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thiziri · 9 months

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Princess Anne attending the Epsom Derby, on 05 June 1985.

#she's so beautiful #quelle classe #😍😍😍#anne serving looks #princess anne #princess royal #brf #british royal family

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saltfics · 1 month

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Okay I know tumblr is treating EPIC as if it cleared their skin and watered their crops and I genuinely really really like it the music is excellent but I gotta say this:

I HATE the way it's presenting odysseus' arc and flaws with polyphemus. Like the problem wasn't that he was too NICE?? Where did that come from? The problem was that odysseus was a cocky lil shit and even though he had managed to get away with the nobody trick he went like "actually you got your ass beat by odysseus lol loser". Hybris-nemesis-catharsis is homer 101 and I'm SO annoyed that an entire generation of teenagers is getting this interpretation of the text. A hero giving in to being the "monster" and losing his kindness is a great arc but there are 700 other heroes you could have done that with - not odysseus.

On the other hand, how catchy is Ruthlessness, amirite?

#epic the musical #the fact that 'you are far too nice mercy has a price' is such a killer line is doing a lot of work to quell my anger tbh #look dont come for me #im just an actual greek person who did a whole class named Odyssey for a full year #and im a bit annoyed at the sanitisation of odysseys #odysseus #like you went ahead with the throwing the baby off the balcony thing but suddnely he was too nice for polyphemus? come on

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assarivanguard · 2 months

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got tagged in a wip ask game by @optiwashere, cheers mate

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as WIPs, or as many as you want.

ok slight problem pals, i only have 1 wip going

fuck you *transes your tav*

because in several past fandoms, i've started numerous wips and never finished them, and with the feedback i'm getting + having support + interacting with the community properly, i'm determined to finish fics as i start them - unless shakespeare strikes me again, like unspoken, or getting hit with the metaphorical freight train of inspiration like alone together while i was trying to write (cult)ure shock

to make up for the fact that i only have 1 true wip going, here's some of my head gremlins:

karlach/rivan meeting rivan's mum and numerous aunties

maybe the first date in the ice rink au, or maybe something else. that ice rink au lives rent free in my brain 24/7

karlach/rivan turboangst

i'm a bit of a history nerd (get a load of this twat) so i'm lowkey frothing at the mouth about a wild west au with karlach/rivan and shadowheart/kohara, and all the fun research i'd get to do

so feel free to ask about the head gremlins instead if y'all wish :)

#writing tag #my 1 red flag is that i'm pasty as fuck and i like to talk about history #i swear i'm not a fascist i just like knowing How We Got Here #i swear the world wars are very very interesting and very important its just that people have reduced them down #to the technology and tactics and depersonalised the entire thing #ww1 Literally ended empires because the working class was rising up and they could not quell them #ww2's blitzkrieg worked not only because of the element of surprise but the fact that a lot of the german army was fucking rawdogging meth #oh god i rambled. carry on lads (gender neutral)

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lolochaponnay · 4 months

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En classe, l’enseignante demande : ‒ Océane, quelle est la dernière lettre de l’alphabet? ‒ Eh bien, le «T». ‒ Tu es sûre? Ce ne serait plutôt le «Z»? ‒ Non, si c’était le cas, on dirait «alphabetz»!

#En classe #l’enseignante demande :#‒ Océane #quelle est la dernière lettre de l’alphabet?#‒ Eh bien #le «T». ‒ Tu es sûre? Ce ne serait plutôt le «Z»?#‒ Non #si c’était le cas #on dirait «alphabetz»!

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gorgynei · 1 year

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suddenly came down with a low grade fever. incredible. just incredible. having such a good time with this strange flu-like virus that may or may not be covid. 9_9 the most sick ive been in a hot minute i hate it here!!!!! i hate it here

#i have THINGS I NEED TO BE DOING this isn't funny anymore. this isn't funny #ap art and journalism and all my classes ohhhhh god. stress but im sick but im stressed but im sick aaaarrgg #ill be okay btw just to quell anxieties or whatever. not life threatening i just was planning on being and to do things this week #ramblings #aceirl

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zibaldone-di-pensieri · 28 days

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Quando nasci e cresci in una piccola cittadina italiana e poi più in là cominci a viaggiare da nord a sud, vedendo le varie grandi città del paese, queste realtà immense e nuove per te, piene di cultura, di arte, di bellezza, di tecnologia, di opportunità e risorse, di movimento, di servizi...

Poi ti sale la tristezza, perché ovviamente dura poco e devi tornare alla quotidianità nella tua piccola città vuota

Voglio viaggiare ancora, sempre, continuamente

Visitare tutte le grandi città, viverle, anche per brevi periodi

Vivere nella vacanza

Lavorare viaggiando

Un sogno che quasi sicuramente non si realizzerà mai...

Ma già durante quelle poche volte l'anno in cui vai qualche giorno in una nuova grande città italiana, ti senti in paradiso, è una meraviglia continua giorno per giorno, quella sensazione di avventura, di esplorazione, quella sete di conoscenza, è tutto così magico

L'Italia è piena di spettacolo a tutto tondo, artificiale e naturale, storico e moderno e io vorrei pian piano scoprirlo tutto

Ovviamente come tutto nella vita, è sempre qualcosa di temporaneo, parti una settimana, stacchi la spina, ti diverti, ti meravigli, ma poi devi tornare alla normalità noiosa e prevedibile

#So cosa state pensando #Non è tutto rose e fiori perché devi considerare il lato economico #Beh se fossi ricco non ci sarebbe nemmeno quel problema #È inutile fare i finti tonti #I soldi fanno la felicità #Non dico essere ricco come un calciatore di livello mondiale #Ma mediante ricco tanto da permetterti di poterti spostare ogni mese in una città diversa e grande da visitare #Comprare tutte quelle cosine che ti piacciono #Prendere una freccia e fare da nord a sud dell'Italia e viceversa in prima classe senza problemi #Non voglio comprare la Ferrari #Ma attualmente spendere 100 euro per una cosa qualsiasi mi fa sentire in colpa

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jules-and-company · 7 months

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les profs qui te reconnaissent bien qu’ils t’aient pas en cours mais juste parce qu’ils voient ta gueule partout tout le temps c’est vraiment le best feeling

#la prof qui fait la terreur de ses classes m’a reconnue et demandée dans quelle classe j’étais #parce que ça faisait déjà quinze fois qu’elle voyait ma tronche #prépa talk

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libertyybellls · 5 months

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KISS IT OFF ME !

pairing; finnick odair x f!dist4!reader

summary; finnick can’t take his eyes off of you in any crowd- but he can take care of you, what’s new?

contains; FLUFF, established relationship, finnick is still pining for reader, alcohol consumption- but positively i guess, reader is anxious in the beginning, objectification by the capitol as per usual.

a/n: i hope im not misunderstood but when i put specific photos or outfits/hairs in the headers of my works that is not directly what i am picturing the reader as! its more-so the hairstyle, or the outfit- or simply the aesthetic of the picture. not the race, hair nor body type. ur all cutie pies. ok anyways onto the fic kiss kiss.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

“well would you look at that!” your stylist squeals in your ear, “from the moment you won your last games i have just been dying to design for you again and… here we are!” she ushers you to spin around.

she’d always been kind to you, perhaps less kind to your dignity- always wanting to flaunt you like a show pony- but nonetheless her support had always been there.

“it’s beautiful, thank you.” you smile small at her. so bittersweet, she was oh-so ecstatic to dress you up once more but to you- this meant less serenity to you. more agitation, more distress, more death.

it felt like a paradox, to be adorned in this sweet, innocent, baby pink before you’re sent away to a grim world once again- you’d already gone off on a tangent to finnick. you’d both sobbed solemnly about the cruelty of it all, how you would never be able to live in peace.

but finnick just wanted you both to have this one night, to indulge in the capitol before you were sent of to your deaths, obviously he would see the brighter side of thing- blabbering about plutarchs plan and how he only needs to protect you, katniss, and peeta until he can get you out of there.

sounds so very simple doesn’t it?

once you’d finished your interview you attended a party, a celebration for the third quarter quell. how ironic, what was there to celebrate?

you’d seen the food platters, the spiked drinks, and indulge you did.

your brain had been fuzzy by the time you’d escape the overbearing class of the capitol citizens, who wanted to know every detail of your life.

it was then- finnick had spotted you- so inebriated you’d genuinely laugh at something the woman next to you said.

feasibly being that she’d said something so pretentious you couldn’t help but tilt your head back in laughter. but nonetheless he admired.

he admired your dress, your smile, the way your eyes slightly disappeared when you laughed, the way your hair was laying down your back. he was simply under the spell of you.

it was then your eyes met his smitten ones, so love drunk- or possibly just drunk- that you’d excused yourself and made a beeline straight for him.

he’d encaptured you with warm arms, a leather corset-like article of clothing consumed his waist- followed by his white buttoned down that seemed to be unbuttoned.

you noticed the way his eyes consumed you- not like the others did. not like you were a piece of cake, not like you were something they had to have for the night, but someone who lit his chest alight.

“you look beautiful.” he murmurs into your hair, his hands around your waist.

“i hardly feel that way- im scared, i think.”

he shook his head, pulling you from his warm embrace much to your dismay. “don’t be. you’re with me right now.” finnicks plush lips lay atop your forehead now.

you laugh as he continues to peck your face, giggles leaving your lips.”so beautiful.”

it was only when you nearly toppled over your unnecessarily long pumps that he took not of your consumption.

“so head over heels it seems you’ve had a little to much to drink. what do you say i get you back to your room now? hm?” he straightens you back up. “run you a bath?”

you let out a muffled mm into his chest, your other hand placed on the side of his chest holding you steady. “love you s’much finn.”

it was his turn to laugh now, there was no mockery, no heinous act behind it, just you and finnick. “i know baby.”

#finnick angst #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick smut #finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #thg finnick #my #finnick odair x you

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angelisverba · 7 months

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praise

in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny

word count: 5.5k

pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)

warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.

author's note: happy late halloween!

When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.

She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.

Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.

Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.

Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.

He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles.

So y/n had a little crush.

A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it.

She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her.

In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.

Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.

But she couldn't.

Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.

She could imagine it.

He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.

And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.

So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.

With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.

A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.

She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.

But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.

She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.

***

Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.

He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.

Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.

A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.

He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.

It reminded him of one his students, y/n.

She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.

But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.

Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.

She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.

Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.

But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.

Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by.

Not that he noticed.

Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.

Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again.

This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.

He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.

Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.

Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.

It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.

Her hearbeat.

Calm. Steady. Alive.

It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.

He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.

He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.

She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.

Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.

Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.

He had to get her to speak.

The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.

Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”

At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.

Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.

Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.

"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.

But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.

In fact, he looked almost... mad.

Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.

Everything, including her breathing.

He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."

She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.

Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.

And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.

One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.

This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.

"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"

***

Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.

She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.

He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.

“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.

"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.

"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.

"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.

She was wrong.

Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.

Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.

And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.

Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"

She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"

"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.

In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."

She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.

“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.

He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.

"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."

When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.

"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.

"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.

Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.

The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.

"You were a bad girl, y/n."

Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.

She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.

His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"

"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.

He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"

Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”

“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.

“I need to cum, sir. I need-”

“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”

"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.

She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-

"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.

"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.

"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.

"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.

"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.

Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.

Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.

He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"

"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.

"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.

"I understand, Professor"

He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."

*****

happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #vampire!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x yn

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flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

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Succor 2

Muzan x GN!reader

Content warnings: oral sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, profanity, Muzan Kibutsuji.

NSFW MDNI.

Part 1

Follow up drabble to Part 1

Taglist: @hiraethsdesires @verose-tb @blamedbisexual @tsukiran

Muzan was livid. One of his upper ranks had fallen for the first time in more than a century, and the remaining demons of his so-called elite class were nothing more than pathetic fools, serving him with nothing but disappointment.

He let Gyokko's severed head plummet to the platform below, taking grim satisfaction from the wet thud it made when it landed. Hantengu yelped in fear, Akaza flinched, and Douma’s perpetual smile faded. Nothing could quell Muzan’s rage. Nothing.

"Muzan," you whispered from beneath his desk. He hadn’t known you were there, and your sudden appearance was nothing short of disarming.

You were his most depraved and alluring creation; a demon who was repulsed by the consumption of human flesh, but who garnered strength from Muzan's own fluids. And what strength it was. His breath caught as your hand slowly worked its way up his thigh.

Surely you couldn't still be hungry? You'd already sucked him dry not two hours ago.

And yet, as the fools groveled below, whimpering apologies and empty promises, your hands went to the fastening of his trousers and deftly undid it.

"Stop that," he hissed through his teeth, glowering at your pretty face. "Cease at once, you infernal slut. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a mee–"

A shuddering breath escaped Muzan's throat as you took out his cock and used the very tip of your tongue to tease his opening.

Oh he could have torn your head off for such insubordination, and perhaps he should have, but as his knees buckled and he was forced to brace himself on the edge of his desk, he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He fought to regain his composure as your hot, wet mouth surrounded his rapidly hardening cock and he tried to keep his voice level as he addressed the upper ranks. “I’d advise you all to act with more urgency from here on out. I suppose you’re not entirely at fault for your inadequacies.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock and the veins in his forehead began to throb. He raised his voice once more to address the demons. “I’ve been too lenient with you because you’re upper ranks.”

He chanced a look down at you, and immediately regretted it. You gazed up at him with tears shimmering in your eyes as his dick grew to tease and nudge the back of your wretched throat. Oh, you were an abomination, a vulgar disgrace to demonkind, but he could not walk away from you. For all his power, he was devastatingly weak when it came to you and your depraved mouth.

He had to end the meeting.

“Gyokko, once you’ve confirmed that information to be true, you are to head over there with Hantengu at once."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a partition closed the pair of you off from the upper ranks, and he could finally let loose the growl caged behind his teeth. “You will be the death of me,” he hissed. “How many times must I feed you, my greedy slut?”

You simply sucked him harder in response.

"Curse you." His legs trembled beneath him; his weakness and helplessness only adding to his fury.

“Oh, fine, you licentious leech,” he snapped, putting his hands on the back of your head and thrusting into your mouth.

He pumped his hips, brutally fucking your face as you gagged and drooled over his cock, your eyes rolling as your tongue lapped at the precum weeping from his slit. With every thrust he reclaimed a little more power, a little of his tattered dignity. His toes curled inside the butter-soft leather of his shoes as exquisite pleasure built and spilled over.

With a grunt he unloaded down your throat. Your greedy tongue lapped at his cum as a deep groan burst from his throat. “Yes… swallow it all. There. Now I truly have nothing left to give you. Leave me be.”

His eyes widened as you yanked his trousers down entirely, exposing his backside.

“What are you– Oh I should destroy you,” he groaned as heat prickled along his cheeks and the top of his chest. He released his grip on your head to try to pull his trousers back up. “How dare you, how–”

His blood-red eyes widened. Your strength was truly astounding as you stood, catching him off guard and spinning him around before you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the desk. The song of smashing glass and falling equipment drowned out his gasp.

“You dare–!” Muzan’s protest died on his tongue as you slipped your finger past the barrier of his lips and laid it flat on his tongue. His pupils narrowed to reptilian slits as indignation and arousal battled for dominance. He could bite your wretched finger off– in fact, he should have, but he found himself simply moaning around it as you lowered your head to take his cock into your mouth once more.

He licked the underside of your digit as his eyelids fluttered.

“Mmhh–” he sucked your finger, biting back a mewl as you pulled it free from his lips. “What are–” His body tensed as your finger delved between the plush cheeks of his ass, circling his hole, lubricating it with his own saliva.

You simply raised your eyes to meet his frantic gaze.

“You aren’t… fffuck.” His head lolled back as you continued your ministrations, your moan reverberating around his cock as you pushed past the taught ring of muscle to finger the soft flesh within.

He was helpless then; eyes wide, mouth agape around a silent cry, chest heaving as you fingered his hole.

“Damn… you…” he choked out, voice cracking as he lifted his legs higher, allowing you to press deeper. You hit a spot deep within him which made him see stars, “Oh… ohhpleasepleaseplease fuuuck…”

You seemed obscenely pleased as his cock started to weep, and you greedily swallowed down every drop which spilled out of him. Never in over a millenia had he been treated with such disrespect and made to feel so utterly helpless. He whined as he bore down on your degenerate fingers, furious as hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Bringing up his arms to shield his face from your gaze, Muzan let his tears soak into the sleeves of his shirt as he rocked his hips, fucking himself on your fingers, taking you deeper.

"More, curse you. Another."

You obliged your king's request, pushing another finger past the barrier of his hole, scissoring them to widen him. His eager body responded to your touch, allowing you to push deeper and massage that exquisite spot deep within him.

His cock erupted onto your tongue as you milked him, pulsing pleasure and heat consuming him as he choked out your name. On and on, the pleasure consumed him, seemingly never ending. His mouth fell open, his lips drawn back to expose his fanged teeth as his groans turned to frantic whimpers. “I can’t I can’t I can’t I don’t… Gods, curse… you… I… oh fuck oh Gods please. Please. Please~”

His orgasm exploded then, sending sparks of scalding pleasure shooting throughout his body as you groaned in satisfaction, your wicked tongue lapping up every drop of his seed. His hands grasped at anything he could find, tearing pages from his notebooks and sending vials of ingredients flying from the desk.

“Mm,” you crooned as he lay on the desk, gasping for air, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your torment. “Such a good master, cumming so much for me.”

His crimson eyes widened at your praise, a muscle in his jaw leaping as he bit down the whine pressing at the back of his throat. “Silence.”

Forcing a deeper breath, he placed a hand on the back of your head and flexed his fingers in a muted show of affection. "Mmh… curse you."

You were by far the best and the worst demon he had ever created, and in that moment, he would gladly keep you by his side for eternity.

----------

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can check out my other fics on my masterlist

#muzan kibutsuji #sub muzan #muzan smut #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #lord muzan #kny muzan #kibutsuji muzan #muzan x reader #bottom muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan my beloved #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kibutsuji kny #Muzan

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gugocuxut · 2 years

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Avoir lu et compris la Politique sur la santé et la sécurité au travail (113 Ko). Les normes appliquées par l'Université Laval sont la norme canadienne CAN/CSA

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