#copper drop in sink

[loujasna]

Bathroom - Craftsman Powder Room Motivating a craftsman Remodel of powder room with furniture-like cabinets, dark wood cabinets, a two-piece toilet, wood countertops, brown countertops, gray walls, and a drop-in sink. Gray tile and stone tile, medium tone wood floor, and brown floor.

[iheartbillholden]

Contemporary Bathroom - Kids Bathroom - large modern kids' bathroom idea with white tile, stone tile, beige walls, recessed-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, vessel sink, and granite countertops

[mycustomcopper]

Hand-hammered copper washbasins are a testament to the craftsmanship and artistry involved in creating these masterpieces. Each sink is unique, showcasing the skill of the artisan who meticulously hammers the copper to create intricate patterns and textures. Beyond their aesthetic appeal, hand-hammered copper sinks also offer durability. The textured surface helps conceal scratches and dents, ensuring your sink maintains its beauty over time. This makes them not only a design statement but also a practical investment in the longevity of your kitchen fixtures. In the quest to create a kitchen that is not only functional but also aesthetically pleasing, the use of copper sinks has become a popular choice. Whether it’s the seamless integration of drop-in copper sinks, the rustic charm of kitchen farmhouse sinks, or the artistry embodied in hand-hammered copper washbasins, each style brings a warm glow that transforms your kitchen into a space of timeless elegance. Embrace the allure of copper and let its warmth become the heart of your culinary haven.

[monstersholygrail]

Vampires are a very composed and prideful sort of monster and your Vampire bf is no different.

He is the picture of perfection and sophistication in all public regards. His posture is so straight you’d swear he was statue. His language is smooth and charming to the point where he could convince an orc he was actually a troll. At society events he is the one to talk to with a row of awaiting guests lined up down the halls. Always with you standing right by his side. While he keeps you close, aching to have you near, he’s always respectful in his acts around you.

As leader of his coven he has to be.

But he’s not like that when he’s alone with you. No, never. When you’re the only one around he finally feels free to be completely himself. Not having to put on a show for everyone while also maintaining all his responsibilities. In the quiet of your chambers he can simply be your mate. As you are his mate. His eternal love. And this affects him deeper than he realizes. He has more of a soft spot for you than even he can admit to himself at times.

Particularly when your Vampire bf drinks your blood. He swears he’s not addicted to it. To the flavors that dance and mingle amongst the copper tang, to the thick warmth that mimics your tender embrace as it coats his throat, to the spark of adrenaline akin to lightning that shoots through his body as your blood pumps through his veins. No, definitely not addicted…

Yet just one drop of your life force has him falling to his knees, whining and whimpering as he nuzzles into your stomach. But it’s important to know that he doesn’t beg— he never begs for it. That is one thing your Vampire bf always says for certain (denies). He definitely doesn’t beg.

Not even as he’s pounding into you from behind, the glide of his cock along your walls making your head spin. His face in your neck, inhaling deeply as he soaks up your scent. So you must mishear him every time he takes you whispering, “P-please, my heart. You know I need all of you. Jus’ wanna consume you, darling, please.”

Of course your neck is bared for him before either of you can utter another word. Yet you cry out as your Vampire bf’s hips jolt, slamming against that spot along your gummy walls at just the mere sight of the slope of your neck.

His fangs sink into your flesh with a quiet squelch that mirrors the wet noise echoing throughout the room as your hips meet with each thrust. Mirroring moans leaving you as you both melt into each other. Your powerful Vampire bf turning into a puddle of arousal at a single drop of your blood.

Loud whines fall past your bf’s lips and vibrate into your neck. You moan, head rolling back. The ecstasy of your bf sucking your blood meeting the intensity of his cock rutting into your pussy just right. Vampire bf rubs against you, desperate to touch every inch of your skin. His hands scouring and groping every soft bit of flesh he can get his hands on. Nuzzling impossibly deeper into your neck as he turns into a whimpering mess of senseless limbs.

All these sensations crash into each other, overwhelming you in the best possible way. They send you flying higher and higher until your orgasm washes over you and you’re mewling as you arch back into your Vampire bf. Your touch and the clenching of your cunt sends your bf into his own orgasm, both of you weakly riding out the waves of euphoria in each other’s arms.

His tongue laps at any remaining blood trickling out as his fangs release you. He brings you into his arms, his form surrounding and curling around you as you lay on the bed. His body hypertensive to touch but he nuzzles into you anyway, seeking more of your warmth.

You hold onto him tightly, swearing that nothing is better than when your sophisticated and proper bf morphs into a total mess. And only ever for you.

[confessioncassette]

𝐄𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

summary : you know better than to talk to other guys.

tw : dubcon [consent isn’t clearly voiced, but reader has mixed emotions] rough sex, jealousy, yandere themes, toxic behaviors, hate fucking, no protection, creampie, possessive Thanos

words : 4.9k

notes : NOT PROOF READ (we die like men). sorry this took so long,,,,, what’s up with me liking bathroom sex? Anyways, the anon who sent in this request- holy fuck. I just want to say that I didn’t really care for Thanos at first but after watching edits of him and rewatching the season, I fell madly in love with him. So. I thank the anon who sent in this request !

It was a massacre, the last game.

The stench of body odor and copper lingers within the white-brick walled room. The sterile lights practically assault your brain after the game you just played.

The air always felt eerily lighter after a game, like fate had granted mercy, allowing you to survive one more day. Your body’s still lively, already sore from being pulled and grabbed in different directions in Mingle. The adrenaline pumps fiercely, nausea pills within your gut and it doesn’t feel like it’ll die down soon. The guards had handed out food once the headcount was confirmed, but you simply don’t have the appetite. You mindlessly pick at your food, pushing it around the plastic tupperware as you mull over the same new dilemma of your current life. Of how everytime that damned glass pig falls from the ceiling, when the lights dim and the pot glows, lightening up the faces below, more and more money dumps into the pot.

The money of lives lost.

It was strange, how after every game, most of the people are ill with fear, at least the ones who weren’t sadists. Their eyes sunken and glossy, their bodies stiff, their clothes splattered in the blood of the poor victim next to them. They all witnessed atrocities that would haunt them for the rest of their lives, but that all seemed to wash away when money came into play. It all washed away knowing that you were chosen to live another day.

When it comes time for the vote, it’s like most of them want to take luck on a joyride, forgetting that they could possibly be next. All you have to do is believe you’ll be lucky the next and the next right? Just one more, right? Fuck the person beside you.

As long as it wasn’t you, right?

Despite pressing “X” game after game, you take a chance on hope, you pray that humanity hasn’t lost what little morality they have left, or whatever god or gods haven’t abandoned humanity.

You aren’t a monster. Money is the reason why you opted to play childhood games for money, but you didn’t want it like this. You fear every time that gun goes off, sometimes anticipating it before it happens, knowing someone had messed up and would pay for their life. A small drop in the bucket. Once, the shooters were so close to you that the sound of the gunshots one after the other ricocheted through your ear drums. Blood splattered your face, warm and reeking of copper after the men in the six legged race beside you spent their last moments on earth begging for their life. Thanos couldn’t have picked a better spot to sit and watch, and you spent hours scrubbing your skin raw to get the blood off in the bathroom sink.

You didn’t feel clean after.

“Min-su, you need to eat.” You mumble, weird how tight your face feels right now. Moving your own lips feels like a chore. You scan the crowd of people mingling quietly as they eat. How absolutely absurd that they can even stomach eating right now.

The baby-faced man just hums in response. It’s hard to believe he’s 27 with the way he acts, let alone his looks.

“I’m not really hungry either.” You shrug. Turning to him, Min-su’s attention is elsewhere. Empty eyes stare off into a group of people on the other side of the room, but you can tell he’s not really looking at them. He’s on a different planet, seeing through the wall, staring through a state of nothingness.

Dissociating from reality gets you far here when there’s downtime.

“But you have to at least hydrate. Today was a lot.” You offer him your bottled water, still unopened since his was already empty, forgotten at his feet. You couldn’t stomach liquids either, might as well give it away.

“Min-su.” You say louder, your cheekbones ache, your eyes sting.

“Y-yeah?”

“Drink.” Despite your skin protesting, you smile. His youthful face is still pristine, and you can’t believe it. Even yourself, slipping and sliding, running through pools of red after the last game, can feel the crust of dried blood on your chin, the dampness of it seeping through your clothes.

Thankfully, he takes your offer, immediately opening it to slug it down. It’s probably the most normal you’ve seen him.

Satisfied, you playfully shove his knee.

“Next vote, we’ll all say ‘no more.’” You reassure him. ”Then we can all go home and eat a real meal. Wouldn’t that be nice?” With the little time you’ve been here, food seemed to dwindle less and less each serving.

His puppy-like eyes light up just a little, a small curve of his lips gives you hope that someone is still behind those eyes.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

”Maybe we can go to this new restaurant they just opened in my neighborhood. I heard they have the best bibimbap, I just haven’t had the time to go.” Or the money.

“You’d like to go with me?”

And for some reason, that pinched your heart. You don’t know anything about the kid, hell, he could be in crippling debt from shady shit, but you can’t help but want to reach out a hand to him. Clearly, he’s an adult, but you don’t think he could make his own decision even if his life depended on it. That’s why-

“Hey!”

That’s why he’s a sheep, following a man like Thanos because he can’t just say no.

“I said hey! You goin’ fucking deaf?” Without turning, you already know that voice, those steps.

”I thought you were my brother, man. The hell you doing talkin’ to my girl?” Thanos’s voice towers over you from behind. Taking a deep breath to close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere but here.

Min-su's eyes grow wide, his mouth opens to speak, but he freezes.

Fingers flip your hair for attention, but you remain facing Min-su.

“You trying to fuck with me? Over here smiling and shit.” Thanos takes a seat on the steps beside you, fingers twirling your hair. “You won’t win her over like that, my boy. Takes a real man to handle this one.” You cringe, you always did when he spewed his bullshit.

“What’s so funny, huh?” He tests.

Min-su’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

From your peripheral, Thanos’s face is close to yours, watching every muscle. His head cocks to the side, lips forming a pout and subtly nods his head up and down.

He’s high. It wasn’t even a week and you can tell his antics. He must have taken a pill of god-knows-what from his necklace.

For some unknown and unsolicited reason to you, Thanos has sunken his claws into you day one.

You were in line, waiting to take your picture when a guy vaguely familiar to you was suddenly surrounded by what looked like fans. Number 230. Girls fawned over him, guys wanting to chop up a conversation - a rapper, one reminds you. Now how the fuck does a famous rapper get into a place like this? He must have spent every ‘earning’ dollar on foreign cars, drugs, girls… Money can’t buy intelligence.

He had locked eyes with you after being scolded by the pink guard, and before he entered the stairwell, he gestured a heart with his hands.

He seemed like a normal, cocky guy with little quirks at first. Never being one to enter the scene of his caliber, you figured it was normal the way he carried himself. Never did you think he’d actually take a liking to you to the point of being a nuisance. You’ve come to find out that he was a sociopath and terrifying during the games. One pop of those pills and he’d cause chaos purposefully. To your shock, the purple haired man who gave you a heart just 10 minutes ago, pushed 3 innocent people during red light green light and smiled when they were shot. Skipping around, twirling and dancing while others ran for their life to cross that finish line.

After the first game, he approached with confidence, spitting out a freestyle about how he fancies you. Confessing empty feelings towards you and sitting uncomfortably close during the first dinner. You didn’t pay much attention to him, but it didn’t phase him. You were already locked in, forced to participate in these games with him as an ally.

No matter how much you pull away, how much you ignore, his leg will always touch yours, his fingers will always thread through your hair, his eyes will always find yours, always watching and waiting. He never missed a moment to compliment you, to touch you gently, even when you haven’t showered in days. For why, you didn’t know. Night one, he had even threatened someone to take the bed next to yours.

You were pulled into the next game with him, and thankfully you were good at ddakji, giving your team a jumpstart with time. And to your surprise of his coordination, he was good at jegi. With Mingle, Thanos kept a bruising grip on your forearm, keeping you close, not more than a hair's length from him. Even when the game called for 2 people, he’d abandoned his friend to pull you in a room.

“Just one more game, yeah? I want to see you join the O gang.” He said sweetly, pressing the pad of his fingers into the palm of your hand. “You’re not trying to leave me, are you? After this we can leave here together.” Whether he meant it or not, you could care less. You wanted to leave. Leave him and these games behind. To hell with the money at this point.

And when you pressed that “X”, keeping your badge of hope, you could feel the daggers from across the room. He was furious. Surprisingly, he didn’t voice it, because after all was said and done, the majority ruled in favor of continuing the games, breaking your heart into little itty bitty shards of glass. Your fire had faded, your faith had been shattered, but Thanos didn’t care. He was so happy that he picked you up and spun you around, rambling about how he has more time with you now.

“My boy, I asked what’s so fucking funny? Hello?” Thanos waves his hand obnoxiously between the two of you.

“Would you just leave it? We were just-“

Thanos’s eyes find the two empty water bottles beside the man in front of you. Putting two and two together, he snaps. Thanos lunges forward, threatening to grab Min-su by the collar, but he stops before he does.

”Did you give your shit to him? What, didn’t want to ask me if I needed it first?” Towering over the two of you, the purple haired man taps his chest, swaying over his feet.

“Babygirl,” his voice drawls, “why you gotta do me like that?”

It’s been too long of a day, your body aches, your head pounds at the inside of your skull… you’re done with this. Standing up, you give a reassuring smile to Min-su before stepping down the stairs to head to the bathroom.

To your relief, Thanos doesn’t follow. While everyone left around you crawls up to their bed, the announcement blares on the overhead speakers in that unnatural feminine voice, “LIGHTS OUT IN 10 MINUTES.”

Standing before the pink guard, you request to use the bathroom and thankfully, whoever is under that mask, doesn’t give you a hard time. He simply steps aside to let you walk down the sickly pesto pink hallway to the women’s lavatory.

Your steps echo over the pristine white tile, sterile lights glow from the ceiling as you scan the long and empty bathroom. You’re the only one here. Sighing, you stand over the sink and collect yourself.

Your clothes reek of decay, the wrists of your jacket damp and sticky - and you were right about feeling that dried blood on your chin. Your eyes are sunken and glossy, your hair messy and unbrushed and the beds of your fingernails are crusted in red bodily fluids.

Enjoying the moments of silence underneath the fluorescent glow, you begin your nightly routine scrubbing yourself clean.

“LIGHTS OUT IN 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1”

The bathroom remains lit, and you give it a second for the pink guard to come get you, but all you hear is the water dripping from the faucet and… otherwise complete silence. Your eyes watch the door to your left, but it remains still as it was.

They must have forgotten you were in here, but that doesn’t bother you. This was the first time you’ve heard silence in days. No snoring, no rustling of bedding, no screaming, gunshots, crying, praying… just complete and utter silence.

You’ve only had a moment to begin fixing your hair when you hear the hinges of the door creak open.

Turning your head, you’re met with Thanos swaggering into the room, heels scuffling over the tile. Eyes like daggers remain fixated on you by the sink.

“There you are, my baby girl. Why’d you dip on me earlier? I was trying to defend my girl.” He says casually, leaning against the wall.

You can admit the fact that the man before you is… attractive. His sharp facial features stand out in a crowd. The tattoos that litter his skin give even more of an edge to him. He’s tall and lean… But he’s an ass who has been lingering over you unsolicitedly for days. His personality is equivalent to needles splitting your brain open, but you can’t deny that in this moment, he looks good.

“How- how did you get in here?” Your only moments of silence, the only time you had to yourself was eventually corrupted by him, as always. You keep your face tight and swallow the feelings of confusion and anger.

Thanos shrugs, pursing his lips.

“I just came right in. No guards out there, plus they can’t keep me from you baby girl, you know that.”

“You’re fucking insane. Get out of the girls bathroom!”

”Relax, baby,” pushing himself off the wall, he takes his time to stalk towards you. Hand over his chest, he raises his brows in a sympathetic manner.

“You hurt me back there. Can’t you see how much I care for you? I never treated a lady like this before.”

You back up slowly, observing his every moment closely. His pupils were dilated and his lips curled into a grin.

“Just the the fuck out, we’re going to get in trouble if you’re caught in here.” You didn’t have a death wish right now, given the situation you’re in. You’d rather die messing up in a game than by the choice Thanos has made.

“Don’t test me,” he says sternly, pointing two fingers at you. His nostrils flare before his face relaxes.

”C’mon baby girl, tell me what you and my boy were talking about? You made me look like an ass out there.”

Gripping the cool porcelain sink, you take a breath. Maybe talking calmly to him will de-escalate the situation. It’s evident that the guards either know you both are in here and just don’t care, or they can’t even hear you.

“Thanos, I was just trying to cheer him up. You know how shy he is, Min-su isn’t cut out for these things. I mean, look at the situation we’re in, it’s traumatizing.” That’s probably the longest thing you’ve said to him, and you notice that he notices. Giving a smug look of satisfaction, he’s eager to respond.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” His arms shoot open and he leans his chest forward. “This shit is fun. He’s under my wing, he’s got nothing to worry about. If you guys stop voting to leave we’d have a higher chance of getting all that money and leaving here together as a group, you know what I’m sayin’? And you guys just fuck around behind my back.”

You observe his characteristics when he talks to you. He’s expressive with his body, leaning his body side to side, talking with his hands. You’ve noticed that he’s more fidgety when he’s high.

“I can take care of you baby girl, like I have been doing. Keep all your attention on me and we won’t have a problem, yeah?” Your plan didn’t work. It’s calmed him down some, you can see it in his eyes, he’s looking at you like he… adores you. His eyes dart around your face in awe, his mouth slightly dropped open.

He’s just fucking high.

“I’m done, we’re going to bed.”

Moving to leave past him, Thanos grips your wrist painfully tight.

“The hell-“

He pushes your body back in front of him, bringing your wrist up to your face level. His other arm slithers over the small of your back, keeping you close. He’s warm, and surprisingly clean, despite his clothing. His grip is bruising, and you’re too sore to give back much fight. He might just end up killing you here, in an institutional bathroom.

Your eyes blow wide in surprise. The lighting here is so stark that you can see yourself in the reflection of his glossy eyes and enlarged pupils.

“You fucked with me, and here’s how this is going to go.” His all too excited smile was telling - that he was enjoying this. He’s been waiting for this moment.

”I keep you safe, I feed you… and you wanna flirt with other guys right in front of me?” His voice amplified the last of that sentence and you squeeze your eyes shut in response.

“What’s he got that I don’t have, huh?” His head cocks to the side before he presses his face close to your ear. You shutter at the yelling, but he doesn’t allow you to move an inch.

“You’re insane.” You whisper.

”The only thing that’s been driving me fuckin’ insane in here is you… you…” He pauses.

His face quickly reels back, face confused as ever before it drops again into that soft expression. His mood swings give you whiplash. You never know what’s next with him.

”Baby, I don’t even know your name.”

You shake your head, looking up at him perplexed. “Wha- I don’t,” you begin. The way he can change topics on a dime-

“My baby giiiirl,” he drawls, “tell me your name. I don’t even know my girls name.” He pouts.

You stare back at him in shock, refusing to move a muscle. But obviously this won’t do for him. Unsatisfied with your lack of reaction, or name giving, he twists your wrist tight again, causing you to open your mouth in a silent scream.

“Tell me baby, tell me your name.” He presses the arm around your back tightly as he guides you backwards. Your body collides into the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and now you’re really fucked.

You give in. You offer your name on a silver plate to him, the last bit of yourself you haven’t given away was now his.

“Ah,” he takes it in and repeats your name over and over again, tasting it on his tongue and savoring it like a candy sweet.

You swallow thickly, taking in each breath slowly from the double sided pressure. It’s all getting too much. The anger you felt earlier comes bubbling up again. His annoyance, his obnoxiousness, his presence - it’s all too overwhelming. His reactions to things, the way he bullies the other players, his corruption and carelessness…

”Fuck off.” You spit.

Thanos whistles then smiles wide. You fucked up. You fucked up in a way that unleashed the depths of his insanity. Bringing his face unbearably close to yours he gives an airy laugh.

”God, you’re always such a prissy bitch,” he sighs, savoring the icy daggered look you give him, “I fucking love that.”

”And you’re a fucking freak.”

“You know I’ve been waiting forever to be alone with you. Show you how I really feel.” He responds, not even acknowledging what you said to him.

Thanos goes again to press his leg between your thighs, he pushes his knee up to your core. Now you’re stuck between the wall, his body and straddling his leg with absolutely no space to move. Your face twinges in the slightest of pleasure, but you quickly collect yourself.

He definitely notices.

”You’re like a pretty painting, like in one of those fancy museums.” He slurs, keeping his eye on you. “Could look at you all day…” he spaces off.

“Thanos,” you wiggle in his grip, unable to breathe.

“Baby if you keep moving like that…” You already feel it. Not just feeling it, but you see it. Down between your bodies, his bulge protrudes upright, reaching to his waistband. Little wet spots of precum had already formed through the fabric of his jumpsuit god-knows when.

You want to whine, but you opt to squeeze your eyes shut and extend your neck up to face the ceiling. The white light illuminates through your eyelids, reminding you where you are.

Thanos takes this moment of your exposed neck to devour it. He’s sloppy, but coordinated. His wet tongue drags up to your jawline, leaving hot saliva that cools over. He groans at the taste. He’s not so gentle with his teeth when he drags them over your flesh, nibbling and scraping the tender spot under your chin.

Mindlessly, Thanos humps into you. His thick bulge grinds over your sweet spot in the perfect way… forcing a soft moan past your lips. With each hump, you feel his sweatpants push and push down, exposing the head of his cock.

Thanos loosens his hold on you, bringing one hand to the bottom of your sweater to lift it up, exposing your belly.

You gasp, immediately feeling the wetness of his precum stringing from his cock to your stomach with every thrust. Your eyes shot open, almost going blind from the lights above you. Tufts of his hair block your vision, and the scratching of his earring begins to irritate your cheek.

“I’m sorry babygirl, I was just mad earlier. I know you’d never flirt with Min-su…”

Hump, hump, hump.

“Ah - but if you ever think about giving your time to anyone else, you’re fucking dead.”

His voice rasps lowly in your ear and his precum starts to get messier by the second. Looking down, you see his cockhead red and angry. He’s thick and long. Veins dance along his shaft beautifully, and his sweet smell wafts to your nose.

“Needed you so bad all those days ago. Can’t believe I finally have you. You’ve been thinking of this too, yeah?”

He doesn’t give time to answer, not like you would have. Your emotions were a mix between anger, shock and… pleasure. It was a confusing mix, it was intense and steamy. Your core burned for him but your heart raged. In a way, you were flattered, but that feeling was none compared to the others.

In a swift motion, Thanos pulls away his knee, much to your internal dismay, to pull down your pants to your ankles. He gives himself just a second to free himself, only to the base of his balls. Standing upright at attention, you see fully how thick he is. He was a tall man, but you didn’t think his size would correlate…

From base to tip, he was the same circumference. The tip of his cock a dark blushed pink, almost red, while his balls were plump with clean cut hair. He must have trimmed the day he was kidnapped for the games.

“Come here baby girl,” he whispers before picking you up with ease and pressing you against the cold tile once again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pressing your legs open to a standing mating press. Your body contests with the stretch, but you’re too weak to adjust yourself.

Using the leverage the wall gave, he positions himself comfortably, cock lining up to your opening. His head prodded your entrance, and you feel all too hot.

Giving him an icy glare, all he gives back is an expression of sickly love.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll realize one day how much you love me back. But for now, I gotta show everyone who you belong to.”

Opening your mouth to respond, Thanos was quick to press his bulbous cockhead past your opening. Your mouth slacks open in pleasure, while your core burns at the sensation. You would hate to admit it, but you were already pooling from the pressure of his knee earlier.

But of course he took notice.

“Oh fuck, I feel you. See, I knew you’ve been wanting this too.”

Thanos pushed and pushed through your walls, deeper and deeper.

”Sorry baby, I couldn’t wait. I’ll touch you next time, yeah?”

Your walls twitch at the intrusion, but your slick allows him to press in with ease. Finally hitting the end, you gasp for air. His cock must be pressing against your cervix, the pressure is too much, you internally beg for him to move. His balls softly push against the curve of your ass before he moves his hips back, letting his cock drag along your walls.

“Oh my god,” you barely whisper. It was like a dream. A fucked up, but also marvelous dream.

Before he does anything else, Thanos latches on to the base of your neck like a leach, sucking your skin roughly like he’s trying to take every last molecule of your blood.

Humping into you only by inches, slowly creating your pussy into the shape of him, he sucks and sucks deeply at your neck. Closing your eyes, tears of pleasure being to pool at the feeling.

“Ouch, Thanos, please,” You writhe in his hold, but he doesn’t let up until he wants to. Popping his lips off of you, his breath is ragged. Dark eyes meet yours, intense and hypnotizing.

“You’re fucking mine. I’ll kill anyone that even looks at you.”

And with that, he plunges his cock deep inside you again, all the way to press himself against your cervix.

He starts a brutal pace, fucking you deep and raw. The intensity within his eyes swim with a sickly adoration before he asks-

“Kiss me. Fuck, kiss me.”

You whine, pressing your lips into his. His kiss was rough, full of teeth and need. Your head bumps against the tile and without a second thought, Thanos wraps one of your legs around him to keep you in place before placing his hand behind your head to cradle your skull.

His tongue forces his way into yours, and he groans at your taste, your warmth. His breath is ragged and fast, fucking you roughly into oblivion. His pelvis rubs your clit with every motion and you grind back down every time he meets you deep.

Pulling away, he presses his sweaty forehead to yours before moving his other hand to the fat of your ass. His dull fingernails dig into your flesh with an iron grip, moving you to his rhythm.

“Not going to last long, fuck baby-“ He groans before sticking his tongue out to lick and suck at your bottom lip. It must be an oral fixation for him when he’s like this.

Your name falls from his mouth like a mantra, over and over again like before. He whispers sweet nothings of how much he loves you, how he’s so happy to have met you and -

“You better fucking vote to stay in the games next round.”

It was a threat. But the pleasure you felt within your core washed it all away within milliseconds. You feel the slick from your cunt coat his balls and your belly starts to tighten. The string of your euphoria was under so much pressure and it was ready to snap.

Thanos’s thrusts became sloppy and even harder than before. The sound of skin slapping was all you could hear, that and the moaning that fell effortlessly past his lips.

1 pump, 2 pump, 3… your body was a ragdoll in his grip, sending you over the edge in nonverbal pleasure. You silently cry out, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your walls contracted and shuddered around him, causing him to lose all bearings.

“Fucking love you…” was all he said before filling your pussy with hot ropes of cum. It was too much, and you felt the balloon pop deep inside you. Warm, sticky liquid coats your walls and begins to seep out with every tired thrust he gives.

You both stayed there for a few moments, before Thanos kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose and finally your lips. You’re too tired to respond. Him pulling out of you is equivalent to a wall opening a dam.

But he was oddly gentle, like those little moments he’d give you when he wasn’t high.

He must have come down.

Because he was gentle, setting you down to the floor, and gentle when he took your hand to hold you upright. Your legs threatened to give out any second, and with everything that had happened today, you were absolutely spent.

He didn’t clean you up though. Instead, the purple haired man caressed your face softly while his other hand shoved his cum back up inside your cunt.

“Tired?” He nodded to you, and all you could do was nod back. “Let’s go to bed, sweet girl. Tomorrow we got more money to earn.”

He took the time to pull up your pants and tuck himself back inside his before slinging an arm around you.

You realize the position you’re in. You’re at his mercy of the games, and beyond that.

And you just realized that you can’t say no either.

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i'll love you forever if anyone knows what the title is a quote from. anyway, i was craving primal, desperate, bloody sex with alucard so here it is 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.2k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, biting, marking, blood drinking, oral (fem. receiving), overstimulation (male and fem.), men whimpering and moaning

A desperate noise leaves your lips as his fangs sink into your neck. There’s pain but a rush of pleasure too as his canines withdraw and his lips wrap gently yet eagerly around the wound, your blood pooling on his tongue, sluicing down his throat, staining his teeth red and pink. And when he kisses you, it’s with a mouth of heat and copper and yet it’s not off-putting in the slightest as his tongue slides against yours and he then buries his face in your neck again, lapping at the punctures over your throat, warm breath panting against your bloody skin. 

A moan leaves his lips and your hand tangles in his gossamer hair, the ends darkened and stuck together where they’ve swiped through the blood on your bodies. He’s not the only one leaving marks through as your other hand is scratching angry, vengeful lines down his back. He’s on top of you, nestled between your soft thighs, the insides which are already painted with fang punctures and love bites, having been thoroughly pampered and prepared with his skillful tongue before he even considered taking his own pleasure for you. 

His heart might be slower than yours but every beat of it belongs to you so as your pulse thrums through your veins like a storm, he listens to its flutters and feels the warmth of its work on his tongue. His alabaster skin is also smeared with the red liquid. Your life isn’t like his: it’s warm, red, brief and he wants to worship it. Your life flowing from your broken skin isn’t unappreciated at all and you’ll be treated like a queen of queens after this but for now he wants to love every part of you, of your nature, to feed from you if only to prove how his immortal life rests in your living hands. 

Your thighs squeeze his narrow waist, heels digging into his back to push him deeper into where he’s pumping in and out of your welcoming, wet walls. Between your flowing blood and arousal, your bodies meet with repeated wet smacks and he looks at you with lidded eyes the colour of winter sun. He’s beautiful – unspeakably so – and it only makes you pull him into another kiss, your tongue sliding past his fangs and tasting the bitterness of your blood and arousal that’s filled his mouth. 

The kiss breaks and he rests his forehead against yours, brow pinched in pleasure as he thrusts into you, stretching you sweetly as his tip kisses your cervix each time, hips angled to reach each sweet spot of yours along the way to keep those sweet moans and whines pouring past your bloodied lips. His breath mingles with yours and a whimper squeezes out of his pale throat. 

“You’re so warm… so, so warm.” He props himself up with a hand on the headboard and looks down at your writhing figure beneath him, breasts bouncing enticingly with each firm smack of his hips against yours. “I want to see you come again, I want to feel it.” His eyes are watery with how overwhelmingly good he feels, crystalline drops clinging to his long lashes. His other hand ventures down to your clit where he begins to rub sticky hearts, pressing down on the sensitive button to feel your walls clench around him. “So pretty… you’re so pretty, my love.” He sighs out when you throw your head back and he feels the way you tighten on his cock. 

He wants to keep on looking over you like this but he can’t resist the crimson splashed over your throat like sweet syrup and his tongue is lapping at the punctures he’s left in your flesh again. 

“Come for me, darling.” He coaxes, voice slightly muffled with the tip of his tongue still on your warm skin, “Come on my cock and show me your prettiest self.” He smiles when your moans go up in pitch and he can feel your thighs squirm and tense. With his one hand, he keeps on pressing and rubbing your clit, rapidly flicking the pads of his fingers over it, but the other goes to the back of your knee, pressing on it to hold you open so that you cannot close your legs when the pleasure washes over you. You wouldn’t be able to close your legs with him between them anyway but he wants an unobstructed view of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over so that he can see how you’ve made a halo of cream at his base, length shining with how much he can turn you on, the insides of your thighs smudged with blood and darkened with love bites. 

“A-Adrian, please.” You cry out as you begin to tremble and all that pressure building up in your belly finally collapses in on itself, sending utter bliss washing through your body. He bites you again, over your breast this time, and lets out a muffled moan of his own. You’re contracting so tightly around him that it’s got his hips stuttering and everything about you from your feel to your looks, your sounds, your scent, your taste has him going right over the edge with you. A whimper escapes him as he slows down his steady but firm pace, now just grinding into you as he pumps you full of warm cum. He leans down over you more and shifts your hips so that it’s less likely for it to spill out of you. 

You’re both pushed to your most sensitive states but he doesn’t care and continues to grind into that soft spot of yours with his tip over and over and over, pulling soft, wet noises from your fluttering walls. He fucks his cum deeper into you, not wanting a drop to spill from your body for now and yet he’s already anticipating the sight of seeing it leak from you when he pulls out. Alucard’s body feels as though it’s on fire with the overstimulation settling into his being and yet he’s enjoying you far too much to care and with those beautiful tears prickling the corners of your glittery eyes, he can’t find it in himself to stop. 

He nuzzles into your bloodied neck as his arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to him and encouraging your spine into an arch. You’re trembling like a leaf in the wind but he’s right there with you, desperate sounds slipping past bloodied lips for the both of you. Eventually, he reaches the pinnacle of that sweet fire in his veins and he finally goes still. He presses a kiss to your collarbone reverently and then slowly pulls out, mindful of how sensitive the both of you are. Just as anticipated, he’s blessed with the sight of your puffy pussy that glistens with your juices and leaks his thick ropes of cum, framed by your pretty thighs that he’s bruised with his mouth and punctures with his teeth, smudged with blood. 

He lays down beside you and pulls you into his arms, bodies damp with sweat and blood. You curl up against his toned, scarred chest and he’s holding the most precious thing in the world. He smooths your hair back and away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead as he closes his eyes, coming down from his high. He cups your cheek and then kisses that next.

After around ten minutes, he gets up to begin doting on you like royalty. You deserved every bit of pleasure he was capable of giving and now you deserve every ounce of care. 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @koyunsoncizeri @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @welcome2thesaltyspitoon @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @aconstructofamind @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things @weasleytwins-41

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Finish the Email (Sevika x Reader smut) ✞⛧

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vibrator use, Oral sex, teasing, Dominance/submission dynamics, Begging and verbal commands

The couch feels too small, too soft, like it’s sinking beneath you as you fumble with your laptop, trying to focus on the email draft glaring back at you. Your boss’s passive-aggressive remarks from earlier today still claw at the edges of your mind, and you grit your teeth, determined to get this done. You’re sitting cross-legged, your hoodie pooling around your waist, the fabric soft and worn, while your panties—simple black cotton—feel almost too thin against the heat of your skin. The room is dim, the faint hum of Zaun’s neon glow filtering through the blinds.

And then she walks in.

Sevika. Sevika. Her presence fills the room instantly, like a storm rolling in. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s her. The weight of her boots on the floor, the faint clink of her copper prosthetic arm, the way the air seems to shift—charged, electric. She doesn’t say a word, just stalks over to the couch and drops down beside you, her thigh brushing against yours. You feel your breath hitch.

You glance at her, trying to gauge her mood. Her face is unreadable, as always, her grey eyes sharp and focused, the scars on her left side catching the dim light. Her lips—painted that dark, earthy brown—curve into something that’s not quite a smile, but it’s close. Something dangerous. She’s wearing her usual red poncho, but it’s open, revealing the sleeveless top beneath, the straps of her harness cutting across her torso. She looks like she could break you in half with a single look. And you’d let her.

“Hey,” you say, your voice too soft, too uncertain. You hate how she does this to you, how she makes you feel small and weak and needy. But you can’t help it. She’s Sevika.

She doesn’t respond, just leans back against the couch, her arm draping over the backrest. You turn your attention back to your laptop, determined to finish this email. But then you hear it—the faint hum of something, low and vibrating, and your stomach drops. You glance at her again, and that’s when you see it. In her hand, casual as anything, is a vibrator. Black, sleek, and unmistakably powerful. Your throat goes dry.

“Sevika…” you start, but she cuts you off with a look, her lips quirking into that almost-smile.

“Keep typing,” she says, her voice low and rough, the kind of voice that makes your skin prickle. And then, without warning, she’s pressing the vibrator against your clothed pussy, the buzzing sensation making you jolt. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers trembling over the keyboard.

You try to focus, you really do. But it’s impossible. The vibrations are relentless, the pleasure building with every second. You can feel the heat pooling between your thighs, the wetness soaking through your panties. Your hands shake as you type, your words becoming a jumbled mess of typos and half-formed sentences. And she’s just sitting there, watching you with that smug expression, her prosthetic arm resting on the back of the couch like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Sevika… I can’t…” you whine, your voice high and desperate. You’re so close already, your thighs trembling, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. But she just shakes her head, her lips brushing against your ear as she leans in.

“You can,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. “Finish the email.”

And then she turns up the vibration, the sudden increase in intensity making you cry out. Your hips buck involuntarily, but she keeps the toy pressed firmly against you, her free hand gripping your thigh to keep you still. You’re a mess, your body writhing, your mind foggy with pleasure. You try to focus on the screen, but the words blur together, your fingers slipping on the keys.

“P-please…” you beg, your voice breaking. But she just hushes you, her teeth grazing your neck, leaving a mark that you know will be impossible to hide. You whimper, your thighs clenching, your pussy throbbing. You’re so close, so damn close, but she pulls the vibrator away, leaving you trembling and desperate.

“Almost there,” she says, her voice teasing, her lips curving into a wicked smirk. You glare at her, but it’s half-hearted, your body too consumed with need to put up any real resistance. You force yourself to finish the email, your hands shaking, your mind barely functioning. But finally, finally, you hit send and slam the laptop shut, tossing it onto the table.

“There,” you say, your voice breathy, your chest heaving. But before you can say anything else, she’s moving, shifting you so you’re lying back on the couch, your legs spread open. She throws your panties to the side, the cool air hitting your slick folds, and then she’s between your legs, her face so close you can feel her breath against your skin.

“Sevika—” you start, but she cuts you off with a look, her grey eyes dark with hunger.

“Beg,” she says, her voice low and commanding. And you do. You can’t help it. You’re so desperate, so needy, and she’s the only one who can give you what you want.

“Please,” you whimper, your hands gripping the couch cushions. “Please, Sevika… I need you…”

She doesn’t respond, just dips her head down, her tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit. You moan, your hips bucking, but she holds you down, her prosthetic arm pinning your waist. She’s relentless, her tongue teasing your clit, her fingers dipping inside you, curling and pumping. You’re a writhing mess, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps, your thighs trembling around her head.

“Sevika, please… I’m so close…” you beg, your voice breaking. This time, she doesn’t stop. She sucks on your clit, her fingers thrusting deeper, and then you’re coming, your body convulsing, your thighs clamping around her head. She doesn’t let up, riding out your orgasm until you’re a trembling, boneless heap on the couch.

When she finally pulls back, she’s licking her lips, that smug expression still on her face. She looks down at you, her grey eyes glinting with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” she says, her voice rough, her lips curving into a smirk. You’re too spent to respond, your body still shaking, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.

[shalomniscient]

Ahhhhh, imagining general feixiao strenght on bed 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 while on her rut 🤤🤤🤤🤤 please one chance general feixiao 🙏🙏

[nsft utc]

cw. omegaverse

anon i held off on answering this because i wanted to try and wait for more of her leaks to drop but i’m so down horrendous and in heat for this fox woman it’s so crazy i simply can’t stfu anymore. anyway feixiao in rut is a menace, all teeth and a firm grip on whichever part of your body makes it easier for her to pull you back onto her cock.

as a general she’s evidently incredibly strong, also helped by the fact she frequently hits the gym. all that means is that it’s truly no problem for her to lift or manhandle you in any way she likes, be it fucking you midair or against a wall, where she’s the only thing keeping you upright, or on the bed where she’s moving you up and down her cock like you’re her own personal fucktoy. her voice turns lower and all growly in her rut, and her scent grows stronger, sandalwood and spice and earth. she scents you obsessively, always taking your wrists and lightly nipping at them or pressing her own against the column of your neck so your scents can mingle and settle. god, she gets so greedy for you, so needy, her words slurring together as she fucks you with languid, deep strokes that have you pushing up against the bed with each thrust, the corners of the bedsheet coming free. she’s obsessed with the way you squeeze around her so perfectly, so warm and tight and welcoming to the point that some part of her delirious rut-brain doesn’t ever want to leave.

and oh, when she finally knots you… it takes some effort, namely her teeth in the junction of your shoulder and neck, right above the mating bite she gave you. she renews it every rut, fangs sinking into your soft skin, breaking it ever so slightly until she tastes the hint of copper on her tongue. the way you howl in pleasure as she bites, your foggy omega brain delighted at the claim, has her hips stuttering and jumping, a strangled groan rumbling deep in her throat. you slacken reflexively beneath her, and feixiao doesn’t have to look at your face to know your eyes have rolled so far back into your skull that only the whites are visible. with a final roll of her hips she slips her thick knot into you, your lower lips sealing around her base and holding her tight inside your cunt, inner walls squeezing and clamping around her dick until she cums with a low whine, vision going white as she breeds you full. her knot doesn’t go down for hours afterward, keeping both of you joined together.

feixiao doesn’t mind this part either. she actually really likes it, once the both of you have gotten into a more comfortable position. there’s a special sort of intimacy tied to you like this, her cock stuffed deep in your cunt as she holds you against her chest. your breathing is even and deep as you rest lightly on top of her, recovering your energy for the next few rounds that are definitely happening. it’s in these moments in-between that your beloved general is the most affectionate, pressing kisses to your cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere she can reach, really, as she praises you gently for being her darling, perfect mate.

[cherryredstars]

Your "sweet" boyfriend who can't resist the urge to have you sprayed out on his bed. He's absolutely in love with the pout on your face as he takes your tiny hands in his, guiding them down your body until your cute fingers spread your thighs open for him. He totally ignores the teary look in your eyes, finding it amusing as you shake your hips and whine for him to do something to relieve the achy need he had forced you to endure the whole time you were out together. But you've lasted this long; what's the harm in making you wait a little bit longer?

He's in love with the fussy huff that escapes your throat, shooting heart eyes at you as he gives your clit a little kiss that has your body twitching like a baby bunny. His sweet girl is just so fun to tease with your bratty noises and defenseless squirming. He could just eat you up and tear you apart. Would have his dying wish be to sink his sharp teeth into your delicate skin, marking you permanently. He salivates at the idea, and he's sure the tightness of his pants isn't a trick of the mind.

His face shoots towards your inner thighs, groaning as his jaw drops and his mouth is filled with your plush skin. You mewl loudly in pain as his sharp canines break through skin. He bites like a wolf given a chew toy, and you try to hit his head away. Your skin aches where he bites you, and you can already feel the saliva clinging to your skin. You whimper when he pulls away, feeling the prickling of blood as it beads from the sunken holes punched into your skin. Your whole body shivers when his warm tongue licks at it, the tinest drops of sweet copper filling his mouth.

It makes him hungry for something even sweeter.

- Miguel O'Hara, Soap Mactavish, König, Gojo Satoru, Sukuna, all of the JJK men, every and anyone of your boys tbh

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

do you fancy a quickie? word count: 2,5k cw: shameless smut, viktor is a tease (everybody act surprised), no use of y/n, reader is reffered to as spouse. what else? ah yes. semi-public sex.

art cr: @arcanescribbles. saw her viktor in formal wear and instanly knew i had to write something mentioning it. *standard 'english is not my first language please don't be mean to me' bullshit*

It felt immaculate. The languid wince of bright eyes, the smirk you were wearing — chiselled just perfectly precisely for a moment like this, as if you were an inborn heartthrob rejecting unfortunate suitors left and right — a natural, if you will. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” you started from a far, making sure — patently by total accident — to casually snake a dextrous hand up your chest, resting it right above your cleavage — just where that fool’s eyes were devouring you. “But I am simply not interested. I’m married.”

You’re savoring the drop of his face when he notices the ring. You just wiped a grin off a man’s face with class — surely, that must’ve felt spectacular, and you rejoiced when he hummed — suddenly all clumsy and simply pitiful — and, with a rather impolite mumble of a sharp ‘excuse me’, walked away, leaving you all proud and unapproachable. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t ask me for a hand in a dance, gentlemen — because someone has already put a ring on it. 

You got back to chugging on your champagne, lips tightly closed around the rim of that ridiculously fancy glass, although it matched the ridiculously fancy gown you were impressing the so-called select society with tonight. And it actually worked (or so it seems),  since you managed to strike the fancy of the mentioned earlier tipsy sir, who were now pouting his lips like an offended child, turning his subtle drunkenness into a full-blown intoxication; squinting, and ranting, and swallowing yet another drink as he kept whining about your flawless rejection to a bunch of sympathetic peers. 

But you couldn’t care less — not when you were just minutes away from leaving this bougie ballroom behind, with all its curious glances and endless mingling; so many faces, when you only wanted to stare into the sharpness of one — with two moles piercing the pale canvas of skin and cheekbones hollow enough to stroke a soft finger over the lines of them, demanding a kiss. You sigh — almost dreamily in the way your head wearily leans its weight onto the back of your palm. So cliché, but who are they to blame you? Not when your husband is such a sight, and certainly not when your husband is such a sound — raspy, low, and, frankly – simply hot, and you giggle at the thought, sinking two front teeth into the pad of your thumb. 

You barely understand a word when Viktor tells the inquisitive Upsiders about the Hexclaw glove, yet still absorb each moment of his speech with tender thoroughness, because listening to him talk — about anything, really — is a privilege, one you cherished dearly and with genuine care. You were an admirer, watching him — all intelligent and so pensive, in that suit, with that raw passion in the depth of copper eyes, on that stage. And comprehension is not necessary — not when you see how talking about his inventions lights him up; so bright, that he could easily outshine the golden boy. In your loving eyes, at the very least. 

He notices when you join the round of enthusiastic applause, quietly thanking his audience for the attention — pensive and polite, so uniquely pretty in his demureness. It feels like showing him off, and that grin stretches even further across your face when he goes down the stage to walk up in your direction. 

You’re not subtle with that kiss. Pulling on his tie, shamelessly pushing your tongue into his mouth, knowing that they stare, and when Viktor — all wide-eyed and smitten — reciprocates, humming into the heat of your lips, you’re gone. He’s breathless when it’s over, arches a thick eyebrow in a curious manner, sinking your proud expression in. 

“What was that for?” he chuckles, feeling the damage done to his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“Can’t I kiss my husband simply because I felt like it?” you purr in response, greedily eyeing him. 

He laughs. You stroke a hand over the rise of his chest, and he clutches his cane — the pretty one for special occasions, with elegant carving and gilding. 

A thin arm wrapped around your waist coaxes you to jump off the stool, allowing him to steal an embrace. Can’t resist Viktor in a suit. In his other attire too, of course, but god does he look spectacular all dressed up. It’s almost like he was made for all the blazers, vests, and ironed shirts — an inborn gentleman, sickeningly handsome.  

His gaze travels down, to the oh so taunting cut of the silky dress: a peek of garter holding the elegant stocking, and you notice just how he relentlessly fails not to drool over you too shamelessly.

“How was my, er, speech?” he asks, practically forcing himself to rip those eyes off your hip. “I suppose it went rather well — very laconically, if I do say so myself. However, I’m afraid that Jayce is much more natural when it comes to keeping the audience entertained.”

“I was too busy listening to you to pay much attention to the golden boy,” you confess, straightening his vest for him — another excuse to touch him, but Viktor decides to touch you instead.

“That is rather disrespectful,” he scoffs, gently capturing your wrist into the warmth of his hand, and before you can react — presses a chaste kiss to the back of your palm. Damn him and his gentlemanly tricks. 

“Perhaps,” you shrug, giggling when his breath tickles your knuckles. “But you did amazing. Truly.”

“I am flattered,” he acknowledges, letting go of your wrist. His touch lingers there — warm and domestic, a wordless way of returning the courtesy. “I hope that my brief absence didn’t bore you too much?”

“Not in the slightest,” you assured him with a wry smile, and he met your words with another inquisitive hum. “Some very persistent gentleman kept trying to convince me that I need an interlocutor.”

“Is that so?” the inventor asked, evidently amused by your revelation. “And just how did that go for him, may I ask?”

“He was heartbroken to hear that I was married, you see,” you sigh, and your lips protrude into a pout — one of fake, rather comical sympathy.

“What a pity,” Viktor retorted, blessing your ears with that low, raspy laugh of his. “I hope the news didn’t crush him.” 

“Ah, don’t even bother. You hope they did.”

“What an accusation,” he exclaims, and your hands ache to strangle him with that pretty tie. “Though not an entirely unreasonable one, I must admit.”

“My point exactly,” you bite back, and your arms rush to be wrapped around the bastard's neck, chest pressed flush to his, heartbeats mingling into a mess of thuds. 

Sinewy fingers don’t hesitate to slip into the cut of your dress. They also don’t falter to cautiously crawl into the band of your stocking, almost forcing you to whimper his name into the crook of his neck — an indirect plea to proceed in private. 

“Such a mouthy thing,” Viktor whispers, and you’re done with him, almost ready to demand he bends you over in front of those very Topsiders. “Just what shall I do with you, hm?” 

He’s hard against your thigh, even a hint of friction has him jolting, hissing a quiet curse into your mouth when he occupies it with a kiss again — one too lewd to be appropriate for public eyes. 

“You should steal me away,” you suggest, staring into the madness of heavy eyes piercing yours. “For some fresh air, of course.”

“Fresh air?” he mocks, shaking his head in fake disapproval. “Is that the only reason? Not that I’m reluctant to be alone with you — quite the opposite, actually. I simply doubt that it’s the real, eh… purpose of the encounter you’re suggesting.”

Fuck’s sake. He’s utterly incorrigible. Thanks Janna you love this man. 

You sigh, struggling to suppress the urge to slap him. 

“Do you fancy a quickie?” you finally surrender, knowing damn well that out-smartassing Viktor is simply impossible. Besides — the way his lips stretch into a thin handsome line feels greater than any meaningless pleasure a well-aimed smart comment could ever bring.

It feels even better when his mouth hovers above your ear, purring a sweet, “I most certainly do.”

***

You squeak when he presses you against the cool bathroom wall, and a cautious hand cradles the back of your head, preventing it from repeating the dreary fate of his cane, which had just hit the floor with a loud thud. You, on the other hand — no pun intended, of course — are not that careful with your limbs, fingers already tangled into his hair, messing up its unusually neat style. He’s kissing you with desperation: rush didn’t leave him any time for hesitation, but you’ll gladly take him like this — all frantic, cock an aching swell inside his finest dress pants. 

“Darling,” he keens, licking at the fresh proof of his lust after you, as if trying to soothe the pain from his teeth needling into the softness of your neck. 

“Yes?” you breathe out, thoughts a mush of smutty images, but the limited privacy of this bathroom is not enough for a full-course debauchery. They call it a quickie for a reason. 

His hand slips under your gown, shamelessly kneading the plumpness of ass, ready to free you of the lace underwear. 

“No,” you pull away, shaking your head with a sharp inhale. “We don’t have time for this.” Your outfit is too impractical to allow him the pleasure of undressing you even partially, even though you’d love to let him have his way with you.

“But, beloved, isn’t that what we’re here for?” he protests, but you shut him up with another kiss, and, while he suffocates against your mouth, smoothly turn him around, firmly capturing between the wall and your softly pushed between his legs knee.

“I had other plans,” you reply, kissing down his jugular — some brief foreplay before abruptly sinking down.

“Oh,” he lets out a shaky laugh, leaning that bright head against the wall, but his eyes never leave yours — they attentively follow your every motion, carnal need thickly seeping out of them. “You’ll get on your knees for me? In that dress? My, I might’ve done something good in my past life.” 

“Will you please shut up?” you snarl, fighting with the buttons of his pants, and he nods, figuratively zipping his mouth with one dextrous move of a hand, informing you that his lips are sealed. Viktor knows better than to talk back to a person who’s about to suck him off. Teeth are a rather dangerous weapon.

He tenses up when you tease the head of his cock — slightly swollen flesh a pretty shade of pink, so sensitive that it twitches against the warmth of your fingers when you wrap them around the hilt.

He goes quiet, but not purely for the sake of not getting caught. He watches you in fascination: mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ the second you dip your tongue into the slit, and precum coats its tip, all sticky and bitterish. You both know he won’t last long — your next ministration proves it, relentlessly riding him of his wits. 

You kiss at his shaft with tenderness, to the point when it becomes barely palpable, so he squirms, demanding the resumption, and you can’t help but smile against the velvety skin of his tip. Pearly liquid clings to your bottom lip, forming a translucent trail — a mixture of him mingled with your saliva; just enough lubrication to slip lower, licking at the sensitive frenulum. Viktor lets out an illegible sound — you recognise a keen of your name in it, and it earns him one languid stroke — just the tiniest mercy. 

“Don’t you just love to torture me?” he sighs, looking down — all vulnerable and pretty, weak knees threatening to start trembling any second. 

“I’m only using your weapons against you,” a sweet reproach rolls of the very tongue you’re tormenting him with, and he swallows the most delicious whimper when you swirl it around the tip — once, twice, but thrice is what finally has him slapping a palm over his open mouth to muffle a dirty moan. 

He abstains from grabbing a handful of your hair, reluctant to ruin its whimsical style — because at least one of the spouses has to be an actually considerate lover. His long legs are struggling to keep in place, relentlessly spreading apart with each bob of your head — but he’s leaned against the wall securely enough not to fall. 

You swallow around him in a rather messy rhythm, but it still manages to reduce Viktor to a mush of babbles and incoherent praises. You have him by the balls — quite literally, because your free from squeezing his width hand is cruel enough to knead them, dragging more throaty sounds of pleasure out the thrusting into your mouth man. 

You’re fucking him with skill, painfully aware of just what goes through his head in this exact moment: that orgasm will be intense enough to hurt, making him wish you’d rather proceeded with those teasing licks and fleeting kisses. His hips jerk when you suppress the gag, taking him whole, not a single inch left without your thorough attention. Even the hand shoving those moans back into his lungs doesn’t stop him from letting out the most embarrassingly high-pitched keen — it breaks free when he coats your tongue in warm spurts of thick cum. You stick it out, allowing him a pornographic view of exactly what he’d just done to you, and he almost sobs, completely forgetting about his initial intentions of keeping quiet. 

“Gods a-above,” he stutters, suffocating like he’s the one whose mouth was just frantically fucked, wiping his release off your lips with his trembling thumb — a gesture of gratitude, tender in comparison to the curses he was panting just seconds ago. 

The air is thick with the smell of sex, raunchy enough for anyone who decides to walk into this bathroom to meticulously define what the two of you had just committed in it. Even getting off your knees and tucking him back into his pants wouldn’t help your condition — the pure way Viktor looks at you right now makes it all appallingly obvious. One doesn’t need to become a witness of the intercourse itself to confidently state “They’ve just fucked, Your Honor.” It’s written on both of your faces, on the mess of his hair, and, of course — on the burning under the thin material of stockings redness of your knees. 

You accept his touch, swallowing the remnants of his climax still covering your tired tongue, and he sighs, engraving the sight into his mind — probably to get off to the thought of it someday. But you decide not to tease him about it. You’re not that evil after all. 

You’ve never stormed out of the bathroom so fast before, all trembling limbs and nasty giggles —  the afterglow of your shared secret, dirty enough to banish Viktor from the Academy. 

He’ll recall it later, most definitely next Progress Day, when you’ll wrap those impatient arms around his neck, whispering a famous “Do you fancy a quickie?” into his ear again. 

Except for this time, your outfit will be easily removable. 

[attapullman]

So Hold Me Close and Say Three Words | bungalow!Robert "Bob" Floyd

PART OF THE BIG WINDOWS, SMALL KITCHEN UNIVERSE

Summary: There's only one thing that can get your boyfriend's mind off the horrible popcorn ceiling.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ as always, cockwarming, pet name Honey, title is from McFly's "All About You"

A Note From Mo: Welcome to bungalow!Bob! A dash of acts of service, a sprinkle of a condescension kink, and a whole lot of extremely loving boyfriend. Live-in boyfriend Bob is my biggest indulgence so no one look at me, I'm fragile.

He’s been planted in the big easy chair all morning, staring up at the last project on his list before the kitchen, and sighing. Dragging long fingers through wild hair as his eyes take in the wide expanse of the living room. 

His arch nemesis: the popcorn ceiling.

The little dipples and spikes of joint compound taunt him daily. A major contrast to the rest of the bungalow, all smooth ceilings with stunning walnut beams - one major selling point of the property. And while the previous owner did a great job with the addition bringing in natural light with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the backyard, he was off his rocker for choosing popcorn ceilings. 

Bob hasn’t hate anyone more than the previous owner. Well, maybe the neighbor across the street who stops by a little too much.

Before he moved in, Bob barely noticed any features of the sweet green bungalow you owned. The majority of his time here was spent in the bedroom between your thighs. But the switch flipped that first weekend after he moved his shoebox apartment in. Lounging on the sectional, girl on his chest, book in hand, and one look up at the world’s ugliest ceiling. 

He had to fix it. You deserve your dream house and it was his mission to give it to you. 

The line between his brows is adorable as he mutters something rude at the drywall.

“Bobby, babe, it’s just a ceiling.”

Those wide cornflower blue eyes blink at you, as if noticing for the first time you’re also sitting in the sun-drenched living room enjoying your coffee.

“It’s an ugly ceiling.”

You can’t help but giggle at the disgust in his tone. “It’s not that bad, I don’t notice.”

Your sweet boyfriend just rolls his eyes and leans back, side-eyeing the offending design choice. 

Peering over the edge of your mug, you admire the way the mid-morning sunlight streams through his hair, highlighting it copper. His sweats hang low on his hips, underwear forgotten, black shirt slightly too small with how much he’s filled out with all the manual labor fixing up the house. 

While not the main reason you asked him to move in, pajama Robert Floyd is a high perk of the situation.

The scowl on his face isn’t quite as endearing. Your heart hurts knowing how frustrated he is by the ceiling. He loves you. He loves this house. It’s too much pressure on him wanting to make it perfect.

Ever since he permanently parked his truck in the driveway, Bobby’s been nothing but generous. He sees the charm and coziness of the bungalow, but also the repairs and fixes you’re too busy for. His entire leave was spent weeding the backyard, and your skin still heats remembering his muscles bulging after carrying the pile of boxes from the garage to the attic. 

While you won’t satiate your boyfriend by allowing him to drop cloth the living room and scrape every dimple of drywall off the ceiling today, you do have a better idea for getting Bob’s mind off his dreaded enemy.

His eyes widen as you stand up, admiring the way your body stretches in your cozy waffle knit robe before heading through to the kitchen. Listens to you fiddle with dishes before passing him again to the bedroom. Too far away to hear, he sinks back into the leather armchair, allowing his body to meld to the material while frustration sits low in his gut. 

The birds at the feeder chirp away before you return. Toes against hardwood catch his attention, and Bob’s head turns toward the hallway, mouth dropping open. 

You’re walking toward him in just his threadbare Naval academy shirt. The shirt you put on the first time you stayed the night. The shirt you were wearing when he last came home from deployment and you shyly asked him to move in. His favorite shirt.

“H-honey…” It’s an unfinished sentence as he takes in how the sunlight illuminates you from behind, baring the silhouette of your figure inside his shirt. 

A smile dances on your lips as you come closer, dropping something on the end table with a soft tink. A noise lost as you straddle Bobby’s thighs, his fingers racing to touch as much of you as quickly as possible. Groaning when he realizes that the shirt is all you have on, the soft flesh of your ass swallowed by his big hands. 

Your fingers smooth their way up his torso, gliding over the dark fabric until the long expanse of his neck pulses beneath your ministrations. Eventually curling into his hair, combing it back into place as he gazes at you earnestly. Within moments the two of you so deeply tangled it would take twice as long to separate.

Eyes filled with nothing but love, your lips quirk sweetly before pressing a kiss to his. Allowing it to linger before pulling away to explain. “I appreciate how much work you’re putting into the house, but I don’t want you to stress. Can I help you relax?”

In place of a response, he groans and pulls you tighter to him, relishing the feel of your skin. 

“Is that a yes?” Your laugh fades as he captures your mouth in a soft kiss. The sunlight highlighting him as you gaze lovingly into his oceanic eyes. The same color as the La Jolla print you bought last summer that he just hung up.

Bob is more than happy to spend the rest of the morning making out. Enjoying the soft warmth of you beneath his hands and the taste of your tongue. The morning sun setting the mood while the birds on the porch sing the soundtrack. It was perfect for him.

Well…perfect until you ran your thumb down the outline of his cock and breathed the most sinful words against his jaw.

“Actually, I was thinking I could keep your cock warm?”

His moan is more of a whine as he immediately swallows your tongue, so grateful for this Saturday morning surprise. Raises his hips as you drag his sweats down, releasing his slowly hardening cock into the space between you, already wet at the tip.

“Honey - ah, that feels s’good,” he interrupts himself as your hand wraps around him,”-but we should prep you. Don’t want to hurt you, honey bear.”

Your face splits into a gentle grin, so enamored by the way he takes care of you even when he’s hotly thrusting his hips into your fist. A grin that pops in surprise when his fingers trace along your folds, appreciating the arousal dripping over your thighs. 

It’s so hot that you only wear his shirt without panties.

His rough thumb slips along your clit, working its way in soft circles. It’s a treat the way your nipples harden against his shirt, level with his eyes as your mouth falls open with sounds only for him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart stretched out on his cock.

A hand on his wrist makes him pause, your half-lidded eyes finding his. You give him a sly smile as you lean forward to the end table. “Don’t need to, you got me nice and open last night, remember?”

As visions of pounding you face down in the bed only hours before run before his eyes, his mouth opens to protest. He’s fully aware of how big he is and how tight you are.

You press your finger to his lips as you raise what you’d grabbed in the bedroom. “A little of this and we’re good, promise.”

The lube bottle slips between your fingers, applying the slick substance along his shaft as you press soothing pecks along his temple.

“Can’t wait to be full of you, Bobby.” His fingers dig into your skin. Your dirty mouth will be the end of him. Especially with how your eyes burn into his while you raise up on your knees, lining up his obscenely shiny cock with your dripping slit.

“You sure you can take all of me, Honey?”

His gaze meets yours with that steely hint of condescension right as his tip breeches your folds, your pathetic nod spurring the beginning of your descent. 

The popcorn ceiling is the last thing on his mind as your velvet insides take him in. The snug fit of you mixed with the heady scent of your sweat has him dizzy, wrapping his strong arms around you to maintain control. It’s hard to think straight when you take every inch of him so beautifully, the lube assisting your efforts.

“Almost there, so close,” Bob breathes against your lips, the hair of his pelvis beginning to brush against your clit. You’re at capacity and there’s still more. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, every time you think you’ve taken all of him, there’s always more.

Breath caught in your chest, his lips swallow your moan as you finally take him to the hilt, hips pressed fully together in their loving embrace. You’re so full, too full, deliciously full. His warm hand along your back soothes you, massaging while gritting himself against how good it feels.

You laugh through the consuming fullness. “This is supposed to be relaxing you, sorry.”

“Hon, never apologize for making me feel this good. This is exactly what I needed.”

Despite the tense way he’s holding his jaw, he looks content. Soft sapphire eyes shining with admiration, sandy hair swept off his forehead, a soft bead of perspiration trailing down his neck as he fights off the need to thrust. You cradle his jaw between your fingers, loving the way he keens beneath your touch. He’s out of a fairytale.

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Time stands still - the melody of the birds fading into the sun-drenched morning - as you bask in the feel of each other. Connected as one in the soft leather of his favorite chair. Soothing fingers trail up your back beneath his shirt, skimming the edges of your breasts, as your own trace the defined planes of his features. 

“I just want your house to be perfect. You deserve perfect things.” He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, placing a delicate kiss as he feels your satin walls contract around him.

You whisper against his hair. “It’s our house.”

Actions replace words as his hands travel up your shirt, crossing over your back as he holds you to him, dragging his lips over each spot of skin available. Skin warmed by sun is covered in adoration.

You shift, the pulsing of his shaft dizzying, as the acts of his love pepper your cheeks, your jaw, your sensitive neck. You love him more than words could ever express.

Love you. Love you so, so much.

When your foreheads finally rest against each other, antsy with arousal and admiration, Bob finally can’t help himself. A soft thrust up into your dripping center, the most delicious treat. The desperate whimper you release against his cheek only spurs him on, shifting his hips back once more only to sink fully into the home of your body.

“I think I’m done with cockwarming,” you admit with a breathless smirk as his hips buck into yours once again.

Your horny boyfriend has never heard more beautiful words. 

Strong hands grip your thighs as he pushes himself up to stand, your legs clenching around his lithe waist as your sense of gravity disappears. The shock instantly replaced by the growing hunger consuming you as he walks to the bedroom, still buried deep in you.

“Ugh, stop showing off. You know I think it’s so hot you can carry me mid-sex.”

Bob pauses in the hallway, leaning back to hold your gaze. “Maybe that’s why I keep doing it.”That cobalt steel back in place. “Now be a good girl and let me take you to bed.”

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld @primroseluna @hauntedduckdefendor @unpretty-reader @erospecies @pinkdaisies9285 @spinning-away @livingoutsidethetardis

join the taglist for any fic

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright

Starscream x reader

Even though it had been half heartedly misting rain for the last several miles, you kept the windows on your old sedan down anyway so the wind could sink icy fingers into your hair and tear at your ponytail. You needed the chill to numb the anger and stress just there under the surface.

But even with the speedometer pushing 65 on the wooded country road, there was no outrunning yourself. Or stopping yourself from dwelling on the fallout with your latest boyfriend. This time it’d been because you never made enough time for him. Like you both didn’t work crappy full time jobs.

Like it wasn’t as much his fault as yours. Hand going white knuckled on the wheel, you crank the rock and roll even higher, the thump of the bass rolling through your bones.

****

Scrap.

Turbines screaming, Starscream could feel the wound in his side pulling. Burning white hot even as he steadily lost altitude and any hope of just flying away from his pursuers. No, that wing was hanging on by a prayer to Primus and pure, unadulterated spite as he dropped even lower. His wingspan was too wide for the narrow road he found himself flying over as he dipped down below the trees and felt the tips of his wings cracking branches to rain down into the road.

Not that the debris was doing a blasted thing to deter the two Autobots in pursuit. No, Bumblebee and Jazz were right there, still firing on him as they swerved around the bigger branches.

He rolled slightly around a curve, wingtip scraping the asphalt in a spray of paint-scraping, painful sparks. They weren’t giving up the chase. Wouldn’t now that he was bleeding energon and running like a startled turbo fox. He wasn’t exactly outgunned, but he had little doubt that they’d already called in for backup.

Calling in his own? Having to beg for help even from his own trine? Weak. And weakness didn’t survive long among the Decepticon ranks. Another tight corner and then there was a car ahead on the road. For a moment, his spark constricted in almost panic, but this wasn’t another Autobot come to join the hunt. Nothing but a human.

Too low. The belly of his alt mode scraped over the roof of the car and it swerved wildly straight into the trees. That jolting contact was enough to throw him off balance, though. Transforming, his peds hit the asphalt in a graceless run as he tried to not face plant and gouge a groove in the road surface or trip into the trees.

Before he could turn, Jazz and Bumblebee had both transformed to keep firing on him. Snarling, he bared his denta at them and returned fire.

***

Your world blurred into a confusing smear of impossibility as you lifted your head and felt your heartbeat throbbing at your temple. Slumping back against your seat, you scrabbled at the seatbelt and as you register the taste of copper in your mouth for a moment you can’t remember how to undo the buckle.

There’d been a jet screaming overhead. The jarring screech of metal striking metal. Wrecking. Impossible.

The seatbelt came loose and you fumbled with the door handle until it gives and shove your way free. It’s still drizzling rain, the dampness settling over you as you stagger away to stare at your car wedged among the trees. Thunder rolls, the fine hair at your nape lifting with the noise. Except, it’s not thunder. That staccato rhythm thuds through you as you stumble out of the ditch and up onto the road.

Oh, yeah. There are giant, alien robots in the road. With guns. Head pounding, you crane your neck to just stare without comprehension. You have a concussion.

Or you hadn’t really made it out of the car. You’d brained yourself and this was the hallucination your addled mind had come up with as a consolation prize. Figures, you don’t even really like sci-fi. It was admittedly, one heck of a delusion. Staggering, you stare up at the fiery red eyes of the bigger of the imaginary head trauma robots.

***

Starscream didn’t know what was more surprising, that the Autobots had stopped trying to kill him or that the human had lived and wandered right between them. The squishy, little thing was now gaping up at him instead of doing what they usually did when confronted with Decepticons. Namely, scream, run, and die in that order.

Optics narrowing in contemplation, he lunged. The human was softer than he expected, that soft flesh giving horribly against his servos as he caught it and lifted it out in front of him. Aside from a wheezing sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, it just hung there, unresisting. Maybe broken.

All that mattered, though was that Jazz and Bumblebee had froze as he used the pathetic little thing as a surprisingly effective shield. Because the Autobots weren’t to harm organics. Especially humans. Baring his denta in a feral smile, he backed away.

“Let the human go, Starscream,” Bumblebee said, weapon still raised in threat.

An empty threat. A laugh escaped him, smile turning nasty. “No, I don’t think so.”

He kept moving back, spark thrumming. They were going to let him go just because he’d nabbed a human with no survival instincts whatsoever. Who still was eerily quiet as they sluggishly leaked red fluid from a gash on their head. Turning on his heel, he resisted the urge to chuck the human and instead pulled it into his chassis as he transformed, pain rippling through him. There was a terrifying moment of very real fear that his wing wouldn’t hold. That he and his hostage would crash back down, but his turbines roared and he bolted.

And they still didn’t fire upon him. Because of the human leaking whatever humans were full of on his interior. If not for the very real possibilities of having a docile pet that could stall the Autobot idiots from attacking, he’d have jettisoned it and been done with it.

Instead, he brought it back with him. He kept it trapped in his cockpit as he returned to base, painfully aware of the leaking thing’s breathing accelerating. Of small hands scrabbling at his interior in panic to make his metal flesh crawl all over. It still wasn’t screaming at least as he ducked into his own quarters and locked the door after. The last thing he needed was for someone to hear the thing screeching and come investigate.

Opening his cockpit as he grabbed an empty energon cube off his desk and dumped the human unceremoniously inside. It landed flat on its face before scrambling to the far side, wide eyes darting around at everything but him.

Now it was scared. So there was some survival instinct after all.

He set the cube back on his desk, reaching back to try and assess the damage before he headed out to find the medic.

***

You slid slowly down the smooth glass wall to land on your butt as your legs just gave up. The apparently not hallucinatory, brain trauma induced giant robot had stuck you in a big, square aquarium and even though the top was open, you couldn’t get enough air. Or stop shaking as panic sank its teeth into your throat.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch your temple. There’s blood there, but sticky and not actively bleeding you think. And even if you’re not imagining all this, you probably do have a concussion. You can’t motivate your shaking, noodle legs to stand, so you crane your neck to study your prison. The walls are much higher than you are tall and featureless. No way to get a good grip to climb out, even as you very briefly entertain and dismiss the idea of parkouring up the corner of the box to freedom, because that wasn’t happening.

You’re not sure how long your big, evil robot is gone. Hours? You’re almost drowsing in your corner even as you shiver uncontrollably in the cold room. You bang your head on the wall when the door opens and your kidnapper returns. Those glowing red eyes slide your way before dismissing you. Shifting to drag your legs against yourself, you watch it move to an oversized chair and slump.

“Almost brought down by two weak Autobots,” it mutters, dragging a hand down its face in a disturbingly human gesture. For an alien robot murder machine, its face is uncannily human, too. “Nearly ripped my wing off.”

Was it talking to you? Unsure, you dart your tongue out to wet your lips. Somehow you hadn’t yet won yourself a Darwin Award even though you’d blundered into the middle of a fire fight between huge, angry robots while gawping like a hick tourist. “How dare they,” you say, voice a barely-there, raspy whisper.

It hears you, though. That big head turns to stare at you and you wilt as its wings flit up a little higher and the silence stretches.

“Right?” He demands suddenly, growling voice full of irritation. It sounded like a he, anyway. Though since it was whatever the hell it was, who knew. “I could have destroyed them then and there with one servo.”

It’s almost funny as the alien death machine actually puffs out his chest a bit when you nod in agreement, teeth chattering. And then you run with it, playing devil’s advocate. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Of course not,” he sneers, rising to tip his head at you with almost predatory interest. Drifting away to a wall, he retrieves a huge blanket and drops it unceremoniously on you. The material is soft as silk, but some chemical smell clings faintly to it. You still cocoon yourself in it, face poking out to watch your evil robot return to his chair and his sprawl.

[sinofwriting]

Miracle - Oscar Piastri

Words: 661 Prompt: "You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep."

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

Oscar takes a shaky breath, palm running over his suit jacket. At this moment he was grateful that Mark dragged him to get a tailored suit. The suit jacket wasn’t strangling his arms, clinging to the muscles as the fabric looked like it was going to tear. But it also wasn’t loose, looking like he was playing dress up. And the collar of the shirt. It was a relief to not feel like he was getting choked out by the button ups collar.

Her name escapes his lips, all familiar and forever a name he wants to say. It never got tiring, the way his lips formed around it, the way it sat on his tongue and in his mind.

“If I said I never thought we’d get here, I’d somewhat be lying.” He clears his throat, trying not to tug nervously at his collar. “I never thought we’d get here, just because it feels like a miracle to get to see you every day. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep.” His breathing hitches. “I can’t imagine this life, my life, without you. Baby, will you,”

“Yes.”

His heart stops in his chest as he whirls around to look at the bedroom door, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Her name escapes his lips again. “You weren’t supposed to.” He stutters.

She smiles at him, tears in her eyes. “I finished a little early.”

His eyes drop down taking in the glow of her skin, the new color on her nails, and the dress she’s been teasing him with for nearly a month. “You look beautiful.”

Her smile grows and she steps into the bedroom, no longer in the doorway.

“My answer is yes by the way.”

He flushes, remembering what he had been doing, had been practicing, before she interrupted. “I was nervous.”

“I know.” Her fingers brush over his pink cheeks before her hands fall back to her sides. “I can pretend I didn’t hear it. Act surprised later.”

He shakes his head, swallowing harshly as his fingers reach into his suit jacket pocket, nearly fumbling with the ring box. “No. I think this is better than what I had planned.”

“I’m sure what you had planned is amazing.”

Oscar smiles, because maybe, but this was more them, even if they were far more dressed up than normal.

Sinking down onto one knee, he looks up at her, looks at the way her eyes shine as she looks at him, at how wide her smile is, at the way her fingers are intertwined with each other.

“Baby,” He starts.

“Oscar,”

He makes a small noise at the interruption and she immediately presses her lips together, making them both let out a laugh.

“Baby,” he starts again. “I am beyond lucky to have met you, to know you, to be with you. And If I said I never thought we’d get here, I’d somewhat be lying.”

She lets out a breathless laugh at the words she just heard before.

“I never thought we’d get here, just because it feels like a miracle to get to see you every day. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. I can’t imagine this life, my life, without you. Y/N, will you marry me?” He asks, opening the ring box.

She nods, tears finally falling down her face. “Yes. Of course.”

He stands quickly, his free hand cupping her face as he presses their lips together. “I love you. I love you so much.” He mumbles into the kiss, tears of his own streaming down his face.

“I love you too.” She pulls away just for a second, just to look at him, to grin at how happy he looks before she kisses him again. “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

@cixrosie @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @darleneslane @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gothgirlez @kimmib13 @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

[mycustomcopper]

Warm Glow with Kitchen Copper Sink

From the layout to the color scheme, each element contributes to the overall ambiance in our kitchen. One feature that has gained popularity and is making waves in the design world is the handmade copper sink. Whether it’s a drop-in copper sink, a kitchen farmhouse sink, or a hand-hammered copper washbasin, create a warm glow with kitchen copper sink that will become a central piece of your…

[shewrites444]

earned it [thomas shelby x mafia/dominant reader smut]

word count - 3k

[ summary - the reader, the current head of the sicilian mob, meets with thomas shelby to discuss an issue that intervenes with both of their organizations. despite their mutual disliking for one another, thomas takes an interest to the business woman before him, and doesn’t seem to realize how powerful she may be. ]

[ warnings - mentions of violence, strong cursing, dirty talk, dominant female, oral (f & m), praise kink, unprotected sex ]

-

“and if we get ‘rid’ of him and his members, how are we going to go about that?” thomas shelby asked me from across the obnoxiously long dining table, lighting a cigarette and sinking into his chair.

i shrug nonchalantly, resting my arms against the table as i chew the steak his supposed aunt polly cooked for us. we’d be discussing this matter for so long my food was starting to get cold.

“we can handle that, all i ask is for you and your family to do the talking. get them out of birmingham and into italy. i know it’s a far stretch, but we can make it work. when someone is offered a lot of money, they’ll travel. the last thing their organization wants is no protection. i think they’d trust the mob’s word over a group of drunken, horse-betting brothers.”

thomas scoffed, moderately offended but also carrying a tone of impressment, taking a sip of his whiskey and gesturing the glass towards me. “you italians have a mouth on you, eh? you crawl around europe like the coppers, thinking you own the cities, only you’re not afraid to take out your guns, hm, mrs. [y/n].”

“i’m not married.” i mutter, once again taking the steak knife in my hand as i begin to cut the tender meat.

he quirked his brow, setting his glass down. “my mistake. i assumed that a woman who ran one of the most dangerous gangs in italy was wedded. i should’ve looked at your ring finger before i commented, miss [y/n].”

“we’re not here to discuss my marriage status, mr. shelby. this group of communists pose a real threat to both of our families. i can get back in my carriage right now and send my men in here to shoot you in the fucking head for all i care, if you don’t cooperate, or we can get back to information that actually matters, and your life goes on.” i look him in the eyes, a blank expression on my face.

he stood up, walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself more whiskey, taking another glass and filling it with a new bottle of red wine after popping the cork. he set it beside my plate, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.

“you can get pissed off all you want, dear, but i’m the one with a gun in my pocket. i could kill you, and your men, in a matter of seconds, so don’t think your words even draw a nick of blood on me.” he threatened, sipping his drink, enough to nearly empty the glass. “we can agree to disagree all night, or you can change your temper and we can figure out a neutral solution for the both of us.”

i chew my steak, watching him speak with a smirk on my redly tainted lips. i take the glass of wine and drink it slowly. “you are quite charming, mr. shelby. it almost offends me that you think i walked into your home unarmed, too.” i take my napkin and dab it on my lips before standing up, dusting off my black dress. “do as i say, and get them to italy. we can discuss the specifics after you speak to their leader. walk me to my carriage, won’t you?”

thomas stands up, pushing both of our chairs in before walking me to the back doorway, his whiskey glass still in hand, only a few ice cubes left inside and not even a shot’s worth of alcohol. i glance down at the purse in my hand, looking through to find my lipstick, confused if i had dropped it when i stood up from the table. i sigh, looking up to the peaky blinder who stood before me as he opened the door for me.

“give me one minute, i think i dropped my lipstick by my chair.” i set my purse down on the table aside their coat rack and walk back to the dining room, hearing his footsteps trail behind as he followed.

i lean down, seeing the lipstick on the floor and pick it up, turning around to bump into thomas, our faces not even two inches apart as he lightly pushed me against the table.

i roll my eyes, both hands planting against his chest and pushing him off. “i don’t think me saying i was unmarried was a suggestion, mr. shelby. not every woman becomes a whore when you have them over for dinner.”

“do you ever freely sleep around, miss [y/n]?” thomas asks, looking down to meet my eyes, then averting to my lips. “surely, a woman like you, can get whoever she wants. you run apart of the bloody world, for what it’s worth. do you ever fuck anyone on your level? someone as powerful as you are?”

“that’s none of your concern.” i say, glancing down at the light erection that was intruding his black slacks. “although, i definitely don’t fuck men that rudely come onto me when i make it clear i came over for strictly business.”

he grinned, one of his hands gently sliding onto my back, the other setting the glass on the table, one ice cube sliding onto his fingertips. he pressed it against my collarbone, sliding it down my skin softly.

“oh, but you definitely do. i think this says otherwise, don’t you think?” thomas tilts his head teasingly, gesturing to my hardening nipples as they protruded my dress.

i blush, shaking my head in disbelief. “you have a cold substance near my chest, that’s a natural reaction.”

“it’s not even near them, dear. i’m still pressing on your shoulder. it’s not a bad thing to admit you like this, miss [y/n].” he slides the ice cube further down my chest, his pinkie pushing my dress back, the v-neck fabric tucking itself underneath my right breast through his manipulation. he slid the substance over my nipple, causing me to sigh heavily. he couldn’t help but grin at my reaction.

thomas leaned down, dropping the ice cube back into the glass and licking my erect nipple, sucking lightly on the bud before pushing me against the table and sitting me down. i moan softly, looking up at the ceiling, my body now in a heat at his teasing touch.

“i think you choose not to fuck. from what it seems like, it may be a distraction for you. you’re a busy woman. perhaps there is no time for any sort of play.” thomas says, reaching over to expose my other breast. “you really don’t let anyone in, even physically. you and i, miss [y/n], are probably more alike than you realize.”

“don’t even try convincing me of that. i know you fuck, mr. shelby.”

“oh, really? you know that, how? because of how wet i already have you?” he asks, reaching his hand down and into my knee-length dress, pressing his fingers against my warm panties.

i hold my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as he pushes the fabric to the side, lightly tracing his fingers against my wet folds.

“a woman like you wouldn’t like to be fucked like a whore, though. you expect much more than that. you’d like to be praised, as if you were a crown jewel in terms of your status. you’re someone who is clearly unfazed by most men, i can see that. you don’t give a fuck about them unless they worship you.”

“do you think you could possibly do that, mr. shelby? worship a woman?”

“not just any woman, no.” he begins, reaching his arm across my waist, snaking it around me to pull me up and into his chest, where he held me up and guided me to the bedroom next to the dining room. “it takes someone who knows who they are and what they can do to make me feel like they even deserve that type of treatment.”

he helped pull my dress off, leaving me in only my panties as he set me on the bed. i chose to oblige, partially due to the pleasure he was sinking me into, but also because i found it interesting he thought he would even have full control over the situation. thomas was right about me choosing to not fuck, but that didn't mean i fell at the feet of a man who knew what he was doing. thomas shelby was a powerful man, sure, but he could never climb the ladder high enough to reach my level.

“but you, you know what you can do. you do what has to be done, miss [y/n]. you threatened to put a gun to my head, what kind of woman does that? a fucking powerful one.” thomas nearly moans at his own words, leaning down to kiss me before he began to undress.

i return the kiss, my legs still shut, as thomas began to unbutton his shirt, glancing down at my waiting body. he undressed himself fully, standing naked before me as he climbed into the bed and leaned down on his knees, sliding off my underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he hovered above me, planting a passionate kiss against my lips, leaving red residue from my lipstick on his own lips while he slid his tongue into my mouth. i feel his fingers slide inside of me, my legs spreading in reaction as he began to finger me. his lips trailed from my neck to my breasts, sucking my nipples back and forth as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy.

i close my eyes, my mouth hung open as i moan in pleasure from his touch. i could feel his eyes on me, watching nothing but my expression. the mental part of me hated giving into thomas shelby’s advances, but the physical side of me could care less. he knew what he was doing, it seemed like, but frankly, so did i.

“oh, you’re so fucking wet, love. you’re practically dripping onto my fingers, onto my bed..” thomas cooes, pulling himself out of me and into his mouth, licking my juices. “and you taste just as good as i imagined. how did i get so lucky to touch you?”

i lightly sit up, leaning over to pull him back into a kiss as i climb off the bed, thomas now sitting at the edge. i get on my knees and take his cock into my hand, spitting on his tip and beginning to lick his cock, up and down, pressing light kisses against his skin as he watched, his expression showing nothing but lust, as he grinned from cheek to cheek at my actions.

“fuck,” he mutters, resting his hands on the bed. “you look beautiful when you play with my cock, love.” he moans as i slide him into my mouth and down my throat, still looking up to meet his eyes. he reaches over to hold my chin in one hand, gently guiding my head up and down. “that’s it, please keep taking my cock. you’re so pretty when you do so, love. i can’t wait to fuck you, you’ve got me nearly finishing at the thought of it.”

i pump him inside of my throat, feeling his orgasm nearly reach the surface as he groans at the build up of it all. i pull away, taking his length in one hand as he cums onto my face, his seed coating all over my mouth and cheeks.

“oh, fuck, you look so fucking good, [y/n]. your mouth felt so fucking good.” thomas praises, watching as i lean back, tracing my finger across my cheeks, licking his cum off and into my mouth. he stares in awe, reaching his hands over to help me stand up and get back onto the bed. he presses a hard kiss against my lips, laying back down as i lay on top of him.

“i don’t think you understand this, thomas.” i smirk, cupping his face with both of my hands. “you don’t just get to fuck me, you know that, right? you have to earn it. i’m the motherfucking leader of a mob, after all. i don’t fuck just anyone, not even thomas shelby, no matter how good you may be at fucking.”

he tilted his head, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back down. “is that so? your cunt is practically begging for me to fuck it. we don’t have to play this game, love. please, let me touch you further.”

i roll over and out of his grip, laying down next to him and spreading my legs, gesturing for him to get in front of me. “then fuck me with your tongue, and we’ll see what i think of anything further than that.”

he chuckles, seemingly surprised by how bossy i could be, but leaned down anyway, adjusting himself to wrap his arms around my thighs, his face stuffed between them as his tongue attached to my clit, flicking the bud of sensitive flesh. i moan softly, watching thomas lick between my folds and back up to my clit, back and forth, which only drew a pit in my stomach, as my orgasm slowly began to build. i was more surprised by his efforts more than his experience. of course thomas shelby knew how to fully pleasure a woman when she demanded it.

“fuck, thomas..” i moan softly, reaching down to hold his black hair with one hand. “just like that, baby, and you’ll be fucking me so soon. god, that feels good.”

he quickens his pace a bit, my back gently arching up in reaction to his action, my free hand gripping the white bedsheets as he helped me very quickly reach my orgasm, my fluids releasing onto the sheets and his lips. i dripped down his chin but he didn’t seem to care, taking me by the hips and moving one leg on top of his shoulder, sliding his hard length inside of me with one slow stroke, both of us moaning at the sudden stimulation.

“oh, fucking hell, [y/n], my god, dear, you’re so fucking wet, you feel so good, fuck,” thomas groans, leaning down to kiss me, his free hand taking my breast into his his palm and squeezing harshly, earning a moan from me into his mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.

i pull away from the kiss, looking down to watch him pump his thick, wet cock into my pussy. my tits bounce at his thrusts, my core feeling every single touch. thomas held my ankle to keep my leg up, his other hand pulling away from my breast and down to my hips, holding the side of my waist to further his steady grip.

“you take my cock so well, [y/n].” thomas compliments, glancing down to meet my eyes as i look away from our bodies. “i could watch you forever, fuck. the way you look right now is absolutely stunning, no one can ever fucking compare to your cunt.”

i lean up slightly, resting on my elbows, grinning at thomas as he fucks me. “you really think so, thomas? then why don’t you fuck me harder? make me cum again, baby, i want to so badly. make me cum with you.”

“if you want me to fuck you harder, [y/n], you’re going to have to turn around for me.” thomas suggests, lightly pulling himself out of me and also wiping the sweat from his forehead, assisting me as i turn around, all fours against the bed as i arch my ass up, feeling tommy’s hands play with it by squeezing the flesh and slapping it lightly.

“you’re perfect from behind too, fuck. is there anything about you i can dislike? you italians may have bloody mouth, but you take me so well in yours, love.” he says, pushing himself back inside of me.

he holds me by the hips, starting to fuck me, but much harder than before. our skin slaps together as he pushes himself in much deeper, so much so that i was gasping at his touch, grabbing the sheets and holding them as hard as i could, despite the sweat that was collecting on my palms.

“f-fucking hell, tommy..” i moan into the sheets, my head resting against the pillow. “you fuck me so good, baby, keep going like that, fuck! fucking fill me up, tommy, fuck!”

he leans down to grab my neck, pounding inside of my walls before our moans begin to sync, our orgasms releasing a matter of seconds after as we finish together, his warm seed filling my insides and my own cum dripping from between us, tricking down my now shaking legs.

thomas pulls out of me, turning me over to lay beside him. he wraps one arm around me, but glances down to meet my eyes, and kisses me tiredly.

“next time, you’re going to be the one begging me to fuck you.” he says in a more demanding tone, a small smirk on his lips. “i don’t like to ask nicely.”

i sigh, rolling over onto my stomach so i could face him completely. “then you’re fucking the wrong woman, thomas.”

he shook his head, cupping my cheek and kissing me once more. “oh, believe me, i think i’m with the exact woman i need to be fucking.” he sits up, rolling out of the bed and to the dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear.

“let’s discuss this communist issue one more time, work out the details.” he says, slipping his boxers on. “and if we come to an agreement tonight, i’ll ask nicely again in the morning, unless you need to get back to your people?"

i stand up, picking up my underwear and sliding them on, as thomas hands me a larger white shirt to put on. “i think i’d rather you ask again tonight, mr. shelby. my people can wait overnight if it's for a good cause.” i tease, opening the bedroom door before walking back out to the dining room table, grabbing the half-empty glass of wine and taking it down in one sip.

thomas stands behind me, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the table, pressing himself up against me, placing his palm on my back to push me down on the furniture. "let's push our meeting back a few more minutes then. here's me asking, miss [y/n]."

he begins to kiss my neck and i reach between my legs, pushing my panties to the side as i hear his boxers hit the floor. this was going to be an unexpectedly long night.

[itsthecherryontop]

The Parselmouth's New Serpent

An Ominis Gaunt Slowburn Enemies to Lovers One-Shot

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader/OC (no y/n)

Word Count: 9.9k

The usually vacant classroom on the third floor was filled with a bitter earthy smell wafting from the cauldron before me. I watched patiently as Garreth stirred the simmering swamp green mixture clockwise. It was a new experiment he was testing. I wasn’t entirely sure what its purpose was only that it had to do with communicating with animals. 

The only reason I agreed to be his test subject was due to his continued help in potions. He had been acting as my personal tutor since I joined Hogwarts for my fifth year. Garreth was the only reason I managed to score so high in Sharp’s class during my fifth and sixth years. There was no way I would survive my seventh-year N.E.W.T.S. without him.

“Are you sure you will be able to finish this in time?” I questioned after checking the time. Curfew was approaching far sooner than I was comfortable with. 

“After I add these lacewing flies and stir it counterclockwise four times, it only needs to simmer for ten minutes,” he announced dropping in three flies. 

Slouching in my stool, I placed my chin in my hand and watched as the potion turned a dull cerulean blue. As Garreth removed the ladle from the cauldron and leaned over to inspect his creation. His copper curls fell into his green eyes as he grinned. 

“It won’t be much longer now,” he claimed beginning to clean his makeshift station. 

The sound of loud commotion down the hall caused us to pause. Slowly, I stood from my stool and quietly made my way to the door. Peaking my head out I saw a small group of fourth-years at the end of the hall. Closing the entry I made my way back to Garreth’s side. 

“It’s just a bunch of boys roughhousing, we should be fine,” I relayed, beginning to assist in reorganizing the ingredients back into the kit. As I started to screw on the lid of his leech juice a loud bang erupted from outside of the room causing both of us to jump and spill ingredients. The laughter of the boys carried into the classroom. As they passed by the door I began to move again. 

As I finished securing the jar I felt the cold slime of spilt leech juice onto my hand. A noise of disgust escaped my throat as I reached for my wand to evaporate it. Garreth had managed to spill rose petal powder onto the table and was sweeping it onto his hand. 

“Uhh, Garreth…,” I said nudging him with my elbow. “Is the potion supposed to be doing that?” 

He looked up and studied the potion as it was changing into a midnight blue with a purple tint. The smell began to sour as the soft simmer progressed to a boil. 

“Definitely not,” he cautioned as he slowly backed away with a grip on my arm gently pulling me along. 

The potion started fuming smoke and bubbling over the cauldron as we scrambled back. I had seen enough of Garreth’s failed experiments to know the potion was about to explode. Blue smoke quickly began to obscure my vision as it filled the room. My foot caught on the edge of my abandoned stool after a sharp tug from Garreth. With a startled squeak, my backside slammed into the hard floor as the potion combusted. Garreth, still on his feet had managed to scramble to the back wall out of the blast zone. 

Fortune was not in my cards as I felt a splatter of warm slimy ooze coating my face and clothing. The taste of sour milk and rotten vegetables registered as I noticed the chunky texture of the potion in my mouth. I gagged at the intrusion and turned spitting what I could onto the floor. My mouth and skin tingled as I continued coughing. 

I heard Garreth call my name through the thick smoke that concealed the room. My head spun as my skin suddenly felt tight and warped. The failed potion continued to sink into my flesh causing the prickling sensation to spread throughout my body. The coughing settled and I heard the Gryffindor’s cautious footsteps as he tried to navigate through the smoke. 

As my name was called again I tried to respond, only to find myself unable to pronounce words. My tongue felt numb and heavy in my mouth. My limbs felt as if they were shrinking into themselves and I was hit with a wave of vertigo. It was a sensation far more disorientating than apparating. As my head and body settled back into equilibrium, I found myself in the dark surrounded by fabric. 

Garreth continued to call my name, his tone becoming more panicked. I heard the whoosh of a spell clearing the air followed by a sudden gasp. I began to navigate my way out of the fabrics. My movements felt peculiar and unsteady. 

The fabric was lifted taking me along with it off the ground. What was happening? Slowly I slid out of the bundle and flopped onto the floor. Looking around I found myself staring at an oversized freckled redhead. Since when did he get so big?

“Please tell me that’s not you,” he cautioned his fair skin blanching. 

 “Obviously. Who else would it be? ” My words came out in a foreign hiss, something entirely not human.

“Ohh, this is not good. I am so sorry. Oh, Godric, Aunt Matilda is gonna kill me,” he exasperated. His eyebrows twisting together in concern. 

“What is not good? What is happening? What did you do to me?!” Scanning the room everything was so much bigger than it should have been. Was everything big or was I small? I had to be small. Why was I small? Spinning around I saw a black scaled tail. Oh no please tell me that was not me.

“So…you may currently be in the body of a snake…but I can fix it…probably. Well, if I can’t it will wear off…eventually. I hope,” Weasley quickly rambled. 

“What do you mean you might be able to fix it? Turn me back now! I can’t be a snake. I have homework to do! ” 

“I can’t understand you, so please stop hissing so angrily. It is unsettling. You can yell at me once you are back to normal. Right now I have to clean this up. I can’t risk breaking curfew and getting another detention,” quickly he turned and began casting cleaning charms. I grew cold on the stone floor as I watched him finish. There was nothing I could do, except wait for Garreth to turn me back. It was a harsh reality to accept. My entire future rested on this panicking free-spirited experimenting Gyriffindor.

As he finished closing his potions kit he turned back to me, “I’m gonna have to pick you up so please refrain from biting me for both our sakes. I am really sorry, but you will have to come back to my dorm for the night. There isn’t time to go to get you back into the Slytherin dorms tonight. Not that it is really an option at the moment,” he muttered slowly scooping me into his hands.

With one hand carrying the potion kit and the other cradling me against his chest, he hurried off to Gryffindor Tower. We barely made it to the common room before curfew. Garreth didn’t bother to greet those mingling in the sofas as he rushed up to his dorm. The overwhelming sight of the orange and red wallpaper had me grateful for his determined pace. 

As we reached his dorm, he set me down on his bed and paced the room as he tried to determine what had gone wrong. Thankfully, he came to the same conclusion as I did seeing as I had no way to communicate with him and offer insight. When we had been startled, one if not both of us spilled ingredients into the cauldron. He felt guilty and promised to figure it out tomorrow. It was then I realized it would be embarrassing for both of us if this situation got out. His failed experiment and my transformation. 

When the footsteps of his dormmates were heard he quickly told me not to be seen before shutting his curtains.  I listened as Garreth made some excuse to Leander about needing to head to bed early. Curling up on his pillow I listened to the chaos outside of the curtains. Leander was loud as ever complaining about a redo duel with Sebastian. Not surprising. 

When Garreth reappeared he apologized for having to share the bed. I didn’t mind, being a snake was cold and Garreth acted as a furnace. 

. . .

The Great Hall was loud as I lay in Garreth’s robe pocket during breakfast. He had tried to sneak me food into his pocket, but I don’t think he understood that while confined to a snake’s food I was probably restricted to their diet. So as much as the greasy bacon and pastries would normally appeal to me I couldn’t eat it. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he seemed to understand. He’d better hurry and find me a cure cause I would starve before I consumed a live rat. 

Garreth’s first class was Charms. He sat with his hand curled around me in his pocket, seemingly paranoid I would disappear. The redhead didn’t even pay attention to Professor Ronen. Instead, he scratched out calculations of leech juice and crushed rose petals proportions needed to create such an effect. 

He only looked up when I slithered up his robe sleeve to his shoulder where I could peek my head out and see what I was missing. It didn’t seem like anything I couldn’t make up on my own time, but I would still have to ask to borrow notes. 

Looking around the room, I spotted my empty seat next to Natty, who was sharing questioning glances with Sebastian. Next to him, Ominis sat with his head tilted, brows barely drawn, and tapping his fingers on the desktop. Sebastian and Ominis exchanged hushed words when Professor Ronen wasn’t looking, occasionally turning their attention in my direction– well towards Garreth—, who was too busy frantically writing and crossing out notes to notice. 

It wasn’t until after two more classes that Sebastian called after Garreth in the hallway. He ground to a halt causing me to jolt in his pocket. Once he stopped Sebastian began interrogating him about my location. 

“Neither Anne nor Imelda saw her never return to their dorm last night. Do you know where she is?” Sebastian asked once he caught up. 

“Awww… um no not exactly. I mean it’s sort of a long story,” Garreth announced while scratching the back of his neck. 

Slowly I stretched up to peek out of Garreth’s pocket. We were standing in the middle of a crowded hallway so I was rather hoping he wouldn’t tell them. Sebastian would not react well to the news. I also didn’t want to deal with the ridicule I would face after turning back. Next to Sebastian stood Ominis his wand held aloft, omitting a soft red light. Garreth casually lowered his hand into his pocket, pushing me out of view. 

“I suggest we find a more suitable place for this conversation,” Garreth suggested beginning to move through the corridor. There was a creak of a door opening followed by footsteps before the door was closed. 

“I swear Weasley, if you did something…” Sebastian began.

“It was an accident, but she is fine. Well, she’s not injured, except maybe her pride a little but I suppose that’s to be expected,” Garreth ranted nervously his fingers stroking my scales as if he were trying to comfort himself. 

“Just get on with it Weasley,” Sebastian snapped. 

“Right … so here she is.” Slowly his fingers wrapped around me. Pulling me into the view of the two Slytherins. 

“Hi …?” I hissed unsure.

Sebastian had stepped back in surprise after registering what was in the Gryffindor’s hand. Garreth’s expression twisted between apprehension and guilt as his gaze focused on their reactions. When my gaze fell on Ominis, his cloudy eyes were blown wide his face showed confused shock.

Sebastian cautiously spoke my name as if prepared for this to be a hallucination.

“Yes. It was an accident .”

“You turned her into a snake,” Ominis deadpanned. “How long will it take for you to change her back?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t exactly know. I am working on it, but the potion should wear off in a few days anyway.”

Ominis released a deep sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, similar to the way a tired mother does to a trying child. “Well, until you manage to accomplish something helpful, we will have to look after her seeing as I am the only one capable of understanding her.”

“Wait, you're telling me that snake is our friend?” Sebastian blurted. 

“Yes. It is really not that hard to understand given Weasley’s potion history.”

“Hey, the potion would have worked if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

“Just hand her over Weasley before you manage to harm her,” Ominis commanded holding his free hand out. 

Garreth sighed and slowly eased me into Gaunt’s awaiting palm. Once in his hand, I wrapped the remaining body mass too big for his single hand around his forearm, his warmth seeping through the fabric. 

“You haven’t been keeping her warm enough. Snakes are cold-blooded. They need an external heat source,” Ominis stated as he cast a warming charm. “We will have a discussion about this later. History of Magic is about to start.” Without another word, Ominis strode out into the hall with Sebastian trailing behind him. 

“Are you planning on carrying her around until she changes back?” Sebastian teased. 

“Well someone has to be responsible for her. Merlin knows neither of you can be trusted for the job,” he grumbled as the two parted ways before addressing me, “You’ll have to remain hidden during class.”

“Very well,” I responded, slithering under the sleeve of his Slytherin robe and settling against the forearm of his jumper. 

History of Magic was as always a bore. Ominis leaned on the arm I was perched on and dozed. Quite a common occurrence for him. What was surprising was how close his face was to where mine rested on his wrist. The light scent of his cologne and hair pomade enveloped my senses from the proximity. Being a snake was rather strange, smelling my surroundings required me to flick my tongue in the air. Something I found myself doing without intention.

I couldn’t remember a time I had ever been this close to the boy. The closest had probably been when he comforted me after I took the Cructiatius Curse in the scriptorium. Other than that Ominis never seemed to enjoy people imposing in his personal space. The only person he seemed to have an exception for was Anne. She was always leaning into his arm as they walked together, straightening his tie when it was askew, and hugging him when parting. Something I regretted to admit, even to myself, caused a jealous twist in my gut. 

We had gotten closer after the events of fifth year especially once Sebastian swore off the Dark Arts following Anne’s curse being broken by the death of its caster, Rookwood. However, at times it felt like Ominis only tolerated my presence because I was a friendship forced upon him by Sebastian. It was frustrating. I never really knew where we stood. We willingly sat beside each other in History of Magic each year and studied together, but he always remained reserved. 

Once I was back to my normal body it was unlikely he would let me this close. Sighing I relaxed further into his warmth, enjoying his closeness while it lasted. 

For the rest of classes if I wasn’t wrapped around his arm I was tucked in the pocket of his waistcoat. Before dinner, Sebastian and Anne met us in the Undercroft. I was set on a table as the boys filled Anne into my predicament. Then Anne and Sebastian began suggesting a schedule. I was starting to feel like a doll being passed around during playtime. 

“I’m assuming I will have nights, seeing as she and I share a dorm,” Anne announced passing me a glance. 

“That may not be wise. We don’t know how this transformation will affect her, and if something is wrong she won’t be able to communicate with you,” Sebastian considered. 

“So she is supposed to stay in the boy’s dorm?” Anne asked shocked. 

“Wait. Where did she stay last night?” Sebastian added causing them all to turn towards me. 

“With Garreth. I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I answered. 

Despite being blind Ominis’s eyes seemed to burn into me with scrutiny before he relayed, “Weasley stayed with her.”

“Ooh, someone got some alone time with Weasley did they?” Sebastian teased. “Bet he enjoyed that. I mean you do make a cute snake.”

“You better hope I’m not venomous because I will bite you Sallow,” I hissed. 

“Stop harassing her before she lashes out,” Ominis advised. 

“I’m not worried, she loves me too much,” Sebastian jested as he scooped me up into his hands. 

“If I could roll my eyes I would…You’re lucky, you’re cute,” I muttered. 

“How would you like to spend dinner away from grumpy Ominis? Poor thing has had to spend all day with him,” he sarcastically cooed running his finger along the black scales. Too tired, I sighed and let him carry me out of the Undercroft. 

Continue reading here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55285312