#he straightens his hair every day because he hates his natural hair and it makes me want to CRY

[ritualslaughter]

prying the straighteners out of my boyfriend's hands and tossing them away like they're a poisonous snake

#he straightens his hair every day because he hates his natural hair and it makes me want to CRY #he has the most beautiful classic curly hair he literally looks like a marble statue wtf!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #gonna take whoever taught him that his curly hair is ugly and burn them at the stake btw 💜 #bones.txt

[winkwonkwankwenk]

Alastor Head-cannons (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Listened to music a lot with his mother when he was a boy, and occasionally you'll catch him singing. He's still got the voice of an angel despite being a demon.

"Splendid!" "Old friend" His old dialect reminds you he grew up in the 20s- 1920s. You've tried teaching him modern slang but it just doesn't sound right coming from him. His eyebrows furrow when you laugh, "Was what I said funny? Do tell, I'd love a good laugh."

Still brushes his teeth and is intense when it comes to dental hygiene. Don't let the yellow fool you, it's just the new natural color. In general, he's very hygienic. He has a strict shower routine, skin care routine, don't even get him started on his hair routine. Condition, shampoo, rinse, condition again- the list goes on and on. You tried Spa Day with him once, it was more stressful than relaxing.

His hair is naturally curly but he straightens it for a "stronger" look. He thought if he kept his curls he'd be less intimidating, Charlie saw his hair wet once and wouldn't stop trying to pet him.

Will periodically check on Husk and when he can't will send Husk's favorite liquor. He's soulless, not heartless. He does tease Husk on occasion about his friendship with Angel, it's not every day he sees the cat so flustered.

Loves veal. You've walked in on him feasting on Elk and when you backed away he simply raised a brow. "Would you like to join me? There's more than enough to share." He didn't show it, but he was bummed when you politely declined.

Loner but loves company from those he's close with. When he's alone for too long he thinks a little too much on a past he can't erase. Times like this will make him force himself outside to stroll through hell. He's not an imp, he doesn't have to worry about being attacked. You on the other hand? Not so much. When you join him for strolls, he'll keep you beside him and away from the thrashed roads. "Stay close, I'd hate to see you hurt." You think he's oblivious to how buttery smooth his words are at times, little do you know he's been watching every change in your face from your flushed cheeks to your pursed lips. He smirks to himself, knowing he's caught you off guard.

Calls you annoying names when you're grumpy like "Sourpuss". When you glare at him he just flashes that annoying grin.

Owns a lot of other souls besides Husk's and will occasionally sneak up on them just to catch them off guard. He enjoys a good power trip, brings him back to the good ol' days. Kills just don't feel the same now, what a shame.

Not a fan of physical touch. Don't even touch his suit if you're a stranger. He's a bit more lenient with those he considers friends like Rosie and Charlie, and you- but you're a special case. Maybe it's because you asked before doing something as little as fix his bowtie. He didn't know his heart still had that kind of beat, he decided not to dwell on it. "I must be thinking too hard again, I should keep myself busy."

His ears and eyebrows express his actual emotions. He doesn't seem to notice it, but you've caught him writing with his ears down and brows in a U-shape. It's almost like he's pouting, but when you ask his face returns to that empty smile again. "Hm? Oh, yes I'm fine. Just sorting some script troubles for the next broadcast."

He's not used to accepting help, only giving it. When you cheerfully ask beg to help with scripting he can't find a proper way to say no, at least that's what he tells himself. You end up being more of a distraction and he has to push the broadcast back a few days. When you apologize he just smiles wider- you didn't think it could get any wider but it did. "Nothing to apologize for, my Dear. I enjoyed our time together."

Takes his deals seriously as most overlords do. You've witnessed brutal killings, the way his pupils morph when he's torturing a toy. He'll casually wave if he sees you watching. "Enjoy the show, Darling~"

Wakes up at the asscrack of dawn just to be awake. He also wakes everyone in the hotel up with his alarm- which is just a lord recording of himself singing some Jazz song he seems to adore. He won't apologize, but he'll have coffee prepared for everyone.

Doesn't like sweet coffee and is offended when he sips any, glaring at you like you've handed him a cup of shit. "Are you plotting? Why do you make this...Nevermind." He'll be grumpy the rest of the day, voice a low growl and smile a bit sinister.

Likes to Gamble, he's already in hell, what else is there to lose? He makes big bets, the biggest being a tooth from his precious smile. When you tried to warn him about the dealer helping the other player cheat he just winked at you. Before cards could even be shown, both were dead. "I've ruined another good suit" is all he says as if he hadn't just ripped the heads off of two demons.

He used to be dependent on his glasses when he was alive, he was uncomfortable without having them in hell which is why he has the monocle now. He doesn't need it, just makes him feel secure.

His radio voice lags sometimes and he'll simply refuse to talk until it's stable again. You're the only one allowed to taunt him about it without waking up surrounded by acid.

Lets you call him Al, and when Rosie asks him about it his smile closes into a strong squeeze of his lips. He hasn't escaped the teasing from her or anyone else in the Hotel who's noticed. If someone says anything while you're around, they better pray their deal comes with protection. "I suggest you keep your mouth closed." is the only warning given.

Likes strategy games so when you show him modern ones like battleship he's over the moon. He ends up with a board game collection thanks to you since you bring a new one over whenever you're invited to his broadcast station.

"Y/N, Darling, I have a bit of a favor to ask..." and you know you're about to go through hell- well, more of it. His favors always involve hunting someone attempting to break a deal, and most of the hunts are just you tagging along to watch him bloody his hands. At least he looks good in red.

He was quiet when he first met you, now that he's comfortable around you all he does is talk. Eventually he even picks up on your compliments and returns them and then- well, it just sort of happened.

Had no clue how to actually romance. He spent his life fulfilled from killing, not chasing love. After consulting Rosie and Charlie (mistake one, they both teased him shamelessly. It's not every day you see a flustered overlord). He tries pick-up lines but they always come out as jokes, and while your laugh is adorable he can't help but be annoyed. "Surely wooing a woman isn't this difficult, prehaps another method..."

Alastor's love language is gifts but not just materialistic ones. He knows what you like and he makes sure to get you it. You've opened your door to a bloody Alastor cheerfully holding a container of freshly-harvested organs, offering to cook them for you- his way of inviting you over for dinner. He's so excited you can't turn him down, and if you close your eyes you manage to convince yourself you're just eating chicken. He learns how to make your favorite dishes after seeing you forefeed yourself for his sake, and from then on makes them for you when you join him for dinner.

"Do not tell anyone about..." He doesn't know what to call the two of you, the traditional term felt a bit too intense. You know what he means, and although you don't understand it you agree. It's not that he's embarrassed, he knows you'll become a target if others find out too much. He also has a reputation to maintain. Unfortunately, the two of you are painfully obvious.

Adores holding you, especially when he's too busy to give you proper attention. You'll sit in his lap and watch him work, telling him when to take breaks. Sometimes the two of you will read together, his head on your shoulder and nodding when he wants you to turn the page.

Tried to figure out how to kiss you while smiling. You couldn't stop laughing so he gave up and stormed off to sulk. He was expecting you to just sneak up behind him but when you stood on your toes to kiss him, his smile faltered and his face flushed almost as red as his hair. "Y/N, get back here!"

NSFW (Most tame NSFW Head-cannon I've written because he's definetly slow to warm up)

Favorite petnames for you are Honey, Darling, and Sweetness. Sometimes he'll slip up and call you by a petname while around friends or in public. Unlike him, you can't mask your face with a smile and his falters when your friends stare.

He's clingy in public as if staying secret wasn't his idea. He keeps an arm around your waist, fingers intertwined with yours. If someone stares a little too long he'll strike a tentacle at them and they'll run off.

Speaking of the tentacles he seems to sprout, he likes to tease you with them. He'll lightly strike your legs when you're walking to get your attention just to turn away and do something else. He'll sneak up behind you and have a tentacle tilt your chin up so he can kiss you, then quickly leave. He's always in such a hurry, mostly to go peek into his chest and make sure his heart hasn't exploded.

His kisses get bolder as time passes, teeth grazing your lips hesitantly until you pull him closer. Soon he's comfortable enough to slip his tongue in, grip your hair, groan against your lips. These kisses turn into sloppy makeouts that leave your lips kiss swollen and slick between your legs. "We should get back to the group," he says it casually as he licks his lips.

You're needy, he knows, he can practically smell it- he just isn't sure what to do about it. This is something he definitely can't ask Rosie about, so he decides to observed you until he figures out. He didn't think you'd mind him being in your closet or under your bed, listening to you and your toys. You catch him once, face burning as you scramble to cover yourself. "Stay as you are, continue, please- I'm learning quite a bit."

You catch him attempting to file his nails down the next day but they seem to sprout back in seconds. He's irritated, you can tell by the antlers growing on his head. You tell him he could just use his tongue but he insists on doing it exactly how he saw you. You wither under him, hiding your face in a pillow. "You're quite tight, how am I supposed to fit anything when I can barely fit a finger, hm?" He teases, pecking your forehead. He does get curious and decides to have a small taste that leads to him eating you out, tongue buried inside you as he holds your hole open. It must feel good the way you're gripping his hair and antlers, trying to steady yourself as you rock against his face.

You didn't bring up going all the way, you wanted him to initiate it since you weren't sure what exactly his boundaries were. You expected him to bashfully confess his fantasies, instead you heard a knock on your door and then your body thudding against the mattress as he ravaged your mouth. He slams the door closed with a tentacle before ripping away clothes, eyes narrow and focused. His radio voice is gone, his raw desperation showing as he rams into you. "Dammit Darling, I tried to wait...but I've grown impatient. You don't mind, do you?" and when you shake your head no he knows he doesn't have to hold back. Wonderful.

He lets himself get pent up, refusing to let you touch him. At first you worry that you've done something wrong, but he pats your head and says "Y/N, I'll handle it myself." When you look at him with those eyes he can't hide his hunger, and he caves.

Rough? No, he's just passionate. He can't always say how he feels but he knows how to show it. Fingers intertwined with yours, tongues tangled as he stuffs you full. Part of why he lets himself get so pent up is because he loves how it feels releasing it all at once, the way you cry out and clench around him. He doesn't stop until he's fucked you silly, until his voice is static-less.

Rambles when he's close, from "Such a pretty thing, sucking me like this" to incoherent growls and grunts, he's vocal. When he's thrusting into you only his words are gentle, sweet praises like "Good, Good...you can take it~" echoing in your head as he holds it up by your hair.

He likes leaving bitemarks along your body but only where they can be seen. Good luck hiding the one on your wrist, and the one under your chin is exposed whenever you look up. Of course no one dares to mention it, but he gets a kick out of everyone knowing you're his- enemies and reputation be damned.

Like my writing? Check out my Ao3!! Reblogs appreciated!! I have an ongoing Alastor x Reader fic right now that updates weekly! This was actually a little warmup to get the writing going lol

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#wink writes 💗 #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #hazbin #alastor the radio demon #alastor smut #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel

[cherienymphe]

Love Bites III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.

~

Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.

As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.

You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.

It would’ve been a mark of love.

Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.

Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.

A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.

It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.

You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.

With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.

“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”

The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.

“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.

“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”

You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”

At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.

“Are you excited? One year older…”

While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.

How funny that he had met his end before you.

“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.

There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.

It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.

This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.

There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.

“We’re almost late because of you.”

Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.

“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.

“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.

At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.

“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.

It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.

“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”

You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.

You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“I haven’t-.”

“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”

Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.

“I’m not,” you forced out.

Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.

“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.

“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”

You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.

“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.

You were just the first to last this long.

Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.

You felt like you were in hell.

…and the devil himself was fast approaching.

The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.

“Y/N, you remember Jane.”

Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.

“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.

“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.

She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.

“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.

Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.

“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.

You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.

“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”

Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.

“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.

Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”

She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.

“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”

The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.

“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”

She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.

“…what?”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.

“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”

The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.

“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”

You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.

“Steve is quite taken with you.”

That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.

“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.

“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.

Deep down, you hoped that it was less.

Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.

“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”

You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.

“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”

Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.

“For now.”

Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.

“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…

That you understood.

You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?

Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.

There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.

No.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?

Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.

There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?

You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”

Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.

You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.

You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.

“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”

“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”

Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.

“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”

Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.

“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.

You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.

“Had you eaten?”

“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.

“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.

There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.

“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”

“Well…I’m not, so…”

“You scared me.”

“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”

The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.

“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”

You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.

“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”

You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.

You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.

…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…

You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.

Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.

The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.

Today, however…

Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.

You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.

Nothing about this day was actually for you.

Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.

You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.

It made you sick.

“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”

“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.

She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.

“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”

The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.

“So young…so terrified…”

She hummed, continuing with her work.

You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.

An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.

When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.

“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”

Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.

Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.

Natasha was right, of course.

Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.

He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.

You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…

With Peter not around to soften the blow…

When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”

You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.

“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”

“Didn’t it stop me already?”

You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”

You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.

My love?

You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.

“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”

You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.

The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.

This was a necklace bought with intention.

You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.

You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.

“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”

You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.

“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”

“Steve…”

“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”

Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.

“As my wife…my eternal lover…my consort.”

~

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#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction

[pandoraslxna]

Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 4

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 6.2k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, Miles pov, conflicted emotions, dirty talk, praise & degradation, rough oral (m receiving), thigh fucking, begging, virgin reader, obsession, authority kink, power play, corruption kink, brief mentions of blood from biting, (angst?)

Notes: this took me forever and idek if I like it or not🧍🏻‍♀️

Good has always pined for evil.

Ironic, because Quaritch knows what being good meant. Or, what being a good soldier meant. He couldn't tell when exactly this happened, but the knowledge came and stayed. He killed people. Of course, when there's an attack you fight back. He killed people on command, too. Sure, there are superiors who sit higher and see farther and they get the whole picture, so no command is mindless or unjustified.

Being a good soldier meant turning your common sense the fuck off, and following commands not doubting it for a second. Not thinking about why you attack instead of fighting back, or what is the reasoning behind missions involving sudden and bloody invasions. At one point, he also became said superior himself. Gave the commands to kill. Had blood on his hands without staining them, because those weren’t actually his hands that did it.

A good soldier is a thoughtless machine, and there is some fucked up irony in not using actual machines instead of human sources in military, he thinks. They want you to be a robot, but they need you to be a human. Or whatever is close to a human. Funny, now that he thinks about it.

He didn't think that working for Ardmore was much better or more sensible than being in the U.S. Army, or even working for Parker. The only difference was wielding more information. Not that he was sure that she shared everything she knew.

So in the end, he’s a good soldier, but that ultimately makes him a bad person. Not if you would ask him, no, there’s not even a spark of regret inside him. But to people like you, to you he must’ve been the devil himself.

And you know how that saying goes? Opposite attracts. And now Quaritch wonders, what does that make you? His antithesis in every way? Yes and no.

Because, turns out, sweet Cherry is everything Miles parents had tried to condition him to want in a person when he was young. A good person.

You’re driven to succeed, he thinks, every time he so coincidentally walks past the labs and you’re there, always working, day and night it seems, not so different from himself. You’re clean, he muses whenever he sees you in ironed clothes, seams sharp and not a hair out of place. You’re polite, he's reminded every time you drop "sir" and "ma'am" like it's second nature to you. You’re overly respectful, he realizes, always watching the way your spine straightens and gaze drops to your shoes whenever a person of authority steps into your space. And you’re pure, he knows it, innocent enough that his strictly christian mother would’ve approved of you, and yet, behind that façade, you’re not so innocent as it seems. So much so, that his father would’ve given him a proud clasp on the shoulder, murmuring something inappropriate while handing him a beer that would remind him why he’s never bought any women home to meet his parents. You care for others, for your environment. You’re empathic. And you’re good, in any way that matters.

And he hates it.

He hates the fact you’re everything he wants in a person, when he really shouldn’t. Because Miles fucking Quaritch, fifthy years of age, should not fool around with such a young little thing in her twenties, fragile like porcelain and pure like a flower that grew under a glass dome. Too naïve to even realize what you’re getting yourself into. It’s not like Miles has ever cared about the wrongs and rights in life, let alone what’s morally correct. But there’s something about you that makes him… hesitate.

In the grand scale of how much things in his life had changed recently, the Polaroids were just a detail. But he found himself attached to them like he’s never been attached to anything. Found himself holding the comically small photos in his big, blue hands every night like they’re a treasure.

It still shocks him to think that this is the same woman that he had met around a month ago. Pure little cherry. He scoffs because the thought of your shaking frame, big innocent eyes not able to meet his gaze, while nervously fiddling with your lab coat, is the same one he’s looking at right now on said Polaroids. It’s ridiculous.

Shocks him more that he likes this version of you way more than he would ever openly admit. That he wishes you would’ve captured your rosy cheeks on those photos, the way you blush and tremble and shy away. How you stutter when he makes you nervous. How your breath hitches. Wishes you would include videos next time, of you begging, calling him sir, saying please, please, please may I come? So sweet, it makes his teeth rot.

He wants to watch these soft lips moving as they say all those filthy words, with that tone in your voice like it’s the first time you’ve ever said them out loud.

Staring at those plush thighs as their spread wide open on your bed, Miles realizes he never wanted to dig his teeth into something more. There’s this desire to bite you, to mark you. Somewhere, it didn’t matter, just as long as he could see it. He wants to nip at your inner thigh, or maybe your bottom lip, your throat, your cute little ass. Wants to bite and suck and kiss until it bleeds and then gently, lovingly lick away the blood, simply because he knows you would allow him to do this. Because he likes the taste of you. Because he knows it would undoubtedly make you more wet. Because it would cause your snug little pussy to hug him even tighter.

Lately, these thoughts have become a vicious circle he can’t seem to break out of. Because no matter the scenario that plays in his head, all his thoughts ultimately lead to the image of him sinking his cock into your tight little hole. Something he doubts is even physically possible, starting from the difference in size between you and him. And there’s also this tiny issue, the fact that you’ve never actually done it before. That no one has ever popped your little cherry.

But it’s an ache he has, to pin you down and make you scream his name from the top of your lungs, let all of bridgehead hear who’s pounding your cute human pussy.

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? You’re a human. Small, tiny, fragile human. And he’s not– not anymore. What a fucked up joke from the universe, huh? Not the price he expected to pay when he signed up for the phoenix program, when he decided to direct his whole life to becoming a damn good soldier.

But there were things that did help to numb that ache, besides staring at your Polaroids, receiving new ones every couple of days to which he jerked off until his cock felt raw and hypersensitive.

Quaritch was working: doing his job, going on missions, working overtime, crawling into Ardmores ass to exchange informations, forcing his mind to block out every other thought, occupy it with what others would describe as an obsession with finding Sully. But also going to the gym and exercising with the Squad until black spots blocked his view.

Though no matter how hard he tried, that ache never really disappeared. So he decided that it was time to finally do something about this, even if it was just a temporary relief that didn’t include his own hands. Not when yours could work perfectly fine, too.

It’s been a while since he had last seen you, Quaritch realizes as he walks past the labs to find them empty.

Considering the time, it’s not unusual to find them empty, so he goes straight to your room. He doesn’t even know why, doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you’re not opening the door, that he can’t find you in the cafeteria either, why he doesn’t just take a cold shower and go to bed, why he couldn’t sleep even if he tried. Miles doesn’t know why. It’s not like he can just bend you over and truly ruin you, stain your purity forever once he’s found you. Fuck you long and hard and good and let that fire inside him cool off for a good while.

He wants to, yeah sure, but he can’t. And he doesn’t know why it drives him so insane.

Apart from the whole logistics of being almost three times the size of you, Miles has never been one to fuck around with women like you. Women, that don’t know what they’re doing. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel the way it does when you act all shy, trembling limbs and teary eyes when he touches you, greedily asking for more because it feels new and good so you just can’t help but beg for it– for him.

He’s not a teacher for fucks sake, he just wants to fuck. Release some stress. He wants to feel good, get a pretty girl on her knees after a long day at work and then make her ride him like she’s good for nothing else. Miles doesn’t want to show you how it’s done, to waste his time teaching you what most freshly eighteen year olds already know. Not his fault you’re such a social butterfly, sticking your nose into books and studying weird plants and what not, rather than to go out, get drunk and get laid. Fucking hell, who even are you to put such a pressure on him?

But god damn, don’t you look like a tasty little treat, running on that treadmill, with that absolute peach of an ass stuffed into a pair of sport tights that hug your curves just right.

Quaritch can’t help but watch once he’s finally found you. And he has a phenomenal view, leaning against the door frame of the common gym, arms crossed over his chest while his eyes scan you up and down.

Instead of cursing you for not spreading your legs for any other guy to spare him of the misery he was now trapped in, he dedicated his mindspace to mapping out all of the dips and curves of your body. The way your breasts bounced with every step, chest heaving, the flex of your thighs and the sweat beading at your temples.

The distant sound of music reached his ear, as he stood there in the doorway. Your headphones ensuring that no thoughts had any chance to form in your head, drowning out the silence of the gym at night.

With a scoff, Quaritch then finally decides to walk over to you. There’s a prickling feeling under his skin as he approaches you, still oblivious that you weren’t alone anymore, up until to the point where he pulls on the cords of your headphones and the music suddenly stops.

"Didn’t count you as a little gym bunny", he says, grinning. His fangs poke out from under his lip as he watches your eyes widen, immediately hitting the stop button to make the treadmill come to an halt.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me", you pant, clutching your chest. A little overdramatic, he thinks, raising one of his brows at the curse words falling so easily from your lips. He tilts his head slightly, looking directly at you, and you don’t even bother trying not to squirm under his gaze.

"Sorry, sir", you mumble and Quaritch doesn’t know if his eyes were just playing tricks on him, but it almost looked like you were rolling your eyes at him.

"You shouldn’t work out with your music on full blast when you’re all alone", he tells you, his eyes boring into yours like he had any right to tell you what to do. At least it felt like he did. "If I were less than a man, I could’ve taken advantage of that."

His grin widens for a brief second, but then you exhale a dry laugh, and now he’s almost certain you just rolled your eyes at him.

"Sure, I’ll keep that in mind for next time."

Feisty, he remarks, licking his lips. There’s something up with you, you’ve made that much clear. And maybe you’re not so much different from him than he originally thought. You and him, you might as well just be two sides of the same coin.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, kid?", Quaritch asks. If you want to act like one, might as well treat you like one. He straightens up, towering over you with his arms crossing over his chest like you owe him an explanation.

"Oh, I usually don’t work out, not like, like you guys. You look like you live here." You cross and uncross your own arms, failing to mimic his confidence stance, instead tugging at the hem of your shirt. "I couldn’t sleep, so i thought i could somehow tire me out." You shrug.

"Tire yourself out, huh?" Now that piques his interest, a half smirk tugging on his lips. "You know, I came here looking for you for the exact same reason."

The way you bite your lip and advert your gaze tells him more than words ever could. His tail sways in anticipation, feeling like a cat that just trapped a helpless little mouse. Miles leans forward slightly, lips close to your ear now before he whispers lowly, "You look pretty fucking good in these gym thighs, cherry."

Quaritch has definitely been fucked with to some degree, but your response freaks him out more than straight-up mockery would, somehow. 

"Aha." Oh?

His brows rise. It’s not even a response, it’s just a noise you make. But that little noise holds so much attitude, so many emotions. Quaritch can’t help but scoff. He had to give you that, you really had some nerves for someone who normally couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out when he’s around. And that newly found boldness makes him want to dig his fingers into your hips, make your little cherry tattoo turn into a bruised plump, spin you around and bend you over his knee just how you deserve for that.

"Alright", he exhales, trying to calm his nerves, "you got a lot of pent up frustration for such a little thing, so what’s with that attitude today, huh?"

You look at him like a lost puppy and now he’s the one who wants to roll his eyes, wondering why he even keeps up with this childish bullshit. If you were any other person, Quaritch would’ve loved to show you just how far that disrespectful tone gets you with him. But you’re not just any other person.

"You didn’t…" The words hadn’t even fully left you, and your eyes were already adverting to your shoes and your lips pursed into a thin line. Before you could finish however, Quaritch lets out a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, already knowing what’s about to come. "Listen, kid", he starts and if you were any close to Na‘vi, avatar, recom or whatever, your ears would’ve pinned back against your head. Instead, your shoulders slump, your whole body language suggesting that you were mentally preparing yourself to get lectured, because you knew the answer to this already.

"I don’t know what you were hoping you would get out of this, but if you’re looking for someone to be your first, that ain’t gon' be me."

His voice had grown a tad louder, accent heavier, and he halfway expected you to flinch or even tear up. Instead, you straighten up. Your hands may be trembling, but you hide it by balling your fists. Pushing out your chest, you gather all confidence that was left in you to snap back, "Why not?"

"Why not?", Quaritch laughs. He laughs because it’s funny, really. Because he can’t believe it, can’t help but wonder where all that is suddenly coming from. He laughs because if he wouldn’t, he would make you regret this. "I already told you. It’s not going to fit."

"What if I—"

"Cherry." It comes out as a warning. Your stance falters for a second, those big, puppy eyes returning to your face where just seconds before was such a fierce expression that it undoubtedly made him want to push you further, see how feisty you could actually get. But at the same time, Miles had just discovered just how easily you could get on his last nerves like this.

"I‘ll prove it. I can take it, just let me—"

A hand grabs at your lower face, thumb pressing into your cheek and four fingers digging into the other side, with his palm closing tight over your mouth and nose, keeping it shut. Quaritch yanks you forward, forces you on your very tiptoes to get your full attention.

"Will you stop acting like a desperate little brat, jesus christ." They were harsh, bitter words, drenched with equal parts lust and anger. They were meant to scare you off, yet you looked anything but scared. You looked aroused. Tempted.

To his surprise, words were muffled against his palm, refusing to keep quiet even with a big, blue hand halfway covering your face.

Rolling his eyes, he allows you to swat his hand away.

"You… You said you also came here to tire yourself out", you say, panting slightly once you’re able to speak and breathe freely. "I‘ll help you."

There it is. That side of you that’s so hidden from the rest of the world, it’s hard to believe it’s coming from the same person.

You see, Miles figured he loves the feeling of two opposites coming together. It causes friction.

His kiss is ravenous, the force of it tilting your body to bend backwards once he had dragged you into the communal showers at the gym. He feels your legs go weak, so his arm around your middle flexes, effectively supporting your weight as he pushes you against the tiled wall. His lips coax yours open with little effort as you're hardly putting up any resistance. The flavor of whatever gum you must’ve chewed a while ago is still rich on your tongue, sweet as ever and he groans into the kiss.

Quaritch explores your mouth determinedly, taking what he believes to be his, and he doesn’t even realize that this is the first time he had put his lips against yours. Long strokes of his tongue against yours, teeth catching your lips in bites, groans and moans caught in one another's mouth and swallowed up. His thumb runs up and down your jaw, occasionally applying pressure to adjust the tilt of your head as he changes the angle of the kiss, feels your hair tickle his forehead. Noses bump and brush, he inhales your scent, groans when it’s just as sweet as you taste.

His kiss is powerful. It commands. Look at me. Touch me. Feel me. Only me. It leads you, your movements, the pace. But yours is soft, pleading and submissive. Obedient.

It drives him to near madness, teetering him on the brink of sanity.

He presses himself harder against you, towers over you like a mountain. Your hands are small, and they claw at his arms, his biceps, his neck. They pull and pull, yet he doesn’t budge, doesn’t move unless he wants to. You make a whiny sort of noise in protest and he grins. His forearm rests against the wall, tiles cool against his burning skin as he watches you with half lidded eyes.

The same red that paints his new favorite fruit taints your cheeks crimson, as you hesitantly lower yourself to your knees.

A pleased rumble left him, and his smirk curled further, hints of too-sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips, "You did that before?" He wonders out loud. There’s a suffocating tightness underneath his briefs that only gets worse once you answer him with a quick shake of your head. No, of course not. He scoffs, equally amused as he is excited.

With trembling fingers and unsteady breath, you move your hands around to unbuckle his belt. Letting it hang open, you move to the button and zipper on the fatigues, a little clumsy as you tried once, twice, three times to get the damned thing open. Miles couldn’t help but chuckle.

You looked even smaller on your knees in front of him, pulling on the waistband of his pants to get his cock out. He could just stand there and watch, torture the little thing by letting her struggle, but his impatience has grown rapidly in those past few minutes so he swats your hands away and pulls his pants down just enough.

You hold your breath, waiting. Watching. The nervous tension makes a shudder run up your spine and he smirks, once you finally catch sight of his cock.

The way your eyes widen makes him remember the first time he had stared at himself in the mirror. The first time he was alone with this new body of his, the mirrored image of what he despised most. Alien, that’s what he looked like. What he must’ve looked like to you. Blue skin and faint purple tip, small bumps and ridges around the crown, littered in those glowing freckles that made him look like a damn toy, was what he had first thought when he saw himself. And there was also his size. The root of this whole situation, the reason neither of you could get what you so desperately wanted.

It’s a lot to take in, literally, and he enjoys the fact that not even a polite woman like you could stop herself from staring at him.

A shaky exhale of air then brushes over his tip, your throat bobbing as you swallow thickly and Quaritch tilts his head and chuckles. "What’s wrong? Where did all that attitude go, hm? I thought you wanted to help me out."

Your hands are still firmly planted on your own thighs, but he sees the subconscious little twitch of your fingertips. They want to move, but you don’t dare just yet.

"It’s- no it’s just, I’m, I—"

"You didn’t thought I was lyin‘, did you? I told you it’s—"

"I know", you cut him off, your cheeks blushing, "I- I know. And I still want to…"

The grin that tugs on his lips his dangerous and his tongue darts out to lick over his pointy canine, while he gives himself a slow tug. A small drop of clear, sticky pre-cum beads at his tip.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go on", he purrs lowly, "Touch me."

You’re hesitant at first, taking his length into your delicate hands. They’re warm and soft and he hums at the touch. You can’t even close your fingers entirely around his girth, but you try your best to give him an experimental stroke, feeling his weight and the texture of his skin.

"C‘mon, Cherry", he tells you, his hand brushing through your hair at the back of your head, before giving you a guiding little push. "Use your mouth. Get it wet for me."

Not so bold now, he thinks to himself as he watches you lick your lips and shuffle a little closer on your knees. Like this, it almost looks like you’re worshiping him. It gets him even harder than he already was before, makes his cock throb, feeds his god complex in just the right way. But then you place your lips against the mushroom-like head of his cock, plants a kiss right there on its slit almost tenderly, and Miles can’t stop the groan from escaping him.

Your big doe eyes are staring up at him, piercing right through his soul, before you give a little kitten lick to his length.

"I said use your mouth, not just your tongue", he says, albeit a little breathlessly. He ain’t got time for any of this practice shit today. You offered to suck his cock, might as well do it right then.

His hips buck forward, the head of his cock nudging against your kiss swollen lips and you part them dutifully. The tip is an easy fit, tight but manageable.

You’re timid at first, barely moving further down, but your tongue is practically dancing against him, so it's not all that bad. "There you go", Quaritch groans, the hand on the back of your head holding you still, makes you take him a little deeper. A little more. Your nostrils flare wide as you struggle to breathe and you close your eyes for a brief moment. Your cheeks hollow inward as you suck him. Just a few inches, and he can already feel some resistance on the back of your throat. It’s tight and you tear up, instinctively pulling away.

He clicks his tongue, but you’re quick to put him back into your mouth, warm wetness enveloping not even half of his throbbing cock once again.

Miles fingers have formed into claws, digging them into his own palm as one arm rests against the wall, the other fisted into your hair. It takes every fiber of will within him not to grab you and just force you down onto his cock, to make you choke on it while he thrusts deep into your throat. He’s filled with the sudden, perverse desire to break you, to stain you, make you as filthy as himself. It’s only fortunate that you can’t see the way his features have twisted through the tears in your eyes, from lazy pleasure into something animalistic.

Your mouth moves slowly over his cock, sloppy and uncoordinated. Barely enough of him fits inside your mouth to bring him pleasure, more than just a teasing swirl of your tongue. There’s drool running down your chin, your jaw opened as wide as possible as you sucked and slurped on his length. But he needed more if you planned to get him off properly, needed you to take him deeper.

The hand that had been brushing through your hair grips tighter, and then he slowly moves your head up and down on his cock, using your throat like you’re his personal little fleshlight. Just a couple of thrusts, merely a few inches more, already have him in the back of your throat, and he feels your muscles constrict around him. Helpless little gags fill his ears, followed by tears running down your cheeks.

The hands that had been clawing at his thighs like he was your lifeline had began to tug on his pants, while you whimpered and whined around his length, signaling him that you needed to come up for air.

"C‘mon Cherry, how are you supposed to take all of me when you can’t even suck me off properly?" His voice is taunting, a low growl as he pulls you off of him with a wet pop. You gasp for air, panting, chest heaving and he allows you a moment to catch your breath, before he pushes you back down. He’s careful not to actually hurt you in the process, but he’s also determined to get more of him inside your mouth.

Either you didn’t hear him, or your were pointedly ignoring him. Regardless, the result is the same. You’re struggling, gagging and whining and he knows you’re trying, but it’s been fifteen minutes and you’re not making any process.

Quaritch tsks, "Yeah, no, that’s not going to work. Get up here."

You make a small sound of protest when he pulls you off of him again, and then yelp in surprise when he grabs your arm and yanks you up to your feet. Miles stares at you for a moment, breathing heavily. Takes notice of your lips, swollen, gleaming with saliva and pre-cum. You look so utterly vulnerable. And that's exactly how he wants you.

His hand still holds your upper arm firmly, and he spins you around so sudden that you had to brace yourself against the wall in order not to fall. There’s a split second in which he ponders if ripping your leggings would be a good idea, considering that he didn’t know if you had any spare clothes with you in the gym. He decides against it, barely able to think logically with all the blood rushing from his head to his cock.

Hooking his thumbs underneath the tight waistband, he drags your pants down quickly, and your underwear with them. A pleasant hum leaves his lips when he finds you soaking wet, tiny hole clenching around nothing, all too eager to be filled. Miles gives a firm slap to your ass that makes you try and fail to stifle a gasp.

"P-Please", you mutter quietly, arching your back some more.

"Don’t get too excited", he leans in to whisper against the shell of your ear, chuckling. "Close your legs." Glancing at him from over your shoulder, there’s a look of utter confusion, mixed with disappointment on your face, yet you comply to his orders without a complain. And the feeling of knowing you would do anything he says, follow every one of his orders despite what you wanted, is simply indescribable to him.

Quaritch doesn’t take it slow now that he has you like this. His cock is still lubed with spit so it’s an easy glide as he positions himself behind you and pushes forward between the soft flesh of your thighs. You gasp, feeling the smooth length of his cock drag against your sensitive folds.

"That’s much better", Miles groans lowly into your ear as he begins to thrust back and forth.

It felt heavenly— the warmth of your skin enveloping his length in the same way a tight pussy would. He could feel your slick covered lips pressed against him, your arousal smearing between your thighs and his cock adding further to the impression of being inside you.

With an increasing pace, he begins to actually fuck the space between your legs. His cock bumps against your clit over and over again, which causes you to moan along to the filthy sound of flesh against flesh.

"Fuuckin‘ hell, that’s it." His hands on your hips had began to pull you back against his thrusts, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, as he used your body for his own pleasure. More arousal oozes out of you and both of you make a pleasant sound of acknowledgment at that. "Hmm, can feel you dripping all over my cock, cherry. You like it that much when I fuck your thighs, huh?"

"Y-Yes, f-fuck, yes!" His ears perked at the sweet little whine that trickled out of you when he snapped against the back of your thighs just a little harder. There grows a force behind his thrusts, one that makes it hard for you to stay still and let him use you, he can tell. Your legs are trembling, wanton little pleas falling from your parted lips. "Please, I- I need more! Miles, c‘mon…" You push back against, rising to your tip toes in an attempt to catch his tip against your entrance. "Please!"

He could come so easily like that, rocking back and forth, his cock trapped between the plush of your soft thighs, your slickness lubing his length enough to make his movements more fluid. Yet you were nowhere near close to your own release. His touch was just barely enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to get you anywhere. Poor little thing, Miles thinks to himself with a grin he doesn’t even bother to hide.

The sound of his cock sliding between your wet thighs was downright obscene and he could practically feel your neglected clit aching for attention, warmth slowly pooling into the pit of his stomach. And with that, he angles his hips to put more force behind his trusts, his length gliding through your folds, the tip of it pressed snugly against your clit, bumping against the little nub with every stroke.

Pleading mewls soon turn into desperate moans the harder he fucks your thighs. "Mmnh– need you, need you in- inside", you begin to brabble, staring up at him from over your shoulder. "Please, Mil– sir!"

"Christ, cherry", he curses against your neck, letting the heady vibrations of his rumbling growl pierce through your neck, letting you feel his words in the most primal way. Your thighs press together. "Do you ever shut up?"

Miles feels you press back against him weakly, nowhere near strong enough to get him anywhere. "I– I can do it, just let me…"

His annoyed groan is quick to cut you off. Whatever complain bubbled up your throat was shushes with a hand clasped over your mouth before it could even come past your lips. You make a muffled sound against his palm, your eyes continue to plead for him, but he’s determined to keep you just like this.

"Don’t be so goddamn stubborn", he grits out, teeth grazing the lobe of your ear and he feels the way your whole body tense as he bites down on it. "You got a lot of learning to do if you want to be good for your Colonel."

The smack of his hips against your backside makes punched out little huffs of air escape through your nose, and it’s almost adorable.

Meanwhile you could barely form a thought over the constant throbbing between your thighs, the slaps of skin hitting skin, the whining of your body being squeezed under an intense force and hands gripping your hips and keeping your mouth shut. You couldn’t even hear the heavy grunts of the gruff man behind you as he bit the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings of how good you felt around him.

Fingers dug deeper into your cheeks and hips, his cock almost rubbing you raw with how fast he fucked your thighs. The cock that still rutted between your silky legs was drenched in slick and Miles felt the way you tried to angle your hips and squeezed your legs to put more pressure on your clit.

Fuck, he was so close he could hardly hold himself back.

"You want to come?", he whispers into your ear. A pleasant shiver runs up your spine that even he could feel. Your response comes as nothing more than a muffled "Mhm! Mhm!" against his palm.

"Will you be a good girl for me now? Stop with all that whining bullshit and be a little grateful for what I do to you?"

"Mhm, mhm!" Your frantic nodding makes him thrust against you harder, and he relishes in the needy sounds you make.

"There you go, sweetheart", he chuckles, "That wasn’t so hard now, was it?"

The heat from his chest begins to pool in the pit of his stomach, coiling together in a painful knot that could only mean one thing. Miles groans against your shoulder, biting particularly hard as his hips start to stutter, the grip on your waist tightening once more, leaving definite blue bruises that wouldn’t leave any time soon.

He then shoves his fingers between your thighs, tips pushing and rubbing against the twitching little nub between your folds so hard it felt like he shifted it from its original position. You wailed against his palm like a banshee as you finally came, the sudden spark of pleasure aimed just at the right place sending you over the edge as tears spilt down your cheeks, rolling over the hand that’s still pressed against your mouth.

Your legs clamped shut tighter than before, squeezing his cock that was still thrusting in and out between your soft, wet flesh.

"Jesus, fuck", he grunts, breathing heavily, "good girl, good fuckin‘ girl."

Quaritch soon comes after you, biting again, until he left a giant bruise on your shoulder. He was drinking up every sweet little moan and gasp he elicited out of you like this, groaning and lapping his tongue against your skin while he pumped his seed through the space of your legs as it spurted from his throbbing cock.

Your eyes were still heavy with tears as you blinked to clear your vision, the bruising grip he had on your hips slowly loosening as he comes down from the high of his orgasm, but then tightening again, for just a split second that makes you tense up and flinch.

Miles is almost certain that that piercing pain he suddenly felt in his chest was some sort of cramp, some fucked up symptom of ptsd or his psyche struggling to adjust to this body that still wasn’t entirely his. But then that picture perfect doll face glances up at him from over your shoulder. Your eyebrows are pinched together, hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks flushed red and glistening in a thin layer of sweat, lips all swollen red and bitten raw.

And now he’s not so sure anymore where that piercing pain in his chest really comes from…

#miles quaritch #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles smut #avatar miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #atwow quaritch #avatar quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #quaritch smut #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #Avatar #atwow #avatar the way of water

[rustytrident]

i think the hc that occupies my brain the most is the "demonic nature is kinda like human world animals' instincts" so here is the breakdown no one asked for: why i believe demons are much less scary after you actually get to know them!

so, in case it hasn't been evident in my three posts and some lint i have about obey me on here (sarcasm) i am obsessed with the idea that even the most powerful of demons aren't able to resist their demonic urges. like their brain kind of blacks out?? and they do whatever tf either demon brain or sin brain (or both) tells them to do.

lucifer checks himself out on every. single. reflective. surface. fixing his collar, combing his hair, straightening his sleeves – he absolutely hates when he realises he does it but demon brain goes "oohhh!!! it's me im here!!" and sin brain goes "ihavetolookmybestatalltimespleasetellmeilookgood". every time he catches himself with his hand midway through his hair he sighs and tries to go on with his day (one time satan and belphie pranked him by putting mirrors everywhere) (they didn't know lucifer has memorised the layout of the hol and can walk anywhere with his eyes closed).

mammon is that one kid that touches anything shiny and sparkly. you could be wearing highlighter and just feel a poke on your cheek. turn around. it's your demon boy. his pupils are dilated. finger still on your face. half a toof fang sticking out of his mouth. fucking elated. glittery shiny sparkly holographic things are his demon brain cocomelon. sin brain just hoards any and all glittery shiny sparkly holographic things he can find. whenever he's upset he watches those slime or chalk asmr videos but they have to be the ones where the creators use a whole bag of glitter (or! or! the ones where people flick brushes full of glitter above their cameras in slow motion yknow the ones).

leviathan has to be quirky different not like other girls. he has to be the one with the most marine knowledge in the family, the one with the most ruri knowledge in the family – you get the point. i believe he has a touch of the demon tism so if you think you know anything about his special interests no you don't. he was actually there when it happened so joke's on you. yes he did witness the creation of the first amoeba now move. he's also that younger sibling that sees you get praise for doing something and does the exact same thing to get praise too. sin brain goes "if they get that then i have to have it". you see him wearing your clothes sometimes and when you think back you remember you got a compliment on it about a week ago (week agoo 🕺💃) and like yeah. makes sense (pls tell him he's pretty pls).

satan has chewy toys and wears a retainer pretty frequently because that wrath may be chronic but them teeth won't stay there for long if he keeps baring them!! he buys new ones once a month because he absolutely tears through them and everyone is just used to him popping in his acrylic retainer every time lucifer comes in the room. he isn't even half ashamed of his toys because trust me it's not a cute sight. this man is one of the most imposing beings you have ever encountered creating holes with his teeth in places you believe there weren't any before through what you're guessing used to be something green and made of rubber, but you aren't too sure. you ask him what's wrong and he just stares at you blankly and goes "nothing? why would anything be?". it's just a casual case of both demon and sin brain going "AUURGHHHDHS *chomp*". absolutely feral unicorn man with the straightest teeth you've ever seen.

asmodeus is in the same predicament as lucifer when it comes to checking himself out but instead he embraces the moment. and checks other people out too, as long as what they're wearing catches his attention. he's a very touchy demon so you can find him absentmindedly having his hands on you without even realising he does it: twirling a strand of your hair, playing with your fingers, tracing your jawline. it's just that demon brain goes "ohoho!! my humnan look at my humin go!!" and can't not touch you after that. he also bites. you think it would be mammon or beel but nope it's asmo!! you're just too pretty and he wants to feel close to you!! don't bring it up though he gets embarrassed. you know that meme where person a says "i wonder what i taste like" and person b says "i can help with that" and a imagines a kiss and b imagines biting person a? yeah, inside asmo are two wolves.

beelzebub is the randomest fucking demon in that household idc. he's always so quiet and you never know what he's thinking until one day he brings home a human world ostrich like it's nothing and gives it a "tour of its new home"??? absolutely insane. he also buzzes randomly?? like you'll be hanging out in the common room and all of a sudden you hear "bbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" only for another brother to go "beel. i can't concentrate on my book. please refrain from buzzing inside the house"??? hello??? i think he's got a passion for cleaning too (thousands of years of food and blood stains, crumbs and mould have taught him a couple things) so he is always ready to assist in cleaning his brother's rooms and won't stop until they look brand new. his most demon brain moment is when he lifts things. doesn't matter what or how heavy it is, if he sees something new around him he has to give it a little lift. same thing with the people he's fond of. you have been grabbed by the armpits one too many times to have an impromptu simba moment for three seconds, only for beel to just go on with his day, no explanation. what a demon *sighs dreamily*.

belphegor is the most like his familiars (or at least his habits are most prominent). you see the demon chewing and chewing and chewing like one bite of food and if you dare look at him weird he gives you the cow stare (pls tell me you know what im talking about). you see him in full demon form running headfirst into a wall with his horns (#satan_and_belphie_bonding_activity) and if you dare look at him weird he gives you the cow stare. kinda like his twin, he does random moo or hffphhhmp noises according to his mood without realising ("no belphegor, you can not destroy every wall in this house with your horns" "moOOO"). demon brain goes brrrr with some human world grass and some sunshine. like he absolutely loves being in that mediterranean countryside, twirling some grass between his fingers, eating it, living his life. best brother to go on a picnic with hands down.

fucking dorks *heart eyes*

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #sing me a song // the song of our glory

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Suguru and His Curly Girl ☆

Quick quick, quick headcanons because I can't sleep if I don't get this down, and it's 2am.

Suguru loves your natural curls so much.

You two bond over hair; sharing hair oils, brushing out each other's hair before a wash day, recommending each other products. Hair is a pillar of your relationship.

Suguru gets so mad when someone makes backhanded compliments or straight-up insults your hair. An insult to your hair is like a personal dig at him, and he does not let that slide.

Silk pillowcases ONLY in your household 😌

Your bathroom is SO cramped with different hair products. The amount of conditioner the two of you go through together should be illegal.

Suguru thinks you're beautiful in every single form you hold... however, he will quietly pout to himself when you straighten your hair. He adores the way your corkscrew curls frame your face and hates to see them flatten out. But, he won't hesitate to help when you ask him if the back is completely straight... cue an insane amount of heat protectant.

He loves it so much when you brush out his hair or massage his scalp. Suguru's hair is so soft, too. He takes such good care of it.

People are constantly trying to grab at both of your hair 🙄 with his silky-smooth, dark locks, and your playful, bouncy curls, people are bound to not be able to mind their business and keep their hands to themselves.

There are definitely date nights that you two just do hair masks together.

There's so much hair stuck to the shower wall LMAO

Your hair is a perfect contrast to his, and he wouldn't want it any other way. ♡

Okay, definitely word vomit and definitely not my best work, but I NEEDED it out of my system.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

#jjk x reader #size difference #jjk #jjk suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jujustu kaisen #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou suguru x y/n #suguru fluff #geto suguru fluff #getou suguru x reader

[daenysx]

Hey there ! I adore your aemond fics and i would loveee to read smth about aemonds curly hair ( we all know he straighten his hair every morning!!) like the reader just loving his curly hair 🥴🥴🥴🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi!! thank you for this request and your sweet words, i hope you like this little shot!

my inbox is always open in case you'd like to share something with me!

my masterlist

good hair day

modern!aemond doesn't really like his curls but you adore them.

you wait patiently for your boyfriend, staying on his bed. you wear nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of knee socks. his bed is so soft under you, it takes great amount of effort to not fall asleep.

aemond comes out of bathroom wearing only his sweatpants. his chest is covered with lovely drops of water and his hair is still slightly wet from the shower he took.

he looks at you with a little smile on his face, you sit on bed when he comes closer. he sits on the edge of the bed and leans in to give you kisses.

"your-hair. still wet." you say, between his kisses.

you leave the bed, knowing it will distract you from your sleep. you return with a dry towel in your hands, climb on bed and stay on your knees behind him.

you guide him to stay between your thighs as you dry his hair with slow movements. his hair smells so nice, you can't help but lean and kiss his lovely locks.

as the water leaves his hair, you notice how pretty it looks, shaped in curls and perfectly shiny. you let go of the towel and squeeze his locks in your hands slowly, to make them more curly.

"you have the most perfect hair, i have no idea why you straighten your locks when it looks so beautiful." you say.

"because using straight hair is always easier for me. the curls only look like this when they are wet, when my hair is dry they look frizzy."

you hum quietly, still moving your fingers in his hair. "you could use some products to make them look fine."

he smiles softly even though you don't see his face. "what's with the sudden obsession with my curls, hmm? i thought you liked my hair when i straighten it."

you hold his shoulders, and he easily pulls you to his lap. "i love your hair, curly or straight, but this is your natural hair and it looks so beautiful! and it's so fun to play with, i could spend hours just playing with your curls."

he holds your face and kisses you on your lips. you hold the back of his head, gently rubbing the skin. he makes a quiet sound when you move your fingers to ease off the pressure there.

"can you- can you keep your hair like this just for tomorrow? we'll stay at home all day, i'll be the only one who sees you with curly hair."

he rolls his eyes playfully. "fine. but you have to help me with shaping them properly."

"of course! i promise you won't have a bad hair day!"

you are so cheerful, it makes him want to frown and smile at the same time. he often feels like this because he can't say no to you when you're being so adorable.

"and this is just for one day, okay? you cannot ask me to do this again because i hate it when my hair looks messy and frizzy which is exactly what my curls feel like. is that clear, sweetheart?"

you nod, knowing perfectly well that you'll ask for this again. "mm-hmm. yes, aemond."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond × reader #aemond fluff

[poppinspops]

Dear older brother

Lucerys velaryon as your brother (platonic) the beginning of your relationship to the end of it..

Fem reader! Sorry, it's just easier to write for girls as a girl myself. I do hope you understand

Lucerys is your older brother as you were born a year after Luke was born a bastards, just like your two older brothers having dark hair and dark eyes

Though your mother Rhaenyra doesn't like it when you call yourself that neither do your two brothers bit alas you still do when upset with yourself

Lucerys HATES being called Lukey by everyone that's not you, and you hate when others (besides joffery, jace, and your mother) call him lukey

You and jace mainly use it when you are teasing him, and sometimes Rhaenyra joins in

You two where sat next to each other at dinner, always whispering about something or someone you always did strive to make your older brother laugh

Luke is more open with you because you would come into his chambers and let your brother rant to you

Often, big events ended in him in your arms crying after something stressful happened. I'm his chambers, though you didn't mind

You're usually the one consoling him if your mother hadn't beat you to it

You are the definition of a brothers girl

You are usually seen next to luke or walking besides him

Though if Lucerys isn't off with jacerys doing something most likely practicing sword fighting, you'd be seen with your mother Rhaenyra

During important dinners or really any social event your mother planned or was invited to, you'd always would be seen standing next to luke or sitting with him whispering to Luke

Most likely, just you gossiping to him about something another Lord told you or how disgusting one of the lords where with you

-----------

You bumped Lucerys gently with your elbow whispering to your older brothers "so.. how are you 'enjoying' this beautiful banquet older brother?" Giggling as you saw his quick roll of the eyes before he replied back in a hushed tone

"Oh, I see how it is.. how was dancing with almost every lord tonight?" Luke said with a sly smirk on his pale face. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Your feet hurt from all of the dancing you had to do tonight it was almost as bad as your name day.. "delightful." You replied in a strained voice. Luke had laughed at that, making you smile and laugh along with your brother, elbowing him harder this time, making him yelp out in pain.

You two quickly composed yourselves when your older brother turned his head over to the two of you making you straighten your back and look away from his gaze not seeing the small smile on his face form from seeing his two younger siblings seeming to have fun teasing one another.

-----------

Luke is the calmer one between the both of you which was funny as your mother thought that her having a girl after her two boys would mean the two older boys where going to be the ones protecting their younger sister from others when it turned out to be the complete opposite, not that Rhaenyra minded at all she was proud that her first daughter could defend herself

Though she did wish that you would hold your tongue at times as you would go head first into arguments no matter if your brothers were in the wrong or not

One of your brothers could have been the ones that got the facts wrong, but you would have defended them with your life, that made you get into physical altercations with many lords and some lady's aswell

Though Rhaenyra was proud of that as well as as Luke was rather reserved, it was like she had given birth to a second jacerys. Just this time, you could punch harder than jacerys could..

You were a natural when it came to learning High Valyrian much like Luke was

When you got the news of your mother being pregnant, it left you overjoyed, so you so dearly wanted to know if you had a little sister coming. Look. It's hard being the only girl in a family with mainly men.

When your baby brother joffery was born, you adored him from the moment you first got a glimpse of him

You always volunteered to watch over little joffery, to teach him how to walk and how to say his first words

Though this did leave Lucerys a bit envious of his little brother joffery and how he seemed to take up all your time and attention

It caused Luke to start giving you a bit of the cold shoulder rolling his eyes when your little brother was brought up

When you had figured out why Luke was giving you the cold shoulder for a few weeks, you laughed and teased him for it

You and Jace had started teasing Luke about it for months on end

You had started spending all your free time teaching your younger brother how to speak and colors, much to Luke's dismay, often seen in Jofferys' room reading to him, as you had always wanted a younger sibling and you had finally gotten one a well mannered one at that.

You were a tad bit upset that he wasn't a girl, though you had quickly gotten over that once you saw him

When you where younger you used to follow Luke around just like little joffery does to you

It was funny to Rhaenyra that joffery acts so much like his older sister

though she was glade that unlike his okder sister, joffery didn't go and dig up holes in the ground, looking for worms much to her dismay when finding her daughter outside, digging up bugs from the ground..

You were never too fond of Daemon, though he seemed to be fond of you quite a lot being as he has daughters of his own so he understood you on a level your brothers just didnt.

he was the first one to defend you, or he'd just appear by your side randomly at times

once you had punched him out of shock, though he just smiled as your punch didn't do much.... that day hurt your pride and ego very much, though you were just happy you didn't get punched back.

You and your mother Rhaenyra got along swell she's gets you the most since your two woman

You being Rhaenyras' first daughter and all making you have a special place in her heart as you weren't going to get a fancy title like you had always hopped for as you were sadly born a woman. And your brothers men.

Yours and lucerys safe place was always near the water

Least to say, after his death, it was no longer your safe space it was a place of fear and death.

You had gotten news of your elder brother lucerys death when you were getting ready for bed. The news brought you to your knees in tears, your mothers soft voice trying to calm you down

It took hours for you to stop crying. Your eyes had a red rim around them with rear stained cheeks

You wouldn't come out of your room and barely talked much after for almost half a month

The funeral couldn't even be called one as all you had of your brother was clothes. They couldn't find your elder brothers body, and that made the anger in that you boil up a bit, making you snappy at people

You had sympathy for aemond before he killed your brother, you did feel a bit bad for his eye being stabbed out by your older brother feeling guilty everytime you saw him with that eyepatch he is a child like yourself afterall..

You never did hate aemond you two would well 'talk' it was more of exchanging words when you had too though Jace always seemed to come in and swoop you away you where always greatful for that

Aemond took every chance he could to remind you of how your brother took his eye

you didn't know what kind of reaction the older boy wanted to gauge from your but he never seemed quite happy with the reactions you had

He only seemed pleased when you would apologize for your older brother saying how he shouldn't have done that and things along those lines for some odd reason unbeknownst to you

Though you always found aemond to be a bit weird, so you brushed it off as aemond being aemond

After your brothers death your heart held no sympathy for the older boy

when you thought of the one eyed boy, all you could think about was taking his other eye from him and forcing him to live the rest of his pathetic life blind.

You could no longer see the ocean as safe and calm. You saw the true nature of what the oceab could truly do. Its waves were angry as it took the lives of people you held so very dearly into its depths to never be seen again. Maybe that's just how you saw it in your hour of grieving

After half a month, you were slowly healing your relationship with the sea, knowing that at least your brother died both as a targaryen and as a velaryon and he wasn't alone in death he had his beloved dragon both dead but dead together.

#platonic!reader #platonic! lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys targaryen #lucerys Targaryen x reader #platonic! lucerys valerian #lucerys velaryon younger brother! #lucerys velaryon x reader platonic #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #got #sen yapping yaps #little sister reader #older brother lucerys velaryon #im js a girl #aemond targaryen #joffrey velaryon #daemon targaryen #jacerys and reader #joffery and reader #daemon and reader #headcanon #js some headcannons #my hcs #out of character.

[vixialuvs]

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ TXT HYUNG LINE REACTION TO WHEN YOU ARE INSECURE ABOUT BEING HISPANIC ! ⋄ 𓍯

୨୧ genre. angst w/comfort

୨୧ cw. insecurities, crying, cuddles, racism

୨୧ a/n. should i do a maknae line ver. of this?

✶ YEONJUN !

﹒ yeonjun would likely respond with understanding and reassurance. he might express empathy, acknowledging the validity of your feelings while gently reminding you that your heritage is an integral part of who you are and something to be proud of.

﹒ when he comes home one night to find you crying on the couch, picking at your skin, he immediately knows what’s up. he’d bring you into his arms, littering kisses across your skin, murmuring things like “you’re so perfect baby” and “i love everything about you and your heritage, don’t hate yourself.”

﹒when he finds out you’re crying about your skin because someone was being extremely racist to you at work, his grip tightens. he’s pissed now, not at you but at the idiot who had the nerve to say that about you. for the rest of the night, he worships your skin.

✶ SOOBIN !

﹒ he would def react with a gentle and caring demeanor. he would express understanding of your insecurities about your hair, taking note of the societal pressures and standards that can contribute to such feelings. he would offer words of reassurance, emphasizing the uniqueness and beauty of your curly hair.

﹒it’s another day of straightening your hair, since you despise your natural hair so much, all you do is take a flat iron to it. you know it hurts soobin, but you can’t help but hate the way it frizzes up and you can never get it to look the way curly hair looks on instagram. as you pick up the straightener to straighten the first strands, he pulls it away gently.

﹒“sweetheart, your natural hair is beautiful. i want you to embrace it. i can even help you style it, if you like?” he would whisper, looming over your figure in a non threatening way, before moving to sit beside you at your vanity. he would kiss your cheek and murmur all sorts of things about how much he loves your hair and how enamoring it is, as he helps you finger coil each and every one of your soaking wet strands.

✶ BEOMGYU !

﹒tell me this man is not in love with curly haired latinas. you can’t. that’s why he loves you so much, he thinks your utterly perfect in his eyes, and loves learning about your culture and what makes you you.

﹒he is constantly praising you about your hair and your skin, knowing how you can get insecure. he refuses to play with your hair when you style it natural because he doesn’t want to mess up all the hard work you put into it.

﹒when, one day, the odd looks of everyone in korea gets to you, the way everyone wants to take a picture with you like you’re a tourist or a statue, you break down in his arms as soon as you get home, your soft cries filling the apartment as he holds you. he rubs the nape of your neck comfortingly, kissing your cheeks and nose as he whispers words of endearment.

@vixialuvs ‘24. reblogs/likes appreciated!

#▹ ﹑→ ﹒vixia talks ! ﹐ ᶻᶻ #txt x reader #txt #soobin x reader #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #txt soobin #choi soobin x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #beomgyu x you #soobin x you #txt yeonjun #txt x you #txt x y/n #soobin fluff #beomgyu fluff #yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun #txt scenarios #choi soobin x y/n #soobin x y/n #txt fluff #txt comfort #soobin comfort #beomgyu comfort #yeonjun comfort #txt soft hours

[moonjxsung]

hi lovely - I hope you're doing well!

i had a soft chan thought (based on a very real struggle 😭) that I felt I should share.

but imagine chan dating wavy/curly haired y/n who enjoys wearing her natural texture. But lately she's been having a hard time styling her hair so she's resorted to tying it back or straightening it a lot more than she's okay with.

imagine boyfriend!Chan taking note of it but he doesn't realise its a big deal until he comes home one day to find y/n, extremely frustrated in front of the mirror, her hair products scattered in front of her. and it would click.

he'd approach slowly with a "hey baby," then engulf you in a hug before saying "tell me what's wrong" and he'd pat your back as you release all your frustrations, letting out small hums every now and then.

"I hate my hair. It's so difficult - I can't figure it out!"

When you've released it all and your breaths are calm, boyfriend!Chan would look down at you, gently caressing your face before saying, "how about we do it together, hmm?"

boyfriend!Chan who would sit you on the bed before gathering your stuff. boyfriend!Chan who'd utter a "wait here" before leaving the room only to reappear with a warm cup of tea for you and your favourite snacks. boyfriend!Chan who'd put your favourite film on before taking a seat behind you and running his fingers gently through your hair.

boyfriend!Chan who works through your hair routine with you and, despite not wearing his own curls much, partakes in it himself to make you feel that much better.

after it all, he'd give you so many compliments and you know you don't have to doubt the sincerity of a single one because the weight of his voice, the truth in his eyes, and the pure adoration is his tone is enough.

boyfriend!Chan who'll pull you up to him after tidying up and kiss your forehead gently. boyfriend!Chan who'd cuddle your blues away, fiddling with your hair. "Let's style our hair together from now," boyfriend!Chan promises.

~~~

anyways, I just feel like chan firstly would create such a safe space where even the smallest worries/problems are validated. and secondly, he would really take his time when helping y/n with her hair. And every moment onwards, when they do their hair, he would gladly jump in whenever you ask him for help.

thats all from me. Take care, lovely!

-🦁

CRYING…, THIS IS SO HIM 😭☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ YOU BLESSED US AGAIN ☹️☹️☹️☹️💘💖💓🫶💕🩷

#🦁 anon #ask #stray kids #skz #chan skz #bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz scenarios

[latoyalestrange]

how the hl boys would react to their partner having curly hair

ominis, sebastian, and garreth x curlyhair!reader (might add more later)

inspired by a new hufflepuff mc with curly hair. this is also very self-indulgent because i have curly hair lmao. i tried to keep the points specific to curly hair and not just anyone with hair if you know what i mean. hope you enjoy!

ominis

he would 100% smell your hair every time he was near you. he loves the smells of coconut and mango or whatever was in your curl cream.

he wouldn't mind when it would get in his face while you were kissing. it ticked, but that just meant he could tuck it behind your ear, and he knew you liked that.

he would LOVE to detangle your hair after you washed it. in fact, he asks you if he can do it if he knows you doing it yourself.

he wished he could bottle the sounds of contempt coming from you as he gently brushed through your hair, giving you a scalp massage after.

he one time asked you to teach him to braid your hair. it was a learning curve for him, but he loved it.

he was apprehensive at first when you asked him to do a hair mask with you, but he's actually quite fond of them now. he loves how it makes his hair feel, but he mostly likes it because it's an excuse to be close to you.

i feel like he would also constantly be on the lookout for new ingredients that could be good for your hair. he would also go shopping in hogsmeade and look for things for you there, including anything for your hair.

overall, caring for curly hair was entirely new concept for him but he was 100% committed to learning, since he hoped his kids would have curly hair like you.

sebastian

oh how he loooooved playing with your hair

whether you were kissing, or just enjoying the other's company, his hands always found their way into your lush strands, twirling a ringlet in his fingers occasionally.

his favorite part though is how frizzy and adorable it looks after you guys fight a hoard of spiders or inferi or something

he would chuckle and say "you look like a kneazle, love"

"sebastian!" you'd try to smooth it down with your hands, but it didn't work of course

"don't worry, it's adorable"

anne would've already taught him to braid her hair, so he didn't hesitate to help braid yours when you asked him

he liked to add tiny little braids in your hair when you weren't paying attention and when you would find them later in the day you'd be like wtf

he loves your messy buns. its his second favorite look on you. the little coils that escape around your hairline *mwah* chefs kiss he loves them

whats his favorite look you may ask? down. 100%. he loves the way your curls bounce around your face when you turn your head or are walking. he can't help but stare, whether you're walking with him or just passing by.

he'd never admit it, but he didn't hate the fact that he would find your hair on his robes and seemingly everywhere else. every time he would find one, you would pop right back into his head as if you'd never left.

garreth

he wasn't the type to do hair care with you or for you, but he loved giving you scalp massages. this man would take his TIME.

if you had your hair up all day he would move his hands down to your neck and shoulders and massage there too.

even though he didn't know much about hair, he knew he liked watching you do yours. whether you were detangling it or styling it, he thought the face you made when you were concentrated was so fucking cute.

garreth likes it when you have your hair half-up "so he can see your pretty face".

if it started raining while the two of you were outside, he would instantly cover your hair. either with your hood or he would take his off to put on you.

if you were to get your hair done, either curled or straightened, he would obviously compliment you but he would secretly miss your natural curls. so. much.

he doesn't play with your hair as much as sebastian but when the two of you nap together, he lets you lay your head on his chest and he'll play with it to help you get to sleep faster.

when you're on a picnic date, he'll pick little flowers to stick in your hair. sometimes you don't find all of them straight away and a couple fall to the floor the next time you style your hair.

if you forget to wear your bonnet/ don't care to put one on he teases you about your bedhead the next morning. he honestly thinks it adorable though.

reblog if you made it to the end!

#harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley fluff #garreth weasley imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis gaunt hc #hogwarts legacy headcannons #hogwarts legasy hcs #hogwarts legacy hc #sebblurb

[jaeminri]

dim lights

synopsis. everyday, no doubt do you make your way to the café ten minutes away from your school and all because you noticed the cute barista behind the counter three months ago. and everyday, you pray he notices you too.

pairing. jungwon x f!reader

genre. fluff, college au, barista au, unknown mutual pining, strangers to lovers, sunghoons bi in this lol

word count. 2.8k

warnings. none! other than the fact the amt of fluff in this is so sickening u'll nvr c me write it ever again

notes. that one en-oclock ep! n the fact that i just love barista aus and yang jungwon. this was meant to be a drabble oops

“Again? You've been ditching us for almost two weeks now!” Your friend whines.

With a sheepish smile, you hurriedly stuff your books into your bag, carrying some that couldn't fit in. “Sorry Yujin, but this event's really important so I have to be there!” You lie, tidying up your hair before waving bye to your friends and rushing out of the lecture room. You honestly aren't in a rush, but the excitement pumping through you made you feel like it. There is no event, but you feel like if you tell your friends the truth, they'd beg to tag along.

Just before you exit school, you quickly check on your appearance in the reflection of the glass doors, dabbing on some more of the lip tint that had rubbed off since morning and curling your lashes just a little more. People stare as they walk pass, but really, who cares? Then with fast steps, you make your way down left of your school.

It takes less than ten minutes for you to arrive at Whiskers. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You're nervous, you always are. You pull down on your sweater to calm yourself, straightening it as you heave a sigh and walk into the café. The bell chimes loudly and immediately, the fragrant aroma of coffee beans hit your nostrils and there is a tinge of sour lemon smell today. You figured you could have a slice of cake too. From the counter, cheerful voices of “welcome” echo in your ear and you turn to smile at the employees whom you've familiarized yourself with.

Your eyes wander about the café for a brief moment, then with a much more relaxed heart, you approach the employee behind counter, “Hi. Can I get—”

“An iced americano and a slice of lemon cake?” The boy behind the register finishes for you, a knowing grin plastered on his face.

Nodding as you fish out some paper bills to pay, you laugh, “Do I come that often? You even remember my order now, Sunoo.” The latter tears the receipt from the machine and hands it to you, replying, “Yes Y/N, you come almost six out of seven days every week. Do you really think I wouldn't already remember your order by now?”

“I suppose so.”

“Exactly. And it isn't even just me, you know? Sunghoon and Riki remembers it all too.”

“Wow, I must be your favorite customer,” you joke.

Sunoo scrunches his nose with a shake of his head, “Yeah, no. When you're around, we try to stay away from you. You're actually one of the customers we avoid most.”

“Hey—”

“I'm kidding!” He laughs, “Go take a seat, I'll bring your order to you.” You do as told, finding the usual seat that gives you a view of the nature outside. It's autumn — almost winter — and as much as you hate the cold, you somehow still find yourself always taking a ten minute walk here, to Whiskers, just to have an iced americano that you can find at the Starbucks right beside your school.

There was only one reason for your doing, though.

As you let your eyes drift back into the café behind the counter, you finally spot him. The sole reason for you being here almost 24/7 for the past few months ; Yang Jungwon.

He's being pushed around by his friends, whom you know are Sunghoon, Jay and Riki. They're laughing and blabbering about something that makes Jungwon's ears go red as he shakes his head in a persistent manner. He seems flustered, you think, at whatever they were telling him. Whatever it was, it made you smile to yourself as you looked out again.

Yang Jungwon was simply a boy who worked at Whiskers. You had only noticed him one night after you had dozed off doing your assignment. It was embarrassing, really, and you thought he'd get annoyed like any normal café employee would, but he didn't.

Instead, Yang Jungwon (apparently) had let you sleep all the way till 10pm, 30 minutes after the closing time. You had awoke with drowsy eyes, slight drool gathering at the corner of your lips, slow to process your surroundings. The café was already dim, the only light on was the one at the counter where Jungwon sat. You had apologized profusely, packing your things in a hurry out of embarrassment. The boy, with no sight of anger or annoyance, told you to calm down and even offered to walk you home because it was late. While it was sweet of him, you had turned him down, already feeling burdened and apologetic. And without even saying anything else to him, you practically dashed out.

That was pretty much your first and last interaction with Yang Jungwon. Yet, when you had got home, laid in bed and replayed the events in your head, you realized the boy who sat underneath the dim lights of the café was so fucking gorgeous. He had a gentle grin, dimples so deep you could pour water in them and it would stay, and eyes so bright like they had stars in it. It made you giddy and you wanted to see him again.

So you did (and that's all you really, actually did).

The visitations to the café leading up consisted of you conversing with mostly Sunoo and sometimes another employee, (who wasn't working today) Heeseung. Other than that, all you ever did was sit at a corner and sneak glances at the cat-alike boy. You couldn't bring yourself to apologize or interact with him, and it seemed like he wasn't interested in doing so with you either. It seemed as if he was avoiding you every time you came in, or maybe he had simply forgotten about you. As discouraged as you were, you didn't force anything else. And today seemed to be no different, seeing as how it was Sunoo who took your order and also prepared it.

Hence, just like any other day, you pull out your books and laptop and begin on your almost due assignments. You do so until your order is served by Sunoo, as usual.

“Hello, here's your iced americano and your lemon cake.”

Eyes never leaving your laptop screen, you smile at Sunoo and nod, “Thanks, Sunoo.” There is a moment of silence and only then, do you notice that Sunoo still hasn't left your table, so you look up.

“Did you need...” Your eyes meet big wide ones, and your words trail off, “...something...”

Jungwon chuckles, “No, not really. And I'm not Sunoo, you know.” He says it like you don't know him, but you do. Why wouldn't you? You just assumed it was the other male because it had always been him and you thought today was no different.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say.

“Oh?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I mean, I know.”

Jungwon has a teasing grin on his lips, as he scratches the back of his head, “You know? So you know me?” You realise how creepy you actually sound.

You blank out.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N?” You repeat.

He knows my name?

By now, Jungwon has a confused expression on his face. He rubs his neck, stifling a slight chuckle, “Are you okay, Y/N? You seem... almost out of it?” His sentence ends like a question, as if he isn't sure himself either. You feel heat creep up to your neck and cheeks, because God, could you embarrass yourself any more than this?

“Sorry, I'm okay. I'm just,” you pause, trying to form a sentence, “just shocked. How—How do you know my name?” Your question slips out with no hesitation and you slap your mouth at that. You suppose it's okay though, 'cause Jungwon laughs, dimples making an appearance again.

He is so cute, what the heck, you think.

“I mean, you come almost everyday. It would be more odd if I didn't know your name, right?”

“Oh... yeah, right.” That was what Sunoo said too, though he didn't mention anything about Yang Jungwon.

He noticed. He noticed your presence every time you were here. You didn't know if that was good or bad because on one hand it really flattered you — you came here for him anyway — but on the other, it was embarrassing because then, he basically remembers that night.

“Uhm, actually,” Jungwon's voice brings you back to reality again, “I was wondering, if you wanted to go out some time. To get to know each other?”

What.

You stare up at Jungwon blankly, and he does the same to you, except his face is flushed and his cute as hell eyes are staring back at you widely. You can't seem to process anything. Your mind is empty, heart pounding, throat dry.

Did Jungwon just ask me out? Yang Jungwon?

Even as you watch his expression drop, you can't seem to get any words out. Only when he starts to take a step back to turn around and apologize for “bothering you”, do you say something.

“Wait!” Your voice is louder than you want it to be.

Jungwon gazes at you, expectant.

“I—sorry, I just...” You trail off and his wide eyes droop again, and you realize just how disappointing your words sound. “No, I mean, I'm not sorry. I'm just,” Your head is a mess. Because you simply cannot process the fact that Yang Jungwon — the boy you've basically been pining for for about two months — is asking you out. Like how? When? Why?

“You don't have to force yourself, Y/N. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

You stop Jungwon from completing his sentence, “No! I-I swear I'm not forcing myself. I would love to go out some time. I just, am really nervous right now so I can't think. I mean I've noticed you for the longest time like since that night, you know? The falling asleep incident? Yeah, that. And I've always wanted to talk to you and just apologize but I couldn't gather my courage. So I just came everyday in hopes that I would be able to one day. And now that y-you're here talking to me, I cannot—”

“Y/N,” Jungwon calls softly, “breathe.” His words make you notice that you are rambling and only then do you inhale fully. He's laughing a little now, less tense and more relieved. It makes you feel better too. He clears his throat, glances back at the counter where his friends are watching and then looks back at you.

“Now, I would talk more but I have to get back to work,” he says with a grin, tilting his head cutely, “Would you, wait for me? 'Till after my shift?” And the way he looks, God, how could you say no? So you nod silently with a small beam and he nods back. As he walks back to the counter, you can see his friends chuckling and teasing him for his red ears and cheeks.

You know you look the same, yet somehow, you don't feel embarrassed.

BONUS POV:

When the bell of the café chimes, it's an automatic reaction for all employees to welcome the customers. Even as Jungwon is busy restocking goods in the storage room, he still mumbles a “Welcome”. And even from inside, he can hear his friends making a ruckus from the counter. Something along the lines of, “Oh my God” and “Holy shit” and a very loud laugh, most likely coming from Sunghoon. He is almost done with his last pack of coffee beans when suddenly, Jay and Riki dashes in, chuckling and pushing each other. Jungwon sighs, “What is it? You guys are really noisy, you know? You're disturbing the customers.”

“No, Jungwon. You,” Riki laughs breathlessly, glancing at Jay then back at him, “you should come out and see this.”

“See what?”

Jay rolls his eyes, before urging him to the door of the storage room, “Just go out. I'll do the stocking up.”

Confused, Jungwon follows the Japanese boy, who has a suspicious grin on his face. He walks to the counter and looks at Sunghoon who stands beside the coffee machine, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” The older boy clamps his lips together, trying to prevent a giggle from slipping past his lips. He then tilts his head toward the register, gesturing at Sunoo. Jungwon's eyes follow his actions, and for a moment, he's still confused.

“What are you... Oh.”

Then he realises.

It's you.

He feels Riki pat his back, whispering “Go for it” in his ear. But he thinks he cannot hear anything right now. You haven't noticed him (you don't really ever notice him, honestly) but he thinks that's for the better, because then he has the freedom to steal glances at you every now and then. He watches intently as you pay for your drink, laugh and converse with Sunoo and walk to your usual spot beside the window. He watches everything you do.

“Jungwon, staring at her isn't going to really do anything. Just go talk to her.” Jay utters teasingly as he walks out of the storage room.

“I can't do that! No way!”

Sunghoon hums as he brews the coffee shot, “You've liked her for almost half a year now, dude. I can't even like a girl for a day.”

“That's cause you're fucking gay.” Riki snorts.

“I'm not gay! I'm bisexual!”

In the middle of their bickering, Sunoo walks up to Jungwon with your plate of lemon cake and hands it to him, “Just serve her her order. If you can't talk to her, then just don't. But just try, it won't hurt to at least be friends.” The latter takes the plate blankly, processing his friend's words. He's persistent in saying no, as he shakes his head again, about to refuse when Jay speaks up.

“She seems nice, anyways. You said so yourself too, that she was kind and sweet. So, I don't think you have anything to be afraid of.” Jay comments behind him, before gently pushing him toward your direction, “Serve it to her. It's your chance. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. Though I'm pretty sure it will, she comes everyday so you are given a shot everyday.”

Right. It is his chance. He always has a chance every time you walk in the café, he just never acts upon it. He's liked you for so long now, since the moment he saw you in the school hallways and when you kindly helped the school janitor aunty up because she had slipped and fell on your way out of school. He was walking behind as he watched you hold her arm and walk her to the infirmary to stick on band-aids on her bleeding elbow. On other days, he saw you most in the hallways because that was the only time he could ever see you. He didn't even know you, not your name, not your major, not your age — anything. But, every single time, he would go to work and he would talk endlessly about you to the boys, going on and on about how pretty you were and how kind and generous you were. He's sure the boys were sick of hearing about his immense crush on you.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't even know he was in your school. And he felt hopeless, like there was no point in trying.

But then you had walked into Whiskers on one fateful day, and you had smiled and greeted Sunoo and you told him your name for your order.

Y/N. That was your name. He never ever thought he would find a name so...elegant. So sweet and gentle.

You had ordered an iced americano and a slice of lemon cake that literally no one ever orders and sat at the seat beside the large window panel. You always, always, stared out into space after sitting for a few minutes before pulling out your books to study. It was the same old routine for you, and Jungwon noticed it every time. He had always been right in front of you, but you've never seen him at all. But like his friends always say, if it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. And that's fine, as long as he knows he tried. He doesn't know why today though, he supposes he just felt good, confident. Or maybe you just looked especially pretty today.

So, as Jungwon approaches you with the tray and his heart in his hands, he thinks he'll just go for it. And if you don't reciprocate, then that's alright.

When he's right in front of you, he sets the tray down and he speaks to you for the first time since he's laid eyes on you in the school hallways.

“Hello, here's your iced americano and your lemon cake.”

© JAEMINRI, 2023

#enhypen #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #jungwon x you #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x you #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon fic

[koufli]

Obsession - chapter 2.

꧁༺Warning: slight nsfw, stalker, obsession, etc. ༻꧂

Elijah.

————-

His deep pitched voice threw me out of my trance and at this point he must've thought I was the mental one here. I shake my head and let out a soft breath of relief,

"yeah I'm fine. How did you...?"

He straightened up, throwing me off guard yet again as his hand placed on the low of my back.

"Let's go, you shouldn't be out so late at night,"

he trailed off for a moment, mumbling a faint few foreign words that I assumed must have been German as he led me over to the cashier and watched as me paid for my items. I felt under pressure, the same chill running up my spine as he stared at the back of my head.

so it must always be him that makes this familiar feeling crawl up my back.

When finished, Konig leads me outside and stops, and for a moment I turn and gently take his hand off of my back that was beginning to shiver.

"Are you cold?"

I ask, referring to his trembling palm.

He shakes his head, staring down at my eyes with such an intense gaze. He looked shocked that I'd asked him if he was cold, dumbfounded, even.

"Your hand was just shivering, are you sure?"

He slowly brings his shivering hand to his gaze, holding it up in front of him with a soft chuckle,

"no...I'm not cold at all."

He breathes out almost excitedly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Oh well...I should get going, I have-"

he finishes my sentence.

"a lot of work to do, right?"

His gravelled voice sends shivers down to my very core, and for a moment I was silent.

"Yeah.. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

I comment, trying to keep things nonchalant to distract the fact his stare was quite literally ripping through my soul.

"Sure...get home safely."

Is all he said, now hastily turning on my heel to walk in the direction of my apartment. And for a moment, I could feel that same shudder creep up my spine, but when I glanced back, Konig was gone.

It took me a good ten minute walk to get back home, and the whole way back I still felt a creepy aura following me, which only led me to believe that Konig had followed me home. But whenever I looked back, nobody could be seen. Maybe I was just paranoid and overthinking because of tonight, so when I entered I was relieved to be back in the comfort of my own apartment.

Thoughts still rushed through my mind about Konig, did he live around here? Why did he seem so tense whenever I touched him? Why was he shaking so profusely when he wasn't cold? Was he lying? But why?

I sat at my kitchen, eating the pre-made curry packet I'd bought and watching something stupid on Tv to pass the time. After that I left the paperwork on my counter and got to working on which company we'd be accepting for shipments, scribbling down different names until eventually passing out and falling asleep on the marble island in my kitchen.

Konig.

————

I hated the fact I adored her so much. She was gorgeous, she captured my attention the very day she walked through those fucking doors and destroyed my life forever. I couldn't count on one finger the amount of times I'd gone home to wonder what her house looked like, how she smelt like after a shower, and from that very day, I knew that she was mine.

Nobody else could take her from me, I'd already claimed her, she didn't know it yet, but I sure as hell did. I thought it was a simple crush at first, I couldn't take my eyes off of her, how she worked so effortlessly, how she naturally made everyone smile with the beauty of hers, how she always wore her hair down and it usually got so messy by the end of the day.

But then things got out of hand, I couldn't help but start to stalk her social media, which was something that every guy would do, right? Apart from the fact I'd sometimes follow her home out of her sight, I'd stand outside her apartment for a few minutes, listening to what she was doing. And fuck, the worst thing I'd done was waited for her to leave before rummaging through her apartment and sniffing all of her clothes.

Was it bad that I even jerked off in there, too? Who am I kidding, it was fucking dreadful, I was obsessed beyond repair, but I didn't give a shit. I didn't care, because I knew that one day she'd come to realise that she was all mine, and today was only the start of it.

I was casually following behind her yet again when she turned straight into a shop. It was typical, I knew she couldn't be bothered to cook so she was going to get something shitty to eat.

God, if only I could take her home and cook everything and anything she ever wanted, she'd be the happiest girl in the world with me.

I made sure to be quiet, always staying a shelf away from her until the chaos happened. I listened into what was going on, my anger starting to bubble up inside of me.

Who did this guy think he was trying to flirt with my girl?

Of course I intervened, I didn't want another fucker laying their hands on my sweet Elijah, her pure soul was too innocent for a creep like him. She didn't understand how gorgeous she was, and because of that, didn't realise the trouble she could get into.

That's why I am always around. To keep her safe from these men who want nothing more than a quick fuck.

I didn't waste my time doing what needed to be done, and he was scared shitless by the time I had him gripped by the collar that I didn't even get to really have my fun with him. But everything fell apart when I turned to Elijah, fuck, I'd ruin her so badly.

Those plump lips, those innocent eyes staring up at me like I was her saviour, how she was so caught off guard. I'd loved to see those parted lips wrapped right around my-

Her voice snapped me out of my atrocious thoughts and I knew I had to get us both out before she started asking anymore questions.

I felt a little better outside, my hand being the only thing I was focused on as I kept it on her back, feeling the curve of her spine, making sure I savoured this moment touching her, feeling her hips through her clothes. Shit, I was glad she removed my hand because I could feel the bulge pulse in these tight jeans just from the feel of her fucking back.

What was wrong with me? It was even more embarrassing when she pointed out the fact my hand was shaking, I wasn't cold at all. I was completely and utterly head over heels for this girl and she probably thought I was psycho. When she said her sweet goodbyes, I know it wouldn’t be the last time I was seeing her tonight.

I did follow her home, I have no shame in admitting that, but she never saw me, so what's the harm?

I was making sure she was safe so she didn't run into any trouble again.

I stood outside her door, hearing the same TV show come on again, she had this one on two nights ago. I readjusted the painfully hard erection that sat tightly in my pants, letting out a soft sigh as I leaned my head against the door of her apartment. Fuck, I was in trouble.

#cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x oc #cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #konig #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig x you #konig modern warfare #konig x y/n #konig x oc #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #john mctavish #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #soap call of duty #call of duty #cod smut #call of duty smut #fanfic

[aindyghosh]

Take Me Home (IronDad fic)

A tight-lipped groan made it out of Peter when the black sack was harshly pulled off his head. He rapidly blinked to adjust to the abrupt absence of darkness. He was pretty sure a look in the mirror would reveal a scrunched-up nose and a grimace contorting his features.

As it was, though, he'd have to make do with his ample imagination. The large goon currently glaring at him did not seem all that inclined to allow him out of the chair, much less produce a mirror to correct his appearance. He could feel his hair sticking out in every direction.

Sadly, that little tidbit of situational awareness had escaped his fellow kidnappee.

"Who the hell are you and where have you brought us?" Flash demanded. "Do you know who my father is? Trust me, this is not the first time someone has kidnapped me and my father hates it when I'm not home for dinner! He's gonna make you regret putting your hands on me! You're gonna be out of a job before you can say sorry!"

Was he trying to scare a bunch of criminals with unemployment?

Goon-number-two — shorter than the first but still huge enough to keep up the intimidating factor, hirsute hands and a sculpted moustache curlier than MJ's hair — took a menacing step forward, his burly arms crossed across his chest. He didn't threaten, or otherwise speak, but it still shut Flash up.

Small mercies.

"Eugene Thompson, right?" A third man entered. Significantly shorter than the other two, with an overall harmless appearance except for the smirk playing at the corner of his nicotine-stained lips. It made Peter's skin crawl. "Son of Harrington Thompson and Rose Thompson. Both respected lawyers, and currently vacationing in a rural village on the outskirts of Darjeeling, India with limited, close to no, available network service." The man bent to the boy's eye level. "Did I miss anything, Flash?"

No answer.

The man knew, much as Peter did, what the silence meant.

Main Goon — because it was evident who was in charge here — petted Flash's hair like one would a stranger's puppy in the park before straightening up to his full height. "But don't worry," he said with the same nasty smirk twisting his near-blackened lips, "You are of no interest to me. Keep your head down, don't cause too much trouble, and you'll be home by the end of the day, yeah?"

He didn't wait for Flash's response and turned his gaze on Peter. It was green and cold. "Hello, there, Peter!" He grinned, resembling a shark baring its teeth at its prey far too much for his comfort. "It's lovely to finally meet you!"

"Who are you?" He slipped a sliver of nervousness into his voice, just the right amount for the man to rule him out as a potential danger.

"I'm glad you asked. My name is Daniel Brooke, and I'm going to be your host for the next few hours." The man spoke in a gentle tone as false as Mr. Leons' black wig.

(The man was a natural blonde and the black wig clashed with his light eyebrows almost as much as Mr. Stark and "Secretary Nudnik", Mr. Stark's latest nickname for Thunderbolt Ross, did.)

"What do you want with us?"

"Another good question. You must be very popular with your teachers," Brooke said (never mind that Flash had demanded those exact same answers a mere few moments ago). The praising inflection set his teeth on edge. "I know your secret, Peter. That's right," he cooed when momentary fear passed through his face — this time, very, very real — before he schooled his features back into neutrality. "Your school may be stupid, your friends can be naïve, but not me. You can't fool me."

Peter swallowed thickly. "I don't have any secrets."

The man laughed. It was a shrill noise, and it clawed at Peter's senses like rusted metal scraping against bone. "That was an admirable attempt, Peter, but I'm afraid it missed your intended mark by a mile." Brooke grabbed the arms of the chair he was tied to, and bent down until he was at his eye level, similar to what he had done with Flash but a little more aggressive. Up this close, Peter noticed the yellow spots on his crooked teeth and the stench of bear that overpowered his otherwise pleasant cinnamon and sandalwood scent. "Your internship with Stark Industries, I know about that."

It took Peter a moment to register Brooke's words, but when he did, a weight that he hadn't even been aware of lifted off his shoulders. He exhaled a breath, shaky not because of his present predicament but because of the uncomfortable lack of distance between them.

Looking at him now, everything that had added to the sinister impression Brooke was so obviously going for, only made him seem a run-of-the-mill part-time villain involving himself in situations that demanded someone of a higher pay grade.

"It's not exactly a secret." Peter couldn't help it here. He'd spent the last few minutes shit-scared imagining all the different ways these people could hurt him if they knew about Spiderman: they could go after May, his friends. Hell, Flash, too. The boy was literally there.

What did they even want from him if it wasn't revenge from Spiderman?

"Yes, but people don't believe you, do they? But I do. I know you're telling the truth."

"Okay?" Peter wouldn't lie, he was a tad creeped out. "Why did that make you want to kidnap us?"

"Flash is collateral. I don't need him. Like I said, he keeps quiet and does what we ask, and he'll be dropped off at his home unharmed." Flash appeared nearly insulted at being waved away dismissively. What was up with people? Everybody was crazy, he decided. "I only want you."

"Why?"

Brooke frowned. "What do you think?" He made a series of pointless vague gestures. "Money, of course. I want Stark Industries to pay the ransom."

"You want a ransom," Peter repeated if only to ensure that he hadn't, all of a sudden, become hard of hearing. Brooke nodded. Okay, then. "You want Stark Industries, the leading tech company in the United States, to pay ransom and for that, you kidnap a lowly intern?"

"You're not a random intern!" Brooke screamed. He looked more offended on Peter's behalf than Peter, himself, was. "You're Stark's personal intern! I know!"

Peter was, honestly, getting tired of Brooke insisting he knew things. News flash, he didn't.

He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, ignored the smell of stale beer and the nearest drainage system that left a bitter taste in his mouth (sometimes, super senses were a bitch severe inconvenience) and let it out equally as slowly. "Even then, Stark Industries has a no-negotiation policy for kidnappings." Mr. Stark had it documented after Afghanistan. It was a whole thing. Considering that he was the only person in SI prone to being kidnapped, nobody else had more than half a trembling tree branch to stand on.

"I'm sure Stark will make an exception for you, seeing as the two of you are so close."

He could feel Flash's eyes burning into the side of his skull. Well, it wasn't like he had ever hidden it. If anything, it was the boy's fault for not believing him in the first place. "I wouldn't be so certain."

Mr. Stark wouldn't make an exception for him, he'd simply track his shoes down — there was a tracker in it; he knew, Mr. Stark knew that he knew, both of them pretended the other didn't — and blast his kidnappers to another continent.

Peter didn't say this from experience. Believe it or not, this was the first time he had been taken hostage for any reason. But Spiderman had been injured in multiple fights, and Mr Stark's mood tended to take a nosedive whenever he received a scratch on his body, and stab wounds unleashed a whole different monster. Entirely dramatic reactions on Mr. Stark's part but the man never listened to him.

So yes, this was a novel adventure for him.

"We'll see. Peter. We'll see." Brooke patted him on his shoulder and promptly walked away, gesturing his minions to follow after him before swinging his hands in a fashion that reminded Peter of his school's band march.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Peter sighed. As amusing as watching the men was now, he was only prolonging the inevitable. He turned his head to the right, and sure enough, Flash was already staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted, breathing short and fast, his forehead practically inked with a bunch of question marks.

But first things first. "Flash, you need to calm down." The last thing he needed was a fellow kidnappee on the verge of a meltdown.

"You were telling the truth about being Tony Stark's intern?"

Wasn't it wonderful how it took a short, half-balding man with a severe case of bad breath to say it once for Flash to believe while Peter, his classmate, had been saying it since the end of sophomore year?

"I can't believe this!" And he was off with his rambling.

It was just as well. Peter needed to think, and he couldn't do that while having an ill-timed rapid-fire round with his school bully.

Okay, what did Mr. Stark always say? Chalk out the facts, identify the problem and brainstorm a solution.

Alright. Facts.

They were on their post-decathlon (which they won, in case anyone was interested to know) field trip — this time to Coney Island — when the team had opted to ride the longest roller coaster in the amusement park. Peter had refused for...reasons. It wasn't that he was terrified of heights (please, he was Spiderman), he was merely wary about the safety aspect.

Regardless, Peter had expected to be alone for the duration of the ride. Mr. Harrington had offered but he could see his teacher was pumped about the Cyclone, which was the name of the death trap, by the way. He would never have pegged Roger Harrington as a roller coaster kind of guy but to each their own, he supposed. In the end, Flash had generously given up a seat on the ride to "keep Peter company". Mr Harrington hadn't needed to be told twice.

Was it irresponsible of him to leave two kids alone while going off on a ride? At the time, it hadn't seemed all that dangerous.

He'd been wrong. That was precisely when a sack had been put over their head. His Peter-tingle had tingled, of course — God, May was rubbing off on him — but there was nothing he could have done without arousing suspicion.

And that brought them to his current situation.

Spiderman, snatched in broad daylight by a couple of small-time villains. His secret identity was a boon in times such as these, though it was hella stressful to maintain it.

Step two, identify the problem: He'd been kidnapped, he had a civilian to protect, and they needed to escape. How would he do that in a way that wouldn't instantly tip Flash off to his secret identity? As it was, some days, he felt as if Flash was a Spiderman stalker with how fluent and knowledgeable he was in Spiderman's activities.

Step three: solution. He had no clue how to approach this.

"Is that a StarkWatch-438?"

The non-sequitur grabbed his attention before he could carefully evade it. "What?"

"Your wristwatch! Is it a 438? How do you even have it? It launched less than a week ago and has a two-month wait period!"

How the heck did Flash even see his watch? His hands were tied behind him. "Does it matter right now?"

"Yeah, you're right," the boy muttered. Huh. Peter was going to mark this day in his calendar. "Use it."

"What?"

"Use it!"

Peter stared at him. Flash stared back. After a minute or two, the other boy made a noise of realisation. "You don't know how to use it, do you?"

"To read a watch? Yes, Flash, I do know how to read a watch."

"Not how to read it, dummy!" Flash snapped, but his voice contained much less venom than usual. "The panic button. Press the panic button."

Ah! Right, the panic button. Peter cleared his throat, but any and every reply suffered a premature death on his tongue. What would he say, in any case? He was aware of the panic button. He'd inspired it after one too many instances of fainting in a dark alleyway due to untreated stab wounds.

But he wouldn't use it. He couldn't. It would be embarrassing to have Iron Man come to Spiderman's rescue, even if nobody knew about the Spiderman bit.

"The signal would go to May, Flash! How do you think my Aunt would help this situation?" There, that ought to be a good excuse.

"She could alert the police?"

"Mr. Harrington would've already done that, I'm sure. Look, I have this under control, okay?" Or he would as soon as he figured out a way to get rid of the ropes confining his hands and escape with Flash without resorting to his Spidey strength.

Unfortunately — or fortunately, as Flash would later argue — the decision was made for him in the form of a red-and-gold blur crashing through the glass panes of the semi-constructed building they had been kept hostage in.

Flash squeaked, and Iron Man's head cocked as if regarding a particularly interesting creature. No, he wasn't looking at Flash.

"Peter Parker." The mechanical voice of the suit typically rendered all voice modulation flat, but this time, the unimpressed note eluded its filtering. See, this was how one made themselves a domineering and fearsome figure. Not with crooked teeth and too wide a smirk.

"I was about to call you—"

"It has been two hours and you still haven't pressed the panic button on the watch that you are wearing."

He was so grounded.

He hoped to hell and back that Mr. Stark wasn't actually in the suit. He'd do anything, God, please, just not a lecture in front of Flash. He'd never let him live it down.

The suit — because he was going to assume, for his sanity, that this was the suit and Mr Stark was commandeering it from within his lab miles away for a quick Underoos rescue before he had to get back to some or the other meeting and wouldn't have the opportunity to chew him out with an audience in attendance — made to approach Peter when he shook his head and nodded towards Flash. "Help him first."

A sigh. FRIDAY was messing with him, wasn't she? Both father and daughter had an equally snarky sense of humour.

Flash's ropes were off within twenty seconds. Peter's in less than that. Was Mr Stark aware of Flash bullying him?

This was a disaster in the making, wasn't it?

It only escalated from there when Daniel Brooke and his two loyal henchmen burst into the room, Brooke emphasising his insanity with a crazed "Hah!"

"I knew it!" The man crowed. "I knew you wouldn't leave your precious intern alone! I'd thought you'd concede to the ransom demand but this is even better!"

Iron Man tilted his head to the side again. "Who are you?" And this time, his voice was very, very flat.

"Daniel Brooke. You took everything from me! Now, I'm gonna take everything from you!"

"Hey, man, this wasn't the deal!" Goon-number-one objected.

"Silence, you imbeciles!" Brooke hissed. "And did I give the guns to you for show? Point them at the two boys, fools!"

The men exchanged a silent look and crossed their arms in a creepy synchrony. "We want our money. We don't care about your revenge." Oh, would you look at that? Not so loyal as Peter had initially thought.

"Ugh! I have to do everything around here!" This was a comedy show. "Stark, you listen to me, you ruined my business—"

"I don't even know who you are!" Iron Man's protest was more of a tired whine. The only thing missing was him stomping his foot like a child who'd just been denied living on ice cream.

"I am Daniel Brooke. Weren't you listening?" No, he wasn't, Peter was nearly eighty-four per cent sure. Mr. Stark was great at tuning unnecessary chatter out. And to him, almost everything anyone said qualified to be unnecessary chatter. Unless it was about science. Then you'd have his full attention. For a few minutes, at least. He got easily bored. "I used to supply sandwiches to HYDRA—"

"To HYDRA," Iron Man deadpanned.

"Yes, and you destroyed the base, and I lost all my income. My wife left me."

"That might be the beer stench," Goon-number-one muttered under his breath.

Peter snorted.

He was ignored.

Brooke was still prattling on. Peter settled in for a lengthy villainous monologue when Iron Man's repulsors went up and blasted the man in the face.

He went down like the Chitauri after Mr. Stark had destroyed their motherboard.

Probably not his best analogy.

The two goons immediately put their hands up in surrender, horror painted across their faces.

Iron Man, in response, simply tucked Peter and Flash under either arm and lobbed himself in the air, away from the building and towards home.

🩷

They dropped Flash on the street in front of his home first.

It was Mr. Stark inside the suit.

He got an extremely lengthy lecture.

And he was grounded.

At least, he didn't have to control himself from hurling his guts up due to the fling-a-fling of the roller coaster. His Spiderman identity also managed to remain safe.

Another day, another identity save.

All in a good day's work.

God, this was getting exhausting.

#peter parker #kidnapped peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #cross posted on ao3 #irondad and spiderson #attempted humour #tony stark acting as peter parker's parental figure #tony stark is good with kids #tony stark is not happy

[bungalowbear]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x reader (60s AU)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Your birthday party takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: Here’s my very first fic for a HOTD character. I must thank @inthedayswhenlandswerefew because I wasn’t an Aegon girlie at all until I started reading her phenomenal series North to the Future. Definitely check it out if you haven’t already. And I hope you enjoy this little thing too!

You sit at your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror. From an early age, the idea of maintaining outward appearances has always been instilled in you. To this day your mother lectures you before any social gatherings, no matter how public or private. In the privacy of your bedroom her voice echoes the loudest in your mind as you sit in silence.

There should never be a hair out of place.

Every word you speak has to be the right one.

What you look like reflects back onto the family. Especially your father.

You roll your eyes. You’d go out to dinner in your pajamas with bed head to stick it to your father if he wasn’t the one paying the rent for your apartment. You hate to admit that you’ve become accustomed to this lavish lifestyle. But while it had its advantages, it wasn’t without its downsides.

You had gone to the salon earlier in the week to get a touch up on your permanent to straighten out your natural hair that was growing out at your roots. The first time you had the treatment done you cried at the burn all along your scalp from the chemicals. You’d learned to hide your pain after your mother scolded you for embarrassing her in public.

You turn your head to see your hair at different angles. Done in a respectable updo with a short bouffant like the one you’d seen on Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you deem your hair complete. Your fiancé likes to poke fun and tell you it resembles a bee hive, but you quite like the style.

Scoffing at the childish remark, you lean closer to the mirror and apply a final coat of mascara onto your lashes. After your make up is done you walk over to your closet and change into your cocktail dress. It slips onto your figure with ease, having just come back from the tailor’s. You needed the hem adjusted to end just below your knees.

You face the full length mirror and admire the jewel neckline and how this particular shade of green goes well with your white heels and compliments your skin tone. A modest square bow of the same shade of green cinches the fabric around your waist just slightly to give a hint of your figure. You give your body a slow twirl to check every inch of yourself in the mirror and exhale, pleased with the final product.

For the first time today you don’t feel dread weighing you down. Reflected in the mirror is the shining image of all your hard work to create the most excellent version of yourself. Pride makes your heart soar and you tell yourself there is absolutely nothing that can ruin your night.

Your hand flies to your chest, startling when music suddenly blares through your apartment. You look at your reflection once more before leaving your bedroom and heading to the living room, where you find your fiancé with a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand and looking through your record collection. He’s dressed in a dark green double breasted blazer with a black turtleneck shirt underneath and matching trousers. His head, covered in nearly white hair and combed back neatly, bobs in rhythm as Ray Davies’ voice fills the room.

“Aegon!” you call from across the room. “Could you turn down the volume?”

The music is so loud that he can’t hear you. You let out a huff and march over to the record player and turn the sound dial so that the music lowers to a tolerable level.

“Not so loud.” You speak before a complaint can pass through Aegon’s parted lips. “Otherwise Mrs. Tyrell from upstairs will come down and complain. And nobody wants that.”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Does your mother know you listen to The Kinks?”

“No.” Your eyes dart to the record sleeve in his hand. “And you’re not going to tell her.”

“She won’t hear it from me,” he promises, throwing back the remainder of the brown liquid. “I just assumed you were a Lesley Gore kind of girl.”

You roll your eyes, deciding not to encourage him with a verbal response. But before you can walk away Aegon takes your hand as the next songs begins to play and he starts to dance. You frown. You aren’t in the mood to entertain him, and there are so many things to do before your guests arrive.

“Aegon,” you try to pull your arm free, “not now.”

“Come on. Just a bit of fun between us before the vultures descend.”

“Those vultures are our friends,” you emphasize. “And your brother and sister.”

You glare at Aegon when he shrugs once more. You try to pull away again, but he only holds onto you tighter. You stand still for a minute while Aegon moves his hips and raises his arms one after the other as he does The Jerk. Your resolve slowly wanes as Aegon raises your joined hands above your head and walks a circle around you. His grin is infectious and you can’t help mirror him. So you give in to temptation and join him in the dance.

You raise a finger at him. “One song.”

Your mouth is now split in an ear to ear smile as you face Aegon. You Really Got Me plays as you dance together in the living room.

A warm feeling blooms within you, so different than how you usually feel around Aegon. He never seemed interested in knowing you, or even tolerating you, until now. Although his mother had deemed his presence mandatory at your party, you were glad he didn’t completely resent you for it. Perhaps if love couldn’t come out of your marriage, then you’d settle for at least a friendship.

Both of your fathers were wealthy and powerful businessmen. Your father owned an advertising agency and Aegon’s father was the current patriarch of the Targaryen family and their fortune. Their business went back several generations, establishing their stake in a variety of areas. Coal, banking, imports. Just to name a few. And now they wanted in on the advertising business, which is where you and Aegon come in. Two strangers brought together to be the bridge between your two families.

While Aegon was quite handsome, it did not distract you from the open secret that was his notorious reputation. He drank at seemingly all hours of the day and had a very active night life. Though since your engagement party’s month prior, you haven’t heard of any recent escapades. You like to think perhaps he’s turned over a new leaf.

The song ends and you both share a quiet few moments before the next one begins. Aegon thanks you for the dance and you chuckle out a response before you go back to readying for the party and he heads back to the bar by the balcony windows for a refill.

You’ve been planning your birthday party for a few weeks now. Everything from decorations, to food, even the music was meticulously chosen. This would be the first time you and Aegon make a social appearance together since your engagement party. It goes without saying that everything needs to go perfectly tonight.

There’s a knock at the door. You straighten and make your way over. Aegon appears beside you, scotch in hand. He heaves a sigh and looks at you. The corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

“And so it begins.”

You nod in agreement. Your lips curve in a pretty smile when you open the door and greet your first guests, and for every guest that arrives after. Aegon is by your side for the first hour or so. He’s animated as you both walk around the wide open space of your living room and mingle. He talks with his hands as he recounts a story from when he was a child and you can’t help the way your eyes stay glued to him, charmed with every words he speaks. Your smile falters though when you notice the glassiness of his eyes and the way his words begin to slur.

Eventually, when the party’s in full swing, Aegon’s pulled away by one of his college friends and you find your own group of close friends. You sit on the leather sofa and immediately are bombarded with questions about the wedding.

Have you picked a date?

What color for your theme?

Chicken or fish?

As you answer one question after another you’ve kept your eye on Aegon. Seeing him here and there, stance becoming more unsteady as the night goes on. But when your eyes scan the room again after talk of the wedding has turned to high society gossip, you can’t find him.

You excuse yourself and make your way around the room, casually asking a few people if they’d seen your fiancé. When no one seems to know where he’s disappeared to you think to check the other rooms next. You take one last glance around the living room and realize you hadn’t seen Diane, a friend of yours from college, in a while either. She was actually more of an acquaintance, but her mother was a friend of your’s and insisted you invite her.

You knew Aegon was a flirt. A notorious bachelor. And you incorrectly assumed his appetite for women would be curbed after your engagement. Perhaps it was the naive girl within you that thought you could change him. But as you stand at the entrance of the hallway, you can’t ignore the raucous sounds that float from behind the bathroom door. And neither can anyone else when the song that plays from the record player lulls to an end.

Shame makes your cheeks burn and your eyes water. You sense eyes on you. Hear the whispers floating amid the music even after it starts up again.

There’s a sudden sensation that takes over you. A tingle starting at the back of your head and traveling down your arms. It overcomes you completely and you can’t make it go away. So you make a decision.

You turn on your heels and march over to the bar. You trade your martini glass for a tumbler of bourbon. Bodies part for you as you then make your way to the record player. You pick up the needle and the music stops with a high pitched scratch. You can hear the sounds from the bathroom again and you can feel that everyone collectively halts what they’re doing, watching you as you grab the album The Kink Kontroversy from the shelf below. You hold your glass in the crook on your elbow as you rip the record from its sleeve and drop it on the turntable. You lower the needle and the room fills with static before the first notes start and then slowly the room reverts to what it was.

You stand in front of the record player and sway to the hypnotic lyrics of The World Keeps Going Round. As the final chords of the song play you finish your drink in two long gulps. You twirl your body, raising your hands as you begin to dance alone in the middle of the room. You vaguely register a pair of hands attempting to coax you to sit down but you shrug them off.

Your head lolls from one side to the other and your gaze lands on Aegon’s brother Aemond and his wife, tucked into a corner of the room. He leans into her, whispering something in her ear, and she hides a smile behind her glass. Jealousy courses through you. You want what they have, but know you never will. You have always done what you were told and you were a fool to believe you would be rewarded for it.

It isn’t until Aegon emerges from within the bathroom, blazer unbuttoned and tucking his shirt back into his trousers while Diane follows behind him wiping the corner of her mouth, that you stop dancing. You turn sharply, almost stumbling in your tipsy haze, and make another beeline for the bar.

Aegon comes up behind you. His cheeks are flushed and there’s a thin layer of sweat across his forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You don’t look at him when you answer. “Getting a drink.”

Aegon’s hand cradles your chin gently as he turns it to face him. His eyes scan your face before he swipes his thumb across your cheek to catch the tears that fall from your eyes. You didn’t realize you started crying and silently thank the gods for your waterproof mascara.

“I meant why are you crying in front of everyone?”

You sniffle.

“Pull yourself together.” Aegon frowns as he grabs the drink from your hand and walks away.

Your brows pinch together while you arrange another drink, quietly seething. This is your party. Not his. You put in all the work to make this night happen. Not him.

Another tear rolls down your cheek, but you don’t clear it away. You straighten your back and lift your chin. You want to change the record. You’re in the mood for some Lesley Gore.

Part 2

#catalog #i’ll cry if i want to #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon

[writergirl3]

4 Town General Headcanons; Pt. 2

I really liked writing the first round of general hcs, so here are some more 🧡

Robaire;

As well as French, he speaks Spanish and a bit of Italian. All the romantic languages are pretty on brand for him, let’s be honest.

He’s visited every continent. His Dad traveled a lot for work when Robaire was a kid, and the boy was lucky enough to accompany him on some of his trips.

Surprise surprise, his favourite food is anything French. Particularly ratatouille. He always makes time for a proper breakfast in the morning and will munch on a baguette pretty much all day, no matter where he is. T always makes fun of him for eating bread that looks like a…well, y’know.

He used to wear brown contacts. While he embraces his hazel/green eyes now, he used to think they made him look too different. A kid at school once called him an alien and after that he begged his parents for coloured contacts. 

He loves Stevie Wonder. Like, adores the man. When he’s at home, he always has his music playing on vinyl. He got to meet him in 4 Town’s early days and let me tell you, the guy cried for like three days straight.

The guys are convinced that Robaire is immune to the cold. You’ll never see him wear a pair of gloves, and the poorly-circulated Jesse is so bitter about Ro’s ability to stay warm no matter what.

Jesse;

Jesse’s a really strong swimmer. One time when Tae went too deep in the sea when snorkeling and started freaking out, Jesse had him out of there in no time.

He always, always makes the guys handmade birthday cards. It’s become a tradition and the boys lowkey look forward to the card more than the gift.

He needs glasses and hates it. What’s worse is that he’s freaked out by putting anything near his eye so contacts are a struggle. The only one who can help him is Z, who has mastered the art of distracting Jesse and then dropping the contact on his eye before he can freak out.

He's super protective over his younger sisters and gave all the guys a serious talking to. Even if they find his sisters cute, none of the guys are willing to risk Jesse's wrath.

He pierced his own ear and then did the same for T. Was it a good idea? Maybe. Maybe not. Still, he felt pretty badass about it. 

Aaron T;

Loads of people headcanon T as a Spanish-speaker and all I can say is YES. He’ll babble away to himself in Spanish so fast that Robaire can’t even understand. If they wanna prank the other boys, though, they’ll just start conversing in Spanish and piss them off. This gets on Z’s nerves, especially. T speaks Italian too, but just prefers Spanish more.

He’s left-handed and has tried to teach himself to write with his right hand. Because he’s a dumbass, he’s also determined to successfully write with his feet. Don’t ask me why.

This guy gets through like two cellphones a year. Thankfully, being a member of 4 Town means he can afford all the little mishaps. One of them included running over his own phone with Jesse’s minivan. The less said about it, the better.

He used to straighten his curls when he first joined 4 Town. Straight hair was, and still is, in, so he felt kinda pressured. He soon got bored of sitting with Jesse’s straighteners for more than five minutes, though, and everyone loves his curls, anyway.

Aaron Z;

I mentioned this before, but he hates alcohol. Fully despises it. As if the taste weren’t bad enough, he’s freaked out by the idea that a little too much of the stuff could turn him into another person. He feels the same about drugs, and is resistant to even taking painkillers for the same reason. 

Robaire persuaded Z to try twisting his hair. Z thought they’d get in the way when he was playing sports, and he’d always kept his hair short and natural for that reason. When Robaire didn’t stop nagging him, he tried them, and secretly thinks he looks better with them than he did before.

Although Z is pretty much always seen wearing athletic gear, he’s simple with his style otherwise. He likes wearing simple tops and pants, although you’ll rarely see him in long sleeves. He’s warm-blooded and overheats really easily, and once spent Christmas Day in a pair of shorts.

We all know that Z looks intimidating and can come off as judgemental, but he’s super sentimental. Even more so than Tae and Robaire. While his face gives nothing away, his heart could be bursting with love inside.

In that same vein, Z is a really good writer. He fumbles over his words when he speaks, but becomes someone else when he writes. It’s like a window into his mind.

Tae Young;

Tae is a foodie, and he desperately wants to learn how to bake. He just can’t do it, though. Z tried to give him some lessons, but it ended in a shouting match (don’t worry, they made up after). Tae just has no time for instructions. Seriously, T probably has better focus in this department. Just leave Tae to ice some cupcakes or something and he’ll be happy enough.

He goes back to South Korea at least once a year to see his grandparents. He was super close to them when he was growing up and always showers them with gifts when he sees them now.

Tae's a big advocate of body positivity. He was a little chubby as a kid and found weight-related stuff difficult because of it. He's always telling 4Townies that they're beautiful no matter their size. The guys have learnt a lot from him, and the Aarons in particular have so much respect for Tae's passion.

He’s even more of a neat freak than Robaire, which is saying something. Tae loves T, but will whoop his ass if the brunette touches a single thing in his bedroom. He likes things a certain way, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

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Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

#4 town #4town #4*town #4 town robaire #4 town jesse #4 town aaron z #4 town aaron t #4 town tae young #4 town headcanons #4 town x reader #4 townie #turning red 4town #4town jesse #4town taeyoung #4town aaron t #4town x reader #4town robaire #4town headcanons #4town Aaron z #4*town jesse #4*town robaire #4*town headcanons #4*town x reader #4*town Aaron t #4*town Aaron z #4*town tae young