#lilac’s pollen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Intoxicated.

Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.

A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.

Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.

“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”

That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—

As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”

“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”

He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”

Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.

“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.

“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere oneshot

2K notes · View notes

theshinazugawaslut · 1 year ago

Text

"Are you trying to piss me off?" comes your husband's voice and you snicker from the bathroom where you can see Sanemi grumpily sitting on your marital bed, hugging a pillow to himself. "Who the fuck needs a self-care routine for a whole solid hour?"

"Me," you answer with a giggle, trying not to let out another gentle laugh at the immediate scowl on your husband's face.

It was a known fact to you that Sanemi simply cannot sleep without you, tossing and turning if you weren't in bed with him; usually staying awake till you came home for work just to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed; but most popular was glowering at you as he waited you to finish your hair and skincare.

"Woman, 'm gonna..." He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with his best threat. "I'm gonna curl up into a ball and start crying."

"'Nemi! Do you want your wife to be pretty or not?" you say absentmindedly from the bathroom as you cleanse your face, splashing cold water on your face.

"I think you're the prettiest," he whines, standing up and coming into the kitchen, looking like a very upset man-child as he pouts at your reflection in the mirror.

"What the fuck are you- Oooh," he says, easily distracted as you pass him a tea tree oil serum to put on his face. His lilac eyes go wide as he looks at collection of skincare you have and he starts picking up random bottles. "Why the fuck are you putting snail remains on your face- There's bee pollen in this moisturiser by the way, you're scared of bees, ain't ya?"

"'Nemi... Just put it on your face."

He's shrieking as if you're going to murder him as you bring your hands to pat some serum onto his face but the minute it touches, he's immediately dunking the whole bottle onto his face much to your horror and dramatic screams.

"This shit feels good."

And so, it becomes a routine every night where Sanemi hogs most of your skin care and hair oils. Most of the time, you'll be chatting with him, sheet masks on both your faces.

#sanemi #anime and manga #kny sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #kny #husband sanemi #sanemi headcanons

672 notes · View notes

raviollies · 1 month ago

Text

Wanted to make an elaboration on Fell Brambles, as a whole, since I enjoy world building.

Fell brambles are a vegetation from the Shadowfell not naturally found in Faerun. It is spread usually by inoculation (usually infected creatures from the Shadowfell finding their way to other planes), mainly through wounds (blood contact) with pollen found on the vines and flowers.

The Fell brambles are colloquially also known as Void blooms, Blight thorns, Fell blooms and Fell Briars. Scientific name: Clematis Umbrus, as they were found to be a relative of the Clematis flower. Their flower petals range from blue to purple, the stamen and stigma being bioluminescent white. The vines themselves are dark, an almost black colour.

Their preferred habitat are dark environments, the inoculated organism will often seek refuge in caves or shade before dying. Unlike most flowers, Brambles live off decomposing matter rather than sunlight similar to Fungi. Areas where Brambles grow often lack any other vegetation. The flowers release a very pleasant scent, though harvesting it for perfumes is highly discourages due to the risk associated with it. They also make for potent reagents in potion making. Their scent is described to be comparable to lilacs. Getting rid of the Brambles is exceptionally difficult due to their proliferation of seeds, so areas infected usually must be burned to be cleared.

The vines will begin to grow within the organism, slowly spreading and eventually leading to the organism to experience effects such as:

Analgesia

Aggression

Photosensitivity

Loss of appetite

Vomiting

The organism will attempt to inoculate another before passing, its body serving as compost for the vines. The life expectancy is dependent on organism, the larger it is the more longer it takes for the vines to take over.

In Raha's case, due to the inoculation site being his chest, the vines have taken purchase around his ribcage and heart. As time passes, they will spread down to the abdomen and towards his left arm. The prognosis is 10 years.

#fell brambles #raha #dnd #homebrew #I LOVE WORLD BUILDING AND THINKING ABOUT EVERY ASPECT #repost because tumblr just. refused to post the other one. for some reason #but if u ever ever have questions...never hestitate to ask...i probably am vibrating to talk about it

73 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

Text

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom.

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place.

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place.

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns.

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash.

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.”

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger.

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints.

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.”

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her.

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world.

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog.

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.”

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you.

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.”

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on.

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.”

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile.

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces.

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.”

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos.

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing.

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades.

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks.

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same.

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?”

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.”

“Right.”

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep!

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue.

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.”

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none.

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him.

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.”

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder.

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.”

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.”

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks.

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.”

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?”

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face.

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly.

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?”

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.”

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid.

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.”

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly.

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted.

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.”

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches.

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well.

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...”

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves.

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.”

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly.

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.”

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.”

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom.

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding.

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.”

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall.

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat.

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands.

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.”

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall.

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant.

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm.

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--”

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.”

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff.

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.”

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--”

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.”

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch.

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #sandcastle #follow you anywhere

260 notes · View notes

nikibogwater · 2 years ago

Text

I am an environmentalist only up to the point when I come across a Flower Forest in Minecraft. That is one ecosystem that I will never leave undamaged. I am stripping the earth of every bud and blossom in sight, stuffing my pockets with poppies, bag overflowing with tulips, wreaths upon wreaths of lilacs in my hair. Bunnies cast themselves off of cliffs to escape from my rampage. Bees know me as the Bringer of Famine. I will never have enough. I will never be satisfied. I am running out of flower pots and have resorted to stealing some from the nearby village. My yard is a carpet of petals, concealed within a haze of allergenic pollens.

#minecraft

1K notes · View notes

honeysickledream · 7 months ago

Text

Stellate (sex pollen) | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Scientist!Reader

NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI) CW for dubcon / dubious consent, sex pollen, fuck or die (possibly?), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), squirting, panty stealing, dead dove do not eat [if i missed anything, lmk please!] w/c: ~1.3k a/n: I needed more sex pollen fics in my life so I tried my best to fulfill that need—now i’m gonna see if I can get some work done now, byeeee [edited: this was my first attempt at smut in ages, sorry if it's rough]

You and Soap had been tasked with receiving samples of a plant from a remote enemy research facility that had been reported abandoned. Soap was to act as your bodyguard in case the intel was faulty and a few enemies, or traps, remained while you collected the samples that the head researchers from your lab needed. You accepted the mission, you had no choice but to, and didn’t fuss about Soap’s talkative presence on the journey to the facility. His stories were funny and almost as charming as his blue eyes, and the sense of security he gave you was welcoming.

The intel had been accurate: the research outpost was abandoned, and based on appearances, it had been a hasty abandonment. Partially full gas cans sat beside trucks that had been haphazardly loaded with various crates. In the offices, personal items remained littered on the desktops. The floors of the general labs were stained with various chemicals, research notes and glass from beakers and full titration sets scattered across the floor. Soap pressed forward to the hydroponic labs and you followed him nervously, keeping six feet between you just in case something went wrong ahead.

The hydroponics lab was dimly lit with a faint haze that hung dimly in the air. Florescent tubes flickered randomly behind the glass covers. State-of-the-art hydroponic tables stood in perfectly measured rows with clusters of leafy plants in wide, black plastic pots. The flowers that bloomed in clusters on top were beautiful: stellate petals colored lilac, slashed with a deep orange down the center.

You got to work as quickly as you could, gloving your hands and laying out your equipment on the empty space beside your chosen plant. With a steady hand, you gently plucked a few petals with a pair of long tweezers, placing each one into its own marked specimen pouch. You collected a few leaves, noting that the margins were dentate. You snipped one of the stamens, being sure to not jostle it too much as you lowered into a pouch.

The plant…shuddered when you looked back at it in preparation to swipe a sample of the stigma. You gave the plant a long, hard look. It had shuddered, you knew it had, yet there had been no breeze, and Soap was across the lab doing his own thing. There was no evidence that something was alive in the lab, either: no cocoons or webs, droppings or bite marks on any of the leaves you’d looked at. You pressed the cotton tip of the swab to the stigma and twisted it once for your sample.

It moved again and you took a step back, calling out for Soap. The flowers turned to you—actually turned—and a faintly pink substance sputtered from the stigmas and into your face. A short coughing fit overcame you as your lungs started to burn, your eyes watering and clouding over with a pink haze.

Panic bloomed in your heart and the blood in your veins shot cold before a wave of painful heat slithered through your veins and settled into your bones. Your heartbeat became erratic as whatever compound in the flower’s pollen mixed with the chemical components in your brain, which was no doubt accelerated by your panic.

Soap’s voice, muffled by the faint ringing that had settled in your ears, partially registered in your mind and you looked toward him. His broad form was vaguely recognizable through the pink haze over your eyes. A painful throbbing perfectly in time with your heartbeat settled between your legs as he fussed over your pollen-covered face with a dampened rag. Need. God, you needed something. Him, that’s what you needed.

The little logical voice in your head was long gone, silence by another voice. Its eerie whispers filled every nook and cranny of your mind as it planted image after image of Soap fucking you in every position you’d read about and watched on those lonely nights that had become far too frequent. You fisted the straps of his tactical vest, pulling him closer. “Help,” you panted. You grabbed his hand to guide it between your thighs. He froze and blasphemed under his breath as he felt how wet you were through your slacks. “Help me, please. Do something!” His fingers crooked against your clothed cunt. “Evac’ll be here soon,” he rasped.

Your head shook ‘No’ quickly. “Not soon enough. You gotta help me now!”

“Lass—“

“Please,” you sobbed. “I need it—I want it!”

His hands settled on your hips as he shushed you. He walked you back to the edge of the edge of the hydroponic bench. You’re pressed into the edge and then you were on your back, your slacks and underwear yanked down and tossed aside. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders as he knelt on the concrete floor. His rough thumb worked quickly against your throbbing clit while his tongue moved against your leaking slit. Your hips bucked, pathetic whimpers and breathy moans falling from your lips. All the heat in your veins suddenly moved towards your belly, coiling tighter and tighter. It wasn’t enough all of a sudden. You begged for more as you carded your fingers through his hair and pressed his face harder against you. His hold on you shifted, his tongue replacing his thumb against your clit as his slowly pressed his middle finger into you. A dizzying mix of praise laced with fond degradation was panted against your clit as you clenched around his finger that crooked against that spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids, that spot very few men you’d been with cared to focus on. His ring finger slipped into you and his pace quickened. The stimulation, the stretch, those filthy sweet words he panted against you was quickly becoming your undoing. The coiled tension that sat low in your belly tightened suddenly. You tried to warn him that you were about to cum but all that came from your mouth was a sharp gasp as you gushed around his fingers. You whined when he pulled his fingers from you as he stood. The fog in your mind had begun to dissipate quickly. That eerie voice that told you all the ways you needed Soap had been silenced, you vision cleared of the pink haze. Soap placed your slacks beside you as he licked his lips and fingers clean of you. That image was going to stay with you for the rest of your life, not that you minded. His radio crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the evac and quarantine team. You He carefully slid your specimen pouches and tools into your satchel while you shakily pulled on your slacks— “Where’s…my underwear?” you asked. Soap shrugged and turned on his heels to make his way out of the lab. Your eyes caught the bunch of familiar black fabric sticking out of his back pocket when you call into line behind you. You didn’t mention it. Not after he cured you of whatever that pollen did to you. He deserved a little reward for all his help. You took in a sharp breath as you exited the building. The air was crisp, cool. Soap nudged your side and you looked to your left. A small team of contamination personnel worked to set up their screening tent and laid out PPE for your return to base. “We’re gonna be in quarantine for a while,” you told him. You felt his eyes drift to you, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed him smirk. “Aye. Reckon it’ll be together?” “Hm…Possibly.” “Quarantine can be borin’.” Your lips pursed as you try not to grin. You fail. “That it can. Got some ideas to keep the boredom at bay?” He snorted. “Aye, plenty.”

#soap x f!reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod smut #soap smut #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #tw sex pollen #mars' writing #first time writing *and* posting smut in over two years...i'm nervous/excited...#i'm gonna go finish my notes and go to bed. i'm exhausted.

137 notes · View notes

lilac-hecox · 9 months ago

Note

what was your favorite kinktober prompt you filled?

That's a great question!

I'm going to have to go with About to Bloom because I love sex pollen as a trope and it was so fun to write!

Here is a link if anyone wants to read it and hasn't! This was hard to pick I really enjoy my kinktobers!

#ianthony #kinktober #lilac answers #asked and answered #answered #ask box #archive of our own #ao3 #kinktober 2023 #sex pollen

4 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 11 months ago

Text

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.

Or survival instincts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.

A serious problem.

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.

Flattering, but incredibly obvious.

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.

Or a lot harder, sometimes.

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”

Red Hood laughs.

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?

She spent way too long in Amity, yes.

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .

Then again, her life is her life.

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.

Hm.

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.

Well, so is Amity Park, of course.

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.

Definitely inappropriate.

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

333 notes · View notes

wondrluv · 2 months ago

Text

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

➪ welcome to my 1k celly ! I cannot believe that many people have decided to follow my little blog and I am so so grateful for each and every one of you more than words can describe

➪ please make sure to read all the rules/info before requesting

➪ accepting requests: tuesday, january 28, 2025 12:00 AM CST to monday, february 17 11:59 PM CST (any requests sent before or after these times will be deleted, no exceptions ) this day may be altered at any time bc my schedule does change and so does my motivation (there's no hiding it atp)

➪ open to nhl players, f1 drivers, and wbb players unless i feel uncomfortable writing for that specific player

➪ there is no timeline for when these will all be out by, so just bear with me ! they will most definitely be posted sporadically, i am still a somewhat studious high school student who just wants to graduate in three and a half months 😔

➪ when requesting, feel free to send either the emoji or the name of the flower, no need to send the whole blurb i wrote !

➪ all blurbs and other things related to the celly can be found here: . ˚◞ ✿〚 cupid's floral shop 〛

✿ THE SHOP ; THE GENRE

➪ ꒰ 🌻 ꒱ the sunny sunflower ; you’ve picked the sunny sunflower! this flower is for ones who want to bring joy to their significant others life with cuteness, romance and sweetness, guaranteed to make your night magical. this flower contains a sickening about of sweet pollen to make honey ( fluff blurb )

➪ ꒰ 🪻 ꒱ the lonely lavender ; you’ve picked the lonely lavender! this flower is for the ones who love to succumb to their angsty feelings and for the ones who seem to have a hard to keeping their plants alive. lavender serves as a wonderful companion well until it dies ( angst blurb )

➪ ꒰ 🌹 ꒱ the restless rose ; you’ve picked the restless rose! this flower is for the ones who don’t mind getting their hands a little dirty and bloody in order to keep their life on track. tending to the roses is a bumpy ride at first due to its thorns but they turn out beautiful in the end. ( hurt/comfort blurb )

➪ ꒰ 🌷 ꒱ the trustworthy tulip ; you’ve picked the trustworthy tulip! this flower is perfect for the ones you hold so dearly to you, whether it’s your friends or family. in the end, the tulip will always be there to comfort, support, or give you advice when you need it. ( platonic blurb )

➪ ꒰ 🪷 ꒱ the lovable lotus ; you’ve picked the lovable lotus! each lotus is different, but in the end they’re all the same flower you know and love, whether it’s a lotus from the south or a lotus from your friend. ( headcanons - ex: fwb!luke, bf!jack, bsf!trevor, teammate!paige )

➪ ꒰ 💐 ꒱ the bunch bouquet ; you’ve picked the bunch bouquet! each bouquet comes a different bunch of flowers ranging from lilacs to peonies. they're all wrapped up in the same plastic but each one is a little different ( reactions! give me a scenario and up to five people to react to it )

➪ ꒰ 🌺 ꒱ the hand-picked hibiscus ; you’ve picked the hand-picked hibiscus! this one is great for the ones who don’t want to go through the work of picking it yourself because i've done all the work for you ! all you have to tell me is which one you want and you’ll be on your way ( au’s! send me any au asks, thoughts, suggestions you have, including sending a prompt )

✿ YOUR FLOWER ; THE PROMPT

➪ fluff prompts

➪ angst prompts, 2

➪ hurt/comfort prompts

➪ other prompts

➪ feel free to look up any other prompts as well!

➪ also i love @novelbear’s prompts so i highly recommend looking at some of those :)

✿ CUSTOMIZE YOUR PACKAGING ; EXTRA INFO

➪ want your flower in a pot or wrapped in plastic with a cute bow? let me know any other information you want me to include in the blurb, whether it's a trope or something as simple as when it takes place

30 notes · View notes

allgoodnamesrgoneee · 3 months ago

Text

✨ New Patreon Upload! ✨

Hey everyone! I’ve just uploaded a new Trent fic on my Patreon, and you definitely don’t want to miss it!

Head over now to check it out and show some love! 🙌

📖 Link in bio! ✨ Let me know your thoughts after reading! 💬

The Flower Shop Diaries: Petals and First Glances

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where you work at a flower shop and Trent becomes your favorite customer.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Trent Alexander-Arnold x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 10.4k

Warnings! FLUFF!! so much fluff, you have a little brother, he's so good with kids,

Preview

**********

You love mornings.

There’s a sort of magic in how they unfold, unhurried and tender. The world feels softer then, like it’s taking its first deep breath of the day, and you can breathe a little easier, too.

It starts with the city outside—a low, comforting hum of cars passing, tires brushing against rain-washed pavement, the occasional distant bark of a dog, or the chirp of a sparrow flitting by. Sunlight filters through the shop’s wide windows in golden beams, scattering over the counter like a dusting of pollen.

And then, of course, there’s the smell.

That familiar, earthy blend of damp soil and blooms, mingling with the bold, slightly bitter aroma of your coffee—strong enough to cut through the lingering sleep in your head. To chase away the migraines that have been plaguing you lately. To wake your senses, bit by bit, and welcome you to another day.

And so, on cue, you reach for your mug and take another sip of the scalding brew before setting it down. You wrap your hands around your mug, savoring the warmth against your palms. For a moment, you let yourself simply exist.

Here, amongst the vivid reds of roses, the cheerful yellows of sunflowers, and the soft whites of baby’s breath, you can pretend for a while that everything is blooming, even if parts of you feel wilted.

This morning, like so many others, you lose yourself in the rhythm of your work. Hands moving methodically, you restock the display of sunflowers and daisies near the window. Your fingertips brush against the velvet petals as you arrange them, coaxing the display into something that feels welcoming and vibrant.

With every flower, you imagine the life it will touch. You picture the person who might pick it up, bring it home, and enjoy its simple beauty. Perhaps it’ll become part of a bouquet, a surprise gift that brightens their day. Perhaps a bride will walk down the aisle clutching it tight.

There’s comfort in imagining the joy these flowers will bring, even when it feels like joy is in short supply for you.

In fact, there’s something to be said for the comforting ritual of work.

For the ease of knowing what you must do without having to think about it too much. The way it pushes aside the constant hum of worry in your head that’s been growing louder with time, like static on the radio. The way it brings a sense of purpose to your day, even when other things feel out of control.

You have a gift for this work.

A knack for choosing flowers that complement each other in the perfect way, and for crafting arrangements that bring their own, unique rhythm to any space they grace. And so, you throw yourself into this morning routine, letting the world outside shrink away for a few more precious minutes.

The soft chime of the bell above the door pulls you from your thoughts.

It’s a familiar sound, one that usually signals the arrival of one of your regulars—Mrs. Lin, maybe, here for her usual bunch of lilacs, or Mr. Harris, clutching a bouquet of peonies for his wife of forty years. They're the only ones that ever come by this early. Your mind already starts to form polite greetings as you glance toward the door.

You look around the shop, taking in its familiar tidiness.

The shelves are lined with carefully curated bouquets, and the air is filled with the delicate aroma of roses, daisies, and freshly watered soil. There’s an order in the back you need to finish, but nothing that feels urgent. With a soft sigh, you smooth down your skirt, a habitual gesture that brings you comfort, and wander toward the front counter.

But the man who steps inside isn’t a regular.

**********

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander x you

20 notes · View notes

waywardxrhea · 6 months ago

Text

Part of Your World - George Weasley

Chapter 9

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Muggle!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 4,162

a/n: as mentioned in the last chapter, if you are purely here for the fluff and the story you don't have to read this chapter! when i wrote this i had went down the sex pollen rabbit hole and ended up here lmao! and to be clear, these are two legal, of age adults in this story! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION! content warnings below the cut!

content: some fluff! alcohol consumption (enough to be tipsy, not drunk - well, except Jasmine lmao), smut! sex potion (dub-con technically?) kissing, love bites, public sexual acts (obstructed from others’ view by magic), fingering, handjob, overstimulation, begging, oral (male and female receiving), language, unprotected sex, aftercare, mentioned future use of a morning after potion.

a/n: wow that’s a lot of content looking back to edit this😅�� i got carried away whoops!

“Would you look at you!” George breathed before letting out a low whistle when you opened the door, ready to go to your university’s awards ceremony. For the occasion you opted to wear your favourite glittery lilac dress that had a sweetheart neckline and ended right above your knee. The skirt of the dress rippled in the light June wind and it was one of the few dresses of this length you felt truly confident in, especially after those months at the gym.

“You’re looking quite sharp yourself,” you replied with a smile, noting that George opted for a matching lilac tie and pocket square.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, offering out his arm.

“Yep!” you replied, locking the front door. After you did, you hooked your arm in his so you two could begin the walk to the university campus where the small awards ceremony was being held. “Thank you for agreeing to come,” you told him quietly after a few moments, a fondness in your tone that was unmistakable.

“Your forever plus one, remember?” George asked softly with a smile on his lips. You started referring to him as that a few weeks prior when you first invited him, and every time you did it made George’s heart flutter.

During the ceremony, which was quite long-winded as the professors droned on about different fundraising events planned in order to put on the best shows possible in the coming year, George ended up entertaining the small table the two of you sat at with quiet jokes and “sleight of hand” magic with some of the Muggle magic trick items from the shop.

When it was time for awards, George of course cheered the loudest when you got the award for “Most Dedicated Performer.” When you arrived back at the table with the small trophy in hand, George kissed you deeply before congratulating you on the award.

Later that evening, a mid-sized group of your theatre company went to a nearby pub to celebrate the end of a successful year. The group had faces from all across the university’s specialties of performance, from stage coordinators, to dancers, to those who specialised in plays, then of course the musical theatre students. Once the group all settled down around a few tables they had mashed together, one older student raised her glass and called, “Here’s to another wonderful year performing and to many more to come!”

“Hear, hear!” the group called back, raising their glasses in turn.

And with that the festivities kicked off! You chatted for a little while with your close friends before you found yourself watching on as George and Matt competed to see who could catch the most peanuts that were being thrown their way in their mouth. As you watched, Jasmine slid up beside you and asked with a bit of a slur to her voice, “Well isn’t your boy toy the life of the party?”

“That’s him,” you replied with a smile, yawning a bit afterward. It had been a very long day and it was already nearing midnight, but the fun at the pub seemed far from over and you didn’t want to be the first one to call it for the night. “Where’s Abbie?” you asked, trying to busy your mind.

“Believe it or not,” Jasmine said, leaning in close to your ear with a faux serious look on her face, “she’s actually been kissing up on that older boy Thomas all night!”

“You’re kidding!” you said, your eyes darting around the room, only to find the pair lost in each others’ lips over in a corner of the pub. You laughed quietly before saying, “It’s about time she let loose.”

“Right!!” she exclaimed before stepping, well more so stumbling, off of the tall stool and saying, “I’m going to get another! You need to let loose too girl! The semester is over, it's time to unwind! Get your honey to get you something fruity!”

“Did I hear something about getting something to drink?” came George’s voice as he approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your cheek.

“If you don’t mind,” you told him as you closed your eyes for a moment and relaxed into his embrace. You stifled a yawn before lowering your voice and asking, “Do you happen to have any wideye potion on you? I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m exhausted but I don’t want to be the first to leave…”

George slipped a hand into the inside of his coat and looked before nodding, telling you, “It looks like I’ve got just enough to keep the two of us up long enough to stay for a while. What drink do you want to mix it with?”

“Pina colada please, I don’t particularly like wideye option, I’d rather not taste it,” you replied with a quiet laugh.

“You got it,” George told you before departing and ordering both of you drinks from the barkeep.

George returned with your drink in one hand and a shot of dark liquor in the other for himself. He handed you your drink in which you saw the blue potion swirled in, and told you with a chuckle, “The trick for taking these nasty potions is to get them down as fast as possible.”

“I think the flavour of rum and coconut may work out in my favor. This way then at least it’ll last longer,” you replied in a teasing tone before taking a few sips of the drink. Rather than the bitter taste of the potion, all you tasted was the coconut and pineapple flavour along with something a little sweeter that you attributed to the pub’s spin on the drink. “See, tastes great,” you said with a giggle before taking a few more long sips while giving George a wink.

A few minutes later while you were chatting with an older girl who majored in musical performance as well, you felt your heart rate begin to increase and felt like someone had turned on the heat in the pub. So to combat the heat, you began sipping more on the frozen drink you had in hand, taking it down nearly to its last dregs before you finished up your conversation with the girl. While the advice you had been given to further improve your performance had been solid, some of it had gone in one ear and out the other as you concentrated on cooling your body temperature.

When you were alone at the table again, George came up behind you and moved your hair out of the way before beginning to gently kiss your neck, asking, “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

“M-maybe a few times,” you replied, letting out a breathy sigh as you relaxed into his arms. You laughed lightly before asking, “What’s gotten into you, love?”

“My bloody amazing fiancée wearing a dress that has been driving me crazy all night…” he whispered.

As he said this, he splayed his hands out over your barely covered thighs and began massaging them gently. The motion seemed to ease some of the heat in your body, but at that exact moment you could practically feel the transfer of heat from your body to right between your thighs. “F-feels good…” you mumbled as you tilted your head to allow George easier access to your neck as he began gently sucking love bites into the sensitive skin.

“Need to get you home,” George told you as he took a short break from his assault on your neck. “Need to have you,” he mumbled in your ear, sending a jolt of electricity directly to your core. As you shifted on the barstool in order to ease some of the tension between your thighs, your bottom brushed against George who seemed about as aroused as you were at the moment. At the brief contact, something almost like a growl rumbled out of George’s chest before he grunted out, “Don’t know if I can wait that long though, darling…”

“Then let’s go,” you replied, grabbing his hand as you jumped off the barstool, nearly toppling over in the process. George took the opportunity to grab your body and hold you close in order to hide his now painfully hard erection from the rest of your classmates as you called your goodbyes for the night.

You two couldn’t even get more than a few blocks closer to the Leaky Cauldron before George was slamming his lips onto yours, his hands exploring your body as he pulled you into a darkened alleyway. “I can’t wait,” George told you.

When he did, he pulled out his wand and began casting charms on the area, one you didn’t recognize with the incantation cave immicum and one that you remembered as the same one he cast on your door the night he revealed he was a wizard to you. The one that concealed sound within an area. “G-George, dear, what are you-?”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you felt George lift one of your legs and hook it around him, his fingers sliding up your thigh and rubbing over your clothed and sensitive clit. When you relaxed at the touch and opened your legs the slightest bit more, George slid your knickers aside and pushed two fingers into your slick cunt, telling you, “I cast that charm because I know you can’t keep quiet when I have my way with you, darling. And right now,” he began moving his fingers at a rapid pace, “I plan on finishing you off in this alleyway.”

“Oh God, yes,” you whimpered, the leg holding you upright already starting to give way as the pleasure mounted and made your joints feel like jelly. The heat in your body seemed to continue to lower as he worked you up on his fingers, and without even consciously thinking about it, your hand snaked its way down to begin gently rubbing over the strained tent in George’s slacks. “These are in the way… I assume…mmm-! Privacy charm? N-No one can see us? Or hear us?” you asked, your sentences clipped as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, your orgasm building faster than you anticipated, likely due to the setting.

“Correct,” George grunted as he thrust his hips into your hand.

“Then I’m getting you off too, mister,” you told him as you managed to unbutton and unzip his trousers with one deft hand.

As you freed his length from its confines, George let out a satisfied sigh as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, muttering, “Bloody hell…” as you began to pump him in your hand after lubricating it with spit.

The feeling of pleasuring him along with the sounds of George’s quiet grunts and groans pushed you over the edge after a few more strokes of his fingers. The feeling of pleasure took over your whole body, every single nerve feeling as if it was on fire as your orgasm rocked you. Even though he had the charms cast over the area, George greedily captured the sounds you made with his own mouth, savouring the sweet noises as he continued pumping his fingers into your pulsing cunt, itching to make you have another. The whimpers that accompanied your overstimulation were what sent George over the edge, a louder than he intended moan leaving his mouth in response his unexpected release.

“That…was amazing…” George breathed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you both caught your breath.

“Exhilarating,” you panted back, your chest still heaving as you lowered your leg from around his waist. “I think we should get going though before we get caught…”

“Right,” George said as he hiked his trousers up over his semi-hard member.

You proceeded to get ever closer to the Leaky Cauldron, but as you neared, you began to feel that same heat begin creeping into your body as your heart rate began to rise once more. As you passed through the pub and into the back area where you would traverse into Diagon Alley, you couldn’t help but glance down at George’s nearly fully erect member straining at his trousers, leaning up to kiss him deeply and grazing your fingers over him as you whispered, “George, I-I still need you… Bad. Your fingers weren’t enough… I feel this… heat inside. Won’t leave unless you’re touching me… Please…”

“We’re almost there,” George told you, his hands shaking as he tapped the correct bricks with his wand.

The short walk to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes felt like an eternity, but once you entered the shop and George confirmed that Fred was out for the night in Hogsmeade talking business with Bilton Blimes, you dropped down to your knees and began undoing his trousers once more. He stuttered out your name in shock at your bold actions. “We’re- we’re still-” George started to say as his breath began to come in sharp. “In the shop,” he finished, a sigh leaving his lips as you began teasing him with your tongue, the heat from his own body transferring to his stiff member.

“Can’t wait,” you told him, swallowing hard before taking him into your mouth.

George felt his whole body relax in response to your mouth around him but he couldn’t help but bring his hand to your hair, gently tugging as you worked him up again just right. The pulling of your hair elicited a moan from you that reverberated around George's cock, nearly causing his knees to give way. “So good…” he whispered, his chest heaving as he rapidly approached his second climax. “That pretty mouth… Know what you’re doing… Bloody hell…”

When you smirked around him in response and hollowed out your cheeks with a soft groan leaving your throat was exactly when George lost it. As he spilled into your mouth, a series of curse words left him that you had never heard him utter and they filled you with a sense of pride as you swallowed down everything he gave you before standing back up on unsteady legs. “You like that?” you asked teasingly as you pecked him on the lips.

“I did, but it’s your turn now,” he told you as he lifted you into his arms after redoing his trousers, carrying you up the staircase that would take you to the flat above. As he passed through the dining area, George felt that burning desire building again and he couldn’t take the heat any longer. Laying you down on the dining table was the only gentle part of the next few moments as George found himself accidentally ripping off your knickers in his haste to taste you.

Before you could even process what was happening, George’s mouth was on you, attacking your sensitive clit with his lips and tongue. “Ahh, shit!” you whimpered as your hands instinctively went to his hair, tugging gently to encourage his ministrations.

“Taste so good, darling,” George told you when he took a few moments’ break, plunging two fingers inside which went in without any resistance. “Come on, give me a second one…” George mumbled as he watched your jaw drop in response to the pleasurable feeling before returning to lapping at your throbbing clit, the pleasure insurmountable from both sensations.

“Oh my God, George! George!” you cried as you reached your high for the second time that night, your grip on his hair tightening as you fell apart. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came and white filled your vision, causing you to clamp your eyes shut as you moaned and writhed under George's skilled mouth.

“That’s it, easy, easy,” he mumbled against you as he worked you down gently.

What he didn’t know was that the reverberations of his voice on your most sensitive area only fueled the fire raging inside of you and the heat from before returned with a vengeance. “George, I-I still…” you whispered, a pained groan leaving your throat as you sat up and clawed at your dress, desperate for some relief from the heat.

With the slightest bit of relief still flooding his mind, George took in your desperate state and began to question what had gotten into the both of you… You had never done anything of this nature in public before, not in the shop, let alone in a London alleyway! “One second…” George told you as he shed his coat from his body.

“But Georgie, I-” you replied as you began to unbutton his dress shirt. “I need you… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but… Please…”

Right as you said this, George fished something out of a pocket in his coat and at the sight he sighed and closed his eyes, cursing quietly. “Darling, I’m so sorry, this is because of the effects of a new experimental potion… I-I thought I pulled out the correct one earlier, but…” he showed you the vial that had the colours blue and green swirling inside, rather than just the blue that was mixed into the drinks at the pub.

“W-what kind of potion?”

“It was a new love potion we started working on recently. The intended effects were affection, but… Maybe we were heavy handed with an ingredient and-”

“Affection turned to uncontrolled lust,” you finished, a quiet laugh leaving your lips as you looked down at your hands that had gotten to the last button of George’s shirt.

A soft smile made its way onto George’s lips that faltered as he told you, “We haven’t brewed an antidote yet…” His thoughts raced through what that could mean and he spoke aloud as he went through them. “Hands didn’t seem to work to stave off the potion’s effects and neither did our mouths… Well… It worked well enough for me because I have a clearer mind than I did before- Wait.”

“What?” you asked, unable to control yourself as you began kissing at George’s exposed skin.

“My mind became less clouded when I finished inside your body,” he glanced down at his trousers which were starting to become tented once again at your desperate touch and finished with, “but it’s starting to take effect again. And you… your body is still craving me.”

“Are you saying that means-?” you asked, your heart jolting at the implications of the statement. Even though your mind was clouded not only by the potion but the liquor coursing through your veins, you still understood what George was saying and it scared you. You two had never had unprotected sex before - you always bought condoms and kept a box in George’s room as well as yours. Even though he revealed that he was a wizard and knew potions and spells that could prevent pregnancy such as coutus interruptus, you were still cautious. You couldn’t have a baby now, not this early in your stage career.

George’s voice snapped you back into reality as he kissed your cheek, telling you between sloppy kisses, “Unprotected sex, yes.” He pulled away and placed his hands on both of your arms, squeezing gently as he said, “But if you’re not comfortable with that we can wait for the effects to wear off. I just don’t know how long that’ll take. And I don’t want to see you suffering like you are right now…” As he finished his statement, he brushed a piece of stray hair out of your face and felt the heat radiating from your body.

“Please,” you whispered as you relaxed into his touch.

“Are you sure?” George asked, tilting your chin up toward him as you opened your eyes to gaze into his soft and sincere ones.

“Do you have any of that morning after potion?”

“I can brew some when we’re finished. It doesn’t take long and it’ll work as long as you take it within two days,” he told you.

“Promise?” you asked tentatively as your hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“Well considering Angelina is at Hogwarts and not pregnant right now after the winter break she had with Fred, I think it’s safe to say it works,” he joked with a hint of seriousness in his tone.

“Okay…” you agreed with a nod as you leaned up to kiss him once more.

This time though George controlled the pace, guiding you the rest of the way out of your dress and slowing your desperate hands down as you helped him out of his clothes. “I’m gonna treat you right, don’t worry,” he told you as he kicked his trousers and underwear off and lifted you into his arms to take you to his room.

Once there, George got the two of you into bed and took a deep breath as he asked again, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you replied, your hips bucking up to meet him. You whimpered when you felt his bare member against your core, but desperation for his touch and his love outweighed the fear bubbling in the back of your mind.

And so George gently thrust into you, the velvet of his aching cock dragging against your walls causing the both of you to let out satisfied sighs as the heat in your bodies once again dissipated into your most sensitive areas. This time though, instead of wantonly trying to get one another off, it was a slow and passionate act of love and desire as George showed you how much he cared for you through his actions. This, combined with the oversensitivity of already having two orgasms brought you to the edge embarrassingly fast. “George, I-I’m close…” you whimpered as you grabbed at the sheets of the bed, wanting to hold on for longer.

“That’s fine, let go darling,” George told you, his voice low as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, picking up the pace after shifting his hips to try and hit that one spot inside of you that he knew drove you crazy.

The noise that ripped from your throat when he began hitting that spongy spot filled the room as you abruptly crashed into your third orgasm of the night. George pulled his head back to watch the pleasure contort your face and he smiled as he said, “That’s it, you feel so good… So bloody good…”

As the aftershocks began to run through you and your cunt continued to pulse around George, he felt his orgasm quickly approaching as his pleasure once again neared its peak. “I-I’m gonna-” he grunted as his hips began to stutter into you. Still oversensitive and aching, you moaned George’s name like a prayer before he crashed his lips onto yours, but not before telling you, “I love you, so, so much…”

“I love you too,” you whispered into his lips. In response to the whispered words, George felt a wave of pleasure wash over him as he began to paint your walls with his release, continuing to thrust into you as he worked through his orgasm.

Within seconds, you felt the heat and desperation leave your body as you relaxed into the bed. As George pulled out and laid beside you, you rested your head on his chest as you both tried to calm your breathing. You lifted one leg to rest on George��s bare thigh and cringed as you felt his release leaking out of your soaked centre. “Do you feel better?” George asked softly as he caressed your hair, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Much,” you replied, your eyes closing as you relaxed further into his embrace.

“Here, let me…” he said as he sat up slightly, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table and waving it, summoning a clean washcloth from the nearby bathroom. “Auguamenti,” he mumbled, causing water to wet the rag before he cast another spell that warmed it up. Remaining as gentle as he was during sex, George took the rag and began cleaning you up from the mess he made. “Just relax,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your temple as you cringed at the initial touch, utterly sore from the assault of pleasure you had experienced that night.

Once you were cleaned up and George summoned a couple of cups to hydrate the both of you, he took a sip of the cool water before mumbling, “I’m sorry I messed up with the potion…”

“Hey, don’t apologise, it was an honest mistake,” you told him. A smirk graced your features as you told him, “I mean it resulted in some great sex…”

George chuckled as he pulled you close once more, saying, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a potion we’re going to be selling any time soon…”

“Maybe keep the recipe though, just in case,” you told him with a wink and giggle that for once left him speechless.

a/n: i'm not even sorry, this was fun to write lmao!

ps: i wanted to poke fun at the scientific word for the pullout method being "coitus interruptus" so i made it into a spell rather than using the classic fetus deletus

we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming in the next installment which is super angsty so you'll want to hold on for the rollercoaster of emotions coming up in the next few chapters...

as always, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss @superduckmilkshake (one has been taken off of the taglist due to not having any age indicators in the profile)

dividers by @firefly-graphics as always!

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley romance #george weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction

37 notes · View notes