how he looked
Eyes wide, toothpaste foam dripping out of his mouth
He pulls you into private rooms all the time after that if it means he can hear your pretty voice
Killer
Unlike Kid, it doesn’t take Killer long at all to figure out your situation and why you won’t speak to others.
Whether or not you use sign, Killer understands it and will be happy to translate for you to the others, which means you two end up paired up a lot, since he is one of the only people on the ship who you feel really understands you
But he really likes when it’s just you two. It feels special
You two will stay up late just talking in his room, well into the night, with only a small light on so he can still see your hands or notes
Despite never speaking a word, it’s like you two never have an end to the things you want to talk about with each other- which means that you two get very close very quickly
Truly a strangers to friends to lovers trope here
You begin to feel comfortable with him very fast, which leads the both of you to getting more and more openly affectionate with each other. Leaning on each other, giving hugs, etc
The thought of you two dating doesn’t come until other crew members point out how sweet on each other you are and asks the pair of you if you’re dating
The two of you share a look, and Killer answers, ‘Yes’ while you nod at the same time
You’re assigned as dating now, but it’s not different from before
If you’re able to, one day you work up the courage and comfortability to verbally speak to him
You planned this beforehand and had chickened out a few times, but you knew that he didn’t care whether you ever spoke to him or not. You would do this when it felt right
So when you’re sitting behind him and braiding his hair while he sits quietly, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, you lean over and tell him you love him for the first time
He gasps audibly, waits for you to tie his hair and then turns to face you and cup your cheeks
He quickly tells you he loves you too
In return for you opening up to him and just because he’s been wanting to, he takes off and leaves his mask off to the side
His eyes are gorgeous, and of course you tell him that
He asks for permission to kiss you
As soon as he gets the confirmation, he’s on you like a fly on honey, kissing you all over
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