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tasteleeknow · 5 months ago

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RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff

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yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

Text

♡ TW: some nsfw

♡ fem reader

Thinking about what a dumb party girl you are and the poor loser who's stuck tutoring you in all the classes you skip.

You were one of those people who believed everyone to be her friend. The type that went shopping a lot and hung at the mall more days than you bothered showing up to class – a bit of an airhead.

He’d call you a bimbo, but you’re not really known to sleep around – something about finding the right guy.

You opened the door with a smile, “Hi, welcome! Come in~” and pulled him inside by his arm. “I just got out of the shower, so I haven't really gotten dressed – hope you don’t mind!”

You’re in pink from head to toe – a bit excessively, like you’d gone shopping in the little girl’s section, only… you don’t have a little girl’s body… and that top and those shorts are a little too tight on your curves.

“Doesn’t really matter what you wear as long as you got your books.” He answers nonchalantly – as though he isn’t trying hard not to make out the outline of your cunt where it’s cupped so tight in unfairly thin cotton.

“Okay then~” You giggle, interlocking your fingers with his before turning around and leading him in.

His eyes go to the crease of your asscheeks as soon as you turn around, looking at where they peek out from under your bootie shorts – plump squeezable fat jiggling on every peppy step you took in your fluffy bunny slippers as you pull him into the private comfort of your room.

“My parents are out of town, but they left money for pizza – or whatever else you might want~”

You were all alone?

He doesn't know if he likes that or not. Blind trust. Don’t you realize how much bigger he is than you? Doesn’t it cross your mind at all how you’d have to call the police if he decided he didn’t want to leave at the end of the night?

“Pizza’s good.”

You smile, plopping down on your bed. “Okay then, mister Tutor~” Everything in your room is pink as well. “What do you have in store for me?”

You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Gives the wrong impression. You’re lucky he isn’t a bad guy.

“Where’s your books?”

You look a little puzzled for a moment – as though it was an unprompted question. “Right! Uhm…”

You kneel down in front of your bed and drag a dusty stack of textbooks from underneath.

“Here.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Have you ever even opened them?”

You giggle again. “I’ve written my name on the inside like a good girl~”

He struggles hard not to swallow the tightness in his throat – feeling a twitch in his pants at the sight of you sitting on the floor like that.

“Well, it’s a pretty name.”

You look a little disappointed – or maybe it’s just in his head.

In any case, you rise from the floor and sit down in one of the chairs by the desk, which he’d guess had never held any book other than a magazine.

He picks up the textbooks and sits down in the other chair. And it’s odd, staring at himself in the mirror in front of you – but he has to, to see if he looks suspicious – if he’s showing any tells of how badly he wants to touch you.

He opens up the book on the top of the stack, hopes he doesn’t smell like sweat – and you put your hand on the tent in his pants.

The book flaps close, and he jumps out of his chair – and you innocently peer up at him with your long lashes.

Then you say, “What?” as though his reaction surprised you.

He stays silent – blinking once, then twice – mouth dry and out of words.

You slant your head to the side. “Don’t tell me you had your heart set on teaching me math.”

You have a look on your face that makes him feel like begging.

Standing up, you stalk him until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he falls down on it with a heavy thud – still stunned and stupid, looking at you with wide eyes as you mount him – rubbing that cute tightly-hugged mound upon his bulging crotch – making him groan with cinched brows, watching your pretty manicured fingers as they fiddle with his belt buckle.

“You really want this?” He asks breathlessly, and you stop to eye him – eyes wondering over that cute look of shock riddled all over his face.

You gave him a small catlike smile, bit your lip, and batted your coy doe-eyes down at him – running your hands up his chest until you reached his throat. “I wouldn’t exactly invite a big boy like you over, much less into my bedroom, if I didn’t want it.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu ♡ HxH – Feitan, Leorio

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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themidnightcrimson · 16 days ago

Text

nosferatu ࿏ wm

summary: in which you are much too trusting of a creature who wants more than a dance with you.

words: 6.0k

warnings: blood, supernatural, horror, gore, dubcon/noncon, top!wanda, fem!reader, biting, oral, breastplay, bondage, victorian era

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

Your corset was so tight around your waist that you could not breathe. It was a sickening shade of pink that was supposed to portray girlish innocence about you. It was made specifically to match the color that imbues your cheeks, though now it was more of a sharp crimson red.

“I cannot believe your impudence,” your mother breathily spoke in a vexed air as she stiffly ripped the white gloves from her hands. “Your audacity.”

Rolling your eyes, you threw your head back against the wall of the compartment, feeling the familiar but nauseating shake of the carriage, the click-clack of the horse’s hooves going as fast as your heartbeat. Biting your lip to ward off any retaliating remarks towards your mother, you reached behind your waist and fiddled for the bow of your corset, snapping the ribbon undone and inhaling the first large breath of fresh air since the night began.

“At this rate, you’ll never be wed,” your mother continued to grumble as she neatly folded her gloves in her lap and looked out the window of the compartment door, the tree-lined field flickering past her eyes as the carriage moved on down the sandy country road. “I wouldn’t know what gentleman in all of England would wed such a usurping, galling, exasperating little—”

“Please, Mother, I haven’t had my vocabulary lesson yet this week,” you sarcastically battled as you ripped the matching pink ribbon out of your hair, letting your long waves flow down your shoulders. Your mother especially hated when you wore your hair freely down like that, citing that it reminded her of the harlots of Dorset Street.

You had to admit that your behavior was not the most ladylike this evening, but that was your entire mission. Your mother had been trying to marry you off to every man that comes across your path since you were of age. What she didn’t know (or rather was entirely aware of but simply unable to comprehend or acknowledge it under both societal implications and her own personal dogmas) was that you actually preferred the company of women.

It was just another fancy political ball she’d dragged you to. As always, she put you in clothes you didn’t want to wear, made you speak to people you didn’t want to speak to, and expected you to take it all with sugar and a big smile.

“Is this how you behave at those other parties you attend? Those invalids might be able to handle your inexcusable behavior, but I certainly won’t.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties at all. You actually very much enjoyed going to the parties you liked to go to with people you actually liked to be around. Could these parties become a little unsavory if warranted? Yes, they could. But you yourself never participated in those things. You just thought the people there were nicer and didn’t have giant sticks shoved up their bums. Plus, the food was always better.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, young lady, but there will be no more attending these parties of yours.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed, looking at her with eyes of disbelief. “I am a grown woman. I will go wherever I please!”

“Not with what’s been happening,” she argued, glancing at the folded newspaper sitting on the cushion beside her that she had picked up on the way to the ball. The Old Post. The front of it read Vampyres in the Village.

“You can’t be serious,” you grumbled, turning away from her with a pout. “You really believe in that stuff?”

“It’s devil-work, dear,” she said in a quieter, more serious tone. She stared at you for a moment from across the compartment before slowly leaning forward. “I’m not saying this to try and… control you. I’m saying this to you because… because you are my daughter, and I want to keep you safe.”

You could tell she was biting back vomit at saying kind words to you. “And things have been… happening in the city. Horrible things. And it seems to be happening only to people like you. Pretty, single, young girls. But most importantly, naïve girls.”

You rolled your eyes and turned further away from her. “You say my head is full of air, but I’m not the one who believes in fairytales here.”

“Miss Margaret’s daughter is still missing.”

Miss Margaret was a close friend of your mother’s, which you found surprising because Miss Margaret was one of the kindest women you’d ever met. Her daughter was your age, maybe a year or two older. She hadn’t been seen for two months now since she attended one of the parties you liked to go to in the city.

“She probably ran off with a boy,” you argued even though you knew that was not her daughter’s character.

Your mother didn’t even bother to argue that because you already knew. She only shook her head and turned back to the window, taking a deep sigh. “I’m only trying to keep you safe. It’s one thing to have an unwed daughter, but it’s entirely another thing to have one that’s dead.”

“I’m sure that’s what you’d prefer.”

You shouldn’t have said that, and you didn’t even need to look in your mother’s general direction to feel the look of shocked hurt on her face.

Maybe if your mother hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep a noose around your neck your whole life, you might have listened. You might have heeded her advice.

Things might not have ended up the way they did.

If only.

࿏

You knew exactly how to scale your own house by now. Granted, you had to be barefoot while you did it.

Clutching your shoes in one hand, you teetered on the edge of the windowsill of your room, carefully stepping down on the ledge of the roof. From there, you could set your foot on the top sill of another window, and then catch the vine-wrapped lattice going up the side of your parent’s estate, and it was a breeze from there on. You always enjoyed this feeling. The chilly autumn night air breezing between your legs as you wore a more casual dress that did not require a skeleton of its own. The wind fluttering through your loose locks of hair. The light of the full moon above you guiding your way down. Feeling agile and smart, free and unfiltered. Sometimes, your favorite part of these nights was just the sneaking out.

You always enjoyed the feeling of the dewy grass on the bottom of your feet when you finally hopped down to the ground. You’d jog like this, barefoot and wild like some kind of heathen, all the way down your country driveway to the main road where your friends had a carriage waiting for you.

When you said these parties could be a little unsavory, you meant it. While you mostly stuck with your friends and did not participate in these acts, all around you people were doing all kinds of unknown drugs, being lude with each other, engaging in certain dares or pranks. Sometimes there was a theme to all this, and tonight happened to be a masquerade, except instead of socialites and rich people, it was the ones of society who yearned a more stained quality of life.

This party was especially sex-driven, you realized with an air of shock as you walked in behind your group of friends. They were handing out masks at the front, and beyond that, you could see people basically eating each other at every sitting area in the large auditorium. Someone was throwing this at a large estate where everything around you seemed to be made of gold.

See, there were a select few rich people that participated in and most importantly, funded and housed these parties. There was a group of people, higher on the social ladder, who liked to throw these unsavory parties sometimes in their own homes. You could tell that this party was definitely one of them. They always seemed to get much more extreme when one of these people hosted it in their own home. The odd thing about it was that no one really knew who they were other than that they were seemingly nocturnal and rather pale, possibly as a consequence. Nightcrawlers, they sometimes called them. They always infested the local bars in the later hours of the evenings.

“My Lord,” your friend whispered under her breath as she eyed the couples (sometimes multiple couples all in one cluster) all around. “I think I’ve seen three bare buttocks already.”

Uneasiness settled into your stomach. While you normally enjoyed these parties, you usually tried to stay away from the ones that appeared to have a more carnal purpose, mostly because you did not want to have to fight off random men under the impression that you wanted to be a part of it. To your surprise, though, you actually saw a few women together, and a few men together also.

A mask was flung in your direction, and you took it. It was black and gold with a sharp nose, covering the top half of your face and leaving your mouth exposed. Trying to clear your vision as you stared out of the eye holes, you followed your group of friends into the party. It became denser the further they led you into it, and soon you could feel bodies touching yours.

“Wait!” you called when your mask slipped and covered your eyes, blinding you in the thickly packed room. You stumbled over someone’s foot as you tried to adjust your mask, and by the time you finally corrected it over your eyes, you could not locate your friends. Starting to panic as you were packed in a sea of people, feeling eyes behind odd foreign masks staring you down, you looked around for your friends, frantically calling their names.

You were turning in circles, growing dizzier and fainter by the second. This was a horrible idea. You should have listened to your instinct and turned around as soon as you walked in and saw what was going on at the party. Even now, in the crowd of people dancing to the oddly calm music that did not match the strong energy of the dancers, you could hear faint moans and the vague smell of sex drifting in the air.

You were about to melt to the floor and curl yourself into a sobbing ball when suddenly you felt a purposeful hand press into the small of your back. Gasping, you turned sharply, ready to slap the man who dared think he had a right to touch you, when you were faced with something unexpected.

The only thing you saw that was expected was pants—a men’s dark red velvet suit, decorated with lacy white wristcuffs and a rather poofy white chestpiece beautifully ruffled. But instead of seeing broad shoulders, you saw softer ones, and a curve at the chest and hips. This person wasn’t as tall as you expected, though they were several inches taller than you. Instead of a cropped cut, or perhaps a shaggier cut with handsome curls around the ears, this person had long, silky, wavy red hair that went down to their chest, flowing like a beautiful lake of deep rust.

A pitch-black mask covered the top half of their face, but instead of whiskers, or a beard, there was smooth, pale skin and delicately soft pink lips. The jaw there was strong, but there was a feminine curve to it.

A woman. This was a woman who was now curling your hand around the small of your waist, somehow enveloping it completely around you, pulling you against her and taking your hand in her other hand.

Gasping, you stumbled as she strongly started pulling you into a gentle dance through the crowd that seemed to make way for her.

You struggled to see her face, as the mask covered the top half. Those deep pink lips curled into a cupid’s smirk that brought some sort of chill up your spine. Even in this crowded room, with all the unpleasant noises and smells, your entire focus was on this woman pulling you to her breast and holding you with an iron strength that shocked you.

Though her mask, like the others, had carved holes for eyes, the lighting cast a shadow over the material that kept her eyes from view, and it was rather dim in the room anyway.

You opened your mouth to speak but failed to find words as the redheaded woman in a man’s suit spun you in a circle, and as she did, the source of light from a chandelier above finally glared through the holes of the mask, and you jolted in shock when you saw a flash of red eyes behind the mask.

Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but her arm would not budge. Had you ever known a man to be this strong, let alone a woman?

“Who are you?” you asked, but it came out in a tiny, hoarse whisper that surely only you could hear. Somehow, she heard it.

“Your dream woman,” she smoothly husked with an impish smirk, and you saw another flicker of red in the eyes of the mask as she spun you again before it went dark again.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you stumbled to keep up as she spun you. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“Because it’s so much more fun when I don’t,” she said with a small chuckle. You noticed that her hand holding yours was ice cold. “Besides, you looked a little lost back there.”

“I was perfectly fine,” you argued, finding it incredibly rude that this woman would not let you go, though being so close to her was making your spine tingle with something that bordered attraction and the urge to run for your life.

“You were far from fine, though you sure look fine,” she said, and you noticed how nice her voice was, such a pleasant cadence, like honey to your ears. Suddenly her arm around your waist disappeared, and she was spinning you around. Losing your balance, you let out a gasp, feeling yourself about to fall until she spun you back into her, wrapping her arms around you and leaning you backwards in her strong hold.

She grinned down at you, and you almost didn’t notice.

“What—” you said, startled. Her teeth, ivory white, were sharp. Like, as sharp as your father’s hunting knives. Glistening even in the dim light. Some unsatisfactory stain of red between them that made your stomach uneasy. It was strange, to see such a pleasant pair of lips stretched around teeth that looked so deadly.

“You’re beautiful,” the woman whispered, her eyes lowering down your neck and to your chest left exposed by your dress. You’d picked this dress because your mother hated how particularly revealing it was.

You saw the flash of scarlet irises again through her mask. They seemed to glow as she drank you in with her eyes.

“You can’t even see my face,” you whispered with a tone of playfulness at the fact that the woman was obviously staring at your chest with a look of hunger that you could see even through her mask.

Glancing back up to your face, she smiled handsomely and reached towards your face. Your instinct was to push her hand away, berate her for daring to take off your mask without asking, but for some reason your body did not budge. You involuntarily let her remove your mask, her eyes drinking you in.

“I didn’t have to take it off to know that you are the most beautiful woman in the room,” she flirted shamelessly, her hand on your back gripping you. She was still holding you in a leaning position.

Deciding to have fun with this odd woman, you smirked and said, “Your turn. Remove yours so that I may see who is holding me so.”

The woman hesitated but smiled again, reaching up and slowly removing her mask.

She was beautiful—like the kind of beautiful you had never seen before. An alien, strange beautiful that did not feel real. Something churned in your gut, some kind of knowing, a fear, but it was muffled. Her red eyes, her sharp smile, it was suffocating down the instinct in you that was telling you to get away from her as fast as possible.

She cocked her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “Come with me,” she spoke, and it sounded like many voices at once. Her grip on you was hard now, and if she hadn’t been compelling you with her magic, you would have seen the bloodlusting look on her face.

You didn’t remember leaving the party. You also suddenly couldn’t even remember arriving at the party. All you knew was that suddenly you could hear the click-clack of hooves against cobblestone and the cold night air blowing through your hair, and something else in your hair, too.

You sharply turned your head to see the same redheaded woman walking next to you, her hand in your hair, stroking it softly, playing with the strands between her long-nailed fingers.

“Where are we?” you questioned, slowing your walk and looking all around you. You did not recognize this street at all.

“We’re on a walk, my love,” the woman cooed, cradling her arm around you and pulling you into her. “You were becoming faint at the party.”

Your head felt fuzzy. Muddled. Like you needed to remember something that you just couldn’t remember, but you knew you desperately needed to.

“I’m… I’m confused…” you cried, clutching your hands to your face. You wanted to ask her where she was taking you, what she was going to do to you, why her teeth were so sharp and her eyes so red, but something was stopping the words from coming out of your mouth and even stopping these anxious feelings from being realized by you. There was a false blanket of calmness over you that was not coming from within you. It was suffocating you.

“Do calm down, beautiful girl,” she said in a velvet tone in your ear, suddenly very close to you. The moonlight rained down over you as she pressed her lips to your ear in a soft kiss. Something hard grazed the skin there, but it wasn’t enough for you to really notice.

The street was nearly empty. There were a few shops that were all closed down at this time of night. As you passed one that had a string of garlic hanging down over the door, which a lot of shops had now with all the rumors flying around, you felt the redhead stiffen beside you. When you were far enough away, she let out a breath as if she had been holding it.

Stupified, you hadn’t noticed this.

You also didn’t notice the way she walked faster, goading you forward with a hand at your back, as you passed by a church with a large cross on its steeple. The church also had garlic over the door, and had even built a fence of sharp whittled stakes all around the front. This city was so paranoid.

“Where are we going?” you question, noticing finally that the more garlic-protected doors you passed, the more the false sense of security lifted from you. Unbeknownst to you, the protections were interfering with the woman’s magic on you. “Where are you taking me?!”

“Be quiet!” she hissed at you suddenly, her red eyes fiery in the dark night. She looked monstrous now, albeit beautiful, and you finally realized the fear inside you.

“Get away!” you yelled, slapping her hand away from your waist and stepping away from her. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” You glanced around to see if anyone was around, but there was no one.

“Don’t yell!” the woman said louder this time, and her teeth started to look even sharper than before.

Finally, with all the garlic and crosses and stakes preventing her from being able to stop you from thinking your own thoughts, you could hear the instinct, loud and clear within you, telling you to run from this woman, this witch, this monster, this…

Vampire.

You ran as fast as you could on the uneven cobblestone. You were a very agile girl, thanks to so many times sneaking out of the window and running away. You always impressed people with how fast you could run, and you knew you could definitely outrun a woman in a stiff suit.

Until she appeared right in front of you with lightning speed. You didn’t even have time to be shocked. Her hand passed over your eyes, and you were asleep, falling limply into her arms like dead prey.

The last thing you thought of was if your mother had noticed you were gone yet or not.

࿏

You could tell it was dark before you even opened your eyes. When you did manage to finally flutter your eyes open, the first thing you saw was candlelight. A dark room with red carpet and black walls. Candles, everywhere. Some semblance of a bed that you lay on, naked. Something wooden in front of the bed on the floor which you realize to your sleepy horror is a coffin. And worst of all, to your upmost terror, standing to the side of the bed you lay on staring at you with a vile look of hunger, the redheaded woman.

She was holding a glass in her hand that held what appeared to be red wine, but it was way too dark. As the last memories flood back into your mind as she takes a slow, sickly sip, you realize that it is not wine in her glass.

“I know you’ll be much sweeter than this,” she thickly says after swallowing, lowering the glass and grinning at you with reddened teeth. “I could smell your blood as soon as you walked in.”

You attempt to sit up but there was an invisible force keeping you pressed flat on the bed. “Please let me go,” you whisper, your eyes welling with tears. You can’t exactly feel the fear inside you, not with whatever magic this vampire was putting inside you, but your body felt it and informed you of it in the form of hot tears rolling down your cheeks in an emotionless cry.

She laughed and started towards the bed, the movement causing you to jump. She set the glass down on the table beside the bed, eyes flickering at you as she slowly leaned over you, the weight of her hand on your pillow tipping your head closer to her. She was so close now. Deep scarlet eyes, pointed teeth, locks of her rust hair grazing your bare chest and tickling your nipples which you realized now were erected. Her breath smelled of iron, of old iron that had been sitting out in the rain. It smelled of flesh and of blood casting over your face for how close she was to you.

“Don’t be so frightened,” the vampire cooed, reaching her hand under you. You gasped at her cool touch, her oddly delicate and soft hand which glided across your back which arched for its way, coming to the other side of your waist and holding it gently so that her arm was completely curled under you. She had you trapped now, hovering over you, holding you. There was a crazed look in her eye now as her skin touched yours, as she smelled your scent and felt your warm flesh in her hand and listened to your heart beating so fervently, so frightened.

“You will enjoy this, love,” she continued, her nails digging slightly into your side as she lowered herself down further on the bed. She parted your legs with her knee, and it made you gasp in shock as she slid her other knee between them also, forcing your legs to spread. You felt the cool air of exposure in your middle, feeling now the strings of wet between your folds. She could smell it, you knew, by the way her nostrils flared and her beautiful lips twisted into a knowing smirk. This woman was an animal, a beast with senses that far outpowered yours. She could smell and hear and feel and see everything, down to the hairs on your arms that stood on their ends.

Were you enjoying it already? Why was your skin basically vibrating as she laid herself over you? Why were you slick as if you were with a lover? Why was your back and hips arching towards her hungrily as if you were the one thirsting for her and not the other way around?

Was she persuading you? You had heard of these vampyres being skilled in the art of witchery, particularly in the use of persuasion. It was heard of vampyres luring their victims to them willingly, as if the humans were offering themselves to them. Was that how she got you outside of the party in the first place?

You could feel the radiation of her powers vibrating through you, her red eyes seeming to glow in the dark room. “Oh, darling,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to your face and caressing your cheek. Your cheek was burning hot against her cold hand, which only invigorated her more.

“Your body is so warm against mine…” she murmured, her eyes trailing down your body to your bare chest. Lowering herself, she moved her head towards your neck area.

“No!” you instantly screamed, jerking your body against her as her face disappeared below your face. She dug her nails hard into your side, causing you to squeak, and then her mouth was on your neck. “Please! Stop! Don’t!”

You writhed and shrieked until you realized that you felt no intrusion of teeth into your veins but rather just a forceful yet gentle kiss of heavenly lips on your neck. The vampire’s breathing was heavy and thick, blowing hard against your skin as her entire body went rigid over yours like a predator. Her hips were the only thing that trembled, pressing hard between your legs.

“Fuck,” you heard the vampire curse into your neck as she pressed more kisses, letting her body push harder into yours. She was salivating, leaving your neck slick as she pressed more and more flurrying kisses against your soft skin. “So soft and warm,” she murmured, rubbing her entire face into the expanse of your neck, digging the bridge of her nose into your collarbone.

You were shocked when a gentle moan left your lips. She was kissing and rubbing her face all over your clavicles and chest, rolling her hips into you with a steady rhythm. You were starting to feel dizzy with warmth and lust that throbbed sinfully through you as this monster had her way with you.

She lowered further and finally was met with the pillowy hills of your breasts. She nuzzled herself right into them, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your flesh there that was so tender it gave way to the slightest of her touch. It felt like she was vibrating against you now, breathy and rigid and drunk. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and lapped over the peak of your nipple, earning a loud gasp from you. Her eyes flickered open, alert at the sound, and looked deviously at you as she started to lap at your tit, the points of her fangs sticking through her lip like a kitten.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you squirmed under her, unsure of what, if anything, was going through your head. There were your thoughts, and the thoughts she wanted you to think, and thoughts your body was sending up your spine to your brain, mostly sinful and desirous.

Chuckling throatily against your nipple, the vampire grinned, which caused her fangs to scrape your skin.

“Ow!” you exclaimed at the tiny but strong sting you felt. It only felt like a papercut until the woman’s pupils went large, and she sunk her fangs into the soft flesh of your tit. You gasped in shock at first, watching the readhead’s long fangs sink into your breast, blood immediately streaming out of where she bit.

The scream that left your mouth was loud and burned your throat. The vampire grunted and groaned as she tasted your blood, her hips fully grinding into you now, her body melting on top of yours as she moaned huskily into your wound that she drank from.

You were at a loss for words as you thrashed against her strength and clawed at the pillows and blankets around you. The worst part was that, as much as it hurt and as much as you feared for your life, your middle was throbbing and more slick than ever as she ground herself into you, turned on from the mere taste of your blood.

Finally, the woman retracted, gasping open-mouthed, her lips and mouth smeared with the bright red of your blood. Her pupils were blown, red barely visible, your blood dripping from her fangs. She breathed heavily against you as your blood streamed down your breast, trailing to your stomach.

“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” she breathed almost inaudibly. She looked completely different now, like drinking from you had changed her features in some fundamental way that you couldn’t describe. She looked more beautiful than ever, and whether it was her persuasion or the sinner that had been hiding somewhere deep inside you, it made you even more slick to see this woman so beside herself, hovering over you, her mouth and chin covered and dripping with your blood, declaring you to be the best.

Seeming to still be gasping for breath, the vampire lowered herself more down the bed until her shoulders were what kept your legs spread open.

“My heavens,” she breathed as she inhaled the scent of your arousal, her eyes focused between your legs. “You sick little thing.”

Shame blushed across your face, but it was replaced with the blush of pleasure when the woman put her mouth over your clit. Her hands curled around your hips, holding them with iron strength as she devoured you. Your cum mixed with your own blood over the vampire’s mouth as she lapped at your soaked folds, somehow masterfully avoiding nicking you with the blades in her mouth. Her tongue plunged inside you, supernaturally long as it curled to reach your pleasure spot deep inside.

You were the one absolutely beside yourself now, grabbing at the sheets, at her soft red hair, arching your back off the bed and pushing your hips into her face. Any thoughts of life or death, the risk of it, being a prey trapped with its predator, your blood leaving your system through the deep bite on your breast, were all gone. All you knew now was this beautiful woman’s tongue deep inside you and the bridge of her nose digging against your clit.

A burst of pleasure exploded inside you, and you found yourself screaming out, blinded, only urged on with a more vigorous effort from the vampire’s tongue. Her nails had dug so hard into your hips that there were ten bleeding marks in the shape of fingernails on your skin, unbeknownst to the vampire who was joyously overwhelmed with the taste and smell of your blood and juices in her mouth.

Finally, when you had relaxed, she pulled away, looking up at you from between your legs. The blood on her face was still there but had been wiped away in most spots, turned pink by the mixing of your wetness which glistened over the bridge of her nose and down her chin. Her long tongue came out from her mouth to lick at her lips, her throat clenching as she swallowed.

You had never felt such physical bliss in your life. Your entire body throbbed and ached wonderfully, churned with the duality of it being so sexy and so morbid at the same time.

In fact, you’d nearly completely forgotten about the morbidity of it all until the vampire, eyes crazed even more, gazed down at your fleshy thighs. Her lips twitched in a smirk before she dove down and bit right into the inside of your thigh.

Reacting with a shriek and kicking your legs, you could feel her bite this time was much more painful and aggressive. She was not just biting you, she was sucking your blood.

“Stop!” you exclaimed, trying to kick at the vampire that seemed to be made of steel. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

She did stop. She pulled away sharply, face bloodier than ever, and lunged upwards. In a flash faster than you could realize, she grabbed your jaw and snapped your head to the side, digging her face down into the crook of your neck and sinking her teeth into your throat. The weight and strength of her body naturally held you down against the bed as she devoured you now in a more real way. You could feel your blood draining from your veins, leaving them cold. You could feel your head get lighter and lighter, your arms and legs feeling more and more numb until finally you went limp in her arms like a lamb. Vision blurring, you were moments away from death when finally the monster pulled herself away from you with a heavy sigh.

The redheaded woman had to stand up out of the bed to restrain herself. Your blood streaked darkly down her chin, staining the white lace of her chestpiece which she clawed at to give her throat room to breathe. You were a pathetic thing now, covered in your own blood at your breast and thighs, laying limply on the bed, eyes rolling as you tried to jolt yourself awake.

“My dear, I believe I’ve found heaven in you,” she whispered, recovering herself as she approached you again. You were half-conscious as she easily picked you up in her arms, holding you bridal style. Your head and arm hung down limply, the both of you blood-streaked and throbbing with different sorts of feelings that were somehow mutual. She carried you to the end of the bed where, at the floor, was the wooden coffin with the lid open. Gently, she laid you down into the soft red velvet of the wooden coffin.

She was about to stand up before you weakly grabbed at her collar. She paused, something glistening in her eyes as she stared down at you with a sewed brow.

“I don’t want to die,” you coarsely whispered. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear you but, either because of the kind of monster she was or because your blood was running through her body, she understood exactly what you said.

“Don’t worry, my lamb,” she said with a crimson grin. “I wouldn’t let a treat like you go to waste. I’m going to keep you, pet. You’ll sustain me for as long as your body can take it. For now, you must sleep and rest, for my satisfaction is brief, and my thirst comes in quite short intervals.” She paused and stood up, letting your hand fall away from her collar. “Sleep well, little lamb.”

She closed the lid on your bleeding body, leaving you locked in the dark coffin.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #vampire #halloween #kinktober #crimsonween #marvel #lgbt #lesbian

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waldau-archived · 5 months ago

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how they take care of you — seventeen | 2,531 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i didn't know i liked writing ot13 this much!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out/tired/scared/ill/sad? y'know, the usual spectrum of negative human emotions?

seungcheol

gets so concerned when he hears a hitch in your voice when you greet him that he drops whatever he’s doing and rushes to you. doesn’t matter if he’s on a call or if he’s doing some important paperwork, he’s all yours now.

gives you a big, comforting hug that tries to shield you from everything but him. kisses your head to try and ground you.

doesn’t make you talk if you don’t want to, but he insists that you don’t keep it in for too long because it’s only going to hurt you in the end. lasts only for a while before asking if there's someone that needs some talking to for making you feel this sad.

tries to do anything in his power to see you smile, even if it's momentary. shows you a funny picture of his favourite child (mingyu) to cheer you up. asks if you feel okay enough to walk kkuma with him, because she needs some time with her other favourite person (you).

“you know i love you, right? that's never changing.”

jeonghan

is proud to be the person that becomes your comfort when something doesn’t go right, or when you’ve had a bad day.

immediately bottles up any jokes he’s about to make and wipes away your tears, stops only when you bat his hands away. even if he doesn’t want to let go of you, he respects your boundaries.

when you're feeling a bit better, he pulls you down into the sofa and cuddles with you, and is content whether you choose to tell him what’s on your mind, or if you want to be silent and fiddle with his shirt instead.

kisses your forehead and looks into your eyes when he promises you that it’s just one bad day, and that he’s always here for all the others. links pinkies with you because he knows how much it means to you, even if it may seem childish.

will resort to tickling you to make the last traces of your sadness vanish, and asks if there’s anything else he can do to make you smile.

joshua

comes to pick you up from work because he has a free day, and realizes something’s wrong the moment you greet him hello without even looking at his face for more than two seconds.

doesn’t make a big deal out of it, though. takes your stuff from you and greets you softly. opens the door for you and buckles your seat belt. asks you if it’s okay that he’s not taking you home first, because there’s some place else he wants to take you.

dismisses any concerns you have about not looking “good enough” to go out, because you look absolutely gorgeous at any time of the day, and he’d never lie about something like this to you. lets you choose whatever music you want as he weaves through the traffic on the streets, telling you about his day.

parks the car and gets out to hold your hand in his as he guides you over to the many stalls, asking you to pick whatever you want to eat. sits next to you on one of the benches overlooking the river, your legs swinging as you lean into his side and enjoy your meal. is glad he could take care of you like this because you needed it.

“trust me when i say whatever happened is not your fault, okay, sweetheart?”

junhui

is more confident in his actions than his words, because he can immediately notice the little changes in your behaviour: your tired smile, and the way you’re kind of curled in on yourself, as if trying to take up less space.

gives you a long hug with lots of cheek kisses and pulls you into the kitchen to show you what he’s working on: a dish that coincidentally happens to be your comfort food. it’s your favourite, especially when jun makes it in his own style.

this six foot man becomes small as he tries to do anything to make you smile. hates that you’re even feeling this way. throws random pickup lines at you to see which one gets you to crack and slap his arm and tell him to stop (he won’t, because he loves you too much).

offers to feed you dinner once it’s ready and makes random airplane noises that bring out a giggle from you. watches as you eat slowly and is glad when he sees your bowl is empty. doesn’t resist your offer of feeding him dinner once you’re done.

hides under the blankets with you and watches cat videos till your eyes shut from exhaustion and his arm hurts from holding up the phone from so long. cuddles with you and doesn’t let go even when you halfheartedly complain about how warm it is.

soonyoung

becomes so gentle that it pulls you out of your dullness a bit, makes you wonder where your usually hyperactive boyfriend is.

doesn’t baby you because he knows you don’t like it, but he makes sure you get everything you need. calls his mother to ask her the exact recipe for this soup she used to feed him when he used to get ill. stays by your side even when you have a raging fever and you’re worried he’s going to catch it if he kisses your cheek one more time.

doesn’t complain even once when you wake him up because of how uncomfortable you’re feeling. what else is he there for, if he can’t take care of the person he loves the most? wraps himself along with you in your blanket even if it’s hot enough that he can just melt.

is your hype man when you finally get better enough to start moving around the house by yourself. watches you with the biggest smile on his face that he will not tamp down when he sees you eating the soup he made, and almost cries with joy when you ask him for a second serving.

doesn’t blame you one bit when he catches the same bug a week later, because you’re there to take care of him through it, and because he loves you too much for it to be an issue.

wonwoo

gently pulls you into his chest the moment he sees your tear-streaked cheeks, and rests his head on yours. doesn’t ask you what’s wrong because he feels it’s more important to make you feel better.

doesn’t care that your tears are leaving behind a spot on his shirt, and shushes you for even pointing it out. in fact he wants you to do that so that you can run out of tears and he can take care of you properly.

gives you his hoodie to wear because it’s oversized on you, and he loves seeing you in it just as much as you love wearing it.

makes you wrap your arms around his waist from behind and cling onto him while he goes about the house finishing his share of chores. does yours without asking if he senses you’re too drained out to do them.

absolutely needs you by his side regardless of what he’s doing, whether it’s playing a game or brushing his teeth. offers to read you a book if you’re having trouble falling asleep. tells you he loves you in the lowest voice possible when he sees you finally asleep against his chest, breathing evened out.

jihoon

might not very verbal, but when it comes to you, he knows exactly what to do to make things better.

knows you’re in his studio when the door shuts, but you don’t greet him. decides to finish some edits on the song he’s working on before he turns to you, only to find you lying on the sofa facing away from him.

genuinely sad to hear you had a bad day. he got through today only because of all the encouraging texts you sent him. decides the least he can do is return the favour.

wraps you in your favourite blanket that he always keeps at the studio for when you visit. holds your hand regardless of whether you want to talk or not. offers to order food to the studio so that he can make sure you’re not hungry.

very thankful that you came to him because you were feeling down, and he very much wants to call it a day and take you home so that he can cuddle with you and make your day just a bit better.

seokmin

his mood almost always mirrors yours, so when he sees you so exhausted and down, his heart genuinely hurts.

not a confrontational person, but he’s willing to fight whatever made you sad, even if it was a table you stubbed your toe on. happy that it brings a smile to your face even if he didn’t actually fight anything.

have you seen his arms? wraps them around you till you push him off with a bit of a smile on your face. he then decides he wants to use them to bake something for you. you’re the better baker between the two of you and since he’s got loads of time today, he decides he wants to learn something that he can make the next time you’re away and he doesn’t have to feel that lonely.

is your own personal jukebox. belts out whatever song you want, and does a mini infinite aju nice in the comfort of your kitchen, making you jump while the oven works, till you’re tired and actually smiling.

“it’ll be okay, i promise. i love you.”

mingyu

hates that you had a nightmare but is thankful that he was sleeping right next to you when it happened.

the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever see you in your life. when you wake him up with a shaky voice, he immediately blinks out of his sleep and holds you in his arms. he’ll hug you and keep hugging you till he can drain your sadness even just a little.

doesn’t matter how late it is; if you can’t go back to sleep, he’ll pull you to the kitchen and make his ramen just for you. makes you help him chop some ingredients and stir the broth so that you feel involved. keeps purposely bumping into you every time you cross paths and takes a kiss as payment.

finds some cheesy, slow music to dance to and gently pulls you all over the kitchen, twirling you and even bending you as the song ends. loves hearing your laugh when he pulls you back up.

“i hope you dream of me when you sleep again. i love you.”

minghao

words aren’t necessary when he can just take care of you the way you always deserve to be taken care of.

actually gets upset (a little) when you apologize for crying in front of him. who else will make you feel better when you’re down if not for him? makes you promise never to feel nervous to be emotional around him.

runs a bath for you and makes your favourite food. when you’re done with dinner and feeling a bit better, he takes you to bed and cuddles with you, wanting you to focus on his breathing so you can calm yourself. he whispers endearments into your ear. also makes sure you know how proud he is of you for getting through today.

would give you the entire world if he could, but when you tell him the only thing you want is him, he promises you he’s never going anywhere, no matter what happens.

“i’m so lucky to call myself yours, my love. always.”

seungkwan

he can never stand seeing his loved ones sad, so when he sees you, he needs to find a way to make your smile get back to your face.

sees your lips wobble when you say hello to him, and he eventually coaxes the issue out of you: your friends had ditched a get-together you’d been planning at the last minute, and they didn’t even have the decency to apologize for it. he feels extremely angry on your behalf and is ready to curse. doesn’t do it only because it won’t help you.

thinks about what he can do to make you happy. asks if he can take you out on a drive tonight so you can watch the stars with him. when you regretfully decline the offer, he asks if you want to create a blanket fort and watch movies or go to sleep.

it’s not long before he’s constructing a blanket fort for the first time in his life thanks to some youtube tutorials. he’s upset when it collapses right in the middle of constructing it, but he realizes he’d build it a hundred times more if it meant you’d laugh the way you just did.

sets up snacks and your favourite drinks after a while. keeps apologizing to you on behalf of your so-called friends till you tell him to stop. promises that he’s always going to be with you, and that you don’t have to be sad when you’re with him. falls asleep with you in his arms, and a smile on your face, snacks and movies forgotten.

hansol

feels bad the moment he sees you try to mask the sadness on your face with a smile.

better with actions than words, so he kisses your forehead and trails you around the house while you try to relax from the day you had. if you’re really sad, he lets you just rest your head against his collarbone and breathe till you feel better.

“you’ve got this, and you’ve got me, okay? i’m right here.”

has a bunch of handmade coupons for whenever you feel sad. each coupon has the same four options: eat, talk, watch a movie, sleep. does whatever you choose, whether it’s only one or all four.

another one who has no problem with prolonged eye contact. he looks at you till you understand that he loves you more than he can say and that he’s always there for you when you feel like this.

chan

always used to being babied by his older brothers, so he feels happy to get a chance to take care of you. just doesn’t like the fact that you’re sad, because you deserve to be anything but.

very transparent with his affection for you. he whispers “i love you” into your hair when you ask him for a hug, shouts it across the living room when you come out to get some water, and holds your hand under the table during dinner even if it’s inconvenient.

if you’re really down, and don’t feel like talking, he bundles you into a blanket and puts you on the sofa and sits close to you, so that you have your space but he’s close enough if you need him.

sits with you while you work and watches intently even if he doesn’t understand much of what you’re doing. ready to go to the store and get you anything you’re craving, regardless of how late it is.

“i love looking after you, okay? don’t ever feel bad about telling me what’s troubling you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

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x-brik-x · 1 year ago

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I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

#diy punk #patch jacket #battle vest #patch vest #punk vest #diy patches #punk battle jacket #battle jacket #punk patches #patch pants

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interstellarflare · 5 months ago

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A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART ONE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

‘The Prince smiled, extending his hand towards her with grace and ease.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked lowly, his eyes meeting hers with a kind yet mischievous twinkle. There was something about the Prince that made her heart flutter, that made her place her hand into his and reply-‘

The sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and a chorus of shouting caused you to stuff the book beneath your pillows, a small panic settling over you as you quickly jumped out of your rickety bed and threw the old sheets over the mattress to at least make it look as if you hadn’t been lying in it mere seconds ago.

The door to the attic swung open, violently ricochetting off the wall and with a loud ‘bang’. You flinched, a shaky breath escaping you as you turned your gaze towards the form of your stepmother, her piercing greyish-blue eyes staring intently at you as she entered. She held her head high, the permanent scowl on her features examining every little aspect of the small space with precision. Her eyes landed on the small wooden table beside your bed, narrowing on the melted candle with the wax spilling over the sides.

“You were reading again, weren’t you?” She growled, her lips pursing in annoyance. Fiddling with your hands in front of you, you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “It wasn’t all night, Lady Worthington, I swear-“

“Nonsense, I can see the candle clear as day girl!” She shouted, a look of disapproval forming on her features. You held her stare, a small sense of guilt settling in your stomach the longer your stepmother remained in the attic. With a long and annoyed huff, she brushed he black-greying hair from her shoulder, looking you up and down with a look of disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up, and once you’re done start with breakfast. My girls are hungry, we have a long day ahead of us” she ordered, gathering her deep purple skirts and storming out of the room.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, your shoulders slumped in relief. You looked down at yourself and sighed, Lady Worthington was right. The clothes you wore currently were nothing but rags, and your day clothes weren’t much better. They were either oversized or too small, but you made do with the worn black and white maids dresses you were given. After getting changed and tying your hair back with a small piece of ribbon, you quickly skipped downstairs and into the kitchen.

You could hear Lady Worthington and her daughters cackling manically in the dining room, discussing their plans for the day, and how excited they were to be invited to Lady Danbury’s ball. Lady Danbury’s ball was one of the highlights of the season, or…so you had heard anyway. It had been a long time since you had seen the dear woman, you believed the last time you held conversation with her was when you were but a child. Your father, just after the loss of your mother, had taken you to one of Lady Danbury’s balls after deciding that leaving you at home would have been unwise at this grief-stricken time.

You remembered the beautiful dresses, the beautiful debutants who smiled and waved at your curious gaze. The kind bachelors who greeted you with a dance. And a young boy, hiding behind his father’s legs, his eyes following you wherever you went. Lady Danbury had been most gracious, you remember. A close friend of your mothers, almost like an aunt to you. But when Lady Worthington came into the picture and had taken control of your father’s inheritance after his passing, you were practically forgotten and hidden away from the ton. A part of you missed it, though you weren’t envious of today’s debutants desperately seeking husbands. Lady Worthington was perhaps one of the most persistent mothers out there, aside from Lady Featherington you hear.

This would be the third season that your stepsisters, Elizabeth and Mary Worthington, would participate in. They very much enjoyed flaunting themselves before the ton, given the state of their rooms with delicate and luxurious dresses and jewellery thrown about. They did not hide their wealth, rather your father’s wealth, that their mother had inherited, and bought the fanciest dresses money could buy. It had almost worked one season, Colin Bridgerton had visited to call on Elizabeth. But upon seeing how lavishly she lived, and how horribly she had treated you upon her request for tea for the two of them, the third-eldest Bridgerton hadn’t called again.

She changed somewhat after that, you recalled. She didn’t find much enjoyment in gorgeous dresses or glittering diamonds. She didn’t speak much to you or her mother anymore either, but Mary was her confidant. Sometimes she would glance at you, a look of guilt on her face, but it briefly passed whenever her sister or mother made some snide comment about your presence.

Preparing breakfast was easily done. Keeping a portion for yourself on a separate plate, you carried the three other plates into the dining room with practiced ease. Mary squealed with delight, snatching one of the plates from your arm and almost knocking the others out of your grasp in the process. “Oh thank goodness, I’m starved!” she exclaimed, hastily digging in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. You handed a plate to Elizabeth, who seemed to nod slightly as you placed the plate before her. Lady Worthington however, merely sneered as you placed her plate on the table.

You excused yourself from the room and retreated into the kitchen, beginning to eat your portion of the remaining food whilst listening to their gossip quietly. They weren’t quiet by any means, though you supposed that it was in their nature to be loud and obnoxious.

“Mother, did you hear! I heard from Cressida that apparently Lord Bridgerton is looking for a wife this season!” Mary exclaimed, her words muffled likely by the food in her mouth. You heard Elizabeth sigh heavily “I won’t believe it until Lady Whisteldown writes about it-“

“Nonsense!” Lady Worthington cried, interrupting her daughter with a squeal, “If the rumour is true than we are going to take every advantage we can get. The two of you are going to do your damned best get his attention-“

“And what if we don’t, mother? What then?” Elizabeth spoke quietly, almost timidly. You heard Lady Worthington scoff “Oh, you will. We are going out as soon as possible to find you both new dresses for the ball tonight”.

“Oh mother, how exciting!” Mary cried, you could hear the chair scrape harshly against the wooden floorboards as she abruptly stood up from her seat, “We are going to be the most beautiful women at the Ball!”

“Y/N! Help my daughters get dressed! We will be heading out shortly, and make sure that the horses are prepared!” Lady Worthington shouted, the sound of her shrill cry causing a sense of panic to surge through you.

Coughing as you chocked on your food, you quickly wiped your mouth and fixed your skirts. “Yes, right away!” You called back, sighing heavily as you rushed back upstairs. Upon entering Mary’s room, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Clothes lay on almost every inch of the floor, dresses, undergarments, jewellery. This was going to be a tough morning.

Tag List:

@ladybirdbeetle7 @sweetsourpus @in-deans-arms @blackthorngirl @kee-0-kee

@sometimesminsan @prawntoastsworld @scoopsahoyspidey @darkness-falls-xo

@reallysparklychaos @hottie-bishop-belova @riptidewaters @jay-being-weird

@khhhhjj @golden-girasol @linnygirl09 @xoxonoire @stanmixtapes

@freyagallileaevans @gracielou0518 @judig92 @rafaaoli @queenslandlover-93

@esquivelbianca @fanfictioncafe @hjgdhghoe @sillynilly27

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #jonathan bailey

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f0point5 · 7 months ago

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i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

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stunies · 17 days ago

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CAN’T WE JUST PRETEND? hayato suo x f!reader ﾉ nsfw ﾉ kinktober day 25 — camgirl + streaming ﾉ 3520 words

you always do what the highest tipper says, but looks like that’s backfired tonight. “bring someone to fuck you raw on your next stream” they said, but oh. you don’t have a boyfriend, do you? so the next best option would be to swallow your pride and ask one of your friends to play the part.

CONTAINS ﾉ explicit smut, camgirl!reader, creampie, dry humping, little plot - smut heavy, multiple orgasms, pet names, streaming + audience, traces of possessiveness (suo), virginity loss (reader), this is a minimally edited old draft but i hope you like it regardless! ^ ^

“You want me to join one of your streams?” Suo tilts his head to the side, gently placing his cup back onto your desk. He swivels around in your chair to face you, and you suddenly feel like a guest in your own room.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” your head hangs low. “So.. you would be the closest person to that, I think.”

“Am I?” His lips tug into a small smile, and it dawns on you that you’ve just outed your inexperience to him. Your face burns a little more, this time spreading to the tips of your ears, but you fight it off with a quick shake of your head. “Well, you don’t necessarily need to have a boyfriend, right? The comment you showed me said it could be anyone.”

You think he might just be poking fun at you the way he always does. Egging you on to make you admit something embarrassing again.

It was already over for you years ago when he learned that you get flustered easily- and he’s never given you a break since. Always leaning in a bit too close for comfort and saying things he knows will come off the wrong way. Flirtatious, even. “I-I know,” you stammer. “But I want it to be someone I’m close to.”

“Why’s that? You’re such a pretty girl. You wouldn’t have trouble finding someone, right?”

He probably just wants to hear you say that you picked him because you like him, you tell yourself, but it’s not like you have any other options.

You fiddle with the hem of your skirt. “Well, I’ve never done it before. So I don’t wanna… lose it.. to a stranger. Literally anyone else would be fine, I think.”

Suo’s eyes widen at your confession. “Oh. You’ve never done it before?”

“No.” You tear your gaze to the side. “I stream stuff, but I’ve never done it with an actual person. Only… by myself. With toys… it shouldn't matter!” You wave your hands back and forth. “I’m good at pretending. They won’t be able to tell it’s my first time, so don’t worry, okay?”

He agrees with a cheerful nod. As if he would ever even dream of passing up a chance like this.

Suo feels awfully at peace with himself when he follows you to your room. It’s exactly the way it looks in your streams, and reality starts to dawn on him. You trust him enough to be your first, and to be your first visitor on your streams? How sweet of you.

Suo’s always been around you, just a breath’s away, but never this close. No one approaches you when you're with him because everyone has already started to assume that the two of you have been dating since long ago, and he was content with that. Being close to you was good enough. For now.

A part of him wonders if this thinking will change after today.

He helps you move some of your things out of frame. You’ve fallen awfully quiet, and he chalks it up to your nervousness kicking in. You’ve always had a habit of getting quiet whenever you were trying to focus and needed to push down your nerves.

“I think we’re ready.”

“Ah.” Suo smiles when he takes a seat beside you.“You’re sure you’re ready?”

You visibly tense when his thigh brushes against your own. Cute.

“M..mhm. It’s gonna start recording in….” you lean over your bed to fiddle with your camera, and his eyes linger over the curve of your back, “ten seconds.”

Nine.

Eight.

His hand comes to pat your head, and you shoot him a glare. He chuckles. Seven.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You look cute all nervous.”

Six.

“I am not nervous,” you huff, and his smile doesn’t falter. “And don’t tease me when it starts!”

Five.

“We’re supposed to not know each other,” you add, “so you’re supposed to act like you’re just one of my followers.”

Four. Oh, if only you knew. Who do you think sent you this request in the first place?

Three. Two.

He settles a little more comfortably on your bed, and you smile brightly.

One.

“Ah! Hello everyone.” Suo turns to you, and heat rushes to your cheeks almost immediately after. He’s taking the initiative? “The video is working fine, I assume? I’ll be her…” his fingers hook underneath your chin, and you stiffen. “..First guest tonight.”

“Yea…m..mhm!” A sharp inhale through your nose helps you regain your focus. Bubbly and cute- that was how you wanted to be perceived while on stream. “I brought him on to join us today!” You wrap your arms around him, moving behind him to rest your chin on his shoulder. “This was what you all wanted to see, right?”

The comments start flooding in almost immediately. Some seem to like Suo, and some don’t. Others are wishing it was them instead- but that’s to be expected. Suo reads them all with a kind smile, and a part of you is glad that it’s him who was here with you tonight. He seems to be a natural. “Let’s give everybody what they want and make good use of their time. Doesn’t that sound good?”

The hesitant nod you give him is a little out of character for you, but you’re sure no one would be able to notice your sudden shyness. You make a mental note to try and do a better job at hiding your nerves going forward, though it’s a bit challenging when Suo smiles at you like he knows what you’re thinking. His gaze is strong.

It makes you feel shy. Like he’s uncovered some secret of yours that you didn’t even know you had.

Just ignore it. Ignore the hands that guide your hips when you slowly climb onto his lap, making sure your audience gets a good view of your ass when you do. Suo angles himself a bit, runs his hands up and down your sides and it’s pathetic how hard you shiver from such a light touch. “H-hey,” your voice drops to a low whisper, “quit making me all blushy..”

“Am I?” The way he innocently cocks his head to the side is infuriating. “I haven’t done anything, princess. You’re welcome to use me how you wish so you can please your audience.”

“I-I know.”

You hover above him for a moment, and just how pretty your best friend is finally starts to sink in. His hair looks soft. His lips look soft too. Another curious tilt of his head snaps you out of your daze, and you close the distance the next second– lips meeting his own in a sensual kiss. He’s angled you in such a way that your cam doesn’t quite catch the kiss itself. It’s focused on the back of your body, so he takes advantage of that- moves his lips against yours softly and slowly.

He wants to take his time with you. Make the most of this. Your viewers can wait. He would give them what they want later.

All they care about is seeing you get fucked dumb, right? He will.

He’ll take his time ruining you thoroughly– just has to admire every bit of you first. It’s your first time after all.

“You’re so cute,” he smiles between kisses, his exhale trailing into a soft laughter when you visibly tense at the compliment. “Oh? Getting nervous on your own stream? That’s not like you.”

You can only muster a shaky noise of protest. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring him on camera after all.

His eyes shift behind you, glancing at the comments, and he suddenly perks up at one in specific. “Oh dear, you already have a request, dove. They want to see you spread in front of them.”

Of all the reactions he had expected from you, the last thing he would have expected is for you to pout at him pulling away. “T-the kiss…” your voice trails off into a huff, and the amused laugh that leaves his lips surprises him too. Oh, how cute. “All you had to do was ask, my dear. Come back here.”

You practically melt into his touch. He kisses you a little more intensely this time. Kisses you with the intention of claiming you as his. You’re moaning into it, and the jitters in your stomach fills you with so much want.

You need him so bad- why does kissing him feel so good?

You’ve never looked at him in this way. Were you always hiding this somewhere in your heart? It feels so natural, feels so good that you’re certain no toy could possibly replicate how good Suo is making you feel with just a kiss. You shut your eyes a little harder when you feel him run his fingers and down your sides again, heartbeat pounding against your chest and you swear it’s making you feel dizzy.

He’s exploring your body. That’s what he’s doing, right? Why does it feel like he already knows your body so well?

His fingers brush over all your sensitive spots. It sends shivers shooting down your spine, and he seems to already know this by the way he smiles against your lips.

You’re on your back before you even realize it. Oh- that’s right. He’s good with his hands from what you’ve heard. He has that unique fighting style… though you’ve never seen it yourself.

Suo’s hands rest on either side of your head, and he looks down at you with that all too knowing smile that heats your face up all over again.

“Spread.”

Your lips tremble from the searing warmth that spreads to your ears. Has.. has he always been like this? You give him a shaky nod- force yourself to stay focused. His gaze feels as if it’s been intensifying with each passing second and it’s flustering you. Suo’s eyes are locked on your body when you shyly spread your thighs apart, leaving your cunt fully exposed for him and your audience to see. “Mmm. Good. And how do you all feel about this?”

He turns to the camera. He’s talking to them- wants their confirmation that you did good. You look at them too, not realizing the shy expression you’re giving them until someone points it out.

User156: she looks soaked

User32: Hurry and touch her

User98: Try and make her wetter

User112: She looks cute today. Like she’s nervous?

“Hmmm..” his eyes scan over the comments. “I can do that. Watch her carefully, okay?”

He moves back on top of you, lowering himself onto his elbows to hover just above you. “Your viewers want to see you get all needy for me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you tense. “So let’s get you nice and soaked for them, okay?”

He lets his lower body rest on yours, and that’s when you feel it press against you. “Ahh.. you feel it?” He whispers into your ear, and your mouth falls open in a shaky moan. “See what you do to me? It’s driving me a little crazy.”

He smiles at the way your lips press into a shaky line. You really didn’t know? Did you not expect him to get hard from kissing you?

He presses into you a little harder, smiling when you gasp. He feels big, doesn’t he? The comments start flooding in as soon as he starts moving his hips against yours, the friction only making you dizzier and needier for him to finally fill you up.

“That feels…. ah… feels….” your arms come to wrap around his back, pulling him a little closer to you. The way his breath fans against your neck only makes you melt into him more. His breath makes you shiver– and oh, he smells so good. His hair is soft when your fingers rake through it. You feel him smile into your neck this time, and it sends a wave of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You want him so bad that it’s pathetic.

He knows how to perfectly grind against you to hit your clit with each roll of his hips. It’s just enough pressure to have your mouth falling open in a moan, but not enough to where you’re jerking. Your reactions are fully under his control- your viewers feel the same too.

User990: Her eyes are rolling back from that

USer4456: Gotta see her take him inside soon.

User12: fuck her dumb already

“Feeling good? I can see that you are… you’re so cute.” He wonders if it would be too mean to mention that you’re pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his waist, but ultimately decides against it. “Want more kisses?”

“Yes!”

That was fast.

He gives you one peck before he’s tilting your head to the side, planting sloppy kisses along your jaw and behind your ear. You’re latched onto him like a koala now, gasping into his chest each time he brushes against your clit. The friction is numbing, and it feels so good that you can’t tell if you’re cumming.

It all feels equally good– pleasure blurring together and it’s almost scary how desperate you’re feeling.

“You’re making quite the mess..” Suo laughs, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You didn’t feel it running down your thighs? It’s everywhere.” Your eyes widen, because you really didn’t feel it. “Too busy thinking about my cock? I’ll put it inside you if the viewers ask me too.”

The viewers. That’s right.

“Please…” the change in your volume makes it clear that you’re speaking to your audience, “please let him fuck me. I need it so bad… I…”

He only smiles at you.

User46: Do it already

User39: She’s gonna cry at this rate

User125: He’s pretty mean, isnt he?

User80: He’s having fun with it, clearly. I like her like this though

You hate how visibly happy you get after reading the first comment. He’ll finally give it to you now that they’ve asked, won’t he? “Hey..” you gesture towards Suo when he grinds against your clit once more, “they said…”

“I know.”

A strong hand comes to keep your hips planted on the mattress when you instinctively push back against him. “There’s no rush,” he smiles, “I just needed to make sure you were ready.”

A light chuckle leaves his lips when he catches your brows furrowing. He’d have to teach you patience another time maybe. If you’ll let him, that is.

“I’m ready,” you latch onto him again, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Are you sure?”

Teasing. That jerk.

“I am. I’m—”

You’re silenced by the gentle way his hand comes to cradle the back of your head against his chest before he finally pushes in. It feels good- how does it feel better than your toys? You’ve never felt like this– it’s numbing. It feels so good that you’re not sure you can handle more. “W-whoa… ah— S-suo-”

“Relax.” His voice makes your walls flutter, and you seem to finally understand just how badly your body has been craving Suo. “Relax and let me inside, okay? I know your body.” Your body heats up, and yourself turn to mush. “I know your limits. Trust me and ease up, okay?”

You try to listen. He pushes the rest of his length inside in one swift movement, and your head falls back in a silent scream– legs trembling and even Suo’s mouth falls open in a subtle gasp. Fuck- you realize you’re cumming, and you’re cumming hard.

User99: Did she just cum?

User106: she came from him bottoming out.. No way

User54: If it was me, she would have cum just from the tip.

The grip you have around Suo’s back is painful to say the least. You’re still fluttering around his length, chest rising up and down in loud gasps. “Now… are you still feeling okay?” His body covers your own entirely when he lays you on your back, resting on both elbows that cage your head on either side. It makes you feel safe, even with an orgasm that was so intense you almost feel scared. You briefly wonder how he’ll make you feel when he finally moves.

“M-mhm… I’m o-okay,” your face feels hot, and the stutter in your own voice betrays you.

“Looks like you’re feeling really good.” He catches on immediately. “Then, I’ll start moving….”

Already? Wait. You’re still sensitive—

User2663: oh wow

User919: this is more like it

User152: Finally at the good part

“Ahh… you’re squeezing really hard, aren’t you? Ease up for me.”

He feels so good that you can barely hear him. Even if you try to ease up— you’re not sure if you can. Not with how good he’s stretching you out. But you try anyway, try and be good for him so he’ll give you kisses all over your face again, and he seems to be content with your efforts. “There you go. Just like that. Relax and trust me.”

You’ve never felt this way towards your best friend. It feels good. Everything about him feels good. Each roll of his hips fills you perfectly— hits against a spot inside you that sends pleasure coursing through your body.

He’s everywhere. Kissing your neck, whispering in your ear— his hands run up and down your sides and you’re so hot you think you might actually be melting. Your second high approaches you faster than ever before, and he smiles against your skin.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell. Don’t hide it from me. Let it out. Show me how good you feel.”

You’re getting close. So close. So close that you could already feel it– feel the way your mind blanks and your body tenses. Suo’s all over you- and you can feel each drag of his cock, each kiss he plants on your neck, you can feel the way his lips move when he laughs against your neck–

Your eyes shoot open when it finally hits you like a wave, vision dotting white. You let out a piercing shriek when hot flashes wash over you all at once, walls spasming around his cock and he only seems to fuck you better when he picks up on it. “Oh? Cumming again? What a good girl you are,” his voice carries a hint of breathlessness in it from how tightly you’re squeezing him. “It’s an intense one, isn’t it? Your eyes never roll back like this.”

Even when you feel like you’re about to pass out with pleasure, it clicks in your head. “E-eh? What do you mean..? A-ah…. feels good.. feels..” your head falls back against the pillow, body rocking up and down each time he pushes against you.

“Hm? Nothing you need to worry about, dove,” you feel him follow you, lean down and his teeth brush over your neck. You stifle a moan. “So, my pretty girl…”

“Inside..” he raises his voice to address the viewers, “or somewhere else?”

You choke out a moan when he abruptly grabs your tits, giving them one squeeze. Then two. Then a third one, a little gentler than the first two. “Maybe here?”

“Or…” he takes a fistful of your ass in his hands next, chuckling when you gasp. “Here?”

It sounds like he’s addressing the viewers, but he’s not looking at their responses- eyes on you only. “S-Suo…” your voice is barely audible at this point, body too fucked out and tired to try moving, so you just lay there and take everything he has to offer. “Inside.. please..”

“Oh. Inside? What a good girl,” he’s whispering so low that you’re certain they can’t hear him.

“You knew I was talking to you. Very well,” he sets a rougher pace against you, and you can only cling onto him for dear life. “Then I’ll dump it all inside you.”

“You’ll take all of it, won’t you? You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm– yes, yes, I will! Please give it to me…”

It’s cute how needy you are even in your current state. It only takes a couple more thrusts before his face contorts, only for a second before he regains his composure, and he pushes deep inside, cock shooting ropes of cum against your cervix as you let out a whine.

He pumps you full of cum, fills you to the brim and a part of him is content that he’s claimed you for all of your viewers to watch with jealousy. He’s the only one who’s done this with you.

And he’s intent on keeping it that way.

User278: show us the creampie!!

User9293: we want to see

He gives them a warm smile before abruptly shutting off the stream. Enough of that. He was starting to get tired of their comments anyway. As if he’d be willing to show them such an intimate sight.

“So,” he turns back to you again, expression softening ever so slightly when his eyes land on you again. “Are you going to show me your real expressions now?”

lace dividers from @adornedwithlight

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mostly-imagines · 5 months ago

Note

🌻 anon here

The last few days I stumbled into a few posts about Jason having +18 pics of reader in his phone and I just can't stop thinking "would he tho??" Like would he trust enough his device to have r18 pictures of the one he love and literally worship in his phone??? Knowing he knows damn well how easy it is nowadays to get those types of pictures through hack and stuff??

And I'm not saying he would share the pics, HELL NO he would never. But because I don't think he would trust his phone -and also because it cracks me up- I imagine him having a Polaroid to take the pics. The photos get printed automatically and if he have to he can't literally burn those without having to overthink about someone hacking his phone.

Like can you imagine him just casually take a Polaroid you didn't know where there out his nightstand and taking a pics of you while you reaching your peak??

Anyways all of that just to ask what one of my fav Jason writers would think about the whole Jason having spicy pics of you in this phone

18+

i’ve honest to god been thinking about this non stop since you sent it sunny

i think you're dead on, jason's protective streak rings too loud in his mind to ever take the chance of someone else maybe seeing those photos of you. personally, i’m of the belief that he uses his phone for the most practical purposes only and that his photo gallery is borderline empty, with few exceptions of nondescript images. like the only pictures of you on his phone don’t show your face or any revealing information about you. yeah, he’s a little paranoid in that way but it just makes his alternative that much more interesting.

there’s also something about it that feels more personal, more intimate. there’s not a chance in hell those photos are going near another person and he likes the idea that you’re giving him this amount of vulnerability and trust.

i also think he is an avid supporter of your personal autonomy and feels better knowing that if you want a picture gone, all you have to do is burn it and it's gone forever. he doesn't really like the idea that so many things on electronics can be spread or seen without you even knowing, so he's perfectly fine to stash a few polaroids in unsuspecting places.

he’d be really hesitant to ask you the first time, he was worried he’d make you uncomfortable or that you’d think it was weird. the thought initially came about after he’d gone on an away mission that lasted twice as long as it was supposed to and he was bordering on losing it without a single image of you. that, and frankly, he was stressed and he has never experienced a stress relief quite like you.

so the night he comes back he’s kissing you hard and rubbing up against you, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to capture all your facial expressions and imagery he couldn’t stop imagining while he was gone.

he breaks away from your lips breathlessly, “can I take a picture of you?”

you give him a bemused look, “what? like, now?”

he fiddles with the waistband of your underwear, not making eye contact. “well…in a few minutes..”

his timorous disposition gives you a solid clue of what he means and you smile up at him. “yeah?”

he finally meets your eyes, looking hopeful. “is that alright?”

“of course,” you nod and he leans back down against you, lips meeting your pulse point. “what brought this on?”

he noses at your neck, “jus’ missed you. a lot.”

you nod, pulling back and running a finger down to the tip of his nose. “take as many as you want.”

and he did.

his favorite pics are the ones he takes right when you cum, lips slightly parted, brow pinched. he’s also fond of the moments right when you’re just starting to feel it.

the photos of you on your knees, trying to take him in your mouth as much as you can really do something to him. your eyes watering and you holding his hand for support. he has to pace himself when he looks at those, especially the ones where you’re looking up at the camera.

he doesn’t usually like to be in the pictures, other than his dick in/against you or his hand splayed across your stomach or neck. he also has one or two where you’re riding him and his free hand is on your hip guiding you.

you’d have to be having a particular kind of sex for it to even occur to him to stop and take pictures. it only really happens during the easy times, when you’re both just having fun more than anything. it’s then when he’s really able to take his time with you and savor things, which is why the majority of your polaroids are taken then. he’s also more likely to be in a teasing mood then and not in a particular rush to get you where you’re going. a lot of those pictures show you smiling and completely relaxed which is another reason why he tends to revere those moments.

a grade A way to make him feel better after a long week is leaving him some surprise polaroids in the stash, it makes him crazy. he’s honestly just really obsessed with the idea that you trust him so much with those kinds of photos that you’d go out of your way to take some for him when he’s not even there. i actually think that’s at least half of what turns him on so much about the whole thing, the trust that you place in him and only him to not only see you in those moments but also relive them afterwards. just pics of you in lingerie or even just one of his shirts—it’s over for him.

#i did not proofread this and i am not responsible for what it does or does not say #jason todd thoughts™#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #jason todd smut #red hood smut #🌻

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Down Home 1

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 non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. 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: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

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. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller.

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as.

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down.

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen.

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual.

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space.

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer.

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant.

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames.

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal.

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.”

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.”

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble.

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead.

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell.

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?”

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...”

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.”

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer.

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron.

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.”

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job.

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun.

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.”

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks.

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around.

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals.

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you.

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask.

“Black’s fine,” he assures.

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.”

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?”

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?”

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?”

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you.

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.”

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.”

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner.

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.”

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.”

He gives a gentle smile.

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.”

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.”

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV.

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly.

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.”

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases.

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.”

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.”

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts.

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?”

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.”

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders.

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug.

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.”

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.”

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you.

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself.

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly.

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.”

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.”

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles.

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?”

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.”

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?”

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks.

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?”

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.”

“Alright,” you back away and turn back.

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter.

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself.

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor.

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there.

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him.

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?”

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.”

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.”

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?”

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.”

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own.

“Do you sing?” He asks.

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter.

“Ah,” Steve nods.

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.”

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says.

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place.

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #captain america #down home #winter soldier #avengers

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manikas-whims · 5 months ago

Note

request for LADS

what if u have to fake date the guys for some reason but its starts becomin difficult for ur heart cuz you start catching feelings

thank you 🙏

thanks for this request! ♡ i went a lil overboard with this LOL. WARNING ⚠️ long post..

Fake Dating the Love and Deepspace men but you catch feelings pt. 1

ZAYNE

❄️ Tara keeps trying to set you up with one of her colleagues, and no matter how subtle she acts about it, you're getting tired of it. Thus, you come to this decision! You request Zayne to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

❄️ The matter of his own feelings aside, Zayne just thinks that fake dating someone to avoid potential dates is incredibly crazy. “You can simply ask your friend to stop.”

❄️ His suggestion is baffling. You feel like an idiot for ignoring the obvious solution. But only a moment later realize that even asking her to stop won't likely deter Tara. At least not until she sees you with a person better than any of her chosen candidates.

❄️ So you decide to let go of the little self-respect you have and beg Zayne to do this for you. He is amused by this ridiculous proposition but agrees nonetheless since he can never really say no to you.

❄️ It's an amazing experience cause Zayne is the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for— handsome, smart, caring, strict when needed, protective and very accommodating.

❄️ The first time Tara meets him, her eyes literally glow with admiration. And she pats your back like a proud aunt, winking suggestively as she does so.

❄️ However, Zayne has always been great at adapting to the situations at hand and soon your arrangement starts becoming a bit of a problem for your delicate heart.

❄️ It is one thing to show him off to your colleagues. But Zayne has started doing stuff like dropping you home everyday after work, his only explanation being “that's what he would do if he was your REAL boyfriend”.

❄️ And this isn't all. He's taking breaks in the afternoon to have lunch with you everyday and make sure you don't miss any meals. He slips your hand inside his coat pocket on particularly colder days. He even focuses on the little things like wiping a coffee stain from your bottom lip or gently pushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear. All this while, his explanation is: it's what he would do if he were your real boyfriend. And you aren't sure your heart will manage long if this goes on.

❄️ The real issue arises when one of your colleagues point out how they've never seen you kiss. And this makes Tara perk-up too.

❄️ In your defense, you spout some nonsense about how Zayne is kinda shy by nature and doesn't believe in PDA much. “When we're alone, he's very passionate.”

❄️ This leads to Tara and a bunch of colleagues secretly tailing you when Zayne comes to pick you up one evening. For they also wanna see this passionate side of him.

❄️ “Um..Zayne, can we kiss?” You whisper, your eyes averted, and fingers fiddling in nervousness. Its not that you are worried about the "kissing" part. Thats easy. You are actually worried about kissing Zayne.

❄️ As for Zayne, he is confused and shocked at first. Even blushes a little. But thanks to his perceptive nature, he quickly spots your colleagues and understands.

❄️ So as you clumsily teeter closer to him and raise yourself on your feet to reach his height, he chuckles at your efforts as well as the pained expression on your face.

❄️ “Relax.” He commands and magically, his words do calm your nerves a little.

❄️ He smiles then, his big arms wrapping smoothly around your waist as he lowers his head and lets his lips gently linger against yours, igniting a desire within you.

❄️ When he finally pulls back moments later, you nearly loose your footing.

❄️ This is it. The last shred of your sanity blown away. It may have only been a few moments but the kiss leaves an impact on you. Your heart can't take it anymore. Because you enjoyed the kiss more than you should have. And its made you realise that you may have actual feelings for Zayne.

XAVIER

⭐ There's this creepy resident at your apartment complex who's been trying to make moves on you but he's just been so nice and subtle about it that you have no idea how to turn him down. Thus, instead of that, you ask Xavier to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

⭐ “This doesn't seem like a good idea.” He says, hesitantly scratching his cheek.

⭐ Xavier also believes beating the shit out of the guy is a better option, and a permanent solution. But again, you can't do that because the guy hasn't actually done anything threatening or concerning. Thus, any sort of unwarranted violence against such a guy will only result in more problems for Xavier and You.

⭐ So Xavier sighs, and nods with a smile. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

⭐ “Just do things only a boyfriend would do whenever that guy is around.” You tell him and he nods.

⭐ And so it starts with you dragging Xavier out for morning laps and evening walks around the complex, and you always make sure to hold onto Xavier's arm whenever you spot the strange guy.

⭐ But as the days go by, you sense as if Xavier may be a little too good at his new job.

⭐ One evening as you are working out at the gym on the top floor of the apartment complex, the guy walks in and approaches you. To your annoyance, he begins his usual small talk. But he's barely strung two words together when you feel the warmth of a hand gliding along your waist.

⭐ You look up to find Xavier, his clothes sweaty from workout. He tucks his chin on top off your head, his arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “Do you know this guy?”

⭐ It takes a moment for you to realise you're gawking! At the same guy you had asked to pretend to be your boyfriend. And it's not just his fingers stroking circles on your belly but also the way his voice sounds more intimate!??

⭐ Quickly, you compose yourself and stammer a response. “N-Not really. He's a resident just like us.”

⭐ And with that said, you're being steered out of the gym, Xavier's arm never leaving your waist.

⭐ Ever since you've known him, he rarely breaches your personal space without permission. A gentleman through and through. It's you who's been messing with his hair, squishing his cheeks and poking his chest to tease him all this time.

⭐ But ever since you asked him to play boyfriend, he's the one initiating skinship at the most unexpected moments. It's as if this fake dating arrangement has given him a free pass to do everything he usually holds back from.

⭐ Now he holds your hand whenever you're walking together, idly plays with your hair strands when hanging out at your place, and ALWAYS makes sure his arms are around your waist or face nuzzling your neck in the presence of that strange guy.

⭐ You may have been the one who requested him to do this but you aren't so sure about this whole thing anymore.

⭐ A few weeks have passed but the guy is persistent. Now he's always trying to find you when he's sure Xavier won't be around.

⭐ “It's not working. We need to do something more convincing.” You say in a deflated tone. You and Xavier are standing in the hallway of your floor, having just returned from a mission.

⭐ And that creep is lurking at the end of the floor by the elevator, waiting for Xavier to leave so he can ask you out yet again.

⭐ Xavier tucks a hand under his chin, his nose scrunching in thought. “Something more you say..”

⭐ Then in the very next moment, he pushes you against your own apartment door, a hand coming to rest upon it to keep you in place; his other hand gently cradles your face, arching it slightly before he presses his lips against your own.

⭐ Only a moment later he pulls away, then kisses you again. This time with more fervor than needed to fake it. And when he breaks the kiss again, his lips gravitate towards your neck.

⭐ “Xa..Xavier..?” You're stunned. You're not even sure how you are meant to react.

⭐ Xavier pushes away from you slightly and turns his head, his gaze directed right at the strange man. “She’s mine.” He asserts.

⭐ The man is as shocked as you are and immediately runs away.

⭐ Xavier looks back at you and flashes his usual soft smile. “This should convince him enough.”

⭐ Seriously!? Who cares about that guy anymore? Your heart is the most convinced that you may possibly be falling for Xavier.

RAFAYEL

🌊 “Miss Bodyguard, would you like to date me?” Rafayel asks one day out of the blue, and you are left feeling equal parts flustered and confused because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

🌊 He enjoys watching you trying to act nonchalant when your fidgety movements and flushed cheeks clearly tell him otherwise.

🌊 Finally he explains how he has accumulated quite the fanbase, thanks to not just his art but his gorgeous looks. And now these same loving fans are becoming slightly toxic with how they stalk him around, making it impossible for him to even go out in peace. Aa such, he wants to promote you from the position of his bodyguard to fake girlfriend.

🌊 You don't like the sound of it. You can already smell trouble from afar but you know he'll keep pestering until you relent. So you agree to it in the end.

🌊 Only later you realise what you've actually gotten yourself into.

🌊 Rafayel is already kinda clingy by nature but now that you've agreed to his dating charade, he's fully taking advantage of it.

🌊 Everytime he drags you out to a public spot, he makes sure that the two of you hold hands. And rather than going to places that may inspire him for his paintings, he drags you to expensive fashion brands stores.

🌊 Even as you refuse to let him buy any of it, he makes you try on the outfits for hours, making you turn this way and that, asking you to pose in specific ways as he snaps numerous photographs (which he'll definitely use as reference for his portraits of you). And just when you think it's over with all the fancy clothes, he makes you try on footwear next.

🌊 He's also buying you all these gifts you never asked for. He's basically spoiling you with things you can't otherwise afford.

🌊 He's also posting a lot of cringe yet cutesy couple photos with you on his social media accounts.

🌊 And you may not admit it but you are beginning to enjoy being spoilt like this.

🌊 Weeks pass without you even realising. This arrangement is becoming more and more dangerous for your heart. Because lets be honest Rafayel may be enjoying playing around with you like this but the same can't be said for you. You know that if this goes on any longer, your heart is bound to make space for him.

🌊 “How much longer do we need to keep this up?” You ask one day.

🌊 He merely winks at you. “Just a little longer.”

🌊 You try your best to keep your emotions in check. You just need to endure him and his charm for a little longer. Heck! You kill wanderers for a living so the matters of heart shouldn't be anymore difficult than that. Right? Right?

🌊 Oh how foolish you are.

🌊 It happens during a private gala Rafayel is invited to and of course as his “girlfriend”, you're supposed to go with him.

🌊 That, and the other reason being this crazy musician who will be there. Apparently she's been hitting on Rafayel for a while now, and your appearance may finally make her retreat.

🌊 So there, amidst the crowd of snobbish strangers, Rafayel asks you for a dance. And in the dim glow of the hall, paired with a slow, romantic tune, he feels closer than he is. And it happens..your resolve falters.

🌊 He wiggles a brow towards the corner of the room, and surely enough, you spot the aforementioned crazy musician. Indeed, she doesn't seem very happy with the way Rafayel has his arms around you.

🌊 And to deliberately spur her further, he lowers his head. His breath is ticklish along your skin as he whispers in your ear. “You’ve moved along quite well to my tune. You're a good dancer.”

🌊 For some reason, you don't like those words. Rafayel complimenting you so freely cannot be a good sign.

🌊 “Just endure a little longer, Miss Bodyguard. Tonight will be the last run of this charade.”

🌊 Then he tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear and leans his face in, his lips gently brushing along yours before pressing harder.

🌊 The kiss is slow and lingering, just like the song being played. But it seems that the moment you begin to give in and truly relish it, the moment ends. He pulls away and smiles.

🌊 Yet you can't muster enough strength to smile back for its happened. Your resolve is broken. Your heart has already reserved the best spot for him. And you aren't ready to let go of this charade any time soon..

here's [PART 2]

i have 4-5 more LADS requests to finish. i'm working on them and will post them soon ✌️😊

THANKS FOR READING ♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

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