#what is it i say..... it's like the main character just made a realisation and he's running to go and stop something like his soulmate or | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saltburnedme · 4 months

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My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: After your last night with Oliver you question if things were even real, did you want them to be? Or are things better left unsaid.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), dub con, drowning (kind of, their in a bath it’s more of like a forced breath play thing no one actually dies), sex in a bath, generally fucked up smut overall again

Read part 1 here (this can be read as a one shot too)

You didn’t wake up until nearing noon, up to this point you didn’t realise that had even been an option. Moments after you realised that something must have woken you up in the first place, there was a light knock on the door from one of the maids, a welcome change to the usual bursting in and blinding you with light pouring in from the freshly opened curtain you thought for a few seconds before she did exactly that.

‘Good morning miss, did you sleep well?’ She questions, her voice cheerful as she opens the curtains letting the sunlight flood into the room. Your eyes still adjusting to the dawn, the memories of last night rushing back into your mind. Your ripped night dress and falling asleep naked must have looked suspicious enough but to add to this you were certain your hair must have been a mess. It was only upon looking down towards yourself to cover up that you found yourself wearing a different night dress, one you can’t remember ever having seen before, your hair felt as if it was tied back and your torn nightwear was nowhere to be found.

‘I slept fabulously, thank you for asking’ you reply, feeling like your speech was slurred from drowsiness.

‘Breakfast is ready downstairs’ she replied before exiting the room, the second the door closed you rushed out of bed and almost sprinted towards the mirror. Was any of it real? You were now dressed where you remember sleeping naked, your hair was tied back and brushed where you remember it being down. Your mirror was against the wall like usual and as much as you may try the damn thing wouldn’t budge an inch. The only thing remaining from the night before was the faint swell between your legs and a suspiciously red mark left around your neck, if it hadn’t been for this you would be questioning if the night previous had been real at all or if you’d finally become so delusional from tiredness that you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

You traveled through your day in a haze, you’d like to say that you hadn’t made an extra effort to seek out Oliver but you had once again wandered into every room, down every hall and through every garden, apparently after everything that had happened he was now conveniently a difficult man to find. Was he ever really there? All of those words he said and everything he did was it actually real? He did seem out of character, the Oliver you knew, albeit very vaguely, would never have come into your room, stripped you naked and fucked you like that. You weren’t even convinced he’d ever actually had sex before last night let alone was as depraved as you’d found him to be. Last night he asked you to come to him at 10pm sharp, to meet him in the bathroom that he and Felix shared, but should you go? If you doubted it was even real in the first place wouldn’t just turning up in their bath seem at the very least a little bit unhinged? You weren’t sure what to make or do with any of it, but if one thing was for certain you were going to find out.

The day hurried by and promptly turned to night, surely you’d see Oliver at dinner you thought to yourself, your little hunt that consumed your day proving fruitless. As always you dressed for dinner, this time opting for a white bias cut silk dress which clung to every curve. It somewhat resembled your torn (and now missing) night dress, the main differences being in the wider straps and being longer in length as the hem delicately brushed the floor.

You tried your best to keep your literal and metaphorical cool through the warm air of the summer night, strolling with ease through the door of the large dining room. Your eyes scanned the room for mere seconds before you found him, sitting silently in his usual seat cross from yours, eating and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Taking your seat the usual chit chat continued around you with food placed elegantly in front of you, your eyes beaming forward burning a hole into the forehead of the man across from you in the hopes that your gaze would force his hand in some way. You’d searched for him all day, where could he have been? He looked almost angry. Summoning up your last ounce of bravery you decided, the only way to fight the bull is to grab him by the horns.

‘So Oliver, how did you sleep?’ You asked loudly across the table, loud enough for the rest of the dinner guests to hear, placing a pause over all the other conversations happening in your vicinity. Out of the corner of your eye you could just about make out the puzzled faces of the rest of the table, everyone now wondering how often they’d actually heard you address each other previously to this.

‘Fine, thank you Y/N’ he replied bluntly, his gaze finally meeting yours. You’d hoped opening up some kind of conversation with him would confirm your beliefs in some way, but instead he just looked angry. Maybe that was conformation enough in itself?

‘I thought I heard something from your side of the house’ you muttered out as the conversations around you slowly begin again. His blue eyes becoming black with anger almost daring you to say more as he sat unspoken.

‘Oh did you now?’ He questions. Definitely daring, you thought to yourself. You felt almost as if you were staring out a wild animal waiting to see just how long it would take for you to blink and for him to attack.

‘Yes, I thought I heard someone walking around near my room coming from your direction’ you continue, one hand playing nervously with the soft fabric of your dress underneath the table as the other shuffles food around your plate with your fork.

‘It’s an old house, all sorts of noises’ he replies, his head tilted slightly to the side as if to work out where you were going with this line of questioning. ‘Why, was there something you needed during the night?’ He ponders. Was he still daring you or was he just as confused about this whole situation as you were? Maybe you really had imagined the whole thing. He wouldn’t be asking you that if he had something to hide surely, you knew Felix had a temper with a hairpin trigger and absolutely no one wanted to provoke that. Or maybe that was exactly the point.

‘Oh no, it’s nothing really. Don’t worry, it just woke me up is all’ you reply, trying your best to sweep this entire conversation under the rug as much as humanly possible. You wanted to shrink away and become one with your chair, hiding in plain sight almost as if to disappear completely into a puddle of your own embarrassment. With a shrug Oliver went back to eating and ignoring you again, occasionally joining in with the others conversations as you pushed your food around your plate, taking anxious mouthfuls until the plate was almost entirely emptied.

‘Please may I be excused? I’m awfully tired’ you asked, your question pointed towards Elsbeth at the head of the table.

‘Of course my darling, sleep well’ she says as you hurry off, granting the room a brief Goodnight and a polite smile before making your way down the corridor.

Despite all of this, at 10pm you found yourself pacing your room, if any of it had been real you were well aware that you were late by now, your pacing only increasing as the clock ticks to 10:01pm, 10:02pm and before you knew it 10:05pm.

‘Fuck it’ you whispered to yourself, heading out of your room and down the corridor in the direction of Oliver’s room. Taking off your shoes to be as quiet as possible, your dress swung at your ankles as you almost stormed your way towards the bathroom, your feet padding cautiously but quickly against the wooden floor.

Finally arriving after what felt like hours of walking you found the bath freshly drawn yet the room suspiciously empty. At least this partially confirmed that you hadn’t manufactured this entire situation in your haze of exhaustion. The lights dimmed to their lowest setting you can barely see into the corners of the room, you make your way over to the mirror to take in your reflection standing in front of the sink. Resting your hands against it you check the room again, still no one to be found or so you thought. Letting out a frustrated sigh you concluded that if someone was watching you, as you hoped they were, you’d give them a show.

Sliding the first silk strap down your shoulder you glide your hand across your chest, down to your shoulder and off of your arm. You follow the same with your other arm, still holding the dress to your body as you take one last look around the room before dropping your dress to the floor the white fabric pooling at your feet, a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the room. Your movements continued as you slipped your bra off, once released massaging your own shoulder softly to relieve yourself from the stress of the day. Your hands slipping lower you step out of your white, matching silk panties, the collection of fabrics joining your dress on the floor.

You turn away from the mirror, facing towards the bath, slowly stepping in and submerging your body in the water, the shine of the golden tub reflecting off of your skin. Dipping your hair in the water you look around the room full of hopefulness again, still, finding nothing. He had to be here, you were sure of it and if he wouldn’t come to you of his own free will, you’d make him just like he made you. Your hand begins to travel south, lowering between your legs rubbing soft circles into your clit. You feel the tension release from your body almost immediately as your pace increases, letting out a stream of breathy moans, the sound reverberating off of the tiles. Your eyes fall closed and your face begins to contort with pleasure as you feel your climax rapidly build, your mind replaying the previous night tempting your pleasure to reach its peak.

Just as quickly as your orgasm built, it was ripped away from you harshly. Your eyes still clenched shut in ecstasy you feel your wet hair being grasped firmly, pulling you under in the water. You try to hold your breath as you’re pushed under but the shock of it almost causes you to breathe the water in. Being held there for a couple of seconds your pulled up just as aggressively.

‘You think your such a clever girl, calling me out like that’ he growls, climbing on top of you still dressed in a white shirt and boxers. His body caging you in underneath him he puts his other hand around your face, squishing your jaw so that your mouth falls open, spitting into your mouth before pushing your head under water once more. You wish that you could have kept the taste of him on your tongue for a few seconds more, a thought that crossed your mind very briefly until you were filled with the panic of being drowned once again before being pulled to the surface once more.

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t just drown you now little one? You know that’s been my plan all along, fucking you and feeling you completely submissive underneath me, nothing you can do to stop me’ he growls, grinding his hard cock into the flesh of your thigh. ‘But you had to be a disobedient little whore, just like the rest of your fucking Catton family’ he continues, you open your mouth to reply but just as you breathe in to speak he plunges you under again, this time pulling your up faster, allowing you to cough up water and look up to him in fear. ‘There’s my good girl’ he sneers, this is exactly how he wanted you completely obedient and pliable underneath him. He wanted the power over you, to make you fear him and love him all at once, something that he was very much achieving. Almost as quickly as he had turned on you, his touch became soft almost loving and his words followed suit.

‘You looked so pretty in that dress, almost like an angel. You wear that for me sweetheart?’ He asks, releasing your hair to press one hand against the roll top of the bath near your head while still holding your cheeks softly in his other hand. You were almost wordless, the contrast in his actions totally throwing you off in a way you would have never expected. You thought you’d seen the darkest parts of him last night, but this was like you’d found another cavern in his soul filled with nothing but hatred for you and everyone around you.

‘Y-yes’ you stutter out, still catching your breath from being held under water, your eyes locked on his as he leans in closer, his face almost touching yours.

‘Yes, what?’ He asks, your eyes scanning his face rapidly to give him the answer he craves, the answer you wish with all your heart and mind to give him.

‘Yes.. sir’ you reply, your words coming out shakily, your body trembling in the gradually cooling water.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he says letting go of your face, his hand sliding down your curves, pulling your legs around his hips your heat pressing into his fully hardened length. He got off on drowning you, that was the first thing that sprung to mind when you felt him between your legs, he wanted your submission and my god did he have it. ‘Fuck’ he groans to himself as he grinds into you, it was almost as if he saw you as an object, just there for his ego.. and other things. Pulling his shirt over his head he discards the wet fabric to the floor beside the bath, pushing his boxers down and gliding the thick head of his cock through your folds.

‘Do you want me to fuck you angel? You’ve been such a good girl, you deserve a reward’ he asks as softly as he could in the given situation. You knew he didn’t really care what you said, if you refused he’d still take what he wanted from you but he knew you’d never turn him down not when he was the only person granting you the lustful excitement that you so craved.

‘Please sir, please fuck me’ you ask looking into his eyes in desperation.

‘Ah, that’s not quite good enough little one. Show me how much you want me’ he demands, pulling you up towards him, leaning back on his heels as he kneels in front of you, his hips lifted to your face height. Tentatively you licked down his shaft, your gaze held by his as you take more of him in your mouth. For the first time, he was letting you take control, his hands gripping the sides of the bath firmly, his knuckles whitening as his fists tighten. You knew not to break eye contact from your last time with him, he liked you to look at him, he loved the power it gave him over you as he moaned unashamed above you. Wouldn’t Felix hear? Wouldn’t you be in trouble? You thought. You’d suspected earlier today that this may be exactly what Oliver was betting on but right in this moment you didn’t care, you’d do anything to please him.

Your hands join your mouth wrapped around Oliver’s length, pumping him as his cheeks flush and one of his hands entangle in your hair gripping it and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. ‘Fuck angel’ he almost whispers, as you feel him throbbing under your grip, he was close and you knew it. Your fists quickened their pace and you sucked his tip a little bit stronger until his eyes left yours, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes close and his face contorts in pleasure, pushing his tip right to the back of your throat causing you to choke as he empties himself into your windpipe, fucking your face as he rides out his orgasm. Just as his climax subsides he pulls his still hard length out of your mouth.

‘Open’ he demands, no other words. You thought he wanted to see that you’d swallowed but you hadn’t, his spend trickling out around the corners of your mouth. ‘Jesus, look at you’ his tone mixed between an insult and genuine concern. Just as you tried to swallow his load again, you were stopped feeling his mouth on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth immediately making your kiss a mixture of both of your saliva and his cum emptying your mouth of it as he pushes you back against the bath, wrapping your legs around his hips once more. The image of you like this seeming to have triggered something in him again, he immediately lines his cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you making you let out a light scream in a mixture pleasure and pain as he splits you open.

His pace was fast, way faster than you expected as the remaining water in the bath splashes over the edges as he fucks you landing on the floor beside the tub. His eyes baring into yours once again he holds you up above the water line, the blood rushing throughout your body almost deafeningly as all of your senses heighten zoning in on Oliver. Your ruined orgasm returning almost as quickly as it left you feel yourself begin to clamp down on him, you know he can feel it, his hips grinding into yours forcing your orgasm from you almost violently.

‘Cum for me’ he asks, his tone almost begging at this point. ‘Let me hear it’ He demands, another contrast with last night, this time he wants to hear you. ‘Let them all hear it, let them know who you belong to, who fucks you like this’ his words faltering as you clamp down on him, riding out your orgasm loudly just ask he asked, the sound bouncing off the walls you were certain that they must have been able to hear you in the next village over let alone just in the house.

‘Fuck, you really are an angel, look at you’ he says, guiding your gaze to the mirrors over the sink to the side of you as you come down from your orgasm, still continuing at his blistering pace. Watching him fuck you was almost other worldly, the way the dim light reflected off of his almost translucent white skin. You could see his length thrust in and out of you as your eyes met his in the mirror. Pulling you out of your post orgasm haze he doubles down on his pace, one hand on the bath above you the other on your hip as his nails dig into your soft skin. Without warning he emptied himself inside you, pressing his lips to yours as he came within you his moans almost as loud as yours had just been.

Regaining your breaths he pulls out of you, sliding behind you in the bath washing your body clean with the remaining water as your back is pushed against his chest. You wanted to say something, to ask him what all of this meant or if it really meant anything to him at all. You knew you had feelings for him, feelings that grew stronger every time something like this happened between you. You had a need, a desperate want to make him happy, to impress him and to make him need you the way you needed him.

‘Did you enjoy your little lie in?’ He asks, some what out of context with the rest of what had just happened.

‘Uh.. yes’ you replied ‘I wasn’t aware the staff would let anyone sleep in after 8am’ you continued with a giggle.

‘That’s because they don’t. I told them to leave you be a little longer after your somewhat strenuous night’ he replies pressing kisses into your neck as he continues to clean you.

‘And they listened to you?’ You asked, partially amazed that the house staff would ever listen to the wishes of anyone other than the core members of the family.

‘They will’ He says, his voice sterner as his actions continue, pulling you in for one last kiss while running his fingers through your hair. ‘Oh they will my angel’ his words ring in your ear as you begin to fall asleep on his chest ignoring the rest of his sentence, you were his angel.

Tag list - @lillypink @ilovesaltburn @simplymakkari @hahahafucku @rorysgirl @jubileexoxo @grandpaintersuit @anniemay67 @idontevenknow1359 @frayafriggafrey

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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Mr All American

Just cute moments between Logan and his not American girlfriend

Godamn I want him so bad - in something non fanfic that I've written one of my main characters is called Logan and, ugh, it's such a pretty name

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Y/N held her phone up towards Logan, giggling away as she filmed him. "Can you do your best British accent?" She asked him, phone shaking in her hands as she giggled.

He rolled his eyes, but Logan was unable to hide his smile. "What do you want me to say?" He asked, looking down at her.

If it was possible for a person to have heart eyes, Logan would have. His heart would have been beating out of his chest like a cartoon character. "What do you want me to say?" He asked as he leaned against the wall.

"Fancy a cuppa."

"Fancy a cupper?" He said in his usual American accent.

Her giggles grew into full blown laughter.

Logan let out a huff and rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "Alright love," he began in an incredibly bad British accent. "D'you fancy a cuppa?" He asked, emphasising the A.

It was hard to see Logans face in the video, not with the way Y/N was laughing uncontrollably. Her tiktok was a goldmine of Logan videos, where most of the fans got their content.

It was rare for a video of Y/N to go viral. Her videos of Logan always blew up, and she was always seen liking the compilations fans made of them. But she never got herself in the videos, that wasn't her style.

But then she logged onto tiktok. Her phone was silent as Logan slept behind her, his arms wrapped around her and his face pressed into his neck.

They didn't spent the entire night cuddled up. As much as Logan wanted to, it was near impossible. He fell asleep holding her, but when Y/N woke up in the middle of the night Logan was almost always no longer holding her. But then she woke up and once again Logan was holding her.

She had a theory. She suspected that Logan would wake up at, like, 5am, just to wrap his arms around her and spend the next the next few hours asleep and holding her.

So, Y/N had her phone on silent as she watched Tiktok. There were a few Logan edits, too many clips of Lando Norris streaming and at least thirteen Charles Leclerc edits.

And then Y/N came across another video. It was from the live sky sports feed that played during the last grand prix, focusing in on the Williams garage before the race.

Logan was there, walking to his engineer. And Y/N was in front of him. He had his arms around her, swaying her from side to side as he spoke. It was subconscious, he didn't even realise he was doing it, but it was so cute.

At least the fans thought so. Careless Whisper by George Michael played in the background of the video as Logan put his chin on the top of her head.

Groaning, Logan slowly woke up. He kissed the back of her neck and sat up slightly, tired eyes looking at the screen over her shoulder. "What're you watching?" He asked as Y/N saved the video.

She showed him. In response, Logan kissed her shoulder and tightened his grip on her.

***

This is a couple who loved to tease each other. It could be about anything, but their main targets were spelling and pronunciation.

Well, it depended what grand prix they were at. If Logan was caught spelling 'colour' as 'color' during the Silverstone weekend, Y/N wasn't going to let it go.

But the same went for her at any of the US grand prix.

When she landed for Miami, the first thing she did was text Logan. 'God, I didn't realise I was so tired,' she texted him as she climbed into the taxi.

'Couldn't hear you, what was that?' Logan responded.

'Lo'

'You didn't realize you were so tired?'

There was no response for a good minute. He could see that she had seen the message, but she didn't reply.

And then...

'I hate you'

'I wanna marry you'

When they got dinner that night, Y/N wanted a burger, something stereotypically American, but with no tomato.

Logan sat opposite her in the restaurant, hand covering his mouth, hiding his laugh as she ordered. "Can I get a burger with..." She looked at Logan, the enthusiasm dropping from her voice. "With no tomayto."

Logan couldn't hold himself back. his sniggers turned into full blown laughs as she gently kicked him under the table. "You're adorable," he said as she glared at him.

***

Oscar had known Y/N just as long as Logan had. He loved her like an annoying little sister that he pretended he couldn't stand but actually couldn't live without her.

He, Lando and Logan stood together, talking before the first practice session. Y/N hadn't arrived yet, set to arrive on Saturday, and Oscar missed her.

Not as much as Logan missed her, though.

He hadn't stopped talking to her, managed to slide a mention of her into every conversation.

Lando hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Y/N yet. "How did you guys get together?" He asked him, and Oscar sighed. He audibly sighed and rolled his eyes.

They'd been friends for years, since Y/N's karting days. But she'd quit to focus on studying, focusing on getting into a good university and landing her dream job.

When Logan was in F3 and Y/N was completing her first year of university, he missed her. Oscar missed her too, but not as much as Logan. So, during the summer, after her first year of university, he invited her to Florida.

It was maybe the most incredible summer of her life. Not because anything in particular happened, but because she was spending time with Logan.

Y/N knew he liked her. She knew she liked him too. But Logan wasn't going to do anything about it.

Actually, he tried. He tried to do these ridiculously subtle things that she was never going to pick up on. So, she took matters into her own hands.

They were in the back of the truck she had rented out for the summer. They'd done maybe everything, from go karting to carnivals. They were underage so they couldn't really experience spring break at its best.

In the back of the truck they looked up at the stars. "This has been sick," she muttered as she laid against him. "Properly, properly sick." (Genuinely can't imagine an american person using sick to be cool, pls correct me if wrong)

"I can't believe you have to go home tomorrow," Logan replied as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N snuggled closer to him. It was warm, but she didn't care. Music played from her stereo, and Logan hummed along.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said as Y/N sat up and stretched her arms up.

She faced him, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in her new position. "Are you gonna miss me? Or are you gonna miss me?"

Logan didn't answer, and that told her all she needed to know. "Dude, just ask me out already," she said, emphasising the 'dude'.

Again, Logan didn't answer. His cheeks were red as he looked away from her face, looking back at the stars.

So, Y/N leaned forward and kissed him.

Once Logan finished his story, Oscar shook his head. "You forgot the most important bit," he said and continued the story. "So Rick Astley started playing on the stereo, so Y/N pulled him up from the bed of the truck and made him dance with her. It's disgustingly cute."

Logan was a grinning, blushing mess. Oscar was right, it was disgustingly cute.

Fuck, he couldn't wait for Y/N to get there.

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x female reader #logan sargeant smut #logan sargeant x reader smut #logan sargeant x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #ls2 #ls2 imagine #ls2 x reader

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sexlapis · 6 months

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actor! toji fushiguro thoughts 💭

actor toji would be one of those hot dilf actors that women would always be drooling over, edits of him always popping up on your fyp, the most outta pocket comments underneath all of his insta posts, he would be the number 1 dilf for all the old man fuckers.

toji rarely posts on social media. he’s at that age where he just does not care to post his whole life online, but that only attracts people to him more because he is so mysterious. he would have like 10 million followers and only follow 12 people (including you)

toji would probably be one of those actors that have no variety in their roles, but everybody would still eat it up anyways. toji as an actor would typically play a villain/antagonist or an anti-hero, typically in an action movie/series and he plays them well. toji can embody an intimidating, frightening, intelligent villain very well. he could be cast as one of the most horrendous, horrible villains and be a menace towards the main cast but because he looks like that, he is forgiven.

but there are those rare times toji is casted as a father or father figure and his character would do anything for their daughter and everyone just loses it. he plays the father role well, almost too well. he is so caring, protective and sweet towards the actress playing as his daughter, even behind the scene clips with one another, he is just so gentle and dreamy. the fans cannot handle it!

during interviews, toji can be charming. he cracks jokes and he answers questions honestly, even if they make him look unprofessional. he really does not give a fuck about that, which only makes him even more attractive. he’s a little sleazy sometimes, but that just adds to his lazy effortless appeal.

he just has such a dominant personality and not in a bad way either. like if an interviewer asked a question that made a cast member uncomfortable, he would smoothly change the subject and the mood, making everyone forget about it entirely. also, his stare is really intense…like when the interviewer or a fellow cast member is speaking, he makes sure to look at them and listen really closely, not even realising how intimidating that could be 😭

despite his unprofessional personality and wealthy background, people who work with toji cannot say anything bad about him. he is a great actor with great work ethic and is always respectful to his cast members. and most of all, he is humble. due to his background and accomplishments, other actors on set expect him to be all flashy and all head in the clouds, but toji isn’t like that. toji is very aware and down to earth and he doesn’t see himself as superior because of his wealth. he sees what that power does to some people (his family) and he wants nothing not do with it.

overall, for the most part, toji is a respected actor, with a loyal (albeit crazy) fanbase, he actually enjoys his job and lives a relatively private and quiet life. people barely know anything despite his wealth and fame and prefers to keep it that way.

a/n: this was inspired by jeffrey dean morgan lmao. also i’m thinking of maybe doing a mini one shot with actress reader x actor toji in the form of one of those youtube videos like “(reader) & toji fushiguro being a couple for 10 minutes straight” i think that would be fun 🤭🤭

edit: toji & reader being a couple for 10 minutes straight is here <3

#lana del rey girlies would love him so bad #actor!toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro headcanons #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader #t

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trashmouththeorist · 7 months

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severus snape fic recs

my personal favs

Young Snape:

a life of smoke and silvered glass: Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily. Severus doesn't become a Death Eater because he believes in it, Jily get married. Sweet, slightly sad ending. (So cute).

Falling Apart: Time travel fic, no pairings, Severus goes back to when James levicorpused him. (I loved this, I loved how Mary was included and Avery had a redemption arc. Severus never calls Lily mudblood.)

in glory and in ruin: Mulciber/Snape but it's not a main part of it. Basically, a Triwizard Tournament in between the school houses, and Severus gets chosen even though he's only 16. The Marauders and Lily aren't really in it, focuses on Snape's Gang, Charity and Aurora. WIP, and I LOVE it!

The Gryffindor Sort: WIP. Long. In which Severus is a Gryffindor, Lupin is hiding something, Potter and Black are the worst, and there's a Wizarding War about to erupt.

Severus and the Marauders: Long. What if instead of being insulted and excluded from the group, Severus was embraced instead. After all, it was the actions of the group that shaped history from the sidelines. So what if they shaped history a little differently?

That Awful Snape Boy: It had all happened on Wednesday 3rd of September 1973; Minerva committed the date to memory. She would always be amazed that this discussion could happen in the first place. If the boy hadn’t been unconscious, would they even have learnt anything before it was too late?

The Unwanted Boy From Spinner's End: Severus Snape’s existence is a mistake. His mother hints at it often enough with her regretful, drawn-out sighs, while his father prefers to get the message across with a good strapping and a lecture on his worthlessness. Needless to say, the twelve-year-old is not particularly inclined to trust adults, no matter how concerned or caring they claim to be. His life changes abruptly, however, one late evening in September when an illicit brewing session results in a forced trip to the Hogwarts infirmary. Not only is the truth about Severus' home life discovered, but an investigation reveals that shortly prior to his mother’s unexpected death, a single piece of parchment was deposited into her Gringotts vault—a Last Will and Testament in which Eileen Snape née Prince grants guardianship of her son to none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

To Recollect the Future: Hindsight is 20/20, but when Harry's last steps into the forest set him back further than he'd ever thought, he never realised how grateful he'd be to have Snape there to help too.

Severus' choice: How one choice changed history's course, or the life of Severus Snape from Hogwarts to adulthood if characters were less caricatural, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were more than bogeymen. This is an AU, events before and after may differ from the books.

the lost generation: The Marauders era at Hogwarts, Voldemort's rise to power and the subsequent war, family loyalties and dishonour, and the struggles of friendship in a difficult time.

Snily:

Come Once Again and Love Me: My favourite Snily fic ever. Snape and Lily time travel back from their individual deaths to when they were still at Hogwarts. Realistic-Lily misses James and Harry and their falling in love is slow burn too. Made me want to cry. I almost liked James!

The Fields of Summer: Short and sad. His past was bleeding into the present, just as his future was bleeding out of the gaping wound in his neck. And since memories were useless to a dead man, Snape plucked them out of his mind and gave them to The Boy Who Lived. He didn’t realize that in so doing, he’d forget her.

seventeen moons: After the werewolf prank. Severus was bitten and Lily figures it out. I hated Sirius so much and he was barely in it but he wasn't villainised-it's just the consequences of his own actions.. Loved the Snily! Short.

Surprising Lessons: Tensions run high between the students of Hogwarts in the time when Severus Snape, Lily Evans, and the Marauders are teenagers. New spells are invented, insults are traded, new bonds form, and unexpected support blooms. Short and sweet.

Vox Severus: SO cute. When Severus Snape's voice changes in fourth year, everyone notices.

Ambiguous: Order member Lily did not have a baby. Death Eater Severus did not hear a prophecy. Consequently, the Dark Lord did not fall. ...but what happens when a long forgotten prophecy suddenly shakes, and flashes through the colours of the spectrum..?

Switching Wands: Severus and Lily acted as best friends should and talked about the Whomping Willow incident. Lily is less than impressed with Potter’s behaviour from that point onward.

Her Slytherin, His Gryffindor: Lily has had enough of James' bullying ways, so she decides to finally take advantage of her Prefect status. Or, in another universe, Lily helps Severus, and they become even closer.

Sweet Root: Lily decides to get Severus drunk one summer night. Angst thereby incurred happily resolves itself into, uh, happiness.

You Don't Bug Me: “Is there any reason you’re half naked in my room?”

Snape/Sirius:

Two Sides: A time travel fic where Severus and Sirius find themselves back on the evening before they graduated Hogwarts. With no idea how and why that happened, they set out to get back to their respective timelines. After all, Sirius has to save Harry at the Minstry of Magic, and Severus needs to tell Potter about the final Horcrux. Right? Too bad that they find themselves back on that evening over and over again. (Personal thoughts: I loved this one, very in character and I loved how they 'fixed' their regrets of the past).

Broken Me Found Broken You: It’s determined that Severus Snape and Sirius Black are immune to punishment after years of near-fatal pranks, bullying, and homemade curses. The only person who thinks them capable of ending the feud and finishing their education is Professor McGonagall. For the summer of ‘77, she gives them a pair of charmed hand mirrors and an ultimatum: communicate. That’s it, a mere ten minutes every Saturday. Back at Hogwarts, when their animosity proves insurmountable, Sirius and Severus are relegated to a small, Eighth Year dormitory. The tight quarters—wandless—are intended to force them to make a peaceful reconciliation, but peace is impossible with a bloody war ramping up inside and outside the castle.

Sorry: Sirius Black decides to make amends for the horrid way he treated Snape when they were teenages. Snape is less than amenable to the idea. (Written around the time of book three/four). Basically, Sirius apologises a lot. And then some fucking.

The Sin in Your Grin (And the Shape of Your Mouth): The Order needed Sirius, but he doubted they'd mourn him very long when he finally disappeared. The first Wizarding war, Snape and Sirius are fucking. Sirius thinks Remus is the spy, Severus tells him otherwise. Canon-compliant: James and Lily die, Peter is the spy. The last line. Shaking.

Dead Reckoning: Severus Snape delivers a potion to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, holding a twenty-year-old grudge in his heart. He has yearned for revenge for so long—and he will have it. Along with something else he did not ask for.

Beyond The Veil: In one world, Sirius Black ignored Severus Snape's warning and went to the Department of Mysteries to save his godson's life. He died and went beyond the veil. In another world, Sirius Black stayed back. This made all the difference. An AU where Sirius Black survived and now knew Severus Snape's deepest secret.

Rings And Ringing Bells: A bastardisation of a traditional love story. Two men both broken by the world are at wit’s end trying not to kill each other. There’s Severus, a bitter insult who does not take fools lightly, and Sirius, a drunkard who has a habit of pressing his buttons. It involves a curse which forces them to get married, an immaculate conception, and the blurring of the line between hate and love. They fear that they have no control over their lives and are doomed to make the mistakes their parents had done before them. They’re not good for each other, but the fiasco that is their romance may be enough to teach them how to hate each other and themselves a little less.

Always (Come For Me): Snape might have been lying when he said Sirius Black wasn't punished for the prank he had pulled on him. It all started with Sirius having to live with the Snapes for the remainder of his summer...

An Interlude: Set during Order of the Phoenix. Snape comes across Black looking through some of his old school things. Memories are stirred up, grudges are held, old conflicts refuse to be resolved, and new ground might be (dis)covered. A series of conversations in the year before a death.

bite your tongue, go to the funeral: A funeral, a departure, a chance encounter, a war, a funeral (again), a snide remark, and a revival.

Two Boys Kissing: Sirius goes to a gay bar and meets the last person he expects. Under cloudy skies, two boys kiss and that one moment comes to define generations of want, need and hope.

An Occlument Heart: Snape knows that, usually, keeping a secret is the bravest thing you can do. But sometimes the bravest thing is to tell one. Complete. Canon (more or less) up to the start of Book 5, when this story begins.

Found in the Moments Between the Search: When Sirius returns from beyond the Veil with knowledge of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he takes on the task of finding and destroying them. Somewhere along the way he finds an unexpected ally and perhaps something more. (AU from the end of OotP, takes place during HBP period)

Walking the Monochrome: That’s what being a dog is like – it's like you’re walking the very edge of the world, where almost all colour has run out, and you know that should you miss a step, you’ll fall off that edge... Then again, you already know all about it. The edge and the falling.” AU of the first war.

Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance.

The Welcoming Feast: Severus opened his eyes and he was suddenly inside Grimmauld Place. His hand flew to his neck. He remembered Nagini biting him, Potter coming to him and then he closed his eyes, expecting death, but instead he was back here.

The Devil-and-All to Pay: Albus Dumbledore is mad. Severus is sure of it, when the old man sends him to persuade Sirius Black to come back to England and let the Order use his family home as headquarters. The problem, as always, is that Severus cannot say no.

Black Out: Snape and Black try something they have never done before. Talking.

eighty-twenty: In seventh year James left Severus for Lily. Best choice he could have ever made. It never would have worked out. Besides, he and Lily are married now, she's pregnant with his soon to be child and Severus...Severus is with Sirius.

First and Last and Always: Severus had his wand. He swallowed hard. His wand. Magic. His only defense, because Black outweighed him by at least three stone. But magic was more than enough. Severus had never needed physical prowess. His magical strength, and the keenness of his mind, gave him the advantage. Except when it didn’t.

Visions of Doom: Severus gets injured in the shrieking shack (his fifth year). While unconscious he witnesses some scenes from his future and realizes becoming a death eater wouldn’t bring him power and glory but pain and servitude. He spends the rest of his schooling trying to shape a different future for himself.

Anything by FabulaRasa on AO3.

Remus/Snape:

Fuel the Pyre of Your Enemies: A paired class assignment for Astronomy incites a mutually beneficial agreement between Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. An exploration of sexuality and friendships. (One of my favourite Snupin fics, really realistic. Also no evil!peter).

where the wolfsbane blooms: Remus and Severus friendship, and then more. 7000 words-short but sweet. Severus tries to cure the lycanthropy. James is constantly befuddled.

Have Your Cake and Eat It: Remus POV. Long. Incredible. Changed my world view. I cried with Remus at the end. Still kind of happy! Time travel fic. Remus lives. Realistic for the characters and especially for the seventies (although lowkey Remus is too woke for the nineties why does he know the word heteronormative). I loved Sirius in this one. Lying in hospital after the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has a lovely lucid dream that he's gone back to his school days at Hogwarts. Only the day passes, then another, and another, and soon he must face the terrifying possibility that it isn't a dream — that he has irreparably altered the events of the past. Cunegonde is SO good!

DELOCAPONUM: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏. A new acquaintance to the territory of teaching, an old friend to grief and misfortune, and entirely off on the wrong foot, twenty-one-year-old Professor Severus Snape reverts to an old charm of his — a charm for things that are lost — in attempt to find the one book in which he wrote it. But when the spell starts working against him and mysterious things start happening to his own students, it seems he has no choice but to form an alliance with an old schoolyard enemy in order to find a culprit, a book, and his own identity. And one thing is for certain: the irritating charm of Remus Lupin is nearly impossible to refuse.

Creature Comforts: A classic! Remus and Severus are paired to work together in Care of Magical Creatures in 6th year. Neither one is too happy with the arrangement at first.

That Awful Boy: CLASSIC! Severitus. Petunia lets slip a twenty-year-old secret, and Harry is sent to Spinner's End to study Occlumency early. Severus Snape can see no way in which this could end in catastrophe.

Not Really Here: After the werewolf prank, Severus disappears. He’s still at Hogwarts—at least, he thinks he is—and he’s probably still alive, but no one can see or hear him. Except for Lupin. Remus, meanwhile, is avoiding the other Marauders—as well as everyone else—and Snape becomes the sole exception to his self-appointed isolation. As they work together to look for answers about Severus’ condition, the unlikely pair drift toward friendship. But building a relationship of any kind presents a challenge when neither of them is sure Severus exists at all. I've only read this once but I love it. No Marauders bashing, but no pretending they're saints either. And they have a pretty big part but obvs Snupin is at the forefront.

The Heir to the House of Prince: Harry is the main character and the main ship is Harry and Theo. While Snupin is secondary it's pretty central. Summer of 4th year and Harry's all alone, dealing with his grief and the sudden revelation that James Potter is not his father. Support comes in a strange form. The form of Theo Nott, son of a death Eater. A strange friend who says he'll help him find his true father, whoever this Lord Prince might be. Technically Snily ig? But not really.

Sight Unseen: After losing his sight during the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus struggles to adjust to his new circumstances; when depression threatens to overwhelm him, he receives unexpected assistance from an unknown source.

The Other Side of The Mirror: In sixth year, Remus Lupin nearly killed Severus Snape in wolf form. Miraculously, Severus escaped unharmed. But what if he hadn't?

The Meaning of Mistletoe: What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.

Spymaster: Former spymaster and one time headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Severus Snape left the house just once a week on a Tuesday. Wherein Snape wears tracksuit pants and smokes too many cigarettes and Lupin is into it.

Well They're No Friends Of Mine: Whenever his friends pull a prank on Snape, Remus always looks the other way. But what if there's another option?

The Other Side of the Mirror: I haven't read this, but it's a 'what if Remus bit Snape.' 60000 words.

Artemisa Absinthium: The Rat and the Snake: AU set during the First Wizarding War. Severus has defected from the Dark Lord, and become a double agent for Dumbledore. When he learns of an informant it sends the Order into disaray. Can he uncover the identity of the traitor before his own true loyalty is revealed? What price is he willing to pay for his redemption? And can a man like Severus Snape ever be worthy of love?

Capnolagnia: Three times Remus caught Severus Snape smoking.

About Wolves and Snakes: Unfinished. Remus Lupin woke up being fifteen years old again, having no idea how or why. Upon learning that he could not return, he decided that he would try to change the way things happened.

One Thousand Galleons: It's been six years since Remus Lupin, age 25, left England after the death of his father and the slow dissolving of his friendship with the Marauders. A letter from James finds him in Canada at an opportune time, asking him to come home to meet his soon-to-be-born son. Remus never expected that his time away would give him the perfect resume for teaching at Hogwarts, nor did he expect that his return would spark both conflict and resolution. If only he could get the Potion's Professor to understand how sorry he is for the way things turned out. “What is the price for your forgiveness?” --- “One Thousand Galleons.”

Living Legend: Marauders-era fic, Snape decides he needs some "hands-on" experience and chooses Remus as his very special study partner. But there's more to these extracurricular activities than meets the eye.

Lily's Boy: With help from unexpected places, Harry starts on a journey to end the war, and reshape the wizarding world. With how much he looks like James Potter, people have forgotten one important thing about him - he is Lily Evans' son, and she was one hell of a witch. Side Snupin.

It's Not Over Til It's Done: Unfinished. Severus did not expect to survive the Second Wizarding War, but survive he did. Remus didn't either, yet due to unforeseen circumstances, Remus finds himself taking care of Severus in the wake of surviving Nagini's venom.

Ten Aprils: Severus must find a way for Harry to defeat Voldemort. Remus must find a way for Severus to free himself from the past. The Dark Lord is about to attack Hogwarts, and Harry needs to get over his rage, hate and despair in order to learn to summon the phoenix needed to defeat Voldemort. Snape must find the answers, then teach Harry how. In the next thirty minutes. Like it would ever happen.

A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love: A story in which Severus Snape is unable to sleep; a certain werewolf is impersonating Celestina Warbek and cauldrons are used as prevention, sort of.

the week that changed it all: It’s Christmas break in Remus’ 6th year of Hogwarts. Sadly, his parents aren’t home so he has to stay over at Lily’s house for the week. He makes a discovery he didn’t know was possible. The first one was that apparently, Severus lived not far away, the second one was that he started to like the boy.

A Prince By Early Frost: While preparing his chamber for the Philosopher’s Stone, Severus encounters the dark fae borne by a black glass mirror, buried deep beneath the castle. He is chosen, but unsure by what, until over a year later, when a figure from his dreams takes the Defense position, asking for a favor.

Chocolate Cake and Other Intimacies: Remus Lupin is spending his birthday alone in the hospital wing. Severus brings him his homework to cheer him up.

Basically anything by McKay on AO3.

Snape/James:

Knowledge of the Gods: Severus was either in a coma and dying, already dead and trapped in some purgatory, completely and utterly insane, or living in the body of his past self. And, perhaps most suspiciously, why did James Potter keep looking at him like that?!

A Touch, A Kiss, A Whisper of Love: After Severus Snape and James Potter find themselves stuck in an awkward detention together, an unlikely friendship forms. As their newfound friendship develops, James discovers something new about himself while Severus tries to fight his growing attraction to the Gryffindor boy.

Cake, Please!: Slight SA gives me the ick, but vaguely fun to read. A story of blackmail, the wonderful world of sexuality, and lots of cake.

Revenge is Sweet: A teenage Snape plots his revenge on James Potter for making his life hell, but little does he know that James has plans of his own that will send both their lives spiraling irrevocably out of control.

Ninety-Three: James promises Severus that if Severus has sex with him 93 times, he will break up with Lilly and advocate that she date Severus.

Absolution: What is it that draws James to Severus? A disease? A curse? A secret wish... a need? Try as he might to ignore the Slytherin, in the end, to Severus is where James always finds himself. **SLOW BUILD** Rated M for... certain kinds of scenes later on.

The Dreamer in the Well: James got the girl....finally. She even stopped being friends with Severus, whom he absolutely hated. But one day, his curiosity changes everything.

Love Is Strange: At the start of his sixth year, James Potter decides to finally stop ruining Severus' life. His friends agree to stop the bullying but what they do not know is the reason why James decided to put an end to it. They think he just matured or grew tired of it but the truth is a little more complicated than that.

A Fickle Thing: James Potter's marriage is failing- What a perfect time to disguise himself as a muggle, follow Severus Snape to what is either a makeshift dance club or a party for gay muggles, and then do a series of things he really should not do.

Rise: Severus Snape was tired of his fate, to be a lowly snake. Luckily, fate was kind to him this time and the arrival of a tournament had come. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, a moment of weakness and strength that led Severus to put his name in the Goblet of Fire. But he was chosen now, and he had no choice but to play in the game, maybe he will live or die, but either way he wasn't going to become what everyone said he would be.

Apocrypha: Two can keep a secret, if one of the two is dead.

Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown): Long, loved it, well written. James Potter starts his seventh year with a secret. He has amazing friends, Sirius is always right by his side, Lily is finally starting to warm up to him. His life is an endless cycle of partying and drinking. So what if the Wizarding World is on the precipice of war? So what if Severus Snape has disappeared from Hogwarts? That's not James's problem. Life is beautiful, and even if it's all an illusion he wants to hold on to that dream for just a little bit longer.

Colours of Redemption: Severus Snape was meant to die. Instead he was placed into hell. Trapped in timeloops, Severus tries to make sense of the future knowledge he suddenly had. If he made one bad move, everything is reset for him to try again. Being placed into a new house and everyone being nice to him, Severus is doing his best but it is hard. Especially when James Potter is noticing him in a different way.

Goeey Melting Hearts: In their 5th year James, Sirius and Remus over hear a conversation that makes them reconsider their opinions of the ‘future Death Eaters’. The Marauders stop bullying, but guilt eats at James until he decides to apologize. That summer James tracks down Severus, but sees something that crushes him.

Regulus/Snape:

Burning Doves: The first Snape/Regulus I ever read. Regulus needs help with potions and Snape tutors him. Not much Marauders, they're just offscreen assholes. Narcissa and Severus friendship which I always enjoy. It's done, but I haven't finished it yet. Whoops.

Severus and Snape: Severus Snape finds Lily dead in Godric's Hollow, her son's screams echoing in his ears, and decides to end his life with hers. Fate has other ideas. Next thing he knows, he's facing an 11-year-old Lily Evans, on their way to their first year at Hogwarts.

Snape & or / Narcissa:

Seven Days: Severus knows a lot can happen in seven days. Slash.

Living A Lie: All of her life, Narcissa Black has had to live as the perfect lady, and witch; to never reveal one's inner heart, nor ever go against the wishes of one's family. After being forced into an engagement she does not want during her sixth year at Hogwarts, Narcissa has kept the desires of her heart on ice; particularly, for a wizard her family would never in a million years have approved of: Severus Snape. Even after the birth of her son Draco, she has harbored these desires deep in her heart for the enigmatic Potions Master. But when she comes to Spinners End to ask Severus to watch over Draco at the start of the school term of 1997, she finds that she cannot keep her heart on ice for the wizard of her dreams any longer...

What Lies Beneath: "Please, Professor, I saw him-I saw Snape," Harry said, struggling to breathe, "he's hurt...we've got to find him-we've got to find him right now or he's going to die!" Severus Snape's redemption story told in the span of three books from multiple perspectives.

Snape/Others:

Redemption: Severus died that night at the hands of the Dark Lord, the man he "worked" for and was "loyal", at least that's what the Lord believed him to be, an impeccable servant. Even so, he ended up dying for his master's snake. He knew it would happen, he was sure his time was coming, just like the manipulative old goat's plan. However, what would he do when he found out that he wasn't the only one who had the memories of his past life? How would his life turn out? Better or worse?

Breaking the Mould: Everyone knew Severus' future. Everyone knew he'd become a death eater, maybe get his mastery in potions and eventually die at his master's hand. But what if they didn't know Severus as well as they thought they did? Rather than conform to the role people expected him to play, Severus takes action. During 6th year he leaves Hogwarts, joining an apprenticeship overseas that guarantees not only a future but his own happiness. Meanwhile the Marauders (minus Peter) are left regretting what can never be. They each had a secret, something none of them were willing to admit. Only now it's too late. But what happens when Severus re-emerges during the war? Not a death eater, not a teacher even. But a strong, independent and most importantly a free man. How will the marauders react?

Dinner and a Show: James takes Lily out to dinner, an unhappy evening made more difficult by the arrival of Severus and Lucius Malfoy at a nearby table.

Snape & Others:

O Mine Enemy: Severitus, long. When Harry finds an injured Snape on his doorstep and must hide him from the Dursleys, he has no idea that this very, very bad day will be the start of something good. Alternate 6th summer (and part of the school year): post-OotP; ignores HBP and DH. No slash, no romance. NOW COMPLETE!

I Know Not, and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love: Severus Snape has his emotions in check. He knows that he experiences anger and self-loathing and a bitter yearning, and that he rarely deviates from that spectrum… Until the first-year Luna Lovegood arrives to his class wearing a wreath of baby’s breath. Over the next six years, an odd friendship grows between the two, and Snape is not sure how he feels about any of it.

Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance. Snape & Sirius.

Not Entirely Tedious: Young Professor Severus Snape shows up for a meeting, but the only other person there is the Deputy Headmistress. He wants to leave and return later, after the other participants will have arrived, but Professor McGonagall explains why that is impossible. Cross about having his plans for the day disrupted for a meeting that’s not taking place, Snape resents having to spend the afternoon with McGonagall. She doesn’t seem very pleased, either, but is content to relax and wait. Snape isn’t so patient, and soon manages to annoy his companion.

The Young Potions Professor: The staff avoided him like the plague, ignored him, or straight up left when he went into the staff room. And the worst thing was that they didn't even try to hide their collective disgust for him. If he got into the staff room in the morning and any of them were there, they would immediately get up and go sit on the furthest side of the room, as far from him as possible.

Slytherin Career Day: The student of Slytherin House were born with everything: wealth, prestige and pure wizarding blood. Now it's Severus Snape's job to help them find the one thing they don't have: careers.

In Another Lifetime: HP AU. In a world where Tom Riddle was slaughtered, the wizarding wars did not occur, and Albus Dumbledore promoted peace in Hogwarts, Lily Evans and Severus Snape did the impossible: they remained lifelong friends. Snape meets his potential, and has a shot at happiness along the way.

immortalists with points to prove: The Snape kid is hardly a hero. Then again, neither is Alastor.

885 notes · View notes

velocesainz · 2 months

Note

Hii!

Could you possibly do a Percy Jackson smut with Percy fucking the brat out of reader, his rival? Rough sex with degrading and praise pls and ty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/n:This was quite an interesting request for me to write, thank you for the idea! All character have been aged up (19-20)

More than rivalry

Percy jackson masterlist | main masterlist

Summary: Percy gets jealous seeing you (his rival) with another boy and decides to fuck you to make sure you remember that you are his but you end up being too cocky for his liking

Warnings: smut, degradation

Pairing: Percy x daughter of Zeus! Reader

Reader pov:

I was practising my archery skills with some Apollo kids and we were actually having a lot of fun

Over the time I had spent Robert over the past few days perfecting my archery we both really grew close together

He was one of the very few people at camp who were actually friends with me for me and not because I was Zeus’s daughter.

While we were training I clumsily fell over a rock and was about to go crash into the ground but Robert caught me in time.

We stayed in the position for a little bit not knowing what to do.

We looked at each other with soft and gentle eyes, like how friends would rather than people who like each other though it seemed otherwise to most.

It was a sweet moment we both were trying to savour when a bellowing voice split us apart

“Oi thunder witch! What are you doing, let the poor guy out of his misery and do some practising on your own yea?” Yelled the voice that I really didn’t want to hear right now

Percy motherfucking Jackson

“Ocean ass how about you go bother someone else. He’s here with me at his own will for your kind information. Care more about your friends yea?” I retorted

I wanted to leave the arena as fast as possible so I bid Robert goodbye and left for my cabin

Percy pov:

Crisis averted.

I didn’t let Robert and y/n have their moment.

Why the fuck out of all the girls here does Robert have to go for y/n?

He has like a hundred girls dying for him.

Doesn’t he know she’s mine?

I know we seem like enemies but I wish to fuck like every second of the day at this point

She’s just so beautiful and that attitude damn.

I had a plan to get y/n away from every other guy, not just Robert.

Reader pov:

I was sitting in my cabin reading a book when I heard a knock on my door

That’s odd, I thought

Nobody was usually free at this hour in the evening

Everyone was too busy scheming for capture the flag except me of course

I wasn’t allowed to participate along with Percy since we were a tad bit overpowered

I walked over and opened the door and before I could figure out who it was they shoved me against the wall and started kissing me

I pushed the figure away and tried to run but they caught me

“Don’t try to run bitch. You need to be taught a lesson. Now be a good little slut and listen to what I say or the consequences will be severe for you” the figure whispered in my ear.

Then I realised who it was

Percy.

I was feeling cocky today so I decided to tease him a little

“You sure you can be intimidating and dominating seaweed brain? I don’t think you can even satisfy me forget punishing me”I replied with a smirk gracing my features

“Oh you asked for this whore. By the time I’m done with you you will be so dumb for my cock that you won’t even remember your name. Just you wait “ he said in a Husky voice which turned me on more than I would like to admit

He started removing my clothes as fast as he could and I couldn’t help but sneak in a cheeky comment

“Desperate are we?” Boy oh boy was this a bad decision

“I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude right out of you. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut can you whore?” Percy said and threw me in my bed

Undressing himself he got on the bed and made his way towards me like a predator approaching its prey

He moved my panties to the side and roughly shoved his cock inside me without any warning

“A-ah p-p-Percy that hurts sto-“ I was cut off by a slap I received

“Shut the fuck up slut. You were the one who was acting all cocky just a few minutes ago. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be cared for” Percy panted as he continued thrusting in and out

His pace was ungodly. He kept thrusting in and out of me letting my pussy drink up his cock

I felt like I was losing my mind as he hit my g-spot repeatedly completely abusing it

“O-oh fuck your pussy is tight. G-gods I’m going to come. Ah yea just like that” He whispered huskily

“I am going to cum too Percy” I told him

“No no. You don’t get to cum you little slut. You’ve been a really back whore for me. You don’t get to cum today, deal with it yourself” Percy said as he came in me

He got dressed quickly and left leaving me a panting and unsatisfied mess

Goddamit jackson.

A/n: let me know if you guys liked this fic or if you have any feedback! Requests are still on hold unfortunately but they’ll be opened soon. Kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson smut #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you

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reiding-writing · 3 months

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Hi can i request one Reader is kinda cold, not mean tho, and she and spence have to share an hotel room and there is only one bed and she gets shy?? Ty 💜

ROOMMATES [PART ONE]

/ˈɹu(m)ˌmeɪt/ /part two/

when you and spencer share a room together on a case, you find yourself a little out of character at the revelation you’ll have to share a bed with him

WARNINGS: cold but not antagonistic reader

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff? || 1.4k || series masterlist!

a/n: two posts in one day? look at me being productive- also i have formed an emotional attachment to cold!reader and i will be thinking about them for the rest of the day thank you for listening to my ted talk

main masterlist!!

You resign yourself to your fate as soon as Morgan refuses Spencer’s unspoken question.

“Absolutely not.”

It’s something that just comes with the job you suppose. Sometimes you have to spend a night sharing a dingy motel room with one of your teammates because you’re working a case in the middle of nowhere and the town you’re in has 200 people living there.

Okay. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. There was 1,714 people living there.

But still.

You liked your own space and your own company and as much as you enjoyed Spencer’s presence you were exhausted and just wanted to get some rest without him rattling in your ear about how unhygienic hotel rooms were.

Of course, he didn’t know that you didn’t mind him. Your behavioural tells were nothing more than a slight softening of your eyes when he walked into a room, something that, although Morgan found riveting to tease you for, he couldn’t actually be sure was even true.

Still, your assumptions were correct, and after Garcia bagged Morgan and JJ stuck with Emily, you didn’t even have to glance in Hotch’s direction to know that he would be pairing with Rossi and leaving you with Spencer.

You can feel his eyes burn a hole into the side of your head as he comes to the same realisation, and you slide one of the room keys off the table before gesturing for him to follow after you with a nod of your head.

He does of course, trailing after you like a lost puppy and making your heart want to explode in your chest. But he didn’t know that.

You want to punch yourself sometimes for being so dismissive, and not just to Spencer. The team had treated you with nothing but kindness over the four years you’d worked with them. But some things just don’t change. And so you lock your emotions away and continue to put on a front to protect your self-perceived image.

The door struggles to open even after you unlock it, the hinge pin stiff and getting caught on the latch as you try to push it forwards, but you manage with a bit of extra effort.

The room isn’t pretty by any means, but it’s not horrible either. The walls are a clean cream, bordered by a white ceiling and a planked wooden floor. There’s a window on the right wall and a door to what you assume to be a bathroom on the left.

All well and good.

Well…

Maybe not.

You can feel Spencer’s apprehension mirror your own as the two of you stare at the room’s centre piece. A double bed. One double bed. A singular bed that you are going to have to share with Spencer Reid.

You imagine that his head is running through all of the germs it harbours. How hotel beds are unsanitary and that they’re dirtier than a toilet seat or something like that.

You didn’t care about germs.

You cared about the fact that you would have to share a bed with Spencer Reid.

You wonder if Morgan denied Spencer on purpose. Whether he knew that the rooms only had one bed each and that by saying no to sharing a room with Spencer you would have to and it would give him more opportunities to make fun of your seeming soft spot towards the genius.

Granted, you wouldn’t have been thrilled to share a bed with any of your teammates, but for some reason it was him that made you feel like you were about to implode on yourself. But he didn’t know that.

You’re sure that if you had bunked with Emily, JJ or even Morgan himself that you would’ve just sucked it up and gotten on with it, but something about the presence of Spencer Reid made you feel different. Nervous maybe? No, it was just- different.

You take a moment to compose yourself as Spencer slides past you into the room, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose, although when you open them again Spencer is staring at you like you have a gun pointed at him and it almost makes you forget the situation you’ve found yourself in.

“I can- um-” Spencer purses his lips into a tight line, fiddling with his hands as he anxiously follows your expression. “I should go and ask Garcia to switch rooms-”

“You don’t want to share with me?” You’re not sure whether your question is rooted in concern for Spencer being uncomfortable or mild offence at the fact that he doesn’t want to share a room with you.

Either way it’s like you’ve dipped your vocal chords in ice and every word you speak washes down his back like a cold shower.

“I- No- I mean- I- You-” Spencer gives up on explaining himself with an exasperated sigh and a slump of his shoulders. He had no idea how to talk to you.

Every time you so much as glanced in his direction he felt like you were trying to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes and it was intimidating.

He was fascinated by your brain, by your knowledge and your inherent knack for human psychology, but you were scary, and it always left him afraid that he was going to do something wrong.

The worst part was it wasn’t even logically founded.

Apart from the intensity of your eyes and the frown you always had on your face you’d never actually been antagonistic to anyone. You were dismissive sure, not bothering to form emotional connections to the rest of the team and almost entirely keeping to yourself, but you were never nasty.

There was no hatred in the way you carried yourself, just disinterest. And that arguably made it worse.

“Reid.” Your voice cut through his train of thought like a knife, and his eyes turn up towards your own with a start. They’re big and round and they shine under the overhead light and you are really getting distracted focus dammit. “Are you comfortable staying in this room with me overnight or not?”

It’s about the time where you start berating your inherent lack of social grace again, your question sounding extremely harsh compared to the actual intention behind it.

“I- Yeah- Yes- I just- you don’t look very happy…” Spencer’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever mentioned your demeanour to you before, and he’s unsure whether to be proud of himself or to curl into a ball and disappear as he watches a small knit form in your eyebrows.

“I’m fine, let’s sleep.” You are not fine. For whatever reason your hands are sweaty and all of a sudden the room is a little too warm for your comfort. “I’m going to change in the bathroom,”

“Okay-” Spencer nods a little too enthusiastically for his own liking. Why was he so intimidated by you? It’s not like you’ve ever actually shown any distaste for him.

The minute you shut the door of the bathroom behind you you practically melt under your own body temperature.

But he didn’t know that.

part two!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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pitinthelanepages · 1 year

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La Route Vers Toi

summary: moments where charles leclerc found himself having questionable feelings for his best friend, you, since he was seventeen.

pairing: charles leclerc x best friend! reader

word count: 4.5k

genre: romance, angst, drama

a/n: please be aware that this piece of writing mentions death but it isn't the focus of the story. it is mentioned to show how the characters deal with loss and the grief and sadness that comes with it. if it's upsetting to you. i advise you not to read it. thank you!

gif credit to @countingstars-17

Charles was seventeen when he had realised something was awfully wrong with him. It was a Friday night, and he was sitting on the couch with his best friend, you, watching a low-budget Christmas movie. The main reason to do that was so that both of you could point out the mistakes and get a good laugh out of it. Just like how you did once in a while when you finally had free time.

However, on that particular night, his eyes kept wandering to you, who was sitting next to him with your legs tucked under you. He couldn't help but notice the way your long lashes brushed against your cheek when you laughed, or the way your full lips curled up in a smile.

It was then that he realised he had been feeling this way for a while. He had always thought you were beautiful, which, of course he would think because you were his best friend. He couldn’t just think you are not beautiful but now he found himself drawn to you in a way that he couldn't explain and now, it’s not out of the reason that you were his best friend. He just didn’t know what that meant, not yet.

He couldn't stop noticing the small things about you, like the way your jet black hair fell in soft waves around your face or the way you absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around your finger.

As the movie continued, Charles found himself growing more and more restless. Instead of pointing at the screen of the TV before him and bursting out in laughter before saying something awfully mean about the movie, he went still, as if he was frozen.

He tried to focus on the movie and ignore the flutter of his stomach when you placed a hand on his arm, but it was impossible. He found himself studying your hand instead, how it’s so much smaller than his. How it would fit perfectly in his-

A hand appeared in front of his eyes before he heard the fingers snap. “Charles? Are you even listening?” you asked, a frown taking over your features.

Charles snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at you. "Uh, sorry. What were you saying?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I said this is so bad it's good," you said with a chuckle, pointing at the screen.

"I can't believe they even made this," Charles replied, shaking his head in amusement but also relieved that he could finally distract himself from thinking about you.

"Look at that CGI," you pointed out as the poorly rendered reindeer flew across the screen. "It's like they didn't even try."

Charles snickered. "And the acting! It's like they picked up random people off the street and put them in the movie."

You couldn't help but giggle at his comment. "I bet we could do a better job than this."

"Definitely," Charles agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "We should make our own Christmas movie."

You couldn't help but grin at the idea. "With reindeer that actually look like reindeer?"

"And actors who can actually act," Charles added with a chuckle.

At one point, you paused the movie and got up to make some popcorn. Charles watched you as you moved around the kitchen, admiring the way you moved with such grace and ease.

When you returned with a bowl of popcorn, you plopped down on the couch next to him and resumed the movie.

As the movie went on, the jokes and laughter continued. Charles found himself feeling more and more comfortable in your presence, like he could truly be himself around you. He couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have you in his life, as both his best friend and someone he was starting to feel more for.

Finally, the movie ended, and both of you collapsed on the couch in exhaustion from laughing so hard. Charles turned to you, a wide smile on his face.

"That was so bad," he said, shaking his head.

"I know, right? I can't believe we actually watched that," you replied, giggling.

Charles leaned in a little closer, feeling a rush of courage. "You know what wasn't bad though?" he asked, his eyes locking onto yours.

"What?" you asked, looking at him with a quizzical expression.

"This. Just hanging out with you. It's always the best part of my tiring weeks of training," he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

You smiled at him, and for a moment, Charles thought he saw something more in your expression. But before he could fully process it, you leaned in and gave him a warm hug.

"I feel the same way, Charles. You're the best friend I could ever ask for," you said, squeezing him tightly.

Charles felt a pang of disappointment, his face falling. But he pushed it aside, what mattered is having you beside him for now. The two of you stayed on the couch for a while longer, talking and laughing until the late hours of the night.

Charles was nineteen when he had lost the most important person in his life, his idol, his father. The world had come crashing down on him, leaving him in a sea of grief and sadness. It was as if someone had pulled the rug from under his feet, leaving him stumbling in the dark.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, but the pain never went away. To the world, he was a strong young boy who had won the Formula 2 race in Baku just four days after his father’s demise. However, the grief had become a part of him, a constant companion that he couldn't shake off. Everywhere he went, he saw reminders of his father. The sound of a car engine, the smell of gasoline, the sight of a racing track, all brought back memories of the times they had spent together.

Charles sat on his balcony, his eyes fixed on the distant skyline. The sun had just set, casting a golden glow across the city. He didn't move, didn't speak. He just sat there, lost in his thoughts.

As you approached him, you could see the sadness etched on his face. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so distant."

You shook your head. "It's okay," you said, taking a seat beside him. "You don't have to apologise."

Charles sighed deeply, and you could feel the weight of his grief pressing down on him. "It's just...it's hard, you know? Losing someone you love."

You nodded, knowing that there were no words that could ease his pain. "I know. But you're not alone, Charles. I'm here for you."

He looked at you then, his eyes searching for something. "Thank you," he said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don't have to do anything alone. That's what friends are for."

Charles leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "It's just...sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders."

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "You don't have to carry that weight alone, Charles. I'm here for you, always."

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," he said again, his voice choked with emotion.

You sat there with him, the two of you watching the city lights twinkling in the distance. You knew that you couldn't take away his pain, but you could be there for him. And in that moment, that was enough.

In those dark moments, when Charles felt like he had no one left to support him, you were there. As his best friend, you stood by him through thick and thin, offering a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear whenever he needed it. You never judged him for his tears or his anger, but rather held him close and whispered words of comfort and encouragement.

It was in those moments that Charles realised just how important you were to him. You were his rock, his safe haven, his confidante. Without you, he didn't know how he would have made it through those dark days. You gave him hope and reminded him that he was not alone.

Charles is twenty-five years old and things aren't exactly going his way. Actually, things are only going downhill. The 2022 Formula 1 season started off well for him, but lately, everything seems to be going wrong. His car has been malfunctioning, and he's had to retire early from the last few races. His team wasn’t exactly the best at their job, in fact, they were nowhere near descent and his confidence is at an all-time low.

Adding insult to injury, his girlfriend recently broke up with him. They had been dating for a while, and Charles thought things were going well. But then things somehow didn’t work out for them. They were adults with two very different lives and priorities after all but Charles couldn’t help but be devastated. It’s like the world was punishing him for some godforsaken sin he had committed without knowing.

He's been feeling lost and alone, with no one to turn to. You have been busy with your own life and job, and he doesn't want to burden you with his problems. But as he sits on his couch, staring blankly at the wall, he can't help but feel like he needs someone to talk to.

Just then, his phone buzzes. It's a text from you. "Hey, how are you doing?"

Charles hesitates for a moment before typing back, "Not great, to be honest. Can we talk?"

You reply immediately, "Of course. I'll be there in 20 minutes, let me finish this meeting."

And you do keep your word. You arrive at his apartment in about thirty minutes, the apartment door opening to reveal a Charles who has lost the glow of his face. You can sense the pain through his eyes.

"Hey, what's going on?" You ask, concern evident on your face as you frown.

Charles takes a deep breath before starting to speak. "My season's going terribly. My car's malfunctioning, I keep crashing, and my girlfriend just broke up with me. I don't know what to do," he shrugs, doing a terrible job at playing nonchalant because you know him too well and can see through his facade before anyone else.

You nod, sighing. "I'm sorry, Charles. That must be a lot to handle."

"I just feel so lost," Charles says, his voice cracking. "I thought things were going well, but now it feels like everything's falling apart."

Honestly you have a lot to say but Charles doesn’t seem to be in the mood to take advice so you place a hand on his shoulder, knowing what he needs at the moment is comfort. "I know it's tough, and what I am about to say is gonna sound toxic but you can't give up. You're a talented driver, and more than that, you have worked too hard to be where you are right now, Charles. You know I have witnessed you going through it all, don’t you?"

"But it feels like nothing's going my way," Charles says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so tired of all of this."

You look at him with concern. "Have you talked to anyone on your team? Maybe they can help you with your car."

Charles shakes his head. "I don't want to seem like I'm not capable of handling things on my own. Plus, they are the last people I would wanna talk to right now knowing how they’ve been recently." He mumbles, his head on his palm.

"Charles, you don't have to do everything on your own," You say firmly. "It's okay to ask for help when you need it. You have people who care about you and want to see you succeed."

Charles looks at you, his face softening. "What would I do without you?"

You smile at him. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Both of you sit there in silence for a few moments, with your arm around Charles' shoulder. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, Charles speaks up again. "I'm sorry for burdening you with all of this. You have your own life and your own problems."

You sigh, here he goes again. “Charles, please. Why do you have to make things awkward by saying these, huh? I’m your best friend for a reason. Stop saying sorry,” You huff, looking annoyed to which he chuckles, his voice resonating in the living room of his quiet apartment.

“There you go.” You say, smiling as you poke at one of his dimples. “Here is the actual Charles who is back.”

Charles rolls his eyes before pushing you by the shoulders, playfully. “You’re so cheesy, eww.”

Later that night, Charles lies in bed staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts. The conversation with you had helped him feel better, but it had also brought up some confusing feelings.

He has always known that he cares about you deeply. You have been best friends since forever, and you have been there for him through his good and bad times. But now, he wonders if there could be something more than just friendship between you two.

As he lies there, he can't help but wonder if you ever thought of this possibility. He has never been good at reading people, but he has always thought that there is something more between you two.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is not the time to be thinking about this. He has enough on his plate as it is.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the feeling that something has changed. He can't stop thinking about the way you had looked at him earlier, the concern evident in your eyes. He can't help but wonder if there is something more behind that concern.

He sighs, turning over onto his side. He knows he should talk to you about this, but he is scared of ruining the friendship you two have built over the years. He doesn't want to risk losing you, but at the same time, he can't keep these feelings bottled up inside forever.

As he drifts off to sleep, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, he knows that he will have to confront his feelings sooner or later. But for now, he will try to push them aside and focus on getting his life back on track.

Charles is sitting on his couch, lost in thought, when he hears a knock at his door. It's late, and he isn't expecting anyone, but he gets up to answer it anyway. As he opens the door, he sees you standing there, completely drenched from the rain, tears streaming down your face.

Despite the tears streaming down your face, Charles can't help but notice how beautiful you look in that moment. The rain has matted your hair to your face, your nose and lips are red and swollen. The vulnerability in your eyes makes his heart ache, and he wishes he could do something to take the pain away. He doesn’t remember the last time he has seen you like this before, so raw and exposed, and it makes him want to wrap his arms around you and hold you close.

Without a word, he pulls you inside and closes the door behind you. You collapse onto his couch, still crying, and Charles sits down next to you, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, it's okay," he says, brows pinched together in concern, placing a hand on your shoulder. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You take a deep breath before answering. "It's him," you say, your voice shaking. "He's left me for another girl. I don't know what to do."

Charles feels a pang of anger and sadness for you. He knows how much you care for this guy and how much you have invested in the relationship. But he also knows that he hasn't been the best friend to you lately, too wrapped up in his own problems to notice yours.

"I'm so sorry," he says, squeezing your shoulder. "That's terrible. Do you want to talk about it?"

You nod, wiping away tears. "I just don't understand how he could do this to me. We were so good together. And now he's just gone, with someone else."

Charles listens as you talk, offering comfort and support where he can. As you speak, he realises how much he has taken you for granted as a friend. He has always known that you are there for him, but he has never fully appreciated just how much you have given to him.

He stares at you, noticing yet again how even with tears streaming down your face and your clothes drenched from the rain, you still look so breathtakingly beautiful.

"I'm sorry," he interrupts you, voice laced with guilt. "I should have been there for you more. I've been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I haven't been a good friend to you. And that's not fair."

You look up at him, surprised by his words. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean it," Charles says, looking you in the eye. "I should have been there for you more. You've always been there for me, and I haven't done the same for you. And I'm sorry."

Tears well up in your eyes again.. "Thank you," you say, leaning into him for a hug. "I don’t think that’s true but saying that means a lot to me."

Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close. In that moment, he realises that he doesn't just care about you as a friend. He cares about you as something more, something deeper. And as he holds you, he wonders if he will ever muster up the courage to tell you about it.

But for now, he will focus on being the friend you need. Because that's what you deserve, and that's what he should have been all along.

Charles doesn't know how to react when he finds his phone buzzing at the odd hour of 3 am. He rubs his eyes and squints at the caller ID. It’s you. He can’t help but frown. You have always been the more responsible one out of you two. What could have caused you to call him this late at night?

"Hello? Are you okay?" Charles asks, his voice deep and hoarse from sleep.

"Chaarlessss!" You slur into the phone. "Dude, I am at this stupid club… and I have no idea where the exit is," you giggle into the phone as if it’s something funny.

Charles’ brows pinch together in concern, his heart sinking at the sound of your voice. He can tell from the background noise that you are drunk at a club and making little sense.

"Okay, turn on your location so I can come find you," he says patiently, trying not to sound disappointed. How down bad did you have to be for a man to react like this? He can’t help but let the wave of sadness wash over him. You must’ve liked the guy a lot.

You do as you are told, and Charles quickly gets dressed and heads out to the club. When he arrives, he can hear the thumping bass from outside. He soon finds you sitting slumped against a wall, looking lost and dishevelled. And yet at a time like this, he can’t help but notice how pretty you look, even in your current state. Your hair is a mess, but your eyes glimmer in the dim light of the club.

"Hey," he whispers, gaze softening, kneeling down next to you. "Let's get you out of here."

He helps you up and leads you out of the club, shielding you from the flashing lights and thumping music. He carries you in his arms at one point to settle you into the passenger’s seat safely, and gets into his Ferrari before speeding back to his apartment.

You are still talking nonsensically, but Charles tries to listen only to fail because he can’t understand a single word coming out of your mouth. His chest feels tight at witnessing the person who usually gave him words of encouragement and strength, being a mess herself.

Once he arrives outside his apartment, he turns to find your eyes barely open. "Hey," he says, nudging you gently. "You alright?"

You mumble something incoherent again as your eyes are unfocused. Charles sighs, realising he has to carry you again.

"Come on," he whispers, crouching down beside you. "Let's get you to bed."

You don’t seem to have the energy to protest as Charles carefully lifts you into his arms. He can feel the weight of your body against his chest, and he adjusts his grip to make sure you are comfortable. He walks to his apartment with calculated steps and then to his bedroom, being careful not to jostle you too much. You lean against his chest, your head lolling to the side during the process of him carrying you.

Once he arrives in his bedroom, he carefully sets you down on the edge of the bed as he kneels down in front of you before gently beginning to remove your shoes, one at a time. He can see that you are struggling to keep your eyes open, and he knows that you could fall asleep any moment.

With your shoes off, Charles stands up to run his fingers through your hair in an attempt to untangle the mess. He has known you for long enough to know you are a control freak who would hate waking up with tangled hair, and he wants to make sure you are comfortable. He can feel the softness of your hair against his fingers as he gently brushes through the knots.

Finally, when your hair is smooth and soft, Charles gently guides you back onto the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You look up at him with bleary eyes, a small smile on your face.

"Thanks." you hum, before your eyes close.

As he is about to leave, he feels a hand wrap around his wrist. He turns to find you looking up at him, a sad smile playing on your lips as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"He told me I have been in love with you and not with him, that I don't know," you mumble, your words slurring together.

Charles's heart skips a beat as he stares at you, frozen in disbelief. He has always suspected that his feelings for you ran deeper than just friendship, but he has never allowed himself to entertain the thought that you might feel the same way about him.

"What?" he whispers, leaning in closer to hear you better.

Your eyes turn glassy with tears as you shake your head slightly. "Do you know how mad I was? I was more mad than upset because I knew he was right the moment he said those words. Him leaving me for another woman feels deserving," you say, your voice filled with emotion.

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly, reaching out to wipe away your tears with his thumb. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. You're here, with me."

You look up at him, your eyes shining in the dim light of the room. You reach out and touch his cheek, your fingers warm against his skin.

"I know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm glad I am."

A warm sensation spreads through his chest. He can’t believe that this moment is finally happening, and he wants to savour every second of it.

"Me too," he whispers, kneeling down before he runs his hand through your hair gently. He contemplates for a moment as he stares at your long lashes to your plump lips, wondering if he should kiss you or not.

“What?” you frown, pouting your lips in the process. “I know what you’re thinking. What’s stopping you?”

He smirks, amused at your growing confidence. “That you’re drunk…? And that, you might not remem-”

“Shhh. I am drunk enough to confess but not drunk enough to forget all of this by tomorrow. This is done purposefully for a reason,” you place a finger on his lips while winking at him.

He gasps, “Oh wow! Amazing! Elaborate what that means or you’re not getting the kiss.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so annoying. What I mean is that I knew I would never have the courage to confess to you unless I am drunk but not blackout drunk so that I’d forget everything by the time I wake up. Happy? Or do you want me to say I love you again?”.

Without hesitation, Charles takes your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. His lips soft and tender against yours. He can feel you responding eagerly to his kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

Your tongues tangle as his hands slide down to your waist, pulling your body against his. He can feel your curves press against him, and he savours the sensation of your warmth and softness.

As you kiss, Charles can’t help but feel like he is finally where he belongs. He has spent so many years pining for you withouting even knowing, hoping and praying that you would one day see him the way he sees you. And now that you have, Charles feels like he is on top of the world.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, and he feels you moan softly in response. The sound sends shivers down his spine, and he knows that he never wants this moment to end.

But eventually, you pull away, your breaths coming in short gasps. Charles gazes down at you, his eyes sparkling with love and desire.

"I never want to let you go," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.

You smile up at him, eyes crinkling to signal how happy you are. "You don't have to," you reply, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Charles leans down to kiss you again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as feels you shudder. You have waited so long for this moment, and now that it is here, Charles knows that he is never going to let it slip away.

#f1 x reader #f1 writing #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic

2K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Song of Songs

The Gate of Salvation Universe Oneshot

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: soft sex content, fingering, masturbation, smut, sexual tension, anxiety, doubts related to faith, religious guilt ]

[ description: Her relationship with the Pope becomes more than complicated, especially since it looks like he has no intention of giving up on her or their relationship. His efforts lead to her being assigned a special room in the Vatican, where he visits her at night. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place a few months after The Gate of Salvation. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22. I used fragments from the biblical Song of Songs, hence the title oneshot. I recommend everyone to read it, it is the most erotic and at the same time one of the most poetic and beautiful parts of the Bible.

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She was not sure how her presence in the Vatican had become her daily routine, spending more time in the quarters surrounding St Peter's Basilica than in her flat.

Although she tried to protest, the Pope personally made sure that a room was prepared for her to sleep in the private part of the complex reserved for guests. She knew he was still adding to her workload just to make sure she stayed there overnight.

At first, he visited her sporadically, saying he couldn't sleep; he came to her room and spoke about his thoughts, doubts, premonitions, and sought her advice on spiritual and everyday matters.

She listened to him sitting on her bed, not knowing what she should do, how to respond, his worries as Pope were something incomprehensible to her, something she had never thought about before.

Only later did she realise that he did not expect her to solve his complicated problems.

She was his solution.

He only showed her what he really needed later, when he sat down next to her, when he touched her cheek, brushing it with his fingers, his gaze was dreamy, warm, full of tenderness, it made her feel hot in her lower abdomen, a shiver ran down her back.

"My sweet flower." He whispered softly and she drifted off completely, closing her eyes, focusing on the wonderful touch of his hand, her heart pounding hard as his forehead pressed against hers, his shaky breath enveloping her face.

Her fingers found his cheek, his jaw, his hair and his neck, she heard him sigh softly as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I need you." He whispered; she could hear how hard it was for him to get those words out, a shy moan escaped her lips as his mouth found hers in a tentative, soft, sticky kiss, her body responding to his closeness with an embarrassing wetness between her thighs.

His kisses became bolder, louder, stickier with his saliva, his warm breath mingling with hers in her throat, his scent filling her entire lungs as he lay on his side, pulling her onto the bed with him.

After what was happening between them at night, he usually needed a day or two to calm down, overwhelmed by how intense their closeness was.

He risked a lot when he started sneaking into her room more often, strolling through the dark marble-lined corridors dressed in his snow-white tracksuit with his hood over his head until he ended up at her door, and fearing that someone would see him, she always let him in, helpless.

"You shouldn't sleep here, Holy Father. What if someone catches us?" She muttered, looking at him pleadingly, already wearing her pyjamas, the same ones she had worn when he had visited her in her flat for the first time.

He looked at her, surprised, pulling the hood off his head, combing his short hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Do not fret, child. Have faith. God is watching over us." He replied calmly, putting his phone down on her nightstand, pulling his white sneakers off his feet, slipping under her duvet as he did every time he visited her, intending to fall asleep in her bed.

She felt both heat and fear at the sight, swallowing hard as he reached over to the bedside lamp and turned off the light, acting as if this was his room and what he was doing was perfectly normal and ordinary.

She moved uncertainly towards him, knowing there was no point in resisting him and lay down next to him on the bed, sighing quietly as his arm immediately embraced her, snuggling her into his chest.

"− did you say your evening prayer? −" He asked in a whisper, a wonderful, hot shiver ran through her entire body as the tips of his fingers began to comb through her soft hair.

"− yes, Holy Father −" She muttered, feeling that she was losing the battle with herself as she did every time, his closeness, his scent, his voice were addictive to her. Involuntarily her fingers tightened on the material of his sweatshirt at his back, her face snuggled into him, seeking refuge.

"− good − sleep −" He murmured, his lips placing a warm, soft kiss on her hair. She sighed quietly, twisting in her place, feeling how at the sound of his voice and his tender touch her walls clenched tightly, already sticky with her wetness.

It had been two days since he last visited her.

He forbade her to touch herself, saying it was a sin.

She closed her eyes and tried to comply with his request, but she couldn't calm down, feeling his heart pounding fast, his manhood in his sweatpants twitching once in a while, pushing softly against her stomach, making her involuntarily start to rub against him.

"− I'm sorry −" She whispered helplessly in a voice full of shame; she felt him kiss her forehead. His hand immediately slipped under the material of her shorts, running tentatively over her soft buttock before his fingertips found her hot, puffy womanhood, sticky with her moisture.

"− I have obeyed you, Holy Father − I swear −" She mumbled regretfully, panting quietly into his sweatshirt, moving her hips in rhythm with the strokes of his fingers, already experienced in how and where he should squeeze her to give her the greatest pleasure. She heard him gasp as she spread her thighs in front of him, the tips of his fingers beginning to dig into the fleshy structure around her clit with her cry of pleasure.

"− I know, sweet child − I am with you − I will reward your suffering −" He whispered in a low, deep, trembling voice from which a shiver ran along her spine. She clenched her eyes shut, holding back a sob as two of his fingers finally made their way inside her, stretching her throbbing, wet muscles painfully slowly − she clasped her fingers against his back, rising and falling against it with a loud click, feeling that his manhood was already fully hard, throbbing impatiently in his sweatpants.

"− let me, please −" She mumbled pleadingly, lifting her face towards him, his tongue slipping between her lips as she heard his quiet, tender shhh, joining her in a hot, thirsty, sticky kiss.

Even though she begged him to let her relieve himself, to touch his manhood with her hand or lips, he never let her.

He felt that he could not bear the remorse caused by the thought that she had contributed to his sin, that as long as he was the only one touching her, she was not as guilty as he was, and though she disagreed, knowing that she wanted it as much as he did, she tried to respect his decision, to poor effect.

She squirmed loudly as he swapped two of his fingers for his thumb, with which he pressed a spot inside her, his middle and index finger brushing her bud again, teasing her encouragingly.

She felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest, a helpless whine escaped her lips, his free hand sinking into her hair.

"− please, let me, please, please, please −" She begged, feeling her tears begin to run down her cheeks − she heard him draw in the air loudly, involuntarily pressing his length against her stomach, rubbing against her, searching for any source of relief, his thumb thrust deeper into her wonderful spot making her cry loudly into his mouth, his tongue deep inside her throat.

"− I can't − God, I can't, my sweetest −" He muttered heartbroken, his kisses greedy, full of pleasure, of suffering, of desire, of affection, of tenderness, full of their teeth, their tongues, their lips and their saliva.

She had the feeling he wanted to devour her, her wetness dripping down his hand, her walls beginning to tighten around his thumb, sucking him inside.

"− Holy Father −" She mumbled out with difficulty, hearing that he was panting and moaning along with her, holding her close, his hand pressed against her womanhood as she tilted her head back, moaning in fulfillment, his lips kissing again and again her red, tear-drenched cheeks.

"− I love you − I love you, I love you, I love you −" He whispered in a trembling voice, his hand slid down to her buttock and clamped down on it, pushing her closer, his hips rubbing hungrily against her, trying to chase his own fulfilment. She threw her arms around his neck, joining him in a kiss − he murmured into her mouth in delight, pulling away from her after a moment, looking at her with dreamy eyes.

"− please −" He whispered, stroking her cheek with his shaking hand, her fingers immediately beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt, revealing merely part of her naked body, not uncovering her breasts.

He groaned helplessly at this sight, pressing his forehead against hers, looking down at her exposed skin; she threw her thigh against his waist, responding to the rocking of his hips, and he gasped loudly, turning onto his back with her, his fingers trailing over her sternum down her bare stomach.

"− please − please, please, please −" He breathed out again and tilted his head back with a loud sigh as she began to rub against him, bucking her hips back and forth, his throbbing, swollen cock hidden under the thin material of his sweatpants, leaking already with his precum between her thighs, his fingers tightened involuntarily on her buttocks forcing her to speed up.

"− say it −" He muttered, and she moaned softly, feeling how her hard, popping nipples begin to peek through from under the material of her shirt, betraying her arousal, her insides clenched at his request in pleasure, all moist from her fulfilment.

"− I am yours, Holy Father − both now on earth and after death in heaven −" She whispered sweetly, she saw his lips part in a low groan as she grasped his wrist guiding it to her breast, exposing it with a movement of her shoulder and immediately covering it with his hand, his fingers clenched greedily on her delicate skin, making her merely moan as she felt his cock begin to twitch and throb beneath her in pleasure.

"− so soft − my beautiful sweet flower −" He muttered, lifting himself into a sitting position, his free hand sinking into her hair, the other squeezing her breast greedily, not even for a moment exposing her, his lips swollen with desire sunk into hers, his hips rubbing against her more and more intensely with his throaty moan of desire.

He wanted to come so badly.

He never asked her for it out loud, but she could see it in his gaze as he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, that pleading, ashamed, misty look asking for relief.

She lifted herself slightly then, slipping the material of her shorts off her legs with difficulty, his eyes fixed on her face the whole time as he lowered the material of his sweatpants with his lips spread open at the same time.

"− don't look − come here −" He gasped, pulling her back, groaning loudly as her leaking womanhood pressed against his naked body, his swollen, hard cock throbbing all over and twitching between her thighs, dripping with his precum. The tip of his nose sunk into her cheek as he placed his hands on her naked waist, rocking his hips back and forth, his manhood rubbing against her slick folds.

"− good God − you are so devoted to our Lord, are you not? − always so wet for me −" He exhaled delightedly, speeding up, his lips pressed to her chest, kissing her bare, smooth skin between her breasts, between which hung a small gold cross, a gift from him, which she now wore instead of the one from her grandfather, so that he could have the feeling that a part of him was always with her, touching her naked body.

He never looked down, focusing only on the sense of touch, not wanting to deprive her or himself of their intimacy, to sin by thinking of physicality instead of the spirituality he found in this act of union with her.

"− yes −" She mumbled out with difficulty, responding by bucking her hips to his movements, teasing and squeezing him so that she could hear the loud, sticky click of her own moisture from which they both quickened their pace. Her fingers clamped in his hair, hugging him tighter into her, his fingertips digging into her buttocks, each of his strokes rubbing her clit, making her walls begin to throb wonderfully inside her again.

"− if only I were your husband − if only I could − I'd fuck you every day, morning and evening − after prayer −" He added, as if this was an essential part of that fantasy; she tilted her head back, whimpering with pleasure, his hands sliding lower, between his and her thighs. The thumb of one of them began to brush her clit in circular, sure motions, and the other grasped his manhood, using her moisture as lube − she heard him squeeze himself with a sticky splat, panting loudly, his face pressed against her chest.

"− Holy Father − so good − ah −" She babbled with difficulty, completely absorbed in her own pleasure and his closeness, rising slightly on her knees. She saw him look at her with horror and desire as she positioned herself over the leaking tip of his manhood, but not looking down, resting her hand on his shoulder for balance, letting its fat, pink head push against her fleshy, hot slit.

"− ah − n-no − please − oh fuck − don't stop −" He breathed out, simultaneously trying to escape and thrusting his length deeper between her moist, slick folds, as always he tried to fight with himself, to no avail, his swollen manhood was already halfway in, throbbing like mad.

She pressed her forehead against his with soft moan of delight, closing her eyes, focusing only on the fact that she felt him, that he desired her, that he was loosing his mind because of her.

Once he was deep inside her, his fingers involuntarily dug into the plump skin of her buttocks, shudders of pleasure and disbelief ran through her every time he slammed into her quickly and confidently with greedy, desperate jerks of his hips, unable to contain himself, surrendering to the euphoria that was overtaking them both.

"− God − so tight − so warm − fuckk −" He babbled, opening her wide on his fat cock with each thrust of his hips, she felt every vein on his thick manhood perfectly, every twitch of it, was ashamed of how lewd her moans were, how greedily her walls squeezed him and sucked him in, wanting to keep him inside her.

"− please, please, please, save me −" She mewled sinking up and down on his throbbing length, at the mere feeling of him inside her stretching her fleshy muscles so wonderfully, uniting with her in that final way she came again, tilting her head back with a sweet, surprised cry of pleasure.

She heard his loud, throaty groan when he heard her words and felt her fulfilment on his cock, her moisture running down her thighs, as usual when he felt his was close he slid out of her quickly, cumming into his own hand with a loud sigh of relief that shook his body.

As always his orgasm made tears of pleasure, regret, delight and shame run down his cheeks, which she wiped away quickly leaning over him, snuggling into him, panting loudly, his clean hand immediately embracing her, stroking her back.

She grasped his other wrist, feeling him resist her, wanting to raise his hand higher, to her lips.

"− n-no − stop − it's dirty −" He mumbled through tears, sniffing loudly and sighed, simultaneously heartbroken, helpless and enchanted when she slid his fingers, sticky with his semen deep into her mouth.

"− we have already discussed this − wasting it is a sin, Holy Father − is it not? −" She gasped between flicks of her moist tongue − she heard him swallow hard, looking at her as if charmed, letting her lick his pearly, sticky liquid off his naked skin.

"− I shouldn't − you don't have to −" He began in a trembling voice, watching closely her treatments, unable to look away from this perverted sight.

"− I want to −" She hummed softly, kissing his already clean hand tenderly, smelling of his fulfilment and her saliva; she leaned towards him, hugging her face to his, their hands stroking each other reassuringly.

"− you are the love of my life −" She whispered in his ear, and he sighed quietly, despite the fact that she had repeated it to him so often, he still clearly did not believe that it was true, that she reciprocated his feelings, that she was not disgusted by him, that she had no intention of deceiving or abandoning him.

"− will you forgive me? −" He muttered, and she smiled softly, pressing her face against his hot cheek.

"− I'll forgive you if you forgive me −" She hummed tenderly, hearing him swallow hard.

"− I forgive you, sweet flower −"

"− and I forgive you, Your Holiness −"

She felt him slowly begin to calm down − he wiped his cheeks and she slid off his thighs, quickly putting on her shorts as he headed for her bathroom, locking himself inside to get himself cleaned up.

When he came out he was still quivering.

It seemed to her that the experience of fulfilment was something almost frightening for him, even more so with her when he obviously loved her so dearly.

She reached out her arms to him and he snuggled into her like a small child, pressing his face against her bare skin between her breasts and took a heavy breath, focusing on her hand that covered them tightly with the duvet, then began to stroke his hair with the calm, tender brushes of her fingers.

"Until I met you, I did not understand the Songs of Songs written down by King Solomon. I couldn't get through them, considering them to be sinful texts, I didn't know how they could be part of the Bible. But now I understand. You are my beloved. My bride." He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at his words, recalling the lyrics of these poems, so filled with metaphors of physical affection that it seemed like a book made for lovers.

How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies. You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume more than any spice!

Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon. You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.

"That would make you my beloved, Holy Father." She whispered quietly, gently brushing his hair with her fingers, feeling how quickly her heart began to pound at this shameless confession.

She heard him hum under his breath, delighted, moving his lips over her bare skin, kissing tentatively a small part of her soft, plump, exposed breast.

"Indeed. I have never felt the presence of God so much as when I am with you. Inside you. When I kiss your naked body. I think then: God must exist, since He has placed such a perfect being before me to be my joy and comfort." He muttered, his lips leaving again and again the sticky, warm trail of his mouth on the bare skin of her breast.

"This is my heaven on earth." He whispered into her warm skin, running his large hand down her back under the material of her shirt, and she smiled at his words, for some reason fulfilled and happy.

"As is mine."

262 notes · View notes

kissatoru · 6 months

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing. sub!vampire!levi ackerman x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. in 19th century society, everyone has secrets they want to keep from seeing the light of day — so what will happen when you unveil levi’s?

content. implied virgin/touch-starved!levi, ooc levi at some points cause of vampire hormones, plot before porn, blood/blood-drinking kink, oral fixation, dry humping, handjob, inappropriate use of cravats, petnames (dearest, darling)

notes. first fic of hornyween!! the others won’t be as long lol this took FOREVER. anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy it<3

wc. 5k

Sparkling chandeliers adorn the ballroom’s high ceilings, making the polished floor gleam like honey as stylish figures twirl and glide across it. The rest of the guests are gathered by the walls in clusters, their lively chatter and chuckles mixing in with the night’s melodies.

You stand by one of the pink brocade curtains, sipping a glass of champagne. Your stance is relaxed but mannerly; not seeking nor avoiding attention, just observing and occasionally humouring a fellow guest that takes notice of your presence. Among those who approach you, admirers are plentiful, with faces of various qualities and contours, and characters both pleasant and not, but none who gain more than a few minutes of your time before you’re politely concluding the conversation or excusing yourself entirely.

As you’re meandering through laughing circles and swaying couples, away from yet another adamant admirer, you scan the room for him: the main reason you attended this ball at all. He rarely arrives for the banquets, and when he does, he even more rarely eats more than is expected of him. Now that the dancing has begun, he should be here, but you’ve yet to spot a single trace of him. It has made you restless, your eyes desperate in their pursuit. Each time you catch a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin or a short stature and a neatly tied cravat, you’re just as suddenly disappointed when you realise it’s not him. Eventually, you fall back into the same routine as before — entertaining married couples, faking laughs at bad jokes, listening to shallow gossip.

“Goodness, me,” Baroness Azumabito gushes at you, “you are as charming as they say, Your Grace.”

You chuckle courteously. “You’re too kind, Lady Azumabito.”

She offers you a closed-eye smile, her crow’s feet pinching together. “I truly must ask,” she begins, unfolding her peacock-feather fan and speaking a little quieter now. You already know it’s certainly not something she must ask. “What are your plans on marriage? You have no small number of choices, I’m sure!”

She giggles a little too hard for your liking, and you are reminded of the not-so-pretty piece of gossip you heard only a mere ten minutes ago — her husband’s gambling problems, her unmarried child. Quite the ideal motive for her to talk to you; someone who has both higher status and greater wealth. Of course, you know not all hearsay is true, but with a smile like Lady Azumabito’s, cunning as a fox and twice as sneaky, trust is a risk you’re not willing to take.

You laugh again. “Oh, none at the moment,” you say, feigning ignorance, “I’m so busy these days, I feel as though a partner might be…”

At the edge of your vision, a dark-haired silhouette passes. Your head moves in search of it, your eyes following, flicking this way and that. However, amidst the sea of extravagant gowns and upscale suits, the glimpse you had managed to catch slips from your grasp all too soon.

“Might be what?” Kiyomi asks.

An uneasy sense of disappointment hollows in your chest, but you ignore it. “Uh, a distraction. Would be... a distraction.”

Another flash of shadowy hair, porcelain skin.

Kiyomi clears her throat. “Do you care to elaborate, Your Grace?”

Just as you’re about to turn back to her, a figure stops in clear view before you: a metre and a half tall, raven black locks, eyes as sharp as falcon talons, an intricately tailored waistcoat — and the swan-white ruffles of a linen cravat.

A huff is your only warning before the short woman is stepping in and obscuring your line of sight, her round eyes now pressed into slits by her strained smile. “Please forgive my impudence, Your Grace, but what has you so–”

You abruptly but gently take her hands into yours. “Pardon my manners, Lady Azumabito,” you say, already shifting on your feet in preparation for your departure, “but I’ve spotted an acquaintance of mine with whom I’d like to discuss some private matters with.” You let go of her hands and give a curt bow. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

Her dumbfounded expression is the last you see of her before you swiftly take your leave. You track the person with your eyes and feet in tandem, each step purposeful and your eagerness barely contained. Once you’re in arm’s length, you cheerily call out:

“Viscount Ackerman!”

Several people turn their heads. The Viscount in question stops no later, though seemingly reluctantly. He turns to face you, a question perched on the peak of his raised eyebrow.

Your shoes clack as you stride the rest of the way up to him. Once beside him, you lean over and flash him a cheeky smirk. “Fashionably late as always?” you remark, but it fails to prompt any sort of perceptible reaction. The only change in his expression is his eyebrow returning to its relaxed position.

“And I see you are…” Silver blue eyes wash over you, up and down, in a single steady motion. “In attendance. As always.”

“Of course,” you reply with a practised smile. “I would not dream of missing one of the Duke of Trost’s parties.”

He hums. “I don’t doubt that.”

You hum back, thoughtful. “And what of yourself, my Lord?” you ask. “What brings you here?” You pause to smile knowingly. “Certainly not the food, seeing as you were absent for that.”

His eyes narrow and his lips press together in a firm line. “If you must know, the Duke was very insistent that I attend,” he explains, eyeing a passing servant before picking up a flute of champagne from their tray. “As for my tardiness… I prioritised taking care of some business affairs, first and foremost. Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand.” He swirls the liquid around in his glass and takes a sip.

You chuckle heartily. “Oh, come now!” you exclaim. “Why so hostile? Are we not friends?”

“Only in public,” Levi corrects in a low tone.

You turn to face the room, smirking against your glass. “That’s not true and you know it.”

A newly-engaged couple you were conversing with earlier passes by, waving. You smile and wave back at them.

Levi makes an exasperated noise. “Do you never tire of that?” he grumbles into his glass.

You bring your own glass up to your lips. “Whatever do you mean, my Lord?”

He grimaces. “That.”

You giggle. “Keeping up appearances is just the way I was raised,” you reply with a gesture of nonchalance, “but not all my smiles are fake, you know. It’s quite pleasant, smiling.” You beam at him, as if to prove your point. “I think you ought to try it some time.”

Levi scowls. “I know how to smile.”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t, my Lord,” you quip. “I have no doubt that you understand it in theory, just that you should try putting it into practice.” You point to the corner of your mouth, lifting it to mimic a smile.

He sucks his teeth and tears his gaze away from your own. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, stepping closer. “For longer than ten seconds, might I add. Surely a feat, no?”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He raises his glass, speaking over the lip of it. “You just happen to be the least infuriating one here.”

You bite your tongue — “Well, by your standards, being the least infuriating is, in fact, quite flattering!” — and instead, you glance around and lean in. “In that case, what do you say we go find a place away from all this poor company?” Your voice takes on a lighter yet all the more meaningful tone. “Perhaps somewhere just for the two of us?”

There’s a glint of interest in Levi’s eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you pull away to look at him. “I would say that’s highly inappropriate,” he says, hushed, but not in a way that matches his words; hushed in a way that suggests intrigue.

“Inappropriate?” you echo, lips curving into a smile. “You really needn’t worry so much, my Lord! We shan’t be away for long, I promise.”

Levi’s thin eyebrows angle up. After a moment of contemplation, he closes his eyes and sighs. “If you insist,” he concedes.

Without further discussion, you set aside your and Levi’s drinks, then go ahead and stroll over to the arched doors with Levi not far behind.

With how often the Duke hosts such extravaganzas, you’ve had plenty of occasions to become familiar with the layout of their home, hence why you know where all of the rooms are. You navigate through the narrow hallways with an air of confidence, occasionally stopping to praise or snicker at family paintings and decor choices, much to Levi’s chagrin.

“What is it now?” Levi asks, attempting to pinpoint the subject of your attention this time.

You stand by a window that faces the rear garden, peering through the glass with squinted eyes. “Do my eyes deceive me or is that the Countess of Ehrmich and her handmaid kissing out in the gazebo?” You turn to Levi with a theatrically outraged jaw-drop, making him roll his eyes.

“You are no better than those gossiping simpletons we left in the ballroom,” he scolds as he draws the curtains shut.

You chuckle. “Apologies! Only a jest!” He glares at you but otherwise doesn’t complain. You watch him for a moment, how his nimble fingers tug and adjust the curtains, how he mutters expletives under his breath at the dust that transfers to his hands from the curtains.

Feeling mischievous, you lean in, so your lips are almost touching his ear. “It’s just so fun to tease you, I can’t resist.”

Goosebumps raise on Levi’s skin as he flinches away from you, fingers hovering over where your breath brushed his earlobe. He swallows. “Maybe you ought to practise some self-restraint.”

You smirk. “Maybe you ought to have less of it.”

He frowns. “How would that benefit anyone?”

You take a step closer. “Try it and find out.”

Levi takes a step back, but you take another step forward. His back bumps into a solid surface as your hand reaches out. He freezes in anticipation.

The click of a door handle, then a quiet creak.

“I believe,” you say, smiling cattily and circling around him, “I have found the drawing room.”

Levi huffs. “Finally,” he mumbles and pushes past you through the door. You follow after him, shutting the door behind you.

The room is a size you’d expect given how large the rest of the residence is. A ceiling mural depicting an Ancient Roman legend; tall windows and velvet curtains. At the centre of the room, atop a patterned rug, gold and beige furniture is arranged in a thoughtful composition. Dainty — yet no doubt expensive — decorations and trinkets adorn various corners, shelves and walls.

In one of the armchairs, Levi sits down, exhaling long and heavy, as if he had been holding his breath all night. You, on the other hand, decide to explore the room first, ambling between the furnishings and admiring the cosiness of the space. Absent-mindedly, you run a finger along the spines of some books piled on top of a small table, tracing the ribbed leather and embossed text.

“At last, some peace and quiet, hm?” you say, mostly just to occupy the air with something of substance, as you glance at Levi.

He’s sitting with one elbow resting on the seat’s floral print armrest, the pads of his fingers massaging the area between his eyebrows. “Until you spoiled it, yes,” he grunts.

The beginnings of a witty remark form, then just as quickly dissipate from your tongue. The corners of your lips sink, the lines in your face waning into nothing.

With his face cast down, Levi is oblivious to the change in your expression. It isn’t until you take two, five, ten or so steps — when the silence drags on without a response of your own — that he raises his head.

“Actually,” you start, standing by the armchair across from him, only a few feet away, “I brought you here to discuss something with you.”

His reaction is stalled but still comes in the form of a puzzled frown. “Go on, then.”

The floorboards squeak under your weight as you take another few steps forward. Levi shifts in his chair. “We agreed to be honest with one another, Levi. To not keep secrets,” you say, “yet I have good reason to suspect you haven’t entirely been maintaining your end of the agreement.”

As he opens his mouth to defend himself, your approaching footsteps finally seal the remaining distance between you. You step in to occupy the space between his knees and the contact is enough to make them jolt away as if from flames. Levi stares down at them until he catches the movement of your arms in the corner of his vision.

In your hands is a book, presumably from the stack you were observing earlier. He had been so absorbed in the shrinking space between you that he didn’t stop to consider that perhaps the arms linked behind you might be holding something.

His eyes roam the book, then fall on the shining yellow words etched into the front cover:

The Vampyre

by John William Polidori

Electric impulses fire through his body. His mouth goes dry. “I told Hange to get rid of that.”

“Really? Why is that?” you ask, turning it over in your hand. “I hear it’s quite good.”

Levi can’t stop the irritation from showing on his face. “The problem is not with the book itself.”

It’s the influence it has on imbeciles like Hange, he finishes in his head. Imbeciles who’ll believe anything with enough coincidences and paranoid witness accounts. Sure, Hange is a special case, because they’re not so much afraid of the rumoured existence of ‘vampires’ as they are curious, which is arguably worse — especially since, for once, the imbeciles are right.

“Then what’s the problem?” Your frown seems to be of genuine confusion, but Levi knows better. There’s an underlying something just waiting to reveal itself.

Levi folds his arms across his chest. “What does this have to do with our agreement?”

The smile returns to your face, but it is unlike any that Levi is used to seeing; not fake, but not entirely trustworthy either. “Surely you’ve figured out that much by now.” You set the book aside. “Really, Levi. Do you take me for some kind of fool?” Your hands come forward and clasp the armrests of his chair. “Did you really think I don’t know that… you’re a vampire?”

Levi scoffs. “Do you hear yourself?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Vampires are a baseless conspiracy. A ludicrous superstition fabricated by the English that only a credulous halfwit–”

A hand grabs him by the cheeks, cramming the rest of his words back behind his teeth. “Open your mouth,” you order.

The suddenness of the command evaporates any and all thoughts from Levi’s head, replacing them with a purely chemical reaction in the form of heat striking through him. Gradually, you push his head back — and he lets you — while a hard mound he can only assume is your knee eases between his parted legs, coercing a gasp from his mouth. As soon as his jaw loosens, your fingers are poking through the gap between his lips, moving as if hunting for something. They settle around his upper canines, sliding over and prodding at them, over and over, until eventually they begin to grow, extending down, down into a sharp, tapered point, much too long for what can be considered human.

Levi groans, but the sound is much too airy for pain or discomfort to be the cause of it. Drool is gathering beneath his tongue and blood in his cheeks. How humiliating it is to have his fangs coaxed out by the close proximity of his carnal weakness — by someone who should be his prey in this dynamic — and how all the more humiliating it is to have the strike of heat from before already invading the rest of his body.

Only once the fangs have stopped growing do you cease your petting, opting instead to drag a single fingertip along the newly-revealed length of bone. “My, my,” you coo, “it seems that the truth has spoken for itself.” You remove your fingers from his mouth, but Levi’s head remains in its position against the backrest. “Whatever shall I do with you, now that I have you at my mercy?”

Your fingers travel down his exposed throat. Like a frightened prey animal, Levi’s body digs into the cushioned upholstery, trying to comprehend the foreign feeling of being touched in this way. Breaths beat out through his nose in quickening puffs and miniscule tremors rattle through his chest as he attempts to control, or perhaps conceal, the frantic rise and fall of it. Beneath your fingertips, you can feel his heartbeat, the pulse so solid that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was hitting his ribcage with every beat.

“Are you afraid?” you ask him quietly, your fingers continuing their path downward.

Levi swallows, lets out a heavy breath but doesn’t answer. You watch him, analyse him. His tightly closed eyes, the sweat coming through his clothes… “Then perhaps you’re—” His unsteady breaths, his contracting muscles— “aroused?”

His Adam’s apple lifts and then drops. You follow the motion with your eyes, then lower, lower and lower, until you find the answer you’re looking for in his oh-so-conveniently open thighs. He immediately attempts to shut them, but your own prevent him from doing so.

“No need to be ashamed,” you assure him as you smile that knowing smile and carefully climb on top of his lap. “I can help to relieve you. If you wish.” You rub your bottom half against his hardened groin as a testament to your words.

Levi’s neck stretches over the backrest, an open-mouthed moan escaping him, then retracts back to his chest. His eyebrows cinch together in thought, but the way his hips rut into you has already declared his decision, so when his eyes finally flutter open and peer up at yours, you are unable to suppress your look of delight.

“Please,” is all he says — and all he needs to say to send your mind and self-control reeling.

You pounce forward, ravaging his lips with your own, while you grind down again; harder than before, and with more finesse. The noise that Levi makes into your mouth is much too heavenly for a creature of such damnable origin, yet as addictive as if it had been produced by a devil of temptation itself.

The swipe of a sleek surface has you parting from him on instinct. “Careful of your teeth, darling,” you warn and he nods as if in a daze before pulling you back in. He paws at your clothes, helpless and wanting, as though he aches to bring you closer. You let out an enraptured sigh at his aggressive gesture. After all, what an honour it is to have the stoic Viscount Levi Ackerman falling apart and moaning pathetically beneath you; what sacrilege to be a mortal defiling its natural predator. You feel as though you’re going mad, losing all sense of self from the sheer thrill of it.

You drag yourself away from his lips, only to see the full effects of your actions. Strong features softening as though he’s melting from the pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut while his glossy black hair, usually so perfectly combed, fans out in loose strands over his forehead. Razor-sharp nails mauling the armrests. Two fanged teeth poking out from under his lip.

In minutes, Levi is curling into you and crying out against your skin. You guide him through his climax, raking your fingers up from his undercut and through the strands at the top while whispering caring words to him, in soothing repetition. He collapses into you, his arms limp at your sides and his panting breaths warm on your neck. Before you can push him away, he’s mindlessly nuzzling and lapping at your throat like a dog, coating your skin in spit, sucking and occasionally catching his fangs on the fragile flesh. It would be a lie to say you aren’t enticed by the prospect of them breaking through; moving with more purpose and sinking into your–

Levi whines against your shoulder. “Please, let me have a taste. I’ll do anything, please,” he mumbles. “It’s been so long, I– I cannot wait any longer, please, I beg of you…” He pulls away, licking his lips, as if the taste of your skin is enough to last and cherish. “Please,” he begs, “let me drink your blood.”

You smile, wide, and brush back the hair tickling his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as the words enter the air, Levi lunges at you. You’re almost not fast enough, but manage to get a hold of him.

You pin his wrists on either side of his head, and the tightness of your grip seems to snap Levi out of his ravenous trance. “That wasn’t very polite,” you reprimand. Levi only looks up at you regretfully, which is likely the closest thing you’ll get to an apology from him. You sigh. “Don’t worry.” You let go of him and slide your palm under his chin. “Open–”

His jaw falls slack in an instant, granting you access to the inside of his mouth. You trail your fingers around his wet lips first, this way and that, slow and soft, just to hear him whine. You giggle but finally slip a finger inside and Levi groans in time with it. His tongue is the next thing to fall from his mouth, hanging over his lip and dripping saliva onto his shirt.

“What a sight,” you breathe. “I wonder what our fellow nobles would think.”

Levi moans softly as you poke your fingertip into the point of one of his fangs. You hiss as it pierces the skin and wait for the blood to collect before turning your finger over.

“Tilt your head back, dearest,” you say, and Levi does so with haste. You dangle your finger above his eager tongue and watch his eyes roll back as the first drop hits his taste buds. He savours the flavour like a man starved of water, his mouth pooling with drool, and whimpers in anticipation of the next drop.

Your eyes are fixated on him, as if hypnotised, and engulfed in sick amusement from the power you have over him. Your thumb sits under your fingertip, forcing out the liquid with steady presses, but for Levi, it’s still not enough. Animalistic hunger and impatience possess him. His arms come to life to grab your wrist and yank it toward his mouth. He manages to swallow your finger whole before you can react, though the sight is much too precious for you to deny or scold him anyway.

The grip around your wrist turns vice-like as he feverishly sucks the blood from your finger. His closed eyelids twitch and runny spit oozes down his chin. You look on in adoration at the sweetly depraved state you have him in. Who would think that a blood-sucking monster could be this docile and helpless?

Levi’s panting grows heavier until you begin to feel him rutting against you. When you look down, the lump of his crotch has regained hardness, already straining against the dark material. “Aroused again so soon?” you taunt.

He is so engrossed in sucking that he doesn’t seem to hear you, so you tug your finger out of his mouth and hands. He grunts in protest, but you ignore him and try again. “Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

As if freshly woken from a daze, or perhaps still in one, those folds you’re so used to seeing between his eyebrows take shape in a show of gentle confusion. “Take… care of what?”

You bring a hand down to his lap and lightly tap the bulge that’s formed there, making him tense and spasm under you. He must still be sensitive, you think with a smile.

“Of this,” you clarify.

He swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You stifle a chuckle. “It’s a yes or no question, Levi, so answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

He sighs and evades your eyes as he hisses out a reluctant “Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praise and begin to make quick work of the buttons on his trousers.

Levi frowns. “Don’t call me that. I am not a dog.”

You laugh through your nose, amused. “Yet you drool and whimper just like one.” You playfully stare up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t say anything back, just blooms a deeper pink, so you accept your win and finish unbuttoning his trousers. Next, you unfasten the strings of his undergarments, freeing his leaking length.

As soon as your fingers make contact with it, Levi writhes. His legs squirm and his hips buck up into your touch. In seconds, the wet head of his cock is dripping with bead after bead of precum. In your awe of his intense reaction, you find yourself experimentally toying with it; squeezing, tugging, kneading, fingering. Obscene noises created by the remnants of his previous release make colour fill Levi’s usually colourless cheeks. His glinting grey eyes are lidded, his head dizzy and delirious. His mouth is hanging open in surrender to the erotic sounds he cannot help making, tongue dyed scarlet from your blood and glistening with saliva. You adore it — are spurred on by it, even — but his volume is now teetering on too loud, and the last thing you want right now is to be caught.

So with one hand on his dick, keeping him distracted, you hurriedly untie his cravat and stuff it into his inviting mouth. A startled, confused but thankfully muted moan rumbles through the cloth. You grin at the conflicted eyes and knitted eyebrows you get in response to your actions, entirely unbothered as you continue to take him apart with your touches, to watch him become the embodiment of debauchery. Moonlight skin shiny with sweat, teeth gnawing around his makeshift gag, pelvis involuntarily meeting your movements, elbows pointing to the ceiling as he desperately scratches and claws at the back of the chair, surely ruining it beyond repair with his needlepoint nails and vampiric strength. So effortlessly picture-perfect.

No more than a few seconds later, he’s arching his back against the chair and wailing into his linen gag. The wood of the backrest splinters and the upholstery tears loudly under his fingernails. Warm fluid gushes out over your fist and dribbles down it as you continue stroking his length. Your other hand takes out the cravat from Levi’s mouth and wipes up the mess. He lets out a few wet little warbles and whimpers at the overstimulating feeling, but quietens down once you finish.

You don’t allow him a second to recuperate from his high, instead satiating your own desires; snatching his face up in your hands and latching your lips onto his in one smooth motion. Tongues curl together and the metallic tang of your own blood swarms your senses. Levi keens and grips the fabric at your waist. By the time your mouths separate, you’re both breathless and gasping against each other, and the allure of his dishevelled state has you unable to resist trailing a few extra kisses on his skin; from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, on the soft spot behind his ear and down his delicate neck. Levi grabs at your shoulders weakly, but when you pull back to check on him, his gaze drops to your laps.

“How did you find that?” You tilt your head. “Good?”

Better than good, so much better — is what he thinks, but what he settles on saying is “Yes, it– it was good.”

The smile that stretches across your cheeks is inevitable, and the most sincere one you’ve had the entire night. “Well… as much as I would like to keep going,” you say, chewing on your inner lip corner, and making Levi flush, “I think it’s time we go back.”

You climb off of the chair and straighten out your clothes. Meanwhile, Levi tries, and fails, to stand up, his knees buckling and sending him flopping back into the seat.

You sigh sympathetically and caress the side of his face. “You should rest for a moment,” you tell him. Your fingers glide down to his chin, take it into your hand and wipe the spit, along with the traces of smeared blood, from his lips. “Perhaps neaten up your appearance, in the meantime?” you add with a smirk.

Some awareness seems to have awoken in him, perhaps as a result of your teasing, because he pouts and replies with, “I was planning on doing so anyway.”

You don’t say anything else, taking that moment to appreciate the silence, just the distant echo of music and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Luckily, it does not take long for Levi’s ragged breaths to calm, and for his thighs to reclaim their strength. You help to clean up his image, fastening up garments, flattening out creases and wiping away or concealing the evidence of your activities. Kisses are exchanged in between; some of them stolen, some of them followed by giggles, and some by lustful gazes.

Once you’re ready to leave, you head for the door, but you only go as far as clasping the gold handle before stopping and turning to Levi. His eyebrows shift in that way they’re so good at, speaking when words don’t need to. Your eyes sketch out a path down his face, all the way to his lips, where you find yourself already missing the blood, drool and pearly fangs…

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for his nape and wrapping your plush lips around each other.

“If you’re well-behaved tonight,” you rasp against his lips, “I’ll treat you to more than just a finger next time.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv <3

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 7 months

Text

It genuinely keeps me up at night that when Van Eck attempts to reveal to the Merchant Council that Wylan can’t read, they all react exactly as Wylan feared they would. (Spoilers ahead!) Of course since they don’t believe him and Wylan’s brilliant memory for Jesper’s words protects him we don’t see the full force of their response, but it is made PAINFULLY clear that they all would have responded the same way Van Eck did - “How could you say such things about your own blood?”. It’s an incredibly meaningful and arguably subtle detail that Bardugo implements to remind the reader that although Van Eck was our main antagonist in this case, there is no singular villain in this story because what the characters are fighting is an ultimately unbeatable source. The system is impossible to truly defeat because it is a hydra, we see that when Dryden’s father died he took on the role of the Council and acted the exact same way he did, and if Van Eck had raised Wylan to one day take over from him then he too would have been forcibly moulded into that shape by the poisonous environment of this governing body. The defeat of Van Eck, had Kaz not amended his will to name Wylan his inheritor, would have been only that: the downfall of a singular man, to be easily replaced by another with the same dangerously capitalistic values and crude methods of implementing them. It would not have been any change in the system that oppresses the main characters - I think it’s kind of similar to the Hunger Games (spoilers ahead) when Katniss chooses to kill Coin instead of Snow because she realises that killing Snow doesn’t actually change the system if someone else will simply step into his shoes. We also see this reflected in Kaz and his mission to destroy Rollins, since by doing so he too has taken the actions Rollins did. When Inej points out their similarities he denies it, saying “I don’t sell girls, I don’t con helpless kids out of their money”. Inej replies with the gentle, HEARTBREAKING sentence: “Look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz”. And this is so important because Kaz has no consideration for what happens to those people once they step outside his door. How do they fair after he scams them? How many of them have had no other money to fall back on? Did one of them sell their daughter to be able to pay off their debts to him? He’d never know, he just had the money and that’s all he thinks about. But if that girl survived long enough to want revenge, who would she blame? Say she didn’t want to blame her parents, like Kaz doesn’t want to blame Jordie, then who becomes the manifestation of all her hatred, the one thing she has decided that destroying will cure her? Kaz does. Just as Rollins has for him.

Every system of this city is a hydra, and there are so many beautifully written reminders of this without forcing it down our throats, but there is also the hope of genuine, real change. In Wylan, joining the Merchant Council as someone opposed to its views, as someone who has lived in both sides of this city and been abused by both of them, as someone who understands that real change is hard to implement. In Inej, as she journeys against the system that abused her not for revenge, but for the protection of all the children who have been hurt and killed, of all the children being hurt and killed, and of all the children who would have been hurt and killed if she didn’t stop the slavers who sought them, as someone who knows that real change is action. In Jesper, as someone raised far from the suffocating closed-minded atmosphere of the Merchant Council and who can support Wylan through it, as someone who knows that striving for real change is messy and chaotic, but that it’s where he thrives. In Matthias, who died believing that the world could truly change, who died believing in Nina, believing in himself, and believing that his death was a necessary sacrifice to real change, even though he wanted it to be peaceful. In Nina, as someone who had learned that real change cannot always be won with violence, as someone who will learn to use her new power to restructure a civilisation, as someone who will spend the rest of her life striving for change because nothing could ever be worse than her beloved having died in vain. And in Kaz, in the small ways, in the fear of what he could become that will hold him back from becoming the next head of the hydra, in his love for Inej shifting his perception of the world, and in his slow journey of healing, maybe one day killing Rollins will be enough. And if that doesn’t work, he’ll burn the world down and start it all again.

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

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hi ! i’m obsessed with the idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and her having no experience she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” like genuine curiosity and omg he would be so vocal, soft, and instructional i can’t do this-

sorry this took so long!! but i hope you like it🫶🏻

sat on the sofa in his trailer, passing a joint between the two of you as a horror movie plays in the background. eddie hands you the joint, letting the smoke fill the air between you both. you’ve been best friends with eddie for almost your whole lives, so being curled up on his sofa under a blanket while your wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties as he’s wearing his own plaid pyjama bottoms was nothing new.

‘what do you think of the move so far sweetheart?’ eddie asks casually, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his chest.

‘i really like it’ you say with a smile, finishing the joint and stubbing it out on the ashtray he keeps on the coffee table ‘i like the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously, makes it much more enjoyable’

eddie hums in agreement, his nose pressed to your head as you cuddle, taking in the scent of your shampoo. he knows it’s wrong to be harbouring these kind of feelings about his best friend, but there’s just something about you that makes him feel weak at the knees. he’s enjoying the moment of being close to you, when he starts to hear faint moans coming from the tv. he looks up, the main character of the movie having sex with her longtime boyfriend, he laughs.

‘literally the number one rule in a horror movie, if you fuck, you die’ he says with a laugh, looking down at you and watching your reaction to the scene unfolding. just as the main character climaxes, you turn to him.

‘does that feel, good?’ you ask, buzzed enough from the weed that your not entirely realising that your telling your best friend you have never had an orgasm. eddie feels his cheeks flush slightly and his cock stir involuntarily at the thoughts your question filled his mind with.

‘does what feel good? sex?’ he asks, slightly confused.

‘no, not sex, having an orgasm’ you say, looking back at the tv screen. eddies eyes widen at the realisation.

‘you’ve never had an orgasm?’ he asks, shocked ‘not even by yourself’

‘no, i mean i’ve tried but i can’t ever get myself to finish’ you say softly, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘does it feel good though?’ eddies mind is racing, partly because of the thoughts of you trying to touch yourself and not being able to cum.

‘uh- yeah it does feel good, like really good’ he says, clearing his throat so his voice does not make him sound as horny as he is.

‘have you ever made a girl cum before?’ you ask him, chewing on your bottom lip as you look up at him through long lashes.

‘yeah- a few times’

‘can you show me how you do it?’ you ask, the words falling out your mouth before you can stop them, his eyes widening and breathing becoming more laboured at your proposition ‘oh! not like that, like can you show me how you do it, like acting it out or something?’ you say shyly. eddie is sure he is dreaming, there is no way his beautiful best friend is asking him to explain him to show her how to cum, so she can then go home and touch herself using what he taught her. no- he shouldn’t be getting off on this, your his friend and friends ask each other for help, but he can’t deny that your innocence isn’t making him want to completely ruin you.

‘yeah, sure i can’ eddie replies, shifting on the sofa to turn so he’s facing you, holding one of his palms up ‘so, you know where your pussy is, but your clit is up higher, it’s that little bud right at the top, about here’ he says, using his other hand to point to the top of his outstretched palm.

‘the mistake a lot of people make is applying way too much pressure, or not going slowly enough’ he continues.

‘how do you find the right speed and pressure though?’ you ask curiously ‘i always find that i either can’t feel anything or i feel so much it hurts’

‘well the pussy and clit aren’t the only places a person can feel pleasure, working yourself up first can help with that kind of thing’ he says, clearing his throat as he tries not to picture you with your hand down your panties when your home alone.

‘working myself up how?’

‘uh- teasing yourself, playing with your nipples, teasing yourself over your panties’ eddie replies, looking at you with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils ‘taking things slowly with yourself until your really desperate, can feel how much you need it, it’ll help’

‘okay, that makes sense’

‘you’ll want to start on the outside, working on your clit, but when you get wet enough you can try putting a finger inside yourself. it’ll be tight, but you want to curl your finger till you find a spongy spot, and you want to hit that again and again, that’s your gspot’

‘can you make someone cum just using their gspot?’ you ask, your face mirroring his own desire.

‘yeah, you can, but most women need some kind of clitoral stimulation to cum too, so using both hands to work different areas would most likely help’ he says, noticing that your squeezing your thighs together, cheeks slightly flushed- were you, turned on by this?

‘i have such short fingers though’ you say, placing your palm against his to show the clear size difference ‘i don’t know if mine could reach that far inside’ you say with a small pout. eddie clears his throat, trying to think about anything other than how close you both were and the image of you fingering yourself that was now playing on repeat in his head.

‘right- uh, i guess that could be a problem’ he says, eyes locked onto yours, face subconsciously moving closer to yours.

‘eddie’ you say softly, fingers now intertwined with his ‘can you show me’ you ask, voice barley above a whisper.

‘are you asking what i think your asking?’ he says breathlessly, nose bumping against yours as you are drawn to each other.

‘yes, can you show me how to make myself cum’ you whisper, and that’s all the confirmation that eddie needed before his lips were on yours. years of pent up feelings are pouring out of him as he kisses you, he desperately tried to remember everything about how you feel against him incase this never happens again. he reluctantly pulls away, turning you round so your back is flush against his chest as he sits on the sofa.

‘can i take these off sweetheart?’ he asks, voice thick with desire as he tugs at your borrowed shirt.

‘please’ you whisper, he pulls the fabric off your body, leaving you in just a pair of panties. he feels like he could cum in his pants just from looking at you, the way your back is pressed to him, your tits on full display for him as he takes in your almost naked form.

‘we’re gonna start with working you up, okay angel?’ he says sweetly, lips finding their way to your neck as his hands run up and down your stomach, occasionally grabbing your hips and giving them a squeeze. the feel of his lips on your neck and his hands finally on you after all this time, you let out a breathy moan which makes eddies already hard cock impossibly harder. he slowly reaches up and starts gently touching your boobs, tracing your nipples with his thumb as his mouth finds its way to your earlobe, gently biting it. your back is arching, head falling back against his shoulder as his name falls from your lips like a prayer. your squirming now, bucking your hips up as he tugs on one of your nipples as you let out an almost pornographic moan.

‘eddie, please’ you moan desperately, breathing now laboured as he touches you everywhere but the place you need him most. he takes your panties off, slipping them down your legs as he lets out a groan at the sight of you now naked against him.

‘okay sweetheart, give me your hand’ he says, voice heavy with lust as you place the back of your hand against the palm of his ‘good girl, now your gonna touch yourself, and i’m gonna help guide you with my hand like this okay?’

‘please’ you whisper, your hand moving down your stomach and towards your aching pussy. your fingers catch on your clit, making you gasp at the sensation, his hand still firmly placed against yours, guiding each movement. he starts with small, soft circles on your clit, your already whining and moaning at the feeling- you didn’t know it could feel this good. he can hear just how wet you are, each circle of your clit with your finger making a soft squelching noise from just how turned on you were, making his cock strain even more against his pyjama pants- but this isn’t about him, it’s about you. he slowly starts to increase the pace of his hand against yours, speeding up the movements of your fingers against your clit.

‘eddie, feels so good, didn’t know it could feel so good’ you pant, head thrown back on his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut, cheeks flushed from arousal.

‘i know baby, your doing so well’ he says softly, using his free hand to gently stroke your hair before moving his fingers down to your neglected nipples.

‘fuck- something feels, different’ you say through a moan, hips now grinding against your own (and also his) hand as your breath comes out in short gasps.

‘it’s okay sweetheart, you gonna cum? your doing so well, you can cum’ he says, coxing your orgasm out of you with each brush of your nipple and circle of your clit. the coil in your stomach burst, crying out as you grind your pussy desperately against your fingers, crying out his name as slick gushes from you. eddie can’t stop himself now, he’s all but humping your back, desperate for any kind of release now your cumming. you cum down from your orgasm, head fuzzy from the pleasure. he softly removes his hand from yours, moving it to your jaw to lift your chin upwards so your looking at him.

‘you did so good angel, so fucking good’ he says breathlessly, kissing you again.

‘eddie’ you mumble against his lips ‘can you show me how to touch a dick now?’

‘fuck’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #abby talks #eddie munson request #eddie stranger things smut #screaming crying salivating

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kookykrooked · 1 year

Text

They walk In on you changing

Characters: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, hitoshi shinsou, tamaki amajiki

Warnings: suggestive, nudity,

Main Masterlist

Mha Masterlist

Izuku Midoriya

After training for a couple of hours you were now sweaty, cold and tired so at the moment a nice hot bath sounded like heaven so that exactly what you did but you were ment to study with midoriya which had slipped your mind and so when he walked in you almost had heart attack and back the looks of it he actually had one.

You were drying your and your hair after having a bath and hadn't yet got any clothes on just as you were about to grab some clothes you heard your door open and close

"Hi y/n, I hope your ready to stud-"

He stopped talking when he looked over at you his mouth now ajar as he stared at your body and you were to horrified to move and yiu were both like that for a good 3 minutes before you started yelling and throwing stuff which he ran out dropping his stuff but not before banging his head into the door forgetting to open it.

So let's say it was a pretty awkward study session because you could see him glancing back and forth at your tits

Katsuki Bakugo

You were sat at lunch when someone had spilt water all over your top and not saying anything you ran away your dorm embarrassed and wet but unknowing to you a certain blonde wasn't far behind

You were now only in your bra and your skirt was halfway down your legs when bakugo walked in "oi are you alright you...ran off..." his words trailed off when he saw you while you was turning red

"woooww I never realized how good your body look n/n" he was obviously smirking and that just made you turn more red before you started yelling at him to get out and throwing pillow at him while the whole time he was crackling and walked out

Hitoshi shinsou

You were on a walk with him before you fell into a lake and you were now put pf a fresh nice shower about to get changed that was when shinsou walked in

"Hey y/n I wanted to come make sure your okay- oh sorry I didn't realise you were changing" and he walked straight back out with a red face he's a true gentleman.

Tamaki Amajiki

Poor bby passed out :(

Because you were now in your last year the teachers were pushing you to train longer and so you were now changing after training for 3 hours your body felt like it was on fire while you were changing

"y-y/n I won-wondering if you'd li- OH I'M SO SORRY" he screamed before attempting to run out the room before slamming into the walm due to the fact he covered his eyes

The next day he couldn't look at you without picturing your naked body which ending leading some more mature activities

#mha masterlist #mha hcs #headcannons #my hero acedamia #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x reader

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wistfulcynic · 6 months

Text

a non-izzy-centric reading of the events of season two

i didn't really want to get into this because it's so, so tiresome and i'd rather talk about the things i loved about this season. Poison, positivity, etc. But.

reading this post about people doubting their own judgement due to the overwhelming noise from Izzy stans along with a rewatch of season two from start to finish made me realise that i too had been influenced by a year and a half of being intensely frustrated by people insisting so loudly that OFMD was in fact the Izzy Hands Show. My initial issues with S2 mostly stemmed from overcompensating for that by resenting any development of Izzy on the screen because i did not want it to feed those people. Which meant that i also was centring Izzy in a way that he should not be centred! i was letting their noise lead me to read him as far more important than he actually is.

So i looked back at several points from the season that had me feeling uncomfortable and which, from a cursory browse through the Izzy tag i've concluded his stans see as a contradiction or a betrayal or something and re-evaluated them from the perspective of Izzy not being a main fucking character.

point one: "He's our dick."

When Archie (a newcomer and therefore a fairly effective audience stand-in for anyone not balls deep in fandom bullshit) asks Jim why they're going to so much trouble for Izzy, who she has immediately clocked as "kind of a dick", Jim gives this response. Which, if you think Izzy is important, may read as an expression of reluctant fondness. But then, Jim continues: "There was a time when life meant something on this ship. When we lived for each other, not just to survive." These lines are punctuated by a flashback to the famous Revenge crew found-family Renaissance-painting moment. Jim is nostalgic for the "good old days" of the Revenge under Stede's people-positive management style. It is out of respect for that (seemingly) lost way of life that they take the trouble for Izzy, not for Izzy himself. They'd have done the same for anyone, because they desperately want life to matter again. Izzy, as the person whose gamy leg is a direct result of his threatening Ed and bringing the kraken era down on all of them, is simply the one whose life happens to be on the line.

(honestly, i love this from Jim, who was one of Stede's boldest detractors in season one and still the crew member most likely to call him out on his bullshit. That's your "reluctant fondness" moment right there.)

point two: the new unicorn

apparently Izzy stans see the gift of the unicorn leg prosthetic as a symbol of deep love and respect from the crew to Izzy. Which is an absolutely wild reading when you look at what led up to it.

There's tension on the ship. Divisions. Lucius is chain-smoking and jump-scared by his own shadow. Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang are overcome by guilt over their mutiny and frantically scrubbing nonexistent blood from the deck in what is a fantastically darkly funny Lady Macbeth moment for them. Izzy is sloppy drunk and yelling nonsensical abuse at the unicorn masthead. Roach, Pete, Oluwande, and Wee John make a well-intentioned but ill-conceived attempt to bring everyone back together (i say "everyone" but Izzy, significantly, is not included) which leads to them all being at each other's throats in the sort of mutually-assured-destruction configuration that starts world wars. It's a great scene. Izzy is not a part of it.

until he interrupts them, throws the unicorn legs at them and in his drunken clumsiness breaks his prosthetic. He then pointedly refuses their offers of assistance and drags himself away along the floor by his arms.

my friends. This is peak pathos. The crew do not respect Izzy in this moment, they feel sorry for him. They realise that he's worse off than any of the rest of them and that knowledge brings them back together. Making the unicorn prosthetic is barely about Izzy at all. It's about the crew coming together, repairing the rifts in their found family and as a bonus helping out their grumpy second cousin who doesn't really want to be there but has nowhere else to go. It's also a very generous offer of a new place on the ship--as the new unicorn--and a fresh start. Because that's what life on the Revenge is. For everyone.

point three: la vie en rose

much has been made of Izzy putting on drag makeup and singing at the Calypso birthday party, and fair enough. That's a big character development point for him. i don't hate it, though i wish there'd been more build-up to it, a longer conversation between Izzy and Wee John at least (insert obligatory "fuck Max" here) but regardless, if we accept Izzy's amputated leg as cutting off his old self and replacing it with the unicorn then we can arrive at a place where he's able to participate in a drag performance without too much cognitive gymnastics.

i've written before about the curious choice to have Izzy sing La Vie En Rose in French (after he initially sang it in English) at the very moment when Ed and Stede are having sex for the first time. On first watch i felt viscerally troubled by it, it felt like a validation of the obsessive psychosexual reading of Izzy's feelings for Ed. Looking at the season as a whole, it feels more like a (cringy, creepy, waaaay over the line) attempt on his part to signal approval for Ed and Stede's relationship. Especially when taken in conjunction with his (super creepy, like wtf who greenlit this) interruption of their breakfast in bed the next morning to make a ham-fisted innuendo. Weird but okay i guess, it's not like Izzy and social niceties have ever gone hand in hand.

many people point to the drag scene as the crew embracing Izzy and welcoming him as one of them. Again, i don't disagree. But, also again, this is not specific to Izzy. This is just what they do. They also embraced Archie with her snake-cult stories, they re-embraced Ed (who yes, they do love, refutations of arguments that they don't love Ed are a whole other essay though) and later they embrace Zheng and Auntie and also Jackie who once stole their savings jar and threatened to cut off their noses. That's what they do! They embrace people! That's what the show is about!

point four: the death scene

i have to be honest, i still hate this. i don't hate that Izzy died, i hate that he died in Ed's arms with Ed calling him his only family. That still feels unearned to me, and alas was probably another victim of the shortened season. But even with this extremely kind and forgiving death scene, the stans are not satisfied! They feel that the entire crew should have been gathered round, assuring Izzy of their profound love for him. There should have been weeping at the funeral, wailing and gnashing of teeth, rending of garments etc. It's what he deserves as such a beloved member of the crew!

except he wasn't beloved. He was accepted, yes. Welcomed, even. But acceptance is a far cry from love. Cheering as someone sings a song at a party does not mean you feel ready to weep at their deathbed or proclaim your undying affection for them.

yet even so, the crew are visibly distraught at his death scene. There are tears in many eyes! But effusive declarations of feeling from any one of them other than Ed would have felt (to anyone not convinced Izzy is the main character) completely wrong and very weird. You can headcanon what you like to fill the gaps in canon but on screen we have seen very few meaningful interactions between Izzy and any of the existing crew aside from Fang and Lucius and to a lesser extent Wee John. Izzy's primary relationship with another character is with Ed and so, as much as i still don't like it, Ed is the only one who has any real reason to be at Izzy's side as he dies.

as for the brevity of the funeral and the fact that they went straight from it to Pete and Lucius's wedding instead of having, idk, a prolonged wake at which everyone speaks at length about how important Izzy was to them, i mean. Obviously that wasn't going to happen. More than enough screen time had already been given to a side character who spent most of it either being miserable himself or making others so. It was time for the rest of them to find some moments of joy. As Izzy himself said, not moving on is worse.

in conclusion, i'd like to address the people saying that Izzy should have lived so he could continue his arc of self-discovery and sure, that would have been great--on the Izzy Hands Show. But OFMD is about Ed and Stede and Izzy had served his purpose in their story. i feel certain there will be copious fanfics to soothe anyone who feels Izzy was shortchanged.

on the show, though, he was treated in a very logical and foreseeable way as the antagonist who was able to see the light at the end but not necessarily to thrive in such a well-lit environment. Literature (by which i mean also films and tv) abounds with examples of this sort of character. They see the error of their ways but they are too stuck in them, shaped by them, to exist comfortably in any other way. They help bring about change to benefit others and not for themselves, that is the bittersweet beauty of their endings.

Izzy let Ed go. He embraced the softer parts of himself. He died surrounded by people who may not have loved him but at least accepted him as one of their own and felt genuine sorrow about his passing. That is a satisfying narrative end for a reformed antagonist! If you truly feel that he was shortchanged by it then you have forgotten what show you're watching and what sort of character he was.

Izzy Hands: not the main character, still an interesting one, absolute nightmare, what a guy.

#our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd season two #izzy critical #the izcourse #izzy hands meta #sorry not sorry to people who are going to hate this post but writing it has been therapeutic for me #i'm tired of hating a character on a show i love so much so i shall go back to thinking of him as the nasty rat man and focusing on faves #saira has Thoughts

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