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ramp-it-up · 2 days ago

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Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out.

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you.

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest.

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?”

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?”

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?”

There was an edge to the question.

“And… My lips. All over you.”

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.”

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.”

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard.

“Oh? What if I want more than that?”

“You can have whatever you want...”

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.

“I trust you.”

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him? He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.”

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?”

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him.

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.”

“Fuck…”

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too.

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined.

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…”

“Of course you are.”

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more.

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?”

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit.

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.”

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came.

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well.

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him.

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.”

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers.

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well.

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…”

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos.

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…”

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him.

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve.

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it.

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space.

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit."

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated.

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip.

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled.

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench.

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook.

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper.

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper.

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems.

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form."

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…”

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you.

And he did.

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both.

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured.

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head.

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach."

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?"

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch.

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient.

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened.

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper.

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page.

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers.

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath.

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much.

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist.

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise.

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.”

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured.

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more."

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building.

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.

“You do that to me, Peach.”

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

“Me?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.”

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes.

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

“Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?”

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants.

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you.

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry.

Not at all.

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth.

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry.

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear.

You gaped at him.

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation.

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue.

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.”

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light.

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much.

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip.

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness.

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point.

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together.

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly.

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke.

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….”

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking.

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you.

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach.

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!”

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!”

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming.

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again.

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

#knock you down fic #this is the right one #steve rogers #peach fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #mob boss! steve rogers #chris evans #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #mob boss!bucky Barnes

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muletia · 22 hours ago

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[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader valveplug, minors don't interact!

based on this delicious ask about orion overloading from inhaling your pheromones and some tags provided by @tom-foolery-incorporated <3

word count: 800

Holding Orion’s helm on both sides, you pull him toward you, feeling no resistance from the startled mech. His faceplate lands against your chest, and you immediately envelop him in warmth, letting him sink into the softness of your human body. The familiar shape of your torso and the rhythmic symphony of your heartbeat give him a sense of comfort and belonging, as if, after a long, exhausting day, he has finally found his way home. Orion lifts his optics to you and smiles in gratitude, though you cannot see the expression.

“I missed you,” you murmur tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm.

“I am glad that our feelings…” he begins, but his words are abruptly cut off by the sudden, unfamiliar scent flooding his olfactory sensors.

It is sweet, unmistakably yours, yet tainted with something unknown — something he cannot name. Has no time to analyze it before the scent overwhelms him, urging to flee, to pull away before it does irreversible damage to his processor. Escaping should not be a challenge; after all, you are not restraining him, granting him full freedom to move. But the problem is that he hesitates to run.

One breath. Then another. And another. Each inhale draws the scent deeper, seeping into his very core, coating his spark, his tank, until it finally reaches the most sensitive parts of his frame, teasing them mercilessly. It creeps behind his interface panel, wrapping around his spike and valve, luring them into a dance with the desire that consumes him in an instant. Just moments ago, all he had wanted was to hold you close, whispering sweet words in your ear, but now — now, the image of sliding his spike into your tight, burning-hot folds is the only thought left in his processor. The only thing he wants to think about. The only thing he can.

Orion takes another involuntary breath, stress-induced from the sudden onslaught of overwhelming need, and it seals his fate.

“[Name]!” he cries out, voice breaking. His concealed spike spasms, and from its tip, thick strands of pink transfluid spill out, splattering against his panel before slowly dripping downward, seeping into the seams, finding their way out. Some rivulets trail down his thighs, while others pool onto the floor beneath him.

“Orion, did you just come?” you ask bluntly. Watching the way his back arches, his optics roll upward, and listening to the symphony of his stifled moans, you are certain of the answer. You should be surprised — after all, you had barely given him any real stimulation to get him to overload — but you know your partner well enough to have learned just how little he needs to unravel. Still, the meaner part of you, the one that always surfaces when Orion is deliciously pathetic, wants to see undeniable evidence of his overload.

“Move your head. I want to see.”

“Ah!” Orion whimpers. “N-No, do not look,” he pleads, suddenly ashamed of the intensity of his own desperation.

His embarrassment does not last long, though, because Orion does not want to pull away. He does not want to lose this intoxicating sense of helplessness, this loss of control that breathing in your scent grants him. He wants to stay right here, drunk on your sweetness.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now you’re getting shy? Please, I’ve seen you worse.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, barely processing your words. He inhales again, this time intentionally, and just like before, your scent floods his body. His still-hard, aching spike throbs, pleading for another overload, and his valve clenches around nothing, echoing the demand. He has no choice but to take in more of your scent, to drown himself in it. He presses himself against you harder, as if trying to meld into your body, rubbing his faceplate against your chest in a desperate chase for another untouched, hands-free climax.

Forgetting his own immense strength, he unwittingly forces you several steps backward, making you struggle to keep your balance.

“Hey!” you yelp, giving him a light, scolding pat on the helm. “I almost fell!”

That, finally, seems to snap him out of it — at least for a moment. Orion lifts his optics to meet yours, guilt flickering in his gaze. “A-apologies,” he murmurs, but his focus does not last long. He immediately buries his faceplate back against you, sensitive olfactory sensors dragging over your torso, trying to provoke another overload.

“Ah! [Name], please, help me!” he whines, his voice raw with need. He has to be inside you. Needs to ground himself, to find something solid to cling to, or else he fears he will completely lose his mind.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “As you wish, love.” and Orion hurriedly retracts his transfluid-slick interface panel.

#transformers x reader #orion pax x reader #valveplug

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truefandemonium · 2 days ago

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Part 1/? of my Thanos xFem!Reader thirst fic (unrelated to my previously posted fic cover) Hope y’all enjoy and uhhhh keep an eye out for part two I guess? 😭 (this was written for @i-think-youre-a-work-of-art pls keep all replies and reblogs SFW thank you) also tagging @heavenlyraindrops Ty all for reading! 🫰

**********************************

Princess and the Pills (pt. 1/?)

Thanos xFem!Reader, fluff, angst, toxic!Thanos, but also sweet!Thanos, Nam-gyu abuse sksksks, SFW, some mild spicy talk, cuddling, uhhhh idr what else is in this part, drug use, swearing { pt. 2 }

*✨*✨*✨*

You hear him before you see him, and his butter smooth voice makes you wish you never turned around. “Señoríta,” he purrs, pulling his jumpsuit jacket collar higher around his neck. “I couldn’t help but notice— you’re all alone out here. Y’know, I could protect you.”

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you bite back, not looking to make any friends here. Least of all… this guy.

The man’s nose wrinkles in disbelief, his brows shooting upward. “Oh yeah? Well— we could still make a pretty good team. Keep each other safe, y’know?” His expression calms, and you find him… almost handsome with the small smile playing on his lips, sunlight dancing in his purple tipped hair from above. He continues with a growing smirk, “Keep each other warm.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes hard as you nudge past him, and you feel him practically cower from your touch as you do so, your shoulder knocking him backward a foot or two. “Whatever.”

Before you can completely remove yourself from his vicinity, you feel his warm hand wrap around your wrist, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to his furious eyes as he pulls you to face him.

You suck in a gasp at his proximity, his face only inches from yours as he studies you. His gaze flicks over your expression, down to your lips for a fraction of a second longer than anywhere else, and then back up to your eyes, where he narrows his own and lets go.

“Don’t forget you got a place to come running,” he assures you with a sniff, tipping his chin skyward. “I’m Thanos.”

“Thanos,” you repeat, taking your turn to look him over. “You got the infinity stones?”

Thanos’ eyes light up in amusement, and he nods, holding up his hand to begin counting off each painted finger. “Red, orange, yellow, green, I’m a legend, Thanos.” His smile after that seals the deal, and you decide to humor him.

“So what made you choose me, huh? To team up with?” you ask, crossing your arms. You didn’t understand it. He must want something from you. Why else would he seek you out?

“You kiddin’?” he snorts. “I’d have to be crazy not to snatch up the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

You roll your eyes again. Ah. “Right,” you say. “What about your buddy over there, hm? He seems pretty attached to you.” Your eyes fall over to the man shifting from foot to foot several yards away, pushing his greasy hair from his face to look toward Thanos.

“Wha— Nam-gyu? Nah, he aight,” Thanos says with a shrug, “But you?” He shakes his head before nodding to a silent rhythm and spouting a few lines of rap; “In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds…” His teeth shine in the sunlight as he grins and tugs the front of his jacket. “Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green LIGHT.” He dramatically spreads his arms above his head and shoots the sky a wide smile, looking back at you with a raised brow as he positions his finger and thumb into a tiny heart. “I. Like. You.”

You smack a hand over your mouth, a small giggle erupting from your chest. Laughter, but also… something else. Something warm, and fuzzy. You tamp it down and turn away, dropping your hand.

“Cute song,” you say quietly, dismissing him along with whatever feeling just rose in you.

“See you at the finish line, girly,” Thanos bids you farewell, waving one bejeweled hand before disappearing into the crowd.

You force the image of his endearing smile and buttery voice from your mind as you ready yourself behind the starting point and listen to the game rules.

Before the game starts, some maniac begins screaming about how everyone will die if they move during red light. Yeah, you think annoyedly, that’s how you get disqualified, idiot. Had this loser never played red light green light before?

“He on some crazy shit,” a familiar voice sounds over your shoulder. You turn to curl your lip at Thanos and shrug in agreement.

“He’s kinda right,” you say, itching to disagree with the purple haired rapper if only to see his eyes alight with fury again. “Though that ugly doll already told us all of this a minute ago.”

“How much you wanna bet he’s totally bonkers,” Thanos whispers to you, shifting closer to your side. You resist the urge to lean into the warmth he offers and instead square off, shooting him a sideways glare and nudging him away with your elbow.

“Quit distracting me,” you hiss, listening as the doll sings ‘green light’ melodically.

The man far in front of you screams to run and you obey, booking it forward several feet and hoping Thanos biffed it somewhere behind you.

Soon, you’re stuck at your fourth red light, and no one has been eliminated yet. Which is honestly— amazing. You remember playing this in school and there were kids that would throw tantrums after getting ‘out’ on the first turn.

And then something in front of you catches your eye.

“Is that a bee?” Thanos whispers dumbly from beside you. He’s stayed pretty much right at your side since the game started, and you’ve avoided his incessant blabbing successfully up until now.

“What?” you whisper back, staying carefully frozen.

Thanos chuckles. “The chick in front of you. She’s got a bee on her neck.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Surprised it couldn’t tell you’re the only flower around here.”

“Just leave it,” you scold him, but he calls out anyway.

“Hey, senorita!”

The girl shifts. “Huh?” she squeaks.

“You got a bee on ya,” Thanos giggles playfully as the girl wails and flails and screams and leaps until the bug is long gone. Casting a teasing smile at Thanos, she muses, “Huh. I moved! Guess I’m out—”

A sound rings out and echoes painfully in your ears, a hot spray hitting your face at the same time. You blink the dark liquid from your eyes in confusion, trying to figure out what just happened, and then you see the body.

A sharp inhale of breath prompts you to turn your gaze to the side, but you’re stopped by a scream.

“HOLD STILL!” the crazy man in front wails at you, his voice commanding attention. But it’s too late. People have seen it: the body of the girl in the sand, blood staining the ground around her.

Shrieks of fear echo around the courtyard as people begin running for the exit, frantic.

“They’ll shoot you if you move, just HOLD STILL!” the same man cries, his tone almost pleading now. It takes all of your willpower to stay upright and steady as the shots ring out one after the other. Screams of pain and horror cut short by loud bangs and splatters of blood.

Until all falls silent, and the rules are repeated over the loudspeaker. The man calling out to you speaks again after green light. No one moves.

“You have to move before the timer runs out or they’ll still shoot you!” he says, but you’re no longer listening.

You tip your head up from where you’d been watching the still body of the bee-girl, and look at Thanos instead. He’s trembling, his eyes wide and slightly glazed over as he stares at the corpse at his feet.

“We have to move,” you tell him as the light turns red once more, then green again. Your heart is in your throat. You don’t know why you’re bothering to talk with this psycho— you’re here to win. Well… now you’re here to survive.

But Thanos doesn’t even look at you. With his eyes still glued to the girl’s dead body, he scrambles at the crucifix around his neck, popping open the metal locket top and digging out a small colored pill.

His hands shake so violently that the crucifix tips, and several of his stash tumble out and into the bloody dirt below. Thanos curses, his voice breaking as he drops to his knees and begins frantically picking them out of the sand, stuffing one into his mouth in pure panic.

“Thanos,” you hiss, heart starting to stutter like it’s threatening to stop completely. “Move.”

He slams his eyes shut for a second as he bites down on the pill, his hands still shaking hard as he drops a few dirty pills back into his locket and snaps it closed.

“I can’t,” he whispers back, opening his eyes again, but unable to meet your gaze. You feel sick.

The kook in front of the group that’s leaving you behind yells for you to run, and you take off, ignoring the nagging voice telling you to drag Thanos along with you.

Time doesn’t feel right as the minutes tick down on the giant clock, but only a few rounds of the game have passed.

You feel like it’s been days under the hot sun, watching people die around you as you strive for an unreachable finish line. You force yourself not to wonder if Thanos made it— his body is probably lying in a pool of blood and mysterious colored pills thousands of yards behind you by now.

You clear your mind of him— of everything— as you run without fear. Pure adrenaline keeps your legs from buckling beneath you as your feet pound the earth, sweat trickling in rivulets down the sides of your face. Some from the heat and exertion— more from complete and utter terror.

You’re close to the finish line, now. Red light seems to drag on this time, and a man several feet in front of you is blasted directly in the head, showering you in gore.

You suck down lungfuls of air to keep your stomach from flipping as you listen for ‘green light’ and make your mad dash for the finish line.

As you dart out, someone trips and collapses hard in the sand just in front of you, body checking you off trajectory and sending you spinning. You yelp, shifting midair and falling back, having flipped a complete 180 degrees to face the back of the courtyard.

“Red Light.”

Shit.

Time slows as you make your descent, the sound of the doll’s whirring head turning to spot your movement the only thing you can hear.

But instead of the hard ground beneath you, followed by a gunshot, you feel a jolt as you’re caught by the front of your shirt and held in a vice grip. You don’t want to open your eyes, too afraid to see who saved your life. Maybe you’re already dead.

But you open them anyway, and you realize you left your heart in the sand with Thanos at the start of the game.

The rapper stares ahead, his brow knitted in concentration, his arm flexed and holding onto your jumpsuit firmly to keep you from landing on your back. You blink up at him in bewilderment. In confusion.

Why would he risk himself to save you after what you did?

But when he finally looks down at you, it makes sense. His brows bounce, shooting you that award winning smile with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Tag,” he giggles, his eyes wild and dangerous.

Yet somehow, you’ve never felt so safe.

As the green light sounds, he yanks you back to your feet hard, and you collide with his chest, hands coming up to brace you.

His strong hands grip either side of your upper arms, his lip stuck in a thoughtful pout as he stares into your eyes menacingly. He exhales slowly, eating up precious seconds of running time to curl his lip and let out a little growl. You can’t decipher his coded sounds, but relief floods you as the scouring expression disappears and he grabs one of your hands in his own, the unnaturally cheery demeanor back in full force.

“Let’s GO!” Thanos whoops, breaking into a run, clutching your hand like a lifeline as he drags you along with him toward the finish line.

You feel lighter than air as you’re pulled behind this crazed man, the sounds of gunshots broken up by his joy filled laughter. Only seconds before the final red light, you and Thanos explode over the painted white line at the end of the track, and stumble into the crowd. Battered by elbows from every direction, the two of you topple to the sand, limbs tangling as Thanos lands beneath you with a deep groan.

You wince as you land square on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and reveling in a soft grunt that leaves his lips.

“I— sorry,” you pant, your arms bracing you above him on either side of his head. Once recovered, Thanos smiles languidly, his eyes still glazy, but now unregistering and carefree.

One hand slides idly up and lands gently on your waist, his other arm sprawled out as he lies beneath you, apparently content. “No problem,” he coos, shaking his head once. “Didn’t even feel it.”

“No,” you choke, unable to form the words but acutely aware of hundreds of eyes on you in this moment. You want to apologize for leaving him. The reality of that choice feels like a death sentence, though you know you couldn’t have saved him anyway. “I'm sorry for… for ditching you.”

It ends with a question mark, and Thanos’ smile fades slightly. “Didn’t notice,” he rumbles numbly.

You’re about to ask— well, you’re not sure what, but you’re compelled to say a something, when a pair of feet appear above Thanos’ head, and you look up.

Nam-gyu looks down at the two of you, mouth hanging open as he drags his gaze over your compromising position. “Huh,” he muses. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Nam-su!” Thanos belts out, his face breaking back into a buzzed grin. He starts to get up, inadvertently knocking you into the dirt and you tamp down the small amount of hurt at his sudden indifference to you.

The men embrace, Nam-gyu eyeing the cross necklace around his friend’s neck with a hungry gaze.

“It’s Nam-gyu,” he corrects passively, wincing as Thanos shoves him off and proceeds to leap in the air a few times.

“AY, we did it, my friends! First game: SUC-CESS!” the purple haired man whoops, his brown eyes nearly disappearing in the black of his dilated pupils. He cuts his words into multiple pieces, like he’s trying to put emphasis on as much as possible for the shock value.

It makes your stomach flutter against your will: the way his voice pitches high and then falls again, his teeth flashing in the sunlight and contrasting sickeningly with the spatter of crimson on his cheek.

Maybe that’s what’s making your belly hurt: the blood. So much blood. You make the mistake of looking down and find your shoes painted with the stuff. Bright red stains that will eventually fade to a dull brown that you wouldn’t even be able to identify if you hadn’t known the people it had come from.

“Hey, you okay?” That slimy voice sounds in your ear and you look up with a grimace, locking eyes with Nam-gyu and feeling yourself squirm under his scrutiny.

“She’s fine,” Thanos interrupts before you can spew all over Nam-gyu’s shoes, knocking into your side and throwing one arm over your shoulders. He tugs you flush against his side, under his arm and you’re surprised to find the musk permeating his jumpsuit is… nice. Sweat, sure, but also a lingering cologne and the strong smell of fresh ink, which strikes you instantly as odd but incredibly pleasant.

Of course a faint smoky scent remains on his skin, but you don’t pull away quite so quickly from his touch this time.

He turns to grin down at you, eyes half lidded. “Right, jagiya?”

In an attempt to quell the hammering of your heart, you nudge Thanos off of your shoulder and shoot a glare at Nam-gyu, successfully diverting his wolfish gaze back to the ground.

“Yeah, I don’t need either of you jerks, so just leave me alone,” you snap, brushing sand off your knees and trying to take calm breaths, though it’s hard with so many dead bodies lying only feet from you.

Thanos rumbles a laugh. “Yeah, you won’t be saying that for long, sweetheart. Come find my bunk if you get lonely.” You narrow your eyes over your shoulder, hating that his wink and heart gesture combo make you almost double over in adoration before you look away.

You find yourself drawn to the corners of the sandy arena, as far away from anyone else as you can possibly get, but that’s not much because most everyone made it through the game, so you’re surrounded by nearly 400 people at least.

Still, you sit in the corner until the guards lead you back to the large room, and you follow numbly, head aching and stomach still clenched in disgust and horror at what you witnessed. You’re surprised Thanos was so… okay with what happened right in front of him, until you remember the pills. How happy they made him almost instantly.

You’re almost jealous. But more than that, you’re sad for him.

You can’t seem to avoid him, because as soon as you’re all back in the gathering room full of bunk beds, he’s there, sauntering up the stairs in your direction.

“Hey, senorita,” he coos, his eyes watery and big like a puppy’s. “Room for one more?” You’re startled out of a bit of a daydream of returning back home and leaving all this behind, and Thanos is sitting on the other side of your bunk bed with a smirk. Nam-gyu frowns, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the way they resemble a pair of idiot circus clowns.

“Two more,” he says, shooting daggers in Thanos’ direction.

Thanos doesn’t hear him, nodding his head to a song you can’t hear as you ignore the both of them and stare down at your bagged bread and bottled soda.

Nam-gyu sits solemnly on the steps by your feet, his eyes dragging over you like a snake flicking his tongue to taste the air, and you pull your legs onto the bed in fear.

After a few minutes of silence, you hear a soft hum. You jump hard at Thanos’ hand nudging your own, his eyes full of genuine concern as he lifts your hand holding the packaged bread toward your lips. “Hey, eat up, c’mon,” he urges in a low tone, serious. “A passed out Princess ain’t no good to us,” he teases, his teeth flashing again. His eyes flick down to your unzipped hoodie as he adds, “Sure would be pretty, though.”

You immediately set your food in your lap and zip your tracksuit up, turning your face away. Screw him. And his stupid, weird friend. These guys were junkies, and nothing more. Thanos has NOTHING to offer you, least of all protection in this madhouse. Why believe a word he says?

Because he needs someone to, your mind whispers. You shut your eyes as if that will help make everything go away, silence those thoughts that ring so true.

And you only open them to find Thanos has set half of his own bread in your hand, emptying his soda as he makes his way toward the crowd to vote.

…

It’s that psycho again. Screaming. Grabbing someone and insisting that you all vote to leave.

You want to understand his desperation, but… you have nothing back home. If you return without that money, you’ll be a dead woman anyway.

Your eye lingers on the blue button as the guards break up the fight and order everyone to vote without further conversation between players.

You’re going in order from last to first: 456 taking his turn to hit the red button and stand alone on the far side of the room. You glance at your own number for the first time and realize you’re just ahead of Thanos: 231. Hiding from him, you wait for your number to be called.

You vote when it comes time, pressing the blue ‘O’ with shaky hands and turning around to face the gathered crowd. Two sides: red and blue. Life and death, only not so black and white. To people like you, desperate slobs in more debt than you could ever pay off in a lifetime, voting to leave would be a death sentence.

456 stares you down as you walk with a certain shame toward the blue side, his brown eyes boring into your flesh like flames. He wants you dead, most likely. You don’t look up until you feel a strong hand wrap dexterous fingers around your bicep and your head whips up.

Thanos is there, on his way to the voting buttons, a wicked smile spread across his sharp features. His nails dig into your arm, not enough to hurt you, but a reminder of his closeness. A reminder of his presence. The safety he promises.

And he mutters, “Good girl.”

Your heart is in your throat. You can’t breathe as he releases you and struts the rest of the way to the podium to vote, and you realize that this is the first time you haven’t pulled away from his touch.

#thanos squid game #thanos #squid game #squid game x reader #thanos x reader #nam gyu #nam gyu squid game #nam gyu x reader #choi su bong #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader #fan fic writing

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rottenherbs · 21 hours ago

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Frequent Flyer // G.W x healer! Reader

Request: Reader is a nurse at the Hogwarts infirmary and has a crush on George, after all he's always there after his Quidditch games needing to be tended too.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note:!!! George approx. 7th year - 17-18 y/o. Reader is a learning healer, approx 18 years old // first year out of beauxbaton and interning at hogwarts.. hehe okay enjoy

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige

——-

Your first job post grad was probably the best and worst decision you’ve ever made. It was hard being a new healer at Hogwarts, especially because of how close in age you were to the students who needed your help. The younger students had no trouble with you, often imagining you were much older than you were. But the older students didn’t trust your abilities and would frequently ask Madam Pomphrey to double check your elixirs before you could mend their wounds.

She tried to assure you that with time students would learn to trust your skill, but it was agitating and troublesome in how much you were undermined. Luckily during most of the warm months you tended to quidditch mishaps and concussions, while during the colder season it was simple fixes for colds and illness. The repetitive nature of the job soothed your worrisome mind.

Familiar faces made it easier to manage, though you worried immensely for how often they were in the infirmary. One redhead in particular made your days worthwhile, no matter how much pain he was in.

“I just got an owl that George Weasley took a bludger to the shoulder and fell off his broom. Could you make a bed for his arrival?” Madam Pomphrey asked, pulling your attention from the book in your hands.

You tend to spend your free time studying quidditch history. You had not known much about the sport before working at the school, but you quickly learned how dangerous the game had been and the injuries that come from it.

Your time at beauxbaton was often spent in the library, working towards your goal of helping others through potions and spell casting. Healing was your calling, but something about the exhilaration of broom flying interested you as of late -

The doors to the infirmary swung open, banging against the walls loudly. Startled, you turned to see Hagrid holding up George Weasley, a shy smile across his face.

”My apologies’ my apologies’’ Hagrid whispered, turning to see the cracked wall where the door had hit it, his shoulders seething slightly as he inspected the damage. “Aye’ promise I'll fix that. Should I put the boy over here?” He motioned towards a large arm chair just to his left. You shook your head holding your arms out to stop him, motioning over to an open cot at the end of the room. Hagrid nodded his head and followed you silently.

Just before you turned your back, your eyes met with George, a wicked smile plastered against his face as he stayed silent, enjoying the fact that he didn’t have to walk himself up the castle to see you.

George kept his lips sealed until Hagrid left, playing off his pain as he massaged his shoulder roughly, his quidditch uniform smearing the sheets with mud.

“I'll get you something to change out of.” You smiled, looking all over his face and exposed skin to determine how poorly injured he was.

“Awe, don't you like a man in uniform?” George wined, his eyes watching your every move. He couldn't help but admire the difference between you two. The sterile nature of your job, the ironed creases in your skirt and nursing cap, the soft feminine scent of your perfume. He sat in the bed lazily, his legs splayed. He looked at his body, suddenly noticing the dirt and grime that had stained the white sheets, sweat still reminiscent on his cheeks, and grass sticking off of his shoes.

”I like a man that's not soiled by the outside elements.” You chuffed, bending down and retrieving a cotton set of plain pajamas from under the bed, turning to roll a privacy curtain closer.

“I’ll have you know, I clean up quite nicely when I have to.” George smirked, tugging his shin guards off and setting them aside.

“That’ll be the day that pigs fly.” You responded, standing between the gap in the curtains, cocking your head to the side.

“You calling me a pig?” George gasped, his hand holding his chest dramatically. You laughed lightly, closing the curtain and distancing yourself from the boy.

Sometimes it felt insane that you cared for those your age, but it felt good to help nonetheless. You just couldn't help how you felt about them after they left…

After a moment, George cleared his throat loudly, waiting for you to return. You bit your cheek, attempting to clear your mind. It was clear from your first day, you had to be professional at the end of the day, no matter who you were healing.

Opening the curtains, you spotted a large growing bruise on his right shoulder, several cuts and scrapes following across his chest.

“This might be your worst visit yet.” You mumbled, squinting your eyes to get a better look. Your hands lightly touched his arm, his muscles tensing under your fingers. He winced quietly, sucking his teeth and facing the other way. You glanced at him as you pressed, trying to find where it hurt the most.

”I’m sorry, I just need to know if it's out of place.” You spoke, softly lifting and rotating his arm, feeling a slight pop as it moved. George kept his attention away from his injury, having a hard time with the pain. Setting his arm down, you pulled out your wand, his eyes opening wide.

”You’re not hitting me with an unforgivable just yet. I can't be that much of a lost cause.” He smiled, flicking his attention between your ward and your eyes. You rolled your eyes, lighting the tip of your wand silently.

“I just need to look at your pupils.” You cocked your head to the side, holding the wand steadily until he allowed you. George pursed his lips and squinted his eyes, turning his torso slightly to better face you.

”Like usual - Just look in between my eyes for me.” Leaning in, you held your wand close to his face, illuminating his brown iris, flickers of gold and amber as you dictated the light.

“I wouldn’t look anywhere else.” He whispered, your eyes catching his as you inspected his pupils. You felt your heart race, blinking rapidly as you tried to focus.

”You have beautiful eyes.” He whispered as you pulled away your wand, standing up to retrieve his intake sheet.

“And you say that every time.” You replied neutrally.

”It's not my fault they haven’t changed.” He shrugged, leaning back casually. You smiled to yourself, holding the clipboard tightly between your hands.

”We'll do simple healing on your cuts and scrapes, but we will have to put your shoulder back in its socket.”

“That sounds pretty rough, doc.”

”It’ll only be.. an uncomfortable experience.. but over quickly.” You tried to say reassuringly, but George could see right through your lies. It would hurt, that was undeniable.

“Could you hold my hand when you do it.” He asked, his lip pouting every so slightly.

“I can ask Madam Pomphrey to-“ You started, tapping your finger as you thought.

“No! Please.” He shouted, surprising you by his echoed response. You looked at him in imitated shock, mouth agape to his distaste of the idea. Goerge cleared his throat, aware of how loud he actually spoke. “I mean..” he whispered. “She’s a nice lady and all. Just got.. rough hands.” He smiled, his hands twitching slightly.

“You’re a strong boy. You’ll be okay.” You laughed, turning to the drawers that cascaded the walls next to the cot.

Small wooden placards labeled each organized bin for aches and pains, burns and scars, even sneezes and sniffles. Your hands grazed the wall, taking a moment to find the right tube of herbal ointment.

You turned back to face George. His cheeks were reddened lightly, almost visibly hot to the touch and his eyes were unable to meet yours. The energy between you two had changed dramatically in just a few seconds and you were unaware why.

Furrowing your brow, you sat in the chair next to the bed slipping on a pair of gloves. You both sat in silence for a second before you opened the tube and began applying the cream to his chest.

“What's wrong?” You asked softly, watching the ointment setting into the skin and lightening the scars. Goerge huffed, his mind wandering across the room, trying his best to calm his worried mind. How could he tell you he was genuinely scared

“I’ve just never….” He started, pursing his lips tightly. “I've never dislocated anything. Skele-gro is my bread and butter.” He laughed, a shuttered tone following each word. His breath hitched as you kneaded deeper into his skin. His skin prickled where your fingers grazed, the feeling of the ointment soothing along with the warmth of your body so close to his.

“I promise it’ll be okay.” You smiled, peeling your gloves off and tossing them in the bin. Goerge rolled his eyes, and smiled back at you.

“You have to say that to me. It’s your job.” He snorted, trying his best to cover his displeasure of your hands off of his chest. Not only did he miss your touch, but it meant it was time to fix his shoulder.

”My job is to help you.” You teased, standing up and leaving his side. George watched you walk over to Madam Pomphrey, speaking for a moment. He watched as you motioned over towards him, Madam Pomphrey nodding and replying in distinctly. His heart raced in fear, trying his best to distract himself, the inevitable happening anytime soon.

He thought of what you’d wear outside of your job, realizing he had never seen you outside of the hospital wing. What you ate for meals, if you liked the rain or the snow more. If you thought he was annoying or charming. If you liked Scotland more than France. If youd say yes to a date..

His day dreaming was interrupted by the sound of two pairs of shoes tapping against the stone floor. You walked in tandem with Madam Pomphrey towards Goerge, trying to calm your beating heart in the small amount of time it took to get to his bed. You both flanked the sides of the cot, Madam Pomphrey on the side of his injured shoulder and you on the other.

“I’m going to ask you to close your eyes.” She spoke, retrieving her wand from her apron. George shot a scared look at you, his face turning white in fear.

“It’s okay.” You nodded, holding out your hand towards him, inviting him to take it. His eyes softened as he looked down, hesitating before grabbing it tightly. His hand was surprisingly soft, you anticipating a rough calloused grip but enjoyed how warm and tender he held you.

“One.”

”Two.”

”Three!”

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #harrypotter #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem #george weasly x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley drabble #george weasley fic #george weasley headcanon #george weasley

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lulufandom · 22 hours ago

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The past: Macaque's Reaction

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened.

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened?

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke.

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there.

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

#forgotten wukong au #lmk au #lego monkie kid au #lego monkie kid #lmk #my art #fanart #lmk fanart #lmk macaque #lmk six eared macaque #lmk liu er mihou #six eared macaque

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gretavanflame · 3 days ago

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Oral Fixation

Jake Kiszka x Reader (f)

Cw: SMUT Including: oral (m) receiving, handjob, overstimulation, nicotine addiction, vaping, mentions of weed, cursing, angst, slight meanness but just couple banter, cocky Jake, no pun intended…

Summary: "If you need something to suck on babe, by all means…”

Word Count: 2.3k

“You’re so addicted to that” Jake snides from across the couch, arms stretched wide and socked feet resting on the counter top.

His attention isn’t even on you and he half looks like a bum with his grey sweatpants, wife beater and unbrushed hair hanging down his shoulders, so you just roll your eyes and turn back to the tv as the sweet peach smoke is exhaled from your lungs.

You’d be lying however if you said he doesn’t look extremely attractive right now. You’ve always had a special thing for this version of him- casual and arrogant, but authoritative and sexy. Not to mention the small tank top he sports shows off his biceps, and his tangled hair still looks soft to the touch. And of course he still smells amazing- like burning wood and whiskey.

Jake chuckles at the stupid sitcom playing in front of you- the one he had picked that he knows you don’t even like. You hold the vape between your lips so you can pull your phone from your pocket when you feel his eyes on you again.

When you don’t respond to his pathetic comment he leans closer, smirking as he lunges forward in an attempt to grab the stick from you. You squeal, pulling away just at the last second. You take the vape from your mouth, holding it with a steady grip to blow the smoke into his face.

“Bleh!” he dramatizes, falling back into the couch, coughing and clutching his chest.

“Oh shut the fuck up Jake. Don’t act like you’re better than me for smoking weed instead. Fucking asshole” you mutter softly, but unfortunately for you, he’s heard it.

"Excuse me?" he questions, his previously playful tone giving way to a more demanding one.

“I’m joking, my dearest love” you mock, blowing him a quick kiss sealed with a wink.

You return your attention back to your phone, desperate for this man you love so much to leave you alone. Of course however, he decides to bring back up the one topic you’ve vetoed indefinitely.

“I mean- it’s not even a nicotine addiction at this point. It’s a full on oral fixation y/n. I mean you do realize that right?”

“Okay Jake. So fucking what. You have a fucking guitar fixation and it’s pathetic. You literally can’t go 5 seconds without talking about it, and you buy a new one every week, blowing all your money. We all have something. Please. Drop. It.”

He brushes off your cruel words with a shrug. He isn’t trying to hurt your feelings too bad. Maybe just trying to motivate you to quit. But he doesn’t have to poke so hard at this sore spot, and he knows it.

You try to ignore him again, turning your attention back to your phone.

“I bet you can’t even go one episode without using it” he challenges, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms, accentuating his muscles.

You stare at him blankly, physically trying to keep your eyes from rolling or your hands from punching. Slowly without breaking eye contact, you inhale a big hit, holding it in your mouth to puff out a ghost.

Before you can process what’s happened, Jake lunges forward again, grabbing the vape from your hand and retreating back to his side of the couch.

“Hey, give it back!”

You climb over, wrestling him for the vape while he smiles and giggles. If you weren’t so mad you’d almost think it adorable.

“You can’t get it” he teases, holding it away from your face while you helplessly grab at his arms.

You climb over his lap and try to reach for it one last time before giving up and crossing your arms in protest. He quickly slips the device into his pocket before gently resting his hands on the tops of your thighs.

His voice softens to a gravelly mumble. “I never meant to judge your oral fixation y/n. Just the nicotine one. If you need something to suck on babe, by all means…”

Jake smirks deliciously and you feel your stomach twist. As much of an asshole as he is, you can’t help but enjoy his lewd comments that secretly make you want him more. There’s just something about the man you love being so unapologetically sexual. You fucking love it.

You stare at him challengingly, cocking your brow as your tongue briefly flicks against the inside of your cheek. Looking down at his waistband that you now straddle, you bring a single finger to drag along it. You hear his breath hitch and you smile to yourself.

“Okay Jake. Fine. We can watch your stupid show and you are definitely giving that back to me after… but I'll play your little game.”

And play it you will.

“Because you looove me y/n” he flashes a sly toothy grin before grabbing your thighs tighter to roll your body over him. His hardening length grinds against you and you feel your pussy twitch deliciously.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” you feign a smile, knowing you're both aware of your bluff.

You step off of him to lay across the couch on your stomach, leaving your head resting just inches above his waist. You feel his eyes trained steadily on you as you pull down his sweats and boxers. After he lifts his hips, you pull the clothes down to rest at his lower thighs.

A genuine smile creeps across your face at the sight of his cock, still mostly soft and gentle in contrast to his overly smug words.

You look up to find him already staring at you and you quip, “I thought we were watching your show? The one you so badly wanted to watch?”

“Oh so now I can’t look at you while my dick is in front of your face?” He rolls his eyes.

“Exactly!”

He almost laughs, but when he sees you aren’t joking, he scoffs, reluctantly bringing his attention back to the screen in front of him.

Smiling in satisfaction, you finally touch him, watching as his stomach muscles tense up at the slight contact. You drag your palm across his length down to his balls, cupping them to deliver a slow and sensual massage. Jake exhales a long breath and you can tell it’s taking every bit of his will power to not look at you.

You wrap your hand loosely around him, dragging it up to his tip where your thumb glides it over. You can feel him hardened under your touch, little by little as you stroke him softly.

“You are such a tease y/n” Jake mutters, eyes still on the tv.

You look up to find him looking much less composed as before- eyes hazy and mouth slightly parted.

“Vapes don’t talk.”

Jake smirks as you bring your lips to the tip of his cock. Parting them slightly, you wrap around him, sucking in ever so softly, feeling as he hardens even further.

You secure your hand at his base, squeezing slightly and holding him in place so your mouth can continue to suck. You stick your tongue out, licking a stripe up the side of his cock to the tip which you take in an inch deeper. You swirl your tongue around as he releases a deep sigh.

You giggle quietly and bob your head a few times before pulling off of him. You place chaste kisses, just barely touching, down and back up the side of his cock, saving the smallest peck for his most sensitive spot. Jake squirms in his seat, hips involuntarily thrusting up, searching desperately for the touch of your lips. You smile, pulling away to switch back to stroking him with your hand.

You carefully land a trail of spit onto the tip of his cock and see his eyes catch sight of it. You click your tongue and shoot him a disapproving look. He quickly rolls his eyes and turns his attention away as you finally take him in again.

You begin to slide your lips down as Jake’s hand tangles into your hair, just resting there. The touch is comforting as you sink deeper, that is until he uses his hand to push your head down an inch.

A gag forces its way through your throat and you pull away, scoffing loudly.

As much as you enjoy that side of him- the side that asks, or rather, demands you to get on the bed so he can tie you up, or tells you to touch yourself while he watches, today is a little different, and you can tell he isn’t used to it. Today he has to learn what you get if you decide to be a little prick.

“Put your hands away.”

He throws them up, looking obviously annoyed. “I can’t even stroke your hair!!?”

“Well that’s not what you did, is it?”

You raise your brow in question, daring him to respond as your thumb begins to drag slow circles over the bead of spit that rests on the slit of his cock. You soak up his new demeanor, as he struggles to focus on your words, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Is it?”

“No” he chokes out, stomach muscles contracting as he moans sweetly.

You smile. “As a matter of fact, put your hands behind your head.”

You relish the way he obeys without hesitation. You’re finally starting to realize why he so enjoys having this power over you instead of the other way around.

You turn back to the sight of his throbbing cock and pink tip that’s just begging to be sucked. You let your lips spread wide over it, moving your tongue in big, slow circles.

Jake’s quiet exhales sound like little whimpers and you feel your own stomach tightening. Half of you wants to just get on top of him, but the other wants to see how this will end.

You switch back to long strokes, taking him in all the way until your nose is almost flush with the base of him. You do your best to relax your throat and still for a moment. You construct your throat around him and he lets out a wanton moan that makes your pussy throb.

You pull off of him and a long strand of spit connects the two of you. You go straight back, sucking him all the way up and down as he spirals closer and closer.

Minutes pass of you spoiling him, and you can hear the noise he makes when he’s just about to finish. A small “fuck” drifts off his tongue and you glance up to see his eyes shut tight and brows drawn up in pleasure. His mouth hangs open and he looks so far gone that you could easily grab the vape back from his pocket. But this is much more fun.

His breath comes out in little pants and you wrap your mouth around him and hollow out your cheeks as your hand works over the rest of him.

You hear his soft voice say something you can’t quite make out and you turn just your eyes to catch sight of him.

“I’m gonna fucking come…” he whispers again, face still drawn in the same position, making it seem as if he’s almost in pain.

You smile around him, using your tongue to lap over his tip while his hands struggle to stay behind his head. He hunches his body over, opening his eyes to rest hazily on you while his cock twitches in your mouth.

A loud grunt makes its way out of him just as you feel his warm cum shoot into your mouth. You use it as lubrication, painting it all over his sensitive tip with your outstretched tongue.

His hips start to buckle and he hisses sharply while his leg twitches. You pull off of him, using your hand to stroke the last remnants of cum from him. He watches you, and you allow it because he looks so fucking hot and fucked out.

You feel his body start to relax as his breathing evens out. Your hand stops for a moment, but he looks at you with confusion when you start to move again. Your mouth quickly latches back onto him. You lick the underside of his cock, slow and delicately as his whole body jolts. He whimpers bashfully as his hips try to escape you.

“What are you doing?” he quivers.

“I'm not done yet” you reply simply, licking him again like he's a bright red lollipop.

Your tongue laps over him in short licks and he squirms away again, whimpering even louder as his legs start to thrash around.

“Okay y/n I get it I get it… It feels- fuckkk” his eyes roll to the back of his head just for a second before he snaps them back, swallowing to regain his composure. He grits his teeth together and squeezes his hands into the couch while his body raises off of it.

“The show isn’t over. It’s my oral fixation Jakey. You said it yourself- I need something to suck on” you coo innocently, looking up at him with wide eyes while internally smirking before bringing your lips back to his swollen, bursting cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” Jake shuts his eyes tight, finally laughing as he pulls you away for the final time. You sit up straight, laughing along with him while his dick twitches and his trembling starts to subside.

“I wasn’t done” you tease, beaming as you sit up on your hands.

He returns the smile, reaching his hand out to stroke over your cheek. You bite your lip, looking at him hungrily. He catches his breath while he stares back with the same amount of lust. You both gaze at each other for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

You watch then as his eyes lower and his tongue licks across the corner of his mouth. He watches you with an intensity that excites you- the look of a snake coiling before it strikes. Your heartbeat quickens in two places.

The corner of his mouth is pulled into a wicked smirk.

“Your turn.”

Join Taglist!

@jazzyfigz @gold-mines-melting @musicislove3389 @valentine264 @jenniferkiszka @knoxious-dalton @torun-was-here @ageofmaglc @allof--mylove @fleetingjake @ff-liveyourlegend-ttiol @cheersdannyx2 @ageofriles @mikiepeach @gretasfallingsky @highway-tuna @not-sosecret-diary

#jake kiszka #gvf #gretavanfleet #jakekiszka #greta van fleet #smut #fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #hot stuff

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lvrsturniolo · 3 days ago

Text

Smokes n’ sweethearts ✧C.S

pairings: dealer!Chris x sweetheart!reader

synopsis; since it’s Valentine’s Day, Chris and sweetheart are watching a movie while he rolls up, but because of the special occasion, and how good she looks, hes gotta make her feel so good.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pet names: mama, ma, sweetheart, sweet thing, etc., soft!dom Chris.

Today is Valentine’s Day. To you, it’s a happy day to celebrate love, but to Chris, it’s just like every other. He knew it was important to you though, so he decided to ask if you’d enjoy spending your evening with him.

You're currently sprawled out on his bed, the soft glow of the TV screen casting flickering lights against the walls. Some random movie is playing, but neither of you are really watching it. You're in your usual spot-lying against the pillows, legs tucked up comfortably, while Chris sits cross-legged beside you, breaking down weed on a tray.

The sharp scent fills the air as he rolls the blunt with practiced ease, fingers moving effortlessly. You watch him, half-distracted, your attention flickering between him and the screen. He's got that lazy, hooded look in his eyes, the one that always makes your stomach flip, even when you try ignoring it.

You shouldn't feel like this. It's not what this is.

"Y'good?" he asks without looking up, licking the edge of the paper before sealing it.

"Mhm." You shift, pulling the blanket higher. "Jus tired."

Chris hums, flicking his lighter open with a metallic clink before pausing. He stares at the blunt between his fingers, then at you, and something in his expression shifts-subtle, but you notice.

Instead of lighting it, he sets it down on the tray and leans back on one arm, eyes dragging over you like he's seeing you for the first time tonight.

"What?" You raise an eyebrow.

He doesn't answer right away.

Just tilts his head slightly, his gaze dipping lower, lingering at the curve of your waist under his hoodie-the one you stole from him months ago and never gave back.

"Y'ever think about how we ended up here?" he asks, voice quiet but heavy.

You blink. "Here... as in your bed?"

Chris huffs a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Nah. I mean, yeah, but also... this." He gestures vaguely between the two of you. "Us."

Your chest tightens, but you keep your expression neutral.

You've had this thought a million times, but you never say it out loud. Neither does he.

That's the rule, unspoken but solid-this is just physical. It's just convenience. It's just... not that deep.

Right?

"You high already?" you joke, trying to lighten the sudden tension.

Chris doesn't laugh. Instead, he shifts closer, warm fingers grazing your thigh. "Not yet," he murmurs. "But I think I wanna do somethin' else first."

Your breath catches as he leans in, his hand sliding higher. His touch is slow, deliberate-like he's savoring it, like this isn't just another night of convenience, but something different, something more.

Your body responds instantly, heat curling low in your stomach as he presses his lips just below your ear, exhaling softly. "Let me take care of you tonight," he mutters against your skin. “Just you, ma. Can I? S’that okay w’you?” He mumbles against the nape of your neck.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, heart hammering.

"Chris- please"

"Awh, I’ve got you, sweet thing." he cuts in, his voice low, firm. "Just let me."

You nod your head quickly before he wraps an arm around your waist.

“Can I take these off sweetheart?” He says, holding the waistband of your shorts. “Please— Chris.” You mumble, growing wetter by the second. He’s never been like this, he’s usually quick with things, he usually doesn’t call you anything sweet at all, which you don’t mind, it’s extremely sexy, but he’s acting really, really different.

He slowly pulls your shorts and panties down at the same time, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of your bare pussy being on display for him, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat.

"Shh..." His hands move to slowly peel your clothes away, fingers tracing patterns on your skin. The way he touches you is different tonight - more intentional, almost... passionate. The TV continues to flicker in the background, casting shadows across his face as he looks down at you, now fully exposed.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, y'know that?" he whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip. His eyes are dark, intense as they roam over your body. He starts slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to your breasts, his hands worshipping every curve.

You’re at a loss for words at his actions, so you just sit back and let him do all the talking.

"Turn over," he murmurs against your stomach, his voice low and commanding. You can feel the change in the atmosphere, the heaviness in his touch. He helps you roll onto your stomach, his large hands spreading your legs slightly. "Chin down,"

You’re a little worried about what he’s gonna do next, since he’s never treated you like this before, you don’t really know what you’re meant to expect from him.

He takes his time, running his hands over your back, your ass, his touch almost soothing. Then, without warning, he leans down and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back. You gasp, arching slightly.

“Chris” You whisper softly.

His touch becomes slower, softer. He spreads your legs wider, runs his fingers along your spine, your sides. He's hard - you can feel it when he lowers himself to press slow kisses to your back again, but this isn’t about him. Your body relaxes under his touch, your breathing deepens. He hums softly, lowering himself between your legs. His shoulders push your thighs wider apart. He spreads you with his thumbs, then covers your center with his mouth.

You toss your head back in pleasure at the new sensation. You’ve never been eaten out before, never been worshipped like you are right now and you’re loving every second of it. This shows from the high pitched moan that leaves the back of your throat.

“Yeah? Feel good baby?” He says as he pulls back slightly, blowing cool air over your damp flesh before diving back in with a low groan. His tongue delves deep, exploring every fold, teasing your clit with quick flicks. One hand grips your hip possessively while the other slides around to rub slow circles over your clit.

“S-soo good, Chris! Gonna cum!” You moan, back arching even further to give him better access to your heat.

He hums again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. He spreads you wider with his thumbs, sucking hard on your clit. His fingers slide lower, one pushing inside easily due to how wet you are. He adds another finger, pumping slowly while his mouth works your clit relentlessly. "Mmmm fuck, you taste good," he muffles against you, fingers curling inside, stroking that particularly spongy spot inside of you that has you drooling onto his pillow. His other hand moves from your clit to grip your ass cheek, squeezing softly. He pulls back just enough to speak, "Yeah? Gon’ cum baby? Wanna cum all over my face?” He mumbles into your heat as you shake your head vigorously, legs starting to shake.

His fingers curl deep inside you, hitting that spot perfectly as his mouth sucks hard on your clit. You cry out, body convulsing as the waves hit you. He laps up your release, fingers slowing, letting you ride it out. He growls softly when your legs snap closed around his head. “Gooood girl, such a good girl f’me” he stretches out his words as he finally sits up. Your body falls onto the bed, limp.

He crawls up your body slowly, his face glistening with your release. He nuzzles between your breasts, his arms wrapping around your waist possessively. "You okay?" He murms softly, his hot breath tickling your stomach.

You don’t respond at first, the only thing being heard from you are soft pants as you try to catch your breath.

He leaves a soft kiss on your neck as you finally catch your breath. He sits up and runs to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running warm water over it, bringing it back to the room and cleaning you up carefully.

You put your shorts and bra back on, sitting up and laying against his pillow, staring at him in admiration as he goes back to lighting his joint.

“Wan light up with me ma?” He says as he lights the joint and takes a hit, then moving his hand infront of my face, offering me a hit that I take.

We spend the rest of the night watching movies and getting high, but earlier just can’t leave my brain. Why was he acting like that? Being so careful with me, like I was his girlfriend, almost. Guess that’s just a questing for the morning.

mel speaks;

I hope yall liked this!! this one was the winner from the polls I made the other night, and I’m making another that should be up when you’re reading this, so go vote for which one you want next!! Happy early Valentine’s Day 😋

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #dealer!chris #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #lvrsturniolo

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philistiniphagottini · 3 days ago

Text

For my Valentines event.

Comments/reblogs highly appreciated.

Blade + Dessert

cw. fluff, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact with me or my writing

Valentines Prompts

You loved decadently sweet treats. Especially ice-cream. It always puts you in a better mood and you were never one to deny yourself that indulgence. A soft hum fell from your lips as you took a spoonful of your favourite flavour, feeling the sweet touch of chocolate syrup melt on your tongue as you enjoyed your cold treat. It had been disgustingly hot today and it was your favoured way to cool off. You absentmindedly swirl the spoon in your mouth, a pleasant chill creeping down your spine when the cold touch of ice-cream froze your taste buds and made the base of your skull tingle. You eagerly take another spoonful of ice-cream but this time, you offer it to your partner sitting next to you.

"Try some" you encouraged with a smile.

Unlike you, Blade can’t really handle cloyingly sweet treats. You’re about the only sweet thing he can stomach. He peered down at you beneath his dark bangs, crimson eyes glowing beneath the dim light of your dining room. Your chair creaked as you rocked forward, patiently waiting for him to take you up on your offer. After a long moment of staring at the spoon, he decided to give in to your whims. His bandaged hand came to wrap around your wrist, keeping your hand steady as he leaned forward and took the spoonful. The ice-cream was sticky sweet on the back of his teeth and it already felt like they were going to rot from the fuzzy feeling coating his mouth. But he offered no complaint, the scarred tips of his fingers pressed against the sensitive pulse of your wrist as his nails lightly scratched against your smooth skin. Your pleasant smile was still plastered on your face as you took your spoon back, dipping it back into your ice-cream.

"Good?" you asked.

A soft noise stirred in the back of Blade’s throat. Satisfied with his answer you gladly ate another spoonful, humming merrily as you savoured your delicious treat. You didn’t notice Blade staring at the corner of your plump lips, chocolate syrup clinging to the soft pucker of your lips as you continued to scrap the bottom of your bowl and polish off the rest of your dessert. You were beginning to tell Blade about your day, finishing off the story you had started earlier. He wasn’t exactly sure what you were saying, eyes transfixed on your lips as he silently leaned forward. A startled noise rumbled in your chest as Blade sealed his lips over the corner of your mouth, lapping at the chocolate syrup smudged into your skin as his tongue left behind a wet trail. You went bashfully silent, log lashes fluttering wildly over your round, warm cheeks as Blade licked away any traces of syrup. You kept still until he pulled away with a soft pop, heat creeping down your neck as you awkwardly cleared your throat.

"You could have said something" you said, a twinge of embarrassment curling in the pit of your stomach.

"I preferred my way" Blade replied.

You weren’t sure if he was intentionally trying to flirt with you or not, but you decided to go along with it. You dipped your fingers into the bottom of your bowl and smeared the rest of the remaining syrup over the plush seam of your lips. You gave Blade a small pout when he stared at you, head cocked to the side in question.

"You missed a spot" you claimed as your lips puckered.

You missed the amused shimmer sparkling in the depths of his eyes as he swooped down to capture your lips again, tasting the shape of your mouth once more as you leaned into his touch. Yes, he still much preferred your sweet taste to any dessert.

#my writing #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade x reader #x chubby reader #x reader #gn reader #nagisvalentines

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gyllenhaalstuff · 2 days ago

Text

Free Sample

- Pilot Kelson ☆

Summary: You meet up with your dealer who offers you a free sample, however this sample does more than relax you.

Warnings: Weed, weed as an aphrodisiac, dry humping, piv sex, unprotected sex, cumplay.

Word count: 1382

Notes: This is a need.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Walking into Pilot’s house was like walking into a club. Dimly lit and filled with smoke, you came back out with 50% less brain cells than you had before you entered.

You sat on his worn-out couch as he yapped about the new strain he was pushing. “Smoked this last night, and I swear I saw God.” He had to hype it up; it was a business after all. “I’ll let you try it out before you pay. You’re a loyal customer after all,” he offered, holding up the small bag. “Why not?” you shrugged. You’d never pass on a free high.

Pilot sat down behind you before propping up the weed and papers on the living room table. His hands worked confidently; he had done this more times than he could count. Your eyes lingered on him as he licked the paper and sealed it before twisting the head.

He lit it up, took a drag, and passed it to you. “This won’t kill me, right?” you asked before accepting it. He shook his head and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’ll be fine.”

And he hadn’t been lying; this was good stuff. “Aren’t you wasting money by doing this?” You weren’t complaining; it was just a bit unusual for a dealer to give out free samples like this. “Doing this with you is not a waste,” he said as smoke pillowed out of his mouth. He smiled, and his heavy eyes thinned even further.

Your legs were turning into spaghetti, and a chill ran down your spine. “This is really good,” you pointed out. You had no idea how you were going to drive home in this state. “Turns you on too,” he joked, or so you thought. But it slowly started sinking in.

He put it out on the ashtray and let his head tilt back against the cushion. “I can’t drive like this,” you said, half laughing. “Guess you have to stay a bit then.” Pilot turned to the side to look at you. His eyes flickered up and down.

“You weren’t lying,” you said, looking back at him. “About what?” He grinned. “About it turning you on,” you admitted unashamedly, something you wouldn’t have done in a clear state. “That’s something I could help with,” he spat back; the hope building in his chest ran straight down to his cock.

“Yeah?” You looked at his lips, red and slightly agape. “Yeah,” he nodded before closing the space between you. It was sloppy from the start, but slow. It felt as if your mouths melted together into one as his tongue grazed yours. Your thighs clenched without you meaning to. Pilot’s hand went to and settled at your waist, covered by nothing as the hot California sun had forced you into a crop top earlier that day.

You moved to sit on his lap. It all felt automatic, like your brain had checked out for the time being and your body had its own conscience. His hands grabbed at your hips and pulled you down against the tent in his pants. Even though his muscles felt slack, the grip he had on you was strong.

His thumbs went inside your waistband. “I want them off,” he breathed out against your swollen lips. You undid the button of your shorts and pulled them off before leaning down to kiss him again. His cargo pants rubbed against your clit, still covered by your thin cotton underwear. Your breathing gained a voice, and you moaned into Pilot’s mouth. This seemed to spur him on further, and he bucked his hips up against you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” he mumbled and moved down to kiss your neck. He mouthed at your skin, and his saliva cooled you down as the air hit it, sending shivers through your body. His mouth reached your neckline, and he pulled your top off, exposing your tits. He gawked at them before placing his tongue on one of your nipples. The taste of your sweat drove him wild, and he felt as if he’d explode.

Your eyes fluttered as he bit down on your sensitive skin, and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him. “You’re gonna have to get undressed; I feel exposed here,” you half-joked.

He proved to be a man of action. He sat up straight and tore his t-shirt off and started unzipping his pants. “You’re very obedient,” you teased, making him blush. “As long as it gets me where I want,” he responded and pressed his clothed cock against your clit. He smiled boyishly as your eyes closed in pleasure.

You moved your underwear to the side. Shame had left you long ago, and all that remained was desperation. Your wetness left a damp spot on Pilot’s underwear as you rolled against him. You almost forgot he was there, as if you were humping a pillow or your hand.

Pilot broke your trance by pulling his underwear down enough to free his cock. It slapped against his pale stomach, dripping precum. Your hips lowered back down, and you covered his shaft with your juices. It slid between your folds, and with each roll, it threatened to slip inside you.

“Don’t be mean,” Pilot whined. “I gave you a free sample, didn’t I?” You smiled at his desperation. It was sweet. You lined him up before sinking down on him. Pilot dug his nails into your skin as he tried his best to gather himself. “Jesus,” he huffed when you had taken him all in. It bordered on being painful, but the overwhelming pleasure cancelled it out.

“All good?” he checked in. He was a nice guy for being a white trash California dealer. “Just big,” you chuckled, immediately cringing at your choice of words. Though, Pilot didn’t seem to mind. Instead he looked grossly proud.

You started slow, rising before slowly sinking down on him, upping your pace as you went. But your strength wasn’t reliable, and your body quickly turned into a useless lump of jello.

“Can I?” Pilot asked, wanting to take control. You nodded, ashamed of your incompetence. But you quickly forgot about it as he rolled you over on your back. He stood on one level and perched the other on the couch. He placed his hand on your lower belly and pushed himself back in. He shuddered at your grip around him before thrusting again.

The sight from your point of view couldn’t have been better. Pilot's silver chain dangled from his neck, and his baby hairs stuck against his forehead. His brows were knitted together as he concentrated on not instantly cumming. He wasn't going to be a one-minute man.

What were the effects from the joint blurred and Pilot couldn’t tell if he might have gotten high off you too. The room filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other. Your legs wrapped around Pilot’s back in an attempt to make him hit deeper. Your mind was a cloudy mess, and if you were to take a look inside, it’d probably look the same as the room did.

Pilot pulled out before he came. He twisted his hand around the head of his cock a few times before cumming on your belly. He hunched forward as he did, and unintelligible curse words fell from his lips. He didn’t waste any time before running his fingers over his cum and placing his wet digits on your clit, rubbing circles against you.

You writhed and trembled beneath him, grateful he cared enough to make you cum too but much too out of it to tell him. Your hips moved against his diligent hand, and whimpers slipped out of you with each breath.

Your legs shook as you came, your whole body tensing before falling through the earth. Poor Pilot didn’t have a single thought in his head and licked a stripe up your cum-covered skin and kissed you deeply, pushing it into your mouth. You accepted and swallowed.

He got you a glass of water from the kitchen. “Will you buy any then?” he asked as he plopped down beside you. “I’d much rather come back for another sample,” you said with a smile and nudged his side, “deal?”

“Deal.”

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal smut #fanfiction #smut #pilot kelson #pilot kelson smut #pilot kelson fanfiction #pilot kelson fanfic #pilot kelson x reader #highway #highway 2002

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carpenoctxrn · 2 days ago

Text

Confidence (Ominis x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis wants to ask out his crush (you) out to Hogsmeade. However, he feels overwhelmingly ill prepared. So he turns to Sebastian, his most trusted friend and the reason for his constant migraine.

AN: Its just cute Ominis tripping over his words. We love him.

Masterlist

"Hmm… I have to admit, Ominis, I didn't expect you to actually take the initiative to plan something." Sebastian smirked as he shut his Potions tome and tossed it onto the bed beside him.

Ominis frowned, arms crossing tightly. "I take initiative all the time, Sebastian. Your comment is completely unwarranted."

"I meant no harm, it’s just that you get so flustered around her, one might think you’ve been placed under the Imperius Curse. You barely move unless she wants you to; just standing there, nodding along like some enchanted statue, completely oblivious to the rest of the world." Sebastian’s smirk widened, thoroughly amused by how quickly Ominis bristled.

Ominis stiffened, grip tightening on the edge of his robe. "Will you help me or not?" His tone was clipped, irritation barely masked. If he let Sebastian continue, he'd be the one with the migraine soon enough.

I don’t get that flustered. He’s exaggerating.

Sebastian, however, chuckled knowingly. It wasn’t often that Ominis came to him for help usually, it was the other way around, with Sebastian begging for favors while Ominis rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. In return, Sebastian would collect fresh potion ingredients for him and sneak in contraband books on literature and history.

But now? Now Ominis needed his expertise, and that made Sebastian’s ego swell just enough to ensure he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"I’ll help you… on one condition." Sebastian leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself. "Admit that I am, without a doubt, the best dorm mate you could’ve ever asked for. And not that Weasley." His nose wrinkled in distaste as he recalled Ominis’ words from the previous night; something about how Garreth was a better dorm mate than him because, at the very least, his stupidity was contained to the occasional explosion.

That had stung. Not much, but enough.

Ominis huffed. "I will say it, and even mean it, if she agrees to go on that date with me."

Sebastian grinned. "Fair enough." He extended a hand, and Ominis clasped it, sealing the deal.

"Alright, first things first," Sebastian began, dropping back into his chair, "your plan is solid in its simplicity. What you lack, my dear friend, is confidence."

Ominis drew back, lips parting in offense. "I have confidence."

Sebastian shot him a pointed look. "Rule number one: you are not allowed to get offended when I point out areas that need improvement."

A heavy sigh. "Fine." Ominis grumbled, feeling as though he was quickly running out of options.

They moved to the study table, Sebastian rattling off various strategies, none of which seemed remotely useful to Ominis. And frankly, even Sebastian started to realize how impractical some of them were. A slow grin pulled at the corners of his lips as an idea struck.

"Forget all that, Ominis. The only tip you need?....Fake it till you make it."

-----

Ominis stood behind the girl he wanted to ask out, fingers curled tightly around the stems of the flowers he had carefully chosen. Their scent is soft, sweet, and fresh mixed with the crisp evening air. In the other hand, a bag from Honeydukes rested against his palm, filled with chocolates and candies he knew she was running low on, along with a few new varieties he thought she might enjoy. Thoughtful. Simple. Yet, as he hid them behind his back, they suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

She stood by the gardens next to the greenhouse, the glow of the setting sun casting golden highlights along her figure as she gazed out at the vast, rippling lake. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming mallowsweet, mingling with the distant salt of the water. Ominis could feel the evening sun warming his face, the rest of him shielded beneath his robes.

Should I have changed?

His fingers twitched against the wrinkled fabric of his sleeve. He hadn't thought to freshen up, and now, standing here in the presence of someone so effortlessly lovely, doubt clawed at him. I probably look awful. Damn you, Sebastian.

Before his thoughts could spiral further, she turned toward him.

"Good evening, Ominis."

Her voice, warm and lilting, carried a softness that made his chest tighten. He could hear the smile in her words, the kind that wrinkled her nose and made her eyes glimmer. The same smile that, on more than one occasion, had rendered him utterly useless in conversation.

Ominis knew she liked him. He wasn’t oblivious, well not entirely. He had proof, after all. He had overheard Poppy, Imelda, Natty, and her discussing their ideal Yule Ball dates in the Great Hall one afternoon.

“I want someone poised, someone who looks put together,” she had mused, her voice thoughtful as she nibbled on a piece of fruit.

Ominis, seated behind her with his tome open, had pretended to read. In reality, he had been using his wand to subtly amplify their voices, a trick he had discovered by accident but employed more often than he cared to admit.

“You forgot to add that he has to be a Gaunt and blind, too,” Imelda had teased.

The girl had immediately elbowed her, a huff of protest leaving her lips before she glanced back; perhaps to check if Ominis had overheard. He had, of course. But he had kept his head bowed, feigning deep concentration over his book. Meanwhile, across the table, Sebastian had watched him with blatant amusement, no doubt wondering why in Merlin��s name Ominis was turning red while supposedly reading Potions notes.

Now, standing in front of her, Ominis took a steadying breath, forcing Sebastian’s words to the forefront of his mind.

Fake it till you make it.

He had faked emotions before. Confidence, too. It was a survival skill in his household. But here–now—he wasn’t sure he could fake anything. Not when her scent of mallowsweet and vanilla wrapped around him, not when her warmth radiated so closely, drawing him in like a beacon.

"Good evening," he greeted, keeping his tone even. "How was your day?" It was routine between them, an effortless exchange they shared daily.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Nothing new happened, but I suppose that's a blessing compared to having to battle an entire battalion of goblins."

There was amusement in her voice, but Ominis still winced. He remembered that day far too well; oh the chaos, the confusion, the distant sounds of battle echoing through the castle walls. He had been in the Great Hall with the other students, unable to do anything but listen. He had gripped his wand so tightly that his knuckles ached, mind racing with fear for her safety. It had been a startling realization— how much he cared for her, how much the thought of losing her had shaken him.

And now, standing here, trying to gather the courage to ask her out, that fear clawed at him again. But for an entirely different reason.

Ominis took a measured step back, clearing his throat as he steadied himself. His fingers tightened around the flowers and Honeydukes bag, hidden behind his back like a schoolboy concealing a poorly written essay. The scent of mallowsweet and vanilla drifted between them, further unraveling his composure. He could do this. He just had to fake it till he made it.

"I would like to ask you a question," he began, his voice carefully serious. "And please, feel free to be honest. Actually… I hope you will be honest."

His blind eyes found her, his posture straightening as if that alone could reinforce his resolve.

She tilted her head slightly, amusement dancing in her voice. "You can ask me anything, Ominis," she assured him gently. "And I promise, I will only tell you the truth. You have my word."

Emboldened by her reassurance, he exhaled and extended his hands toward her, finally revealing the gifts he'd been clutching. A bouquet of fresh flowers, fragrant, vibrant, delicate. And a small bag from Honeydukes, filled with chocolates and sweets he knew she liked, including a few new treats he hoped she would enjoy.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening as an involuntary gasp left her lips. "Ominis—"

But before she could speak further, he launched into his well-rehearsed speech.

"I have always admired your strength, generosity, and kindness from afar. And now…" He lifted his chin slightly, feigning unwavering confidence. "I would like to admire you up close. Will you allow me to take you to Hogsmeade on a date?"

The silence that followed nearly shattered his resolve.

His heart pounded in his chest, dreading the inevitable rejection. He braced himself for a polite letdown, his fingers already beginning to tighten around the bag in preparation to retreat.

"Ominis…" she started softly.

Here it comes.

"…Yes. I’d love that."

The breath he had been unknowingly holding escaped in a rush.

For a fleeting moment, relief flooded through him, washing away every ounce of doubt. A smile tugged at his lips, warmth creeping up his neck and burning his cheeks. But then—just as quickly, he remembered Sebastian’s words.

Fake the confidence.

Right. Confidence. He had to double down. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he tried to mask his overwhelming joy with what he thought was casual self-assurance.

"Of course," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyone would be lucky to be courted by a Gaunt."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

She raised an eyebrow, lips pressing together in amusement. "Oh? Is that so?"

Realizing how arrogant that sounded, he panicked. "Especially someone like you!" he blurted out, scrambling to fix it.

Her expression shifted. "Especially someone like… me?" There was a warning in her tone, one that sent his nerves into a complete frenzy.

"No! I didn’t mean it like that!" he exclaimed, suddenly feeling like he was drowning in his own words.

She crossed her arms, clearly enjoying his distress. "Then how did you mean it?"

His brain betrayed him, throwing every logical escape out the window. "I meant that… well, it only makes sense for you to say yes… because it’s me."

There was a pause. Then, she let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, really?"

Why did I say that? Merlin, strike me down.

Ominis groaned internally, scrambling for recovery. "I just—what I meant was—you and I—" He sighed, shoulders slumping in surrender. "I’m making an absolute fool of myself, aren’t I?"

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it made his stomach flip. "A little," she admitted, stepping closer. "But it’s alright. I know what you meant."

He swallowed, grateful she was choosing to be kind rather than completely obliterate what was left of his dignity. "You do?"

She nodded, reaching out to gently take the flowers from his hands. "I do." A smile, warm and reassuring. "And I still want to go on that date with you, even if you manage to dig yourself an even bigger hole before then."

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "At this rate, I might just disappear into the ground entirely."

"Well," she teased, looping her arm through his. "I suppose I'll just have to pull you out, then."

His breath caught. He was certain now, no amount of faked confidence could compare to how she made him feel.

-----

The end!

@princesspinkss the scream request shall eventually be posted. After I am done with my microbio exam or possibly sooner.

and dividers by @pommecita

Masterlist

#x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #x you smut #dividers by pommecita #hogwarts smut #smut fanfiction #smut fic

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