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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

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TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold.

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together.

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking.

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving.

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.”

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served.

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.”

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.”

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist.

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end.

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips.

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-”

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting.

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

#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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jessicaschein · 2 years ago

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U-Shape Home Bar Seated home bar - large contemporary u-shaped porcelain tile seated home bar idea with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, quartz countertops and mosaic tile backsplash

#wall mounted tv #stone and pewter accent tile mosaic #bronze faucet #built in microwave oven #bronze hardware #glass shelves #wine fridge

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thef1diary · 9 months ago

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A Spoiled Surprise | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max, your roommate, wanted to decorate the house to celebrate your birthday. Inconveniently, you walked in before he was fully prepared.

— part of the Birthday Bash fics

pairing: max x fem!roommate!reader

wc: 1.5k

main masterlist taglist form

As your birthday approached, the familiar pang of homesickness settled in your heart. Being away from home meant that you couldn't celebrate with your childhood friends or family, and the thought of spending the day alone in your apartment weighed heavily on your mind. But little did you know, your roommate Max had made plans to make your birthday still feel like a proper celebration.

Max had been sneaking around the apartment for days, trying to plan a surprise for you, but it was harder than it seemed.

His determination to make your birthday special fueled his every move as he threw himself into the preparations with gusto. While you were in your room, he rummaged through cabinets and drawers, attempting to gather supplies, but he barely found anything.

Max set to work, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He meticulously planned every detail, jotting down all the decorations he needed to buy. Nothing was left to chance — this had to be perfect.

He left the apartment a day before your birthday, wanting to buy all the supplies he needed to decorate and to make a homemade cake. With his arms laden with bags filled with streamers, balloons and whatnot, Max made his way back to the apartment. Fortunately, you weren't in the apartment at the time, allowing him to hide the items until he needed to decorate.

When you returned, he was inconspicuously relaxing on the couch, but it still made you raise your eyebrows. "Did you end up going to the store?"

"Yeah, why?" He asked, attempting to be nonchalant.

"You didn't restock anything…” you trailed off, having checked the pantry. "Oh, um, I forgot," he reasoned.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at his response, but you decided to let it slide for the time being. "It's fine, I'll go tomorrow."

He nodded, a small smile growing on his face because it'll give him a chance to decorate once you're out of the house. However, he does feel bad that he's making you run errands on your birthday.

The next day, Max sat at the kitchen table, his gaze fixed on the calendar displayed on his phone screen. He couldn't help but notice the red circle marking today's date — your birthday. A mixture of excitement churned in his stomach as he could finally decorate.

As he heard your footsteps approaching, Max quickly minimized the calendar app and forced a casual smile. "Hey, are you going out now?," he asked, hoping that you would be out of the house soon.

You nodded, "yeah, just grabbing my keys," you gestured to the car keys sitting on the table.

"Alright, see ya," Max waved playfully, earning a confused expression from you.

Max watched you go, and once he heard the door to the apartment close, and the familiar sound of the key locking the door, he stood up.

He wasted no time in beginning to decorate the apartment. He started with making the cake first, mixing up the batter and putting it in the oven. While it was baking, he hung streamers from the ceiling and started inflating the balloons using the pump.

Despite his best efforts, time seemed to slip through Max's fingers like grains of sand. With each passing minute, the pressure mounted, and he found himself racing against the clock to finish decorating before you returned home.

He taped the 'Happy Birthday' banner to the wall and smiled since it was coming together. The ring from the timer startled him, indicating that the cake was finished baking, reminding him to pick up the pace.

He popped the cake out of the pan onto a cooling rack and let it sit on the counter while he went back to the balloons.

No matter how hard he worked, it seemed as if there were always more decorations to hang, more balloons to inflate, more details to attend to. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, just when it seemed as if he would finish in time, Max heard the sound of keys jingling in the lock. His heart leaped into his throat as he realized that you were back earlier than expected.

With a sense of dread coursing through him, Max frantically tried to put the finishing touches on the decorations, attempting to pump air into the balloon he was holding, but it was too late.

You walked into the apartment, holding a couple bags full of groceries with a curious expression on your face as you took in the scene before you.

"What's all this?" you asked, your eyes widening in surprise as you surveyed the half-finished decorations.

Max's heart sank as he met your gaze, knowing that he had failed to finish decorating in time. "I, uh, well, I wanted to do something special for your birthday," he admitted, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You stood in the doorway, a mixture of surprise and confusion flickering across your features as you took in the scene before you. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, balloons littered the floor, and a plain cake sat on the counter, the aroma of freshly baked vanilla filling the air.

A small smile grew onto your face when you noticed the banner, and your eyes softened as you took in the chaotic scene before you, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of Max's efforts.

"Max, that's incredibly sweet of you," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I had no idea you were planning all of this."

Max breathed a sigh of relief at your response, the tension melting away from his shoulders as he realized that you weren't upset with him. "I just wanted to make sure you had a great birthday, you know, being away from home and all," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

You quickly placed the bags on the countertop, and stepped forward to inspect the decorations. "Well, you definitely succeeded," you said, reaching out to give Max's arm a reassuring squeeze. "I love it, even if it's not finished."

Max couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude at your words, a sense of pride swelling within him at the knowledge that he had succeeded in making your birthday special. "Thanks," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "I'm glad you like it."

As you both surveyed the scene before you, disaster struck. The balloon Max had been holding slipped from his grasp, and suddenly it was soaring through the air, bouncing off the walls and ceiling like a mischievous spirit.

You both stood there stunned for a moment, watching in disbelief as the balloon's chaotic flight filled the room. And then, without warning, you burst into laughter, the sound filling the room like music to Max's ears.

He couldn't help but join in, his own laughter mingling with yours as he watched the balloon land on the couch, deflated. In that moment, all the tension and uncertainty that had been weighing on him melted away, leaving nothing but a sense of pure joy and exhilaration in its wake.

Once the laughter died down, Max nudged you. "I still have to decorate the cake," he stated, glancing at the cooling cake resting on the countertop.

"Let's do it together," you suggested.

As you and Max worked side by side, carefully icing the cake, the atmosphere in the kitchen was filled with laughter and chatter. "Is this why you 'forgot' the groceries?" You asked, dipping a spoon into the bowl of icing and carefully spreading it over the top of the cake.

Max had a sheepish smile on his face, "I was busy buying the decorations, so I actually forgot about why you sent me to the store in the first place."

You shook your head with a smile, and reached across to grab a napkin, but as you did, your hand accidentally brushed against Max's face, smearing a steak of icing across his cheek.

You gasped once you saw his face, then burst out into laughter again, your stomach already beginning to hurt with how much you laughed.

He instinctively reached up to touch his cheek, but instead of looking upset, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh no you didn't," he muttered. Before you could react, Max dipped his finger into the bowl of icing and flicked a dollop of it onto your nose.

"I see how it is," you stated, a playful grin spreading across your face.

With a laugh, the two of you engaged in an impromptu icing fight, smearing frosting on each other's faces and giggling like children. By the time you were finished, both of you had icing all over your clothes, hair, and even on the kitchen floor, but you couldn't remember the last time you had laughed so hard.

As the laughter subsided and you caught your breath, you couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness wash over you. Despite being away from home, living with someone who was once a stranger, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You held your arms out, stepping closer and embracing Max. He made a disgusted face, "you're all sticky."

You chuckled, "so are you, now shut up and hug me back."

He obliged, wrapping his arms around you too. "Thank you, this means a lot to me," you mumbled against his shirt.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @regalbanshee @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3

#thef1diary fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #fanfic #fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Sugar Cookie

Warnings: non/dubcon, allusions to abuse and neglect, oral sex, manipulation, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You try to learn some new traditions for your first Christmas with Tony.

Character: Tony Stark

Day Eleven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - experiencing a new festive tradition

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stare at the floating screen and suck in your cheeks. It's only your first try but you're feeling overwhelmed. Just like always, you can't follow simple directions. You're a fuck up.

It makes you wonder how you ever ended up here. In this immaculate kitchen with its shining marble counter tops, sparkling appliances, and many gadgets and accessories. Silver pans dangle from the rack hung over the island and knives are stuck to the magnet hold mounted on the wall. Yet you've made a mess of it all as flour dusts over the gold-veined surface and the smell of burnt dough tinges your nostrils.

"Miss, is appears you've burnt the snickerdoodles," Friday says in her matter-of-fact way.

"I did," you groan and plant your elbows on the counter, cup your chin in defeat. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise to me," she assures. "You should start again at step one. 'Preheat the oven to 375 Farenheit...'

"The oven's still on, you drone as you turn your face down. "I've ruined it all. I tried so hard but it's just all spoiled."

"Miss, you can try again. I've already ordered more ingredients so that you can make everything," she insists.

You puff. That dang computer. Of course, Tony insists that isn't what she is. She's a companion. She's more than code and she's a lot smarter than you, so you should listen.

You push yourself up as you stick your lip out pathetically. You've never baked before. Tony knows this but it's a tradition. Not your tradition. You never even celebrated Christmas before. You watched it on the old VHS'. The films about daughters or sons or lovers trying to make it home for the holiday. Stuck between four walls, you always just assumed it was another fantasy.

"Miss, you should dump the burnt cookies. They are not fit for consumption. And put a fresh sheet of parchment paper down."

You nod and do as she says. Your hands are still fettered in the oven gloves as you take the tray and carry it to the bin. She opens it and you wince. You're still not used to that.

You return to the counter and pull off the thick gloves. You tear off a new sheet of parchment and lay it on the pan. A frown tugs at your cheeks until they hurt. What if you can't do this? What if you disappoint Tony? He'd just be another person who you let down. There may not be many of those, but you can count everyone you've known on one hand.

"Begin with the topping," Friday directs you. "Combine the granulated sugar and cinnamon together in a small bowl..."

It's easier to let her tell you what to do. Almost like she's thinking for you. Tony does that too. He tells you what needs to be done so you're not so worried. Sometimes though, it's too much. All those expectations. Before, you were only ever expected to be quiet.

You make three lines of four. The dough balls are perfectly arranged. Now you just need to not mess them up.

"I would be happy to set a timer, miss." Friday offers.

"Thanks," you say over your shoulder as you slide the pan into the oven.

"You've made enough dough for three more batches. In the meantime, you could begin on the fruitcake," she suggests.

"Uh, sure," you agree.

"Mmm, smells like a fire," Tony's voice jars you before the companion-programmed interface can give her next command. "What're we workin' on, beautiful?"

You face him and press your sweaty palms to the red apron with the frill edging. "Cookies. Or cake--"

"There are a dozen snickerdoodles cooking with eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds left," Friday supplies. "And she was about to begin the fruitcake."

You cringe and nod, "what she said."

"What about the meringues? Peppermint? Just like I said?" He asks.

"Sure, uh," you gulp, "you know, Mr. Stark, Tony... I'm not very good at this."

"You'll get better, beautiful. Besides, it's tradition."

"Y-yeah, I know, but I... I don't want to screw up or make you sick."

"Baby, you're just fine. I know you can do it." He steps closer and puts his hands on your arms, "I see what no one else saw in you, huh? You got potential, you just gotta try."

"I am. Trying, sir," you say.

"I know, beautiful," he reaches to tap the end of your nose. "Don't be so mopey, alright? Look at all you got; a gorgeous kitchen, a gorgeous house, a gorgeous man..."

You flick your lashes shyly and look away. He leans in and you let him kiss you. That's getting easier, even if the other things still hurt.

"You know, there's nothing else I could ask for," he purrs as he draws back, "well, maybe one thing. Whiskey?"

He looks at you with his deep brown eyes and that crooked grin. It was that look that comforted you the day you met. When the red and gold receded and revealed the very human man beneath. The first man you knew that didn't loathe you outright.

"Yes, Tony," you answer and spin around. The liquor cabinet opens as you approach. You thank Friday and take out the dark bottle. A cupboard opens and you pull out a glass to pour. You bring the drink to him and smile nervously. "Here you are."

"You know, seeing as this is your first Christmas and all, you're learning all my traditions," he leans a hand on the counter and sniffs the whiskey before he sips. You watch him tentatively, "we could start a few new ones."

"New?" You echo curiously.

He winks and takes another swig, "yeah, all this sweetness," he looks around at the cluttered ingredients, "I'm thinking something even sweeter."

"Oh?" You bring your hands together and wring them. "What's that?"

"Friday, scram," he looms close to you and sets his glass down.

"Reconfiguring to standby," Friday responds promptly.

He steps up and frames your hips with his hands. He sucks his teeth as he looks you up and down. You shiver as you're reminded of the night before.

"How about you hop up here?" He keeps one hand on you as he sweeps aside the bag of flower and canister of baking powder with his other. "And feed me another kinda dessert."

You look at him. You think you know what he means but you’re not sure. You’ll be embarrassed if you’re right. The last time he tried that you couldn’t stay still.

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh,” he repeats coyly as he squeezes your hip. “You’re doing all this work, baby, why don’t you let me do some?”

“Um, later... er, the cookies--”

“I got a hankering for something better than cookies,” he grabs at your skirt and shoves his hands under the hem. He gropes your ass suddenly as he pulls you flush to him. You squeal in surprise. “What are these?” He pinches the fabric of your panties. “I didn’t pull these out.”

“Uh, I...” you gulp. You didn’t think he’d be unhappy, you can see through every pair he gave you. “I’m sorry.”

“Take ‘em off,” his voice deepens as he lets you go and steps back. He crosses his arms as his lips straighten to a dire expression. “Now.”

“Yes, sir,” you blanch and open, your thumbs catching on your skirt before you can get the panties down.

You teeter as you shove them to your knees and they fall to your feet. You bend to untangle them and stand. Tony takes them from you and flings them without looking.

“Now, baby, I’m ready for the full course,” He takes you by the waist and turns your back to the counter. “You gonna serve it up to me?”

You stare at him, speechless. His thumbs curl into your stomach then ease. He trails his hands to your hips and you yelp as he lifts you. You land on the counter and knock over a bowl as you slap your palms on the marble.

“Tony!” You squeal.

He hushes you as he raises the apron and your dress up your thighs, “open up for me, beautiful.”

“Please, can’t we wait--”

“I’ve been waiting,” he growls and bends before you can stop him. Not that you would even try.

He grazes your thigh with his lips and his facial hair tickles you. You quiver as he nuzzles along the crease of your leg and against your pelvis. You tense as he grips your knees, holding them wide as he shoves his mouth against your cunt.

You cry out again. You spasm as his tongue glides between your lips. His flicks around your clit and you whine. It’s so sensitive you could explode.

You grasp the back of his head and try to push him away, “it’s still too much--”

He hums and keeps going, ignoring your protests as he suckles on your bud. The pressure is enough to make you buck. You lean back on your arm and hiss. He puts his hand over yours and presses it to his skull, as if to make you urge him on.

He wiggles his head as he eats you up unabashedly. He snarls and groans and laps. You whimper and shake, your insides consumed in flames. You can hardly stand the heat as he seeps through to your skin. You push your nails into his scalp and murmur his name.

“Mmm, delicious,” he slithers against your thigh, pressing a wet kiss to your leg.

You close your eyes as the sight of his head just peeking out beneath the rumpled apron makes you blush. You bite your lip and shudder as he goes back to his eager tending. He clutches your hand tighter as his tongue swirls around and around.

The smell of smoke tinges your nose again. You sniff and flutter your lashes. You open your eyes and see the silver curls climbing out of the stove. You squeak and try to twist free of Tony. He grabs your thighs and sinks in fingertips in until you ache.

“Ton-y,” you eke out, “the cook-ies!”

“Leave em,” He growls as he snakes his hands under your thighs and hooks his arms around them. He yanks you so you fall onto your back, splaying wider as you crush mixing spoons and bags of chocolate chips and sugar. “I got more than enough right here.”

#tony stark #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #drabble #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover #iron man #mcu #marvel #avengers

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hometoursandotherstuff · 7 months ago

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This 1882 Italianate home in Indianapolis, IN is sooooo beautiful. 5bd, 4ba, $1.275M + $4mo. HOA fee.

Beautiful entrance hall.

Stained glass windows and look at the original fireplace insert. All the furnishings are available with the right offer.

Pocket doors to the gold and black sitting room that looks like a speakeasy with the bar to the left as soon as you enter. The owner's decor leans toward the Art Deco era. I would definitely want to buy it all.

Look at the glorious gold ceiling in the pool room. Wow, another bar and a piano. This is a real party house.

Liquor cabinet and modern wall-mounted fireplace.

Very nice dining room.

Oh, my, the kitchen. It's vintage and has what could be the original floor.

Stained glass window. Gorgeous glass-front cabinets.

The kitchen remodel is so good. Euro-style red oven- look at how the doors open.

Beautiful bath off the kitchen has a matching window.

Lovely bedroom, one of five.

Wonderful vintage bath.

Going down to the golden basement. Now, this looks like a real speakeasy.

Check out the bricks painted gold.

Double wine fridge.

Look at this beauty.

They've got a reading nook. Wow, that card catalog puts my little one to shame.

The primary suite takes up the whole attic.

Those are stairs to the roof. The storage up here is crazy.

Huge sitting area.

And, more storage.

Roof top deck.

The gardens and pool are glorious.

The patio is amazing.

Private hot tub.

7,710 Sq ft lot.

https://www.movoto.com/indianapolis-in/1409-n-park-ave-indianapolis-in-46202-851_21295049/

#italianate homes #old house dreams #midnight dreamer #houses #house tours #home tour

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sarnai4 · 21 days ago

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Roomies

Did the "random thought" bug bite me again? Always. Here's the result this time: The responsibilities each of the Olympians would have if they lived together in modern days.

Athena - She stocks up their personal library (think Beauty and the Beast, but times 1000). It's her job to make sure that the books are in proper order and all the best selections are here. Is this a real responsibility? Debatable. Did it exist before she suggested it? No, but at least the Olympians have everything from non-fiction to the best fantasies to read.

Ares - He's in charge of taking out the trash because he drew the short straw and putting up shelves because he wanted that one. It's fun for him to hammer in the nails. Now, the walls are covered in more shelves than they could ever need and the halls are filled with his mildly diabolical laughter as he hammers.

Demeter - She keeps the fridge and pantry filled. They have literally never been empty. Every time someone uses up one of the foods, it's replaced. The others are genuinely unsure how she does this and will randomly test it out, just to find that the food is in there again. They think she's particularly magical.

Zeus - He's in charge of the electricity. If they have a power outage, all eyes are on him. They don't ever need an electricity bill or to charge phones. They just put the phones on him when he's sleeping so that he won't snoop through their stuff (Yes, they have phone locks, but he can probably find a way to get past those).

Hermes - Sweep and vacuum duty. Everyone has to leave while he does this. He's flying around so fast that he'd give the healthiest immortal asthma with all the dust he kicks up. The nice part for him is that he can be done in a matter of seconds.

Hephaestus - He's in charge of building chairs anything the home needs. The computers, sofas, tables, TVs, etc. are all built by him. Oddly enough, they all buy their beds elsewhere. He's not sure why they don't trust him to build those too. It's not like he'd make it a trap or something :p.

Hera - She makes sure everyone has family dinner together. This might seem like an easy task, but it's probably the hardest. No one wants to do this. You have sets of siblings who will eat together and that is it. She will go so far as to lasso the younger immortals, dragging them to the dining room kicking and screaming. It's not pretty.

Poseidon - He cleans the bathrooms. He finds it sort of gross, but as soon as the others remembered that he could control water, that was a done deal. When he's in a bad mood, he purposely does it badly, then he gets glared at enough and fixes it. One day, he might learn to just do it right the 1st time.

Artemis - She's in charge of getting the animals to mount on the shelves. It's also not a responsibility anyone planned on her having, but she volunteered and ran off before they could stop her. They just deal with it now. They like it better when she brings back meat for them to eat.

Apollo - He makes sure that all the safety measures are taken care of. He's got the first aid kit FILLED. It's a little concerning. His siblings swear that he's waiting for them to get a limb ripped off. He also has fire extinguishers and everything else. They don't know if he's prepared because he wants to be or because he knows something they don't.

Hestia - She's the cook. Nobody could pull her away from the oven if they wanted and the food's great, so they don't want to. The home always smells like baked goods. The others love her so much because of this. She also lets them sneak and be taste testers whenever they like.

Hades - He pays the bills. He's filthy rich, so the others just sort of gave him pleading eyes and he caved. The poor guy barely even lives here, but he's still paying the mortgage, etc. (not electricity bill though!). The few times he comes to visit and check in, he wonders how the building is still standing.

Dionysus - Wine cellar duty. That and wet bar mixologist. He comes up with new drinks for the others and regularly sees how much they can handle before just being completely out of it. He finally got in enough trouble for doing this that he makes slightly less potent drinks now.

Aphrodite - Ambiance manager. She wasn't supposed to be a live-in girlfriend, but now she is and won't leave. The others don't mind, though. She puts out nice flowers, paints the walls, and makes sure the place looks beautiful.

(Let me know if you like the sound of this! If my upcoming Greek comedy book does well, I might release a continuation where there's a short story with this being a real thing.)

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