#Will be the main focus of my wrath | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petals2fish · 2 months

Text

Smutty Saturday

Read on A03 (Note: Rated E for a Reason!!)

Dani looked up as Dimitri hovered over her. His black eyes were filled with lust as he pushed his finger into the cotton of her underwear, feeling how wet she was for his–

"Lily!"

Suppressing a frustrated groan, Lily tore herself away from her book. Today was supposed to be her day to blissfully immerse herself in a romance novel while savoring a cup of steaming tea in the corner of the common room. Just as she was getting into her latest read, "Charms of Change," someone had the audacity to interrupt her. She was just reaching the climactic moment where the main character was about to confess her love to the wizard who saved her life. But now, her cherished Smutty Saturday was threatened by the sudden appearance of Penny the Pain.

Penny's real name was Penelope Pander, a second-year who fancied herself as head girl material. Lily was fairly certain Penny would vie for the position if she could, but instead, she seemed content to report every minor issue to Lily as if it were her responsibility to fix. No matter how hard Lily tried, she never seemed good enough in Penny's critical eyes.

"No," Lily stated firmly, cutting off Penny before she could speak.

Penny appeared flustered, fumbling nervously with her wand. She knew it was Saturday, as did everyone else. All afternoon, nobody had bothered Lily, choosing instead to direct their inquiries to the currently absent Head Boy. Even Penny knew better than to risk Lily's wrath by disturbing her precious reading time.

Lily barely glanced up from her book as she maintained eye contact with Penny and repeated, "No."

Penny clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. "Please, just hear me out, Lily."

Lily slammed the book shut with a loud snap, so much for finishing.

“I have told you a hundred times, no one is allowed to bother me on Saturday except for my book, my boyfriend, or my best friend." Lily listed the items off with her fingers. "Are you any of those things Penny?”

“No, but—“

“Then figure it out yourself, Penny,” Lily said, reopening her book and crossing her legs to show (as well as she could) that she was done with the conversation.

His black eyes were filled with lust as he pushed his finger into the cotton of her underwear, feeling how wet she was for his thick fingers. He whispered her name before he rubbed his thumb against her aching--

“But—“ Penny's high-pitched voice was so annoying.

“No buts.” Lily didn’t even look up from her book as she reiterated, “it’s one day, I only ask for one day, Penny.”

He whispered her name before he rubbed his thumb against her aching clit, making her tremble at the thought of how badly she wanted his fingers in--

“Frankie Barry and Sasha Verbs got stinging nettle all over them and are in the hospital wing until Monday!” Penny blurred out, her stupid voice once again breaking Lily of her focus. “You have to take over their rounds tonight.”

Lily closed her book again, this time even more highly annoyed as she looked directly into Penny's eyes. “Annie Davis is the alternate, Penny, she can do the rounds.”

Penny shook her head quickly, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Lily snapped, “Penny, I made the schedule with the Head Boy, I know who the alternates are for Saturday nights.”

Penny pulled at the wand in her fingertips, “Annie Davis has poisoned nettles too.”

Lily wished she could have resisted her urge to break into a grumpy fury, but she’d never been one to hold back her feelings when her private time was being interrupted. She should have read her bloody book in her room, behind the four-poster curtains. “How the bloody fuck do three of my Saturday prefects have nettle poisoning?!”

Everyone in the common room looked over. Lily didn’t even bother apologizing for her outburst. She stood up, towering over the second year Head Girl wanna-be. This should be James’ problem, not Lily’s, he was the one who handled the weekends.

Penny pushed her glasses up her nose and said matter-of-factly, “Uh, Frankie apparently used the Herbology lab as a prime snogging spot and didn’t know nettles were bad for human skin.”

Lily narrowed her eyes, “that disgusting git.”

Penny looked relieved that Lily’s anger was no longer directed at the room, “I know, the poor girls, imagine finding out your boyfriend is cheating because you both have stinging nettles up your arse.”

Lily took three deep breaths, debating if she ought to go tell Frankie off herself. Or ensure he got a few more stinging nettles up his dick. She was pretty sure she could talk Sirius into a little mischief. James too, if she promised a kiss afterwards.

“You have to take the rounds,” Penny repeated, cutting off Lily’s revenge plot. “McGonagall said so.”

“The Head Boy does weekend covers,” Lily said, “so go bother him.”

“I did.”

“So why are you telling me?” Lily asked, “why aren’t you after the Head Boy?”

Penny flushed, “well, I went to the quidditch pitch to tell him on McGonagall’s orders.”

“And?”

Penny shrugged, “and I was turned away.”

“Blessed,” Lily pressed her fingers to her temples, “please explain why James had the audacity to send you my way?”

“Penny scratched her neck, “erm, well James didn’t send me away.”

“Then who did?”

“James was in the air, so Nigel Babbington sent me to you, and said you’d have to handle it.”

Lily would kill that stupid son of a witch, Nigel Babbington. He hated that James got Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. He said James would never be able to juggle both. He probably sent Penny back in the hopes McGonagall would take Head Boy away from James for skirting his duties and give it to Nigel instead.

“Babbington sent you to me?” Lily confirmed, “not James?”

“Nigel said James was too busy dropping quaffles on passes to worry about Head Duties.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. First Nigel tried to sabotage James, now Penny admitted he was also shit talking James’ form? Lily had never seen a single quaffle slip from James Potter’s fingers in seven years, she doubted she ever would. If the Head boy was good at anything, it was being good at catching things in his hands. it was a wonder he never became seeker, what with his talents.

“Babbington is as big a prick as any.” Lily huffed, tossing her book on her seat to go rescue her boyfriend and talk to the Head Boy.

Convenient that they were both the same person.

“If James can’t do it,” Penny squeaked, “then you have to.”

“Don’t worry about what I have to do, Penny.” Lily said, “I promise the world will not crumble under my watch.”

"Right." Penny tucked her wand into her robes, sounding unconvinced, “ Or…I could do it, I could do rounds.”

“As enticing as that is, Penny,” Lily said as she hiked her skirt up with a roll, “you’re still only in second year, and McGongall would string me up by my hair if she found out that I let you do rounds alone.”

“I’ve been following your solo rounds all year!” Penny argued, “please, Evans?!”

“I—wait.” Lily paused, “you’ve followed me on rounds all year? As in since September?”

“Yeah.”

“Penny!” Lily exclaimed, “you’ve been stalking me?”

“James said if I wanted to be like you, I should watch you at work.” Penny said. "I still think I'm better at rounds than you, though, no offense. You're a little slow."

“ Ach .” Lily pushed back her long red hair, “do me a favor Penny, and please never listen to James again.”

Lily walked away, muttering under her breath. Penny the Pain had the decency not to follow. Lily would have to keep a sharp eye behind her back on rounds. Knowing that Penny had been following her doing head girl duties was scary, even more so since Lily never spotted the second year.

The sun was just barely peeking out of the clouds outside as it set beyond the horizon. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was perfect weather for curling up with a good book. Lily’s book was sitting back on her chair in the common room, alone.

She was just getting to the best part of the book when the guy got the girl. When the clothes started falling off. When the sexual tension was dripping off the page. When she had to curl her toes as she imagined her own boyfriend kissing her heatedly in shadows and doorways. Sometimes, after she finished a particularly good book, she'd go find him for a kiss, or ten.

Now, the only tension Lily had was Nigel Babbington’s audacity to say James needed to focus on quidditch and not complete his Head Duties. That was utter blasphemy, and he knew it, the prick. The deal was that Lily would cover any missed shifts on weekdays, when James had required quidditch practices. On weekends, when quidditch practice was just for fun, James was required to fill into empty spots on the calendar.

She was in such a blind rage that she didn’t even remember making it to the quidditch pitch. All she knew was that she looked up at the air and no one was playing quidditch anymore. It was clear they'd all come down from their posts to shower and socialize before dinner.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Lily muttered, “Penny couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes for them to be done…”

Lily stormed into the stands, underneath which, a long hallway ran and was full of students. There were boys and girls hanging about laughing and gossiping over broomsticks and pumpkin juice. Lily stormed past some of her friends who were sitting in a circle together, barely waving at them despite their welcoming smiles.

"Where are you going?" Mary called in her sing-song voice.

"James." Was all Lily said when she noted Nigel Babbington sticking his tongue down Annika Johnson's throat.

“He’s just gotten off the pitch, Evans!” Sirius Black shouted after her, "Come sit with us!"

“No!” Lily shouted at him, "this can't wait!”

“He’s probably in the sho—“

“It’s a Head emergency!”

She heard them all whisper and Sirius suddenly laughed when Lily didn’t even glance their way. She made her way down the long wooden paneled hall, her heart pounding. The students became fewer, and it was clear everyone was wrapping up to make it to dinner. At the end of the long hallway, the locker rooms were stationed. She’d been in the girls’ room plenty of times to meet her friend Marlene, but she didn’t turn to the right, no, she turned to the left.

There, to the boys’ side.

She pushed through the doorway, blinded in the moment by her rage, not even thinking of knocking.

“James, I’m gonna need you—” She stumbled over her words. “Holy shit.”

Lily stared at him. Her jaw was probably on the floor. James had clearly just gotten out of the shower. His messy black hair was shining, dripping water down his tan neck. The beads of water rolling down his skin caught her eyes and she followed their path down his sides. She stood in her spot, her throat closing up as her boyfriend was displayed in front of her looking like a fucking movie star.

Has he always looked that toned?

She’d really only seen him with his shirt off, and that had been few and far between. The lines on his shoulders made up of muscle rippled as he moved, and she imagined running her fingers down that back. She wondered if she could kiss every long line, every sharp curve, and even imagined what he must taste like. This was better than any fucking book, this was real, and he was hers.

James glanced over his shoulder when the door slammed behind Lily, announcing her presence more loudly than her original outburst. Her eyes at that point were fully gaping at his arse, which was peeking out from low hanging trousers he'd been scooping up his legs. He’d been hiding that arse from her under his school uniform, and Lily felt like it was a crime.

“Lily!” James finished pulling his trousers up, quickly, his fingers stumbling on his zipper.

James' tan skin stretched over his arms. Lily wondered how he was that toned from simply tossing a ball in the air. She imagined he could probably toss her around too, if he wanted. His wire frame glasses were slipping down his nose as James turned to face her, showing off his bare chest. Oh, she loved his chest. He had a line of hair that she could follow right down to the V of his pelvis.

“Hi.” Lily managed to squeak.

James ruffled his wet hair, droplets flying out, “shit, Lily, someone else could’ve been in here!”

The alarms in her head were blaring, telling her that flight was the best response to seeing her boyfriend practically naked. For crying out loud, he’d only seen her upper half without clothes, they hadn’t gotten past second base.

But now she was thinking, ‘we just might get past it.’

James danced on the spot, uncertain from her dead silence. “Hello?” He asked softly, stepping forward to pretend and knock on a door between them. “Anyone home, Evans?”

“Never mind.” She sounded like a talking animal in a Disney movie, her voice was so high pitched.

“What?”

And then, very uncharacteristically of her, Lily ran out the door.

She was well aware that her face was redder than a cherry tomato. Everyone sniggered as she swiftly walked past. She knew that everyone knew exactly why her face was suddenly breaking out in hives.

“That bad, huh?” Sirius called after her. "I tried to warn ya!"

"Not now, Black!" Lily sent him a rude hand gesture as she kept retreating.

If James was following in nothing but his trousers, she was pretty sure she would die from humiliation. Who saw their partner, naked, and ran in the opposite direction? Lily wouldn't be surprised if James broke up with her. She didn't know if he'd believe she ran because she was overwhelmed by how attracted she was to him at that moment.

Luckily, no one followed her back to the castle.

Lily had barely made it past the front entrance hall when none other than Professor McGonagall stopped her with one hand in the air, “I presume you and the Head Boy figured out who was covering shift tonight?”

“I’m doing it.” Lily said quickly, eager to escape before news got out about her waltzing right into the locker room.“I’m covering.”

“Excellent,” McGonagall nodded, “it starts at six, and goes to ten.”

“I’ll just grab some food before starting then,” Lily stepped towards the tables lined with food, “bye!”

She was aware her face was still burning as she swiped a sandwich from the Gryffindor table. She ignored her friends, anyone really, who tried to engage her in conversation. She was worried she might actually die if she admitted walking in on her boyfriend in the shower.

Not that she was ashamed, but she was incredibly turned on. She wished she had taken a few seconds longer to study the arch of his back as it turned into his hips. She should have taken a mental picture of the way his chest hair curled and trailed down to the line of his trousers.

Lily’s footsteps were loud against the stone of the third floor corridor. She paced the halls, only stopping to check behind tapestries for snogging students. Being that it was Saturday, Lily knew the snogging was more apt to happen in Hogsmeade than anything.

Merlin, what she wouldn’t give to be snogging James Potter right now.

She made it to the seventh floor, also known as the most boring floor in existence. The tower was used as storage, mostly old desks and books long forgotten. Only teachers and the head students had the keys, checking it once a night before continuing on. Lily pushed open the door to go into where all the books were being stored, walking to the back of the room just for fun.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing your book today? You were so excited yesterday, I actually kind of took offense.”

Normally, Lily would’ve brightened at the sound of his voice echoing into the dark room during rounds. Normally, Lily would jump right into his arms and kiss him gleefully. Normally, she wouldn’t be thinking of doing more than kissing when she caught his hazel eyes flickering under the flames of the wall torches.

James tilted his head inquisitively when Lily didn’t have a sassy comeback about her book. He moved smoothly, like a deer in the forest, barely making a sound. Lily stood frozen in front of a stained glass window near the stack of charms books, her face turning bright red instantly. Lily swallowed thickly when James positioned his body in front of hers.

At least he was fully clothed this time.

“I’m on rounds.” She blurted out, stupidly.

James tucked his fingers under her chin as he acknowledged, “I can see that, love.”

He called her love, he always had, even before they started dating. It still turned her knees to mush. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers softly. Oh fuck, she was kissing him back, losing initiative, losing focus. His kiss warmed her up, undoing the knots on her insides like magic.

Her hands slid up his arms, feeling his body move closer to hers. Lily's mouth opened against his so that she could capture his lower lip, tugging it impatiently, feeling the skin flex under her teeth. James responded to that by deepening the kiss, tasting her with ample amounts of his tongue against hers. His left hand angled her face before it slipped against the back of her neck, holding her in place as they kissed.

Too bad he was fully clothed now.

When James pulled back, Lily's eyes were still closed. She could feel that he hadn’t gone far. His exhaled air washed over her mouth sensually, promising her that he hadn't given up all his kisses yet. It was better than any book she’d ever read, but maybe that was but maybe that was because it was James doing the romancing.

“Why are you on rounds?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

Lily's head was spinning from his arrival. “Frankie Barry and Sasha Verbs got stinging nettle all over them and are in the hospital wing until Monday.”

“Yeah I caught them having a go at it in the Herbology lab,” James said, “but I thought Annie was the alternate for tonight.”

“James,” Lily opened her eyes to find him watching her very closely, “Annie got stinging nettles too.”

“How did Annie get nettles?” James was so cute when his nose wrinkled up from irritation.

“Probably from that prick Frankie.” Lily huffed, “Penny told me that he was shagging them both.”

“Fucking fifth years,” James rolled his eyes, “they’re nothing but raging hormones.”

“Yah,” Lily pretended to agree as her left hand felt it’s way up his bicep, “raging hormones, the lot of em.”

James noticed her attention waver. A knowing smile overtook his face, showing off the sharp square of his jawbone. Lily wished he wasn’t wearing robes, they did nothing for the figure underneath. And boy, was there a lot hiding underneath. James started kissing her neck, sucking gently at her pulse point so that she leaned into him.

“How did you find me?” She asked him, despite enjoying the way he was marking up her neck.

“Oh, I noticed you were missing from dinner, so I asked around. Penny the Pain ended up telling me that you were supposed to be finding me.” He replied conversationally, nipping at her skin playfully. “I left out the fact that you did find me earlier, but Sirius unfortunately told the entire table what happened two seconds later.”

Lily groaned, letting her head fall back. “No.”

James chuckled as he brushed her hair out of his mouth's way with his fingers, “he finds it hilarious that you saw me naked and ran off without any explanation.”

“Mm sorry.” She mumbled, slurring her words when he blew cool air onto the hickey he'd just undoubtedly made.

James pulled her face to look at him, showing nothing but empathy in his eyes, “bit shocking for the both of us, yeah?”

She nodded miserably, “I should’ve knocked, but I was so mad about Frankie, and Nigel, so I had to come get you."

"I get Frankie, but why Nigel?"

"Because Nigel Babbington thinks you need more practice on a broomstick.” Lily rolled her eyes.

James immediately retracted in horror. “That bastard couldn’t catch a quaffle if it hit him in the face!”

Lily pouted her lower lip and gave him her saddest eyes. “Yeah, obviously that’s what I said!”

“Well, those pricks aside,” James brushed her hair from her face with his thumb, “why don’t you go back to the common room, and I’ll finish your route?"

Lily stood on her tiptoes to angle herself a little taller, “you mean it?”

James softened at her enthusiasm, “of course I mean it, you work your cute little arse off all week so I can play quidditch. You should get time to do what you want to do, too.”

She didn't know how to tell him the only thing she wanted to do was keep touching him in that tower, where it was unlikely anyone would find them.

Lily took both his hands in hers, frowning considerably. “I wish we had an alternate of an alternate, James.”

“To be fair, neither of us predicted Frankie would give both sixth year prefects nettles.” James said, using his body to slowly push the back of her knees right into the window ledge. “Come to think of it, we did the best we could, so really we should both be off the hook here.”

She pushed her fingers through his curls, which were dried despite his earlier wet appearance, “I like the way you think."

"I get my best ideas from you."

"I love you.”

And then she realized what she had said, out loud. Shit, was he going to go into shock? She eyed his frozen features, looking carefully, like he was prey that might flee from her arms. His hazel eyes read her, skimming her face, her hands, her body. Lily sucked in a deep breath of air when he removed any more space between them, his chest pressing up against her white button down.

There was something unspoken and wild when he closed the gap between their lips. She laughed into his sudden flurrying kisses, made up of long strokes of tongue and scraping teeth. James had one hand in her red curls, his other hand pressed against her arse, lifting her onto her tiptoes higher. Higher. She was practically balancing on her black school shoes, her tongue tasting every corner of his all-too-eager mouth.

There was something incredibly hot about the way he was holding her there, something invigorating about the way she could barely keep up with his kissing. His passion spread through the room life a wildfire. She was burning in him, feeling every inch of her body catch sparks that erupted in bolts that streamed from her head to her core. It was always like this when she kissed James Potter, and she didn't want the feeling to ever end.

Lily’s hair was tangled between his fingers while he arched her head to deepen the strokes of his tongue. He tasted like mint toothpaste, or gum, but she couldn’t decide which one as her nails scraped through his dark black hair desperately seeking more friction. She could smell him, only him, the sweet scent of cinnamon and soap. James slid both his hands under her skirt, lifting her into the wide sill of the window, which allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“I love you too,” he finally replied, eliciting a soft sigh from her lips as he spoke inches from her, just in case he wanted to dive back in.

“I'm not saying that just because I like your arse, either." She nipped at his tongue.

James smiled against her mouth, "you like my arse?"

"I loved everything I saw, to be honest."

“Fuck, this is so hot, like a dream.”

She pressed her mouth along his sharp chin, leaving a trail of kisses to his ear where she whispered, “been dreaming of me, have you?”

“I think I’ve got hormones to rival a fifteen year old.” James’ fingers were wound up in her skirt now, holding the fabric tightly as if he might rip it off her. “Especially when I saw you earlier, I mean, when I saw the way you were looking at me.”

Lily’s fingers were unbuttoning his robes, desperately trying to get to the skin she’d seen earlier, “I’m sorry I ran, you’re just way too handsome and I died a little.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t run after you,” he kissed her again before admitting, “I like how you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just saw me naked.”

“I did.” She giggled.

“Damn, you’re right.” He sighed, “I just keep giving you whatever you want.”

Lily pressed her forehead to his gently, “how shall I ever thank you?”

“This is a good start,” he joked, the edges of his eyes wrinkling with humor.

“We could get in trouble if we got caught.” Lily thought the idea only turned her onto him more.

James placed butterfly kisses along her chin between every word of, "we're just snogging."

Lily's hands felt up his shoulders, wishing they were bare, "I wouldn't mind a little more."

His hands slipped under the fabric of her shirt, cupping her breasts over her bra, “something like this?”

Lily turned her head to capture his wicked smirk. She kissed him slowly while his left index finger slid under her bra to play with her peaked nipple. Lily felt tingles between her legs when he touched her like that, and so she kissed him harder, her hands grasping for hold. Even with his kiss, his hands, and his undivided attention, Lily still wanted more.

“Let’s go,” he begged into her mouth, seemingly having the same thoughts as she did. “The lake is bound to be empty this time of night.” He nipped her playfully with his teeth. “This time we’ll both strip down to our underwear.”

“That sounds pretty fun.”

“Rounds only go till ten, and then— holy hell ."

His whole lower body had shifted into hers when she locked her legs around him, using her ankles as shackles. She balanced on the edge of the windowsill, until his right hand started holding one of her legs to his body. Lily felt it as he rolled his hips up and into her. He must’ve liked it too, because his hips jolted a little more roughly on the second go. She dug her nails into his skin, meeting his thrust with one of her own.

"Lily, you’re so needy.”

“I'm needy?" Lily could feel him, and he was getting hard despite all the fabric still separating them.

James softly whined her name and it made her see stars.

“You gonna make it to the lake?” She asked him, loving that he hissed like it was possible he wouldn’t.

“Are you sure you didn’t make this entire nettles thing up, just to get me turned on so much that I'd jump you on rounds?” He teased back, hot breath splashing over her face. “You just wanted to shag me, right?”

“The nettles are true,” Lily said, “but I did not expect me running away from you to garner such a—ah— James .”

He had thrusted and rolled his thumb over one of her nipples at the same time, making her entire face flush from pleasure as she gasped his name. James got a dirty and possessive look at that, repeating the motion so that he could watch her hitch on an inhale, totally overcome by the sensation. She watched with wide eyes as he pushed aside the fabric on her right breast, leaned down, and put his mouth on her skin. When his tongue fell against her peaked skin she felt another flash of heat from below that had her wiggling in place. She was desperate for more friction, more James, more feeling.

“You might’ve run away.” James had left her bra pushed aside when he stood up again, and the cool air elicited a new feeling on her skin. “But before that, you just stood there undressing me with your eyes and as I watched the flush creep up your cheeks…all I wanted to do was get you to look like that while I was ravishing you.”

James was definitely getting whatever he wanted. She was absolutely turned on, more so than she ever had been with him. She knew he wouldn’t go so far as to have sex with her, but she wondered if he wouldn’t mind experimenting a little. They had time, rounds didn't end until ten, and no one would come looking for them.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered when he started kissing up her neck.

James sucked her skin thoughtfully before asking with a husky voice, “touch me where?”

"Where do you want me to touch?"

Lily dropped her legs from around him to give him room to move. He was pushing off his robes, letting the fabric fall to the ground. Lily watched with hungry eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head, making it join his robes on the floor. It was only seconds before he was unzipping his trousers. He already knew the answer to Lily's question. He was just teasing her, and looked pleased by the turn of events as he readjusted her legs around his hips.

"You promise not to run this time?" James kissed her, sweetly, affectionately, only deepening the touch between them by pushing himself into her so that she could feel how hard he was.

"Yes." She hummed happily when he started moving his body into hers in a wholly sexual way.

"Are you sure you want to go further?" He confirmed, "We can stop, whenever you want.”

“Okay," she whispered, "but I don't want to stop right now."

Lily had never touched anyone like she wanted to touch him, and was even disappointed when he stopped moving against her so he could readjust. James shimmied his trousers and underwear down so that they rested on him just as they were when she walked into the locker room: barely hanging on. Her hands unlocked from around his neck as she looked down and prepared to take a daunting step with the boy she loved. He was holding himself, but watching her with expectant eyes, seemingly unsure of how she would respond.

“Show me how,” Lily told him, and James took one of her hands, wrapping it around the base of his cock.

“Just go for it,” James said as her fingertips slid along the length, making him twitch involuntarily.

"What if I suck at it?"

“I'll help.”

Lily felt the thickness of his body, but she was more marveled at how velvety he felt. He hissed when her fingers slid underneath the shaft gently and he bucked forward, making her entire hand wrap around him in gut reaction. His hands grabbed ahold of her waist as if seeking to anchor himself to something, and she didn't mind that it was her.

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes once more when she moved her hand in a pumping motion, “are we sure I’m not dreaming?”

“Not dreaming.” She confirmed before asking, “does it feel good?”

James managed a short laugh, as if she was absurd for even asking. Lily brought her mouth to his and he willingly accepted her kisses as her hand started moving up and down his shaft in slow, unpracticed, motions. James was distracted by her hand, only kissing her absentmindedly, almost like he could not handle thinking about both at once. She felt James quivering, and her hand was starting to feel tired. James rutted into her hand again, ripping his mouth from hers to hiss a long stream of curses. It was clear he wanted more because he was wide eyed, nothing but need dripping from his expression.

“Here,” he said gruffly into her neck, removing her hand from him and placing it on his balls, “touch me here.”

Lily didn’t know what she was doing, but did as he asked. James’ own hand started pumping fast against his cock. Lily watched, enthralled by the sight of her boyfriend coming totally undone before her without any embarrassment. His chest was heaving as he grabbed her hand again, guiding her into the fast paced movements until he was panting for air. She watched and waited as she followed his instructions, eager to see him fall totally apart for her.

“I’m gonna—“ James tried to warn Lily to move her hand, but it was too late.

She’d always wondered what boys were like when she was alone late at night, touching herself, but nothing could’ve prepared her for witnessing it first hand. It was messy, for one, getting all over her legs and skirt. James barely even blinked at it, he was too busy catching his breath. Lily adjusted uneasily, trying and failing to look like the products of her touch didn't bother her.

“Sorry.” James breathed into her skin, and Lily could tell by the curve of his mouth that he was grinning. “Give me a second and then I’ll clean you up.”

“It’s fine.” She kissed the top of his head softly before admitting, “I never did that before.”

James looked up, arching a playful bow, looking rather euphoric. "You've never seduced a boy before?"

Lily pinched him, "you caught me, this was all a ploy to seduce you into finishing rounds with me."

“You could seduce me into a cauldron full of nettles, love,” he said in a loving voice, “especially if you ever touch me like that again.”

"I think next time it's my turn." Lily suggested.

James' jaw dropped. "Can it be next time, now?"

Lily laughed as he kissed her again, marveling at how her Saturday had remained smutty after all, only this time there was nothing fictional about it.

#jily fic #jily fanfiction #lily evans #james potter #jily #jple #Jily smut #smutty Saturday

75 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 10 months

Note

Wife innocently asking Kalymir about all of his scars and touching them and fawning over him, seemingly oblivious to how hot n' bothered he's getting.

" YOU'RE STARING AGAIN, RUNT. "

Ah, he caught you. How can he blame you? Kalymir is quite something, physically speaking. It's hard not to notice him, not to stare at him. In such a vivid garnet coloration, it's hard not to focus on the gashes of blush rose that cross his figure, standing out like sore thumbs.

Kalymir doesn't hide them, in fact, he practically goes out of his way to display them, like they're the most beautiful part of his body. He seems to think other people's scars, whether from battle or simple "blemishes" of nature, are also attractive- It was very odd to see him constantly trace a slash across your arm from a soft training session.

Nevertheless, the King is kind of primal sometimes. In the sense that prolonged gazing agitates him severely. It's hard to tell if he enjoys it or not, but you know it definitely reads as a challenge, if the growl under his words is any indication.

" So I am. " You blink.

" IT'S GETTING ON MY FUCKING NERVES, SPEAK ALREADY. " He fumes.

It's clear you caught him in the middle of some sort of scheme, he only ever stands in front of his main (massive) fireplace with his arms behind his back when he's mulling over something. Kaly's already pissed from being interrupted, better not to test him further. But then again, you did come here to make sure he isn't spacing out in his own mind, in a positive feedback loop of fury...

" How did you get that one? " Walking to stand beside your demonlord, you point to his chest, specifically the large patch that crosses it diagonally.

Kalymir snorts, turning. " OH, SO YOU JUST CAME TO MAKE GOO-GOO EYES AT ME? "

You roll your eyes, but a lazy smile still graces your face. " I asked you a question. "

" I HEARD, DIPSHIT. "

Apparently, you've successfully brought him out of his thoughtful stupor, because the Icon grins wide, teeth ever flared, and squats in front of you.

" THIS ONE HERE? " He barks, and you nod silently. " IT'S MY FAVORITE. " And his biggest. You wouldn't be surprised if it was his favorite precisely for that reason. " I GOT IT THE DAY I BECAME KING OF WRATH. "

Eyebrows rise, you gawk openly, rising loud cackles out of him. " No shit-? "

" YEAH BITCH. " He leers, fetching one of your hands and putting it up against the gnarled flesh, just beneath the bone growths on his upper chest. You blush a little, though allow yourself to map it out. " FEEL IT. "

Kalymir flexes. Although you're entirely unaware of it, his tail wags increasingly faster behind him. " I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE IN THAT ARENA, YET I WALKED OUT AS THE BEST WRATH COULD OFFER! "

When he puts it like that, it really is a scar worth showing off. You'd wear it with pride too. It actually sits very well upon him.

"AND THIS- "

Your hand is forced to grope at the scarred flesh harder, every inch of tense muscle felt beneath his hot skin.

" IS MY TROPHY. YOU HEAR ME, PIPSQUEAK? "

" Y-Yeah. " Is his breathing faster? You suppose you'd get excited talking about such a cool conquest too. " That's so brutal! I bet it hurt like a motherfucker too, you're amazing. "

Kalymir beams, puffing out further before you, even going as far as to raise his arms in a perfect display pose so you can see the way the healed tissue stretches to accommodate movement. Your gleeful giggle has him beaming back, happy to show off.

" DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I AM. " He huffs, greedily allowing you to explore the length of said scar, relishing your little hands on him, your words of complete awe.

Kalymir licks at his teeth and groans, wondering how long it'll take before you stop babbling and notice the twitching tent in his loincloth.

#Kalymir oc

262 notes · View notes

freswoe · 5 days

Text

i really don’t know how im feeling about the latest fhjy episode. sure, it was fun, the combat planning was great to watch and the battle map was awesome, but… story-wise? It wasn’t good. more than that, the preview for the next episode looks like it’ll mainly be just a battle episode, and that combination does Not make me feel optimistic about the ending of fhjy as a whole.

i think the thing that best sums up my confusion and disappointment with this episode is when Ally/Kristen shouts ‘For Lucy!’ and honestly… why? What about Lucy Frostblade - the kind girl whose major philosophy was that the world is cold so we have to keep each other warm, the foil to Porter’s house of conquest without mercy - suggests that she’d want the brutal murder of her friends without any attempt to talk to or redeem them? the entire season has stressed the doubt/conviction relationship - with the RGs representing wrathful conviction and the BKs representing doubt - and yet there’s zero doubt, zero room for understanding, when Fig’s first action as Wanda Chillda is to stress that she fucking hates ruben and wants to see him die. also, whatever the fuck was going on with ivy and fabian.

its just. this episode is the penultimate episode of the entire season, and if i was watching with no prior knowledge, id probably say it would be episode 13, 14 etc. a cool fight, but absolutely zero emotional resonance - just the Bad Kids going to town on yet another enemy. cool fights, cool planning, cool teamwork, but nothing really special about it.

i’ve seen some people saying not to take this so seriously, that it’s an dnd liveplay so of course the storytelling isn’t always gonna be Handcrafted To Perfection TM, but Fantasy High has a track record of some pretty amazing and thoughtful storytelling, and that’s what makes this episode kinda suck. There’s zero emotional resonance. The BKs clearly view the RGs as minibosses, annoying obstacles to defeat so they can focus on the main event, and that would be fine if that’s what the RGs were. But they’re not. We’ve learnt about them, we’ve seen how they were corrupted and groomed, we’ve seen how they really are just the Bad Kids who really went bad. They have narrative weight! They represent the mindless, wrathful conviction that the BKs are trying to stop, and for the BKs to slaughter them with that wrathful conviction (with no room for doubt or redemption at all) is… it’s not good.

don’t get me wrong, I get why (they’ve been awful to the BKs all season, cathartic last fight etc) but it still sucks narratively. like i can’t stress enough that the BKs are using the exact same tactics that they resented the RGs for to slaughter them. ruben says to fig that the BKs are killing his friends (despite their awful interparty relationships, they’re still his friends) and her response, instead of the understanding and kindness that fig (and, tbh, Emily) are known for is to cast ruben into literal fucking hell.

even oisin’s death was anticlimactic. gorgug’s kill on him was cool, but no nod to adaine? not even a mention of ‘you led my friend on and broke her heart so now i’ll break your heart?’ the broken heart thing was Right There and nothing happened. oisin died, a player was removed from the field, the battle went on. no emotional connection or resonance whatsoever.

i don’t know. from a narrative perspective, this episode was bad. all the nuance of the bad kids/rat grinders dynamic has been lost. the bad kids have become Exactly what the rat grinders said they were with apparently zero self-awareness on the matter. they shoot porter and jace and the RGs down with zingers and cool spells and don’t bother even trying to de-rage the rat grinders, and the result is an episode 19 which feels like a mid-season miniboss fight. they bring the same approach to fighting the RGs that they did to fighting the monsters in the Last Stand, which, y’know. not good.

the only way i can think that they might turn this around is if the BKs are shown to be influenced by rage/the RGs get brought back (still hating the BKs, but at least giving them the chance to try again), but I really don’t know at this point. just overall feeling very disappointed.

#obvious disclaimer that im not coming at the cast it’s their show etc #its just really disappointing because we’ve SEEN excellent narrative evolution in the show before!#hell they have a whole squad of reformed villains!#THEY EVEN REFORMED THE DEAD GODDESS OF WRATH!#and yet these kids don’t deserve a second chance because what. they were mean?#i get that they’re trying to destroy the world but it’s clear that the BKs don’t want the RGs to come back #see riz suggesting cutting off oisin’s head #i don’t know. it looks like a pretty shitty end to a season which ive been absolutely loving so far #guess we’ll have to wait for next week! oh boy.#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #d20 fantasy high

53 notes · View notes

piggyinthesea · 5 months

Text

Lest You Feel My Wrath mv1

for those who ache for max verstappen

part one, part two.

Her mind pondered the question - who is Max Verstappen? Was it the sweet boy she once knew? The one who harbored her heart and held her dearly or was it the one who had affiliations with women despite pursuing her, ultimately using her like the rest?

Life went on without him; he realized. Despite the numerous texts and calls he had left her since her departure, he heard nothing but silence from her. She refused to dwell on it further and held nothing but pity for herself- falling for yet another empty facade.

Her career had her main focus with all the extensive traveling needed. She had conducted interviews for various other sports ranging from football, futbol, and baseball. She had a variety of information for each, further enhancing her career. It had been 2 weeks since their last encounter, and though it was inevitable, she was called back for another racing interview. She was a tad bit nervous, however, there were no promises she would even be interviewing him again. Thankfully.

She had been assigned to interview the p1 racer, the same as last time, and she wondered if he would end up in that position. It was silly - there was no need to be thinking about him. It didn’t matter whether he’d place first or last, she’d remain professional.

Arriving slightly late to the race, she was forced to indulge in the event, unluckily for her as she held no real interest. It turned out not to be quite bad; though the loud tires burning the ground as they drifted did not soothe her ears. For a minute she was actually interested, two cars- Red Bull and Ferrari battled at the last few kilometers of the race for first place. It was intensifying. The uncertainty of the final results held many people on the edge of their seats.

Alas, Ferrari secured first place, and she took notice of the man she’d be interviewing shortly- Charles Leclerc. After a few minutes of reviewing her questions, a sense of unusual nervousness bubbled in her stomach making her unsure of herself but after a few deep breaths, she gained her confident alter ego and walked to where the man had been sitting.

She wastes no time and immediately fires, “Hello, Charles Leclerc, it’s clear from today's results that your team has done something to improve your car and the performance overall. What do you think they did differently that helped your success?” Her voice is enchanting, almost seductive, and it draws him closer like a moth to a flame.

His allure captivates her, drawing attention with an undeniable charisma that resonates beyond physical appearance. It’s unfair to deny the man’s beaut, though that didn’t stop the career-driven woman from doing her job. His head tilts, unconsciously flexing his jawline, as his mind builds a response to her question.

“Well, uh, it was a tough race with Max constantly at the rear of me but I think our team’s strategy improved significantly. Having pole position also helped tremendously but there was also a variety of different things such as our new tires the team designed.” He maintains eye contact throughout the conversation, never once breaking.

“Fantastic. And what do you think you did differently than the other drivers that earned you first place?” By this point the background became busy with drivers, each having mini-interviews of their own.

“Honestly, I think it was because out of all the drivers, I got the least penalties which I believe that if Max hadn’t received that five-second penalty in the 45th lap he would have overtaken me.” His voice held an attractive accent, and it only accentuated the gaze he held on her. His eyes remained on her, stuck like glue until they quickly and subtly glanced down her lips. It was nothing, really, she concluded. Yet the tension rose impossibly higher, as a certain man behind Charles took notice of her. She took a quick peek at Max, feeling caught as his eyes laid on hers.

Max enveloped his on-track rival with an arm placed on his shoulder whilst his gaze remained fixated on her. Charles's eyes crinkle at the corners as he turns toward Max, his friendly smile revealing a hint of warmth that resonates in the sparkle of his hazel eyes. The ambient light plays on the subtle contours of his face, highlighting the easygoing charm etched in every line.

“What’s up man, great job!” Max reaches toward the palm of Charles's hand, clasping him in a loud handshake.

“Hey, mate, hard luck. Tough race.” Charles replies, hinting at the second-place result.

“Yeah man, I had trouble with the steering and uh, you know it was not hydraulic it was kinda stuck, so I couldn’t turn properly in those tight corners.” Max felt odd, knowing she was watching the race and first handily witnessed his mistake. He felt the need to defend himself, as if he was subtly saying, hey it’s not my fault this happened.

“I see, I kinda thought you were cause you know in the 32nd lap your car did a weird swivel.” The cameras were still rolling, catching a glimpse of the rival’s friendship off the track.

She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, before interjecting, “Now that we know what happened in between those moments, Charles, is it possible the next race might not be so different from today’s results?”

“Well, if you’re my interviewer next race I sure hope so” he nervously laughed, “But in all seriousness, I think we have a very strong chance at placing first place again- that is if everything goes well in quali.”

She ignores his subtle flirt along with the quick mischievous glance Max gave Charles. In the expression Max held at Charles, all animosity was cleverly hidden underneath a thin layer of surprise.

“Well, that seems to be the end of our interview. Thank you again for meeting with me.” The cameras shutter off, and the empty bright lights that contrasted their cheekbones turned off, leaving them in the dark light of the night sky.

As if synchronized, the two men peel themselves away and step towards the barrier that separated interviewers from drivers. An uncomfortable look was shared between the drivers, both pausing, as they realized they were headed towards the same person.

Max takes advantage of the opportunity, moving past Charles, and passed swiftly over the other interviewers while gaining her attention.

He catches up to her, forcing her to turn his way with a gentle grip on her wrist, “Look, what happened last time was a misunderstanding. I want to explain this in more detail, but privately. Just know that woman isn’t my girlfriend nor have I had any relations with her in months. It was just as a surprise for me like it was for you.”

Her stare is nonchalant, with hidden emotions in her eyes, the silence adds a rift of tension in the air. “Okay. I guess it was unfair of me to not give you a chance for an explanation, I’ll text you later.”

She turns to leave, but is once again caught in his grip.

“Also, don’t fuck him.” His voice is in a hushed whisper and knowing her, he knew she would have something to retaliate, so he swiftly left her as quickly as he spoke.

The “him” in question stood back, with kind eyes, and endearingly stepped forward - tapping her gently on the shoulder. He held his hands back, like a prisoner.

“Hello. I’m Charles, I had no idea you had relations with Max. I actually came to you for your number - but you’re already taken unless, I stand incorrect?” His impression comes out as formal, way too formal, but before any of that comes to mind she finds it ridiculous how he still introduced himself, knowing she had just interviewed him.

“Oh, no Max is an old…friend. We’ve just recently come in contact again. Besides, he already has women lining up at every corner I bet.” Her tone has a hint of malice, though falling undetected by the man.

His face seems to ease up, “Well, I’m sure they’re not as beautiful as you. Hope I’m not being too forward but any friend of Max is mine’s as well, would you like to exchange contact information?”

The compliment flies through the air, lingering and creating a sense of potential romance. His request is kind, and she finds herself speaking before she thinks. “Yeah, sure. Let me grab my cell.”

A couple of interviewers notice the interaction though the cameras were too large to shift through the crowd, it remained undocumented. As they exchanged numbers, her eyes fell toward his hands, noticing the veins that bulged out.

“Good luck on your next race, hopefully, I’m called to interview here again.” She’s genuine with her words, a trait that Charles finds himself admiring. He bids her farewell, silently wishing he’d seen more of her.

Hours later, she had forgotten about her well-needed conversation with Max. He wondered if she remembered, so he took the initiative and began writing up a text message for her. It was simple and straightforward.

Hey, can we have this talk in person?

A soft ding interrupted her current research - she set herself a goal for learning more about motorsport. With the company’s credit card, she rented herself a room at a lavish hotel in Japan - where today’s race was held. It was late, and there were barely any cafes or spots open, so she texted him.

Okay, I’ll send you the address to my hotel room. Unless you know any spots that are open at this hours.

Within a few moments, he celebrates a victorious moment as the address of her hotel room is sent. He took a while to get there, due to the large line for Chinese takeout. Nervously, he stopped for a moment as he stood in front of her room door.

He sees her, and it’s comforting seeing her in something other than her work uniform. It gives him a sense of warmth knowing he knows this side of her. The silence is intimidating, and even as he’s invited in, neither of them had spoken a word.

He settles on setting the food by the small two-person table. She sees her food, and it was her go-to order when the two of them were idiotic 16-year-olds. This simple act triggers a memory, forcing her to accept the long past they have.

“Okay. Let’s eat while I explain, is that okay?” He’s displaying effort. His words hold a certain edge as he settles himself on the wooden chair.

Her silence speaks volumes; it shows just how unwilling she is to listen. Her fork twirls around the orange chowmein, it’s cheap, but it’s her comfort food ergo making it priceless.

“So, the woman you heard was someone I used to have a thing with. We were never dating, but we were seeing each other for a couple of months before I ended up breaking it off. She randomly came to my hotel room- which I didn’t even know she had. I’m sorry you found out that way, I can see how it would have upset you, but I didn’t know she’d show up.” He watches as she enjoys her food, subtly making expressions (he managed to catch) at his words.

His words hung loosely in the air as the silence ate him up. Nothing but the soft munching was heard from her. Moments pass by, and he aches for her response with each passing second.

“Charles asked for my number.”

It caught him off guard, and he halted chewing his orange chicken, seemingly processing the weight of her words. He swallows, but it isn’t just the orange chicken that’s a bit distasteful.

“Do you like him?” He dares. His eyes seem to dart everywhere but her face, not yet ready to read her expressions.

Her tone is questionable, “I just met him.”

He finally reaches her gaze, unreciprocated, the way she’s too focused on her meal bugs him. He clears his throat, “Did you give him your number?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” His response is quick, he barely gives a moment for her to finish speaking. Max questions whether it’s the conversation making the food taste displeasing, though apparently, the food is not nearly as bad as he’s making it out to be judging by the fact that her plate is almost half empty.

“He was nice. He implied I’m his friend now.” It’s uncanny the way her voice remained calm as if she didn’t know the effect they had on Max.

“You’re not.” Max's retort held a tinge of bitterness as if the idea of Charles claiming friendship triggered an unexpected chord within him. The tension lingered, accentuated by the contrast between her nonchalant tone and his blunt denial.

She raised an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in her eyes. “Oh, really? What makes you say that?” Her calm demeanor seemed to provoke rather than pacify the growing tension.

Max sighed, his frustration palpable. “You can’t just declare someone your friend, it doesn’t work that way. He probably just wants to bang you…” The last words were muttered, barely audible, yet she caught onto them.

Her eyes narrowed, a mix of surprise and irritation flickering across her face. “Max, seriously? You think that’s all it is?”

He avoided eye contact, a discomfort settling in. “I’ve seen it happen before. Nice gestures leading to ulterior motives.”

She leaned in, her voice firm. “Not everyone has the same intentions. Maybe he’s just being friendly without expecting anything in return. Or maybe, it’s the chance that he may actually want a relationship that gets you upset. The fact that we won’t have the chance to have the same relationship we had in our teen years. We both know that relationship wasn’t sustainable.”

“Yeah, because you left.” Max’s response was filled with bitterness, a subtle hint of resentment.

“Max, I had to! You knew the situation I was in, are you honestly going to hate me for that?” Her voice raised volumes, intimidating him as he unexpectedly came in contact with her wrath.

He twitches slightly, feeling a sense of regret from his words, “I’m sorry, no I don’t hate you. But it changed everything. I had to pick up the pieces, I was hurt.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair - a sign of stress Max noticed, “I wish I had a choice. I never wanted to hurt you, you were the only thing that I loved. It was just a difficult time.”

“It’s okay, we met again, didn’t we?” His words offered a fragile calm that quickly settled into the lingering tension air. The possibility of something new brewing for them skyrocketed Max’s hopes.

#the end #or is it #it is now #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing

81 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 1 month

Note

Just a question have you ever written for Beckman

Yes, and I love him ✋😩✋ Very much a loud and proud member of the Benn Beckman Wives Army. He's a part of my main special interests. If anyone ever wants to Fic Gift Swap with me, he's the main blorbo I request for.

Here are a few I've written prior:

When you had the chance

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

Mister Beckman

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind and Gentle

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You Shot a Baby (Dialogue)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

And here are some that I absolutely recommend if you haven't already checked them out!:

Two Days: @jintaka-hane

Reminiscing about the time Beckman first met you, the Red-Force docks for two days so you both can share some highly anticipated time together.

Unspoken Affections: @icy-spicy

Confessions and disciplinary scolding, you tend to the wounds of your crewmen before turning to clean up the First-Mate.

Together: @cinnbar-bun

As the "mom" and "dad" of the Red-Hair Pirates, you and Beckman have a lot of work on your plates. (Un)Luckily for you two, your crew decides to meddle with your relationship (again).

Distractions: @discordantwritings

As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Give (In) and Take (me): @sordidmusings

After a night of drinking, you finally work up the courage to make your move on the first mate. Although he has longed for you from afar, he believes you're too good for him and restrains himself from giving in. Until he doesn't.

The way Benn Beckman lives in my head rent free, at all times. I adore the man.

#one piece #x reader #benn beckman #op benn beckman #benn beckman broodily breasting boobily

45 notes · View notes

ghostfanwriter · 1 year

Text

To make you feel better 🧽💖

A smutty fic where Joel is sick, and you do your best to help him feel better.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem! Reader.

Setting: Jackson.

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

What I listened to while writing this:

💖Kali Uchis - Angel

🧽Kali Uchis - Telepatía (fucking vibes these two)

💖Sabrina Carpenter - Nonsense (because this song is partially about being cockdumb and you can't convince me otherwise. It doesn't pass the vibe check for this, but I listened to it anyway)

🧽Lana del Rey - Ultraviolence (I don't know exactly why, but Ultraviolence just makes me dizzy thinking about Joel. Listen to it watching the interrogation or hospital scenes and tell me I'm fucking wrong.)

Author's note: do yourself a favor and listen to Angel and Telepatía when reading this. Damn they fit the vibe. I had this story cooking on my brain for a long time now, and finally managed to get it out. It's dirty, but it's passionate and I hope you like it 💖. Also, I mention how they met here, and I have this idea where Frank and Bill had a daughter, maybe she arrived with Frank, and reader is her, but I don't know. I have another idea that fits right there and may write it eventually. Let me know what you think ✨

Word count: I think it's around 2.5k.

Warnings: Smut; 18+ only please; p in v, oral sex (male receiving), mention of Joel being sick, no physical description of reader, a bit of fluff there too.

Tell me if I missed something, please ✨

Good reading 🧽💖

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

You leave Ellie on her doorstep and hurry to the house you share with Joel. Your cheeks are burning from the cold and you can barely feel your fingers, even inside Joel's thick gloves that he insisted you would wear outside.

You enter your house, remove a layer of clothes and rush to the guest bedroom. It took a lot - a lot - of persistance to convince him to stay downstairs. He was weak and you didn't want him going up and down the stairs everytime he needed to eat during the three days you went away.

You find him asleep, and if you're being honest, your heart sinks seeing him just laying there. Joel was getting old and, although you knew he would probably die before you, avoiding the thought was one of your main focuses right now.

Sitting at the edge of the bed slowly not to wake him up, you just admire him for a second. The wrinkles forming around his eyes, the little pout on his lips, his brows missing their deep frown. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position felt like a privilege, one that only you and Ellie had. He was soft and open with the two of you, unlike with everyone else, that sees him as a grumpy and even dangerous old man.

Dangerous, you couldn't lie. He is.

But you've seen his wrath. And you know it is only directed towards the people who threatened the ones important to him. You met him when he and Tess started going to your parents house, and with time your relationship develop to what it is today. You've never seen him offer any danger to anyone close to him.

You stroked your hands up his chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt, and noticing that he's still a little hot. He hums on his sleep and you try to wake him up. "Joel", you call in a tender whisper. He hums again and wakes up when your hand touches his cheek.

"Hi baby, how are you feeling?" His eyes take a second to focus and process it's you. He is awake on a snap, eyes wide looking at you. A tired and soft smile on his face and a hand on your thigh.

"You ok?" His stare is a bit confusing. You're not sure he is totally there with you, so you keep staring at him.

"Yeah, better now. Missed you." He finally says, like he's out of a spell. "I missed you too." You lean down to kiss him, and he lets you. Your soft and cold lips making him groan and shiver at the same time. His hand pressed harder on your thigh.

"You're still hot, aren't you? Did you shower today?" Caressing your thigh, he takes a while to respond. "Haven't since you left." You stayed out for three days, and Joel kind of got used to not showering often, so you always reminded him to shower at least once a day.

"So gross." You say with a laugh, and he gives you the best, strongest laugh he can. "I'm going to take one, why don't you come with me?" You say leaning down to kiss him again. Running your hands through his hair, you say "Wash this hair, huh? Come with me."

You help him up and you go to the bathroom. You help him undress first. He's a lot better than when you left, but he still struggles to bend and remove his shirt and pants.

"C'mon, you go first." You mention him the shower. "I thought we were showering together." You smile. "We are. But you can't stay out in the cold, so go while I undress."

He goes under the hot water, groaning at how good it feels. You quickly remove your neverending layers of clothes. Getting behind him, felling his body warmer with the added heat of the water.

You rest your cheek on his back for a second, hugging him from behind and just enjoying his presence for a moment. His hands come over yours, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You eventually start showering. He washes your hair, tenderness and love on his touch, massaging and caressing your head as he feels you relax under his touch. Fingers moving slowly and intently, like he was making sure you were really with him, and not outside, by yourself, without him to make sure you were okay.

You washed him, carefully soaping every inch of skin you saw, taking in every muscle and scar he has on his body, leaving an eventual kiss and squeeze along the way. He was with his back turned to you when you were finishing with his hair, and you lowered your hands to finish washing his front. When you reached his stomach, you felt the muscles there contract, and you soon saw why.

He had a hard, pulsing erection formed. It was fully there and God, you missed him.

He had been sick for almost a week and insisted you would keep a bit of a distance not to get sick. You missed his touch, his weight on top of you, his smell invading your nose, his sweat mixing with yours, his sounds, his tastes. You missed him fully, in a way that blurred your mind for a second.

You were brought back to reality when he groaned loudly, your hand firmly stroking him, up and down, slow and savoured movements. Like if going any harder or faster could break him. "Is this okay?" You ask, stopping to wait for his response.

A hand met your lower back, and his head rested lazily back on your shoulder. You got back to your motion, eventually going harder or faster, but keeping an overall steady and passionate rhythm.

Burying your face on his back, you were enjoying this as much as he was. "You always talk about how I'm always ready for you." You say in a whisper. He hums. You didn't lie. Joel was big on his praising game. Always telling how good you were doing and how good you felt.

"But you've never let me down neither." You said with a particularly tight movement of your hands around his tip and then his length.

Then you could swear, even if you felt like your ears were lying to you, that you heard him moan. A different, almost rare sound from him.

He always grunted and groaned, sounds you were deliciously familiar with, that you took as incentive to take him in deeper, or to cum around him again, or to work your tongue around his head one more time.

But a moan was different. It was him being vulnerable and showing his appreciation for what you were doing. His, other times, vocal lips, only spilling honesty right now.

The shower was slippery and Joel too weak to do anything in there. So you stopped your hands, running them up his stomach and kissing his back.

"Let's go to bed, don't want to end all the water, do we?" You said, turning him and receiving openly the kiss he leans down to press on your lips.

You dry his hair and his body, telling him to go to bed. You pat yourself dry and follow him, watching him while he looks at you, appreciating every curve and line your body had.

You lie over him, straddling his hips, his cock warm under your clit. Leaning down to kiss him, you slowly roll your hips, his hands coming to your ass, giving you a strong and deep squeeze.

"Wanna make you feel good, you've been feeling bad for a long time now." You whisper on his good ear when going down to kiss his neck. He hums in response and you start trailing kisses down his chest, then his stomach, and finally, around his cock.

You kiss his base, balls, head and the very tip with open and wet lips. Every inch of him receiving the love you want to give him.

You suck his balls first, softly and slowly. His hand comes to your hair, not pushing or applying any pressure. Just resting there and caressing you the same way he did when washing your hair.

You then lick a zigzag up his length, untill you reach the tip, that you roll your tongue around, slurping on his precum and enjoying the soft and warm felling of his skin when you put it inside your mouth.

You slowly take him inside, letting your droll wet the next inch before sucking him in. "Gonna fucking kill me, angel." He breathes low and you half chuckle, taking the hint and going a bit faster.

Your hand is cupping and rolling carefully his balls, when his breath starts to get quicker. You suck him a bit harder one last time, sucking in your cheeks to feel him fully inside your mouth.

Then you let go. With a wet and loud sound, your lips are open, a thick streak of saliva and precum keeping your lips and his tip connected. You swallow it and go back to straddling him, once again kissing your way back up.

His hands come to your face and he kisses you deeply, passionately. It's a slow and savoured kiss. The kind to make you wish to stop time and just live in for a bit. His warmth and smell sending you deeper into him, he's all that exists right now, and you couldn't imagine a better plane of existence.

You align yourself with his cock, rubbing his tip up and down your folds, circling him around your clit and just putting his head in first. Slowly, you move your hips up and down, just the tip going in and out of you.

His hands come down to your thighs and you break the kiss, holding yourself up to look into his eyes when you fully sink on him. His eyes falter for a second, his lips part and the fucking moan is there again. Blessing your ears and making you mimick his sound. A stretched, nasty and honest sound leaving your own lips.

The kind of moan that has you worried everything with ears could hear.

When you were together you felt like you just wanted to fuse with him. You always hugged him super tight, almost as if trying to merge your bodies and become just one.

Sex was the closest you would ever get to it, and you just loved feeling him inside of you. Just how fucking closer could you be with someone then literally having them inside you?

All these thoughts making you float inside your brain. His warmth, smells, tastes and sounds are everything that you know, and you're more than willing to just swim around the man underneath you.

Your hips instinctively start circling on him. His grip on your hips tightening and helping you move. You start going up and down, watching him while he looks at your body. His eyes deep and tired, but his usual passion and desire making room for themselves on them.

His lips dry and parted, an obscene invitation for you to lean down and lick them, which you're prompt to accept. Keeping your hips movements, circling while going up and down, a clockwork to help him feel every single inch of you, you just let yourself go and fully enjoy the moment.

You kissed again, his name leaving your lips just as much as yours left his. In whispers, whimpers, laughs when you moved just right, and groans that made you see stars.

You went back up, needing him faster and rougher, you support yourself on his chest and just let pleasure guide your movements.

Up and down, circling around. Forward and backwards, rubbing your clit on his cute belly while doing so.

You started to go faster, rougher, jumping higher and trying to ignore the pain on your boobs while you did so.

You tried to hold them with an arm, but Joel didn't like the blocking of his vision, so his hands left your hips and, removing your arm from your boobs, he held them, giving them enough support so they wouldn't hurt, but keeping them fully in sight for him.

You started to feel your orgasm forming and put your left hand besides his head, using your other hand to circle your clit fast and tight. Joel groaned and pulled you high enough that he could take your nipples on his lips.

He sucked hard and...

Oh God.

He just fucking kicked you off the highest cliff possible.

You screamed his name in a way that would absolutely earn you some looks when you step outside your house.

Your body shivered, shook, and moved uncontrollably. His name the only word you could remember, and you felt your pussy literally gushing around his cock.

You lied on top of him for a second. Trying your best to breath again. You were straight up just cockwarming for a bit, while you tried to organize your brain again.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Feel so good around me, squeezing me so well." His words making you clench purposefully around him, wich you kept doing, just pulsing and doing your best to make him feel good while you can't move. "My good... (a clench) Fucking girl."

Oh, to be praised by Joel Miller.

You couldn't help yourself. You needed him with you. And you would do anything to show him how much you wanted it, how much you deserved him with you.

You wanted to make sure he was always happy, always aware that you made him feel better than anyone else.

The fog on your brain started to fade and you slowly returned your movements. At first still laying on top of him, just moving your ass to bring back some friction, and eventually properly moving up and down.

"Circle again baby, like you were doing before. Felt so good." You did as you were told, drawing large and heavy circles with your hips, never letting an inch of him escape from you.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for me." His eyes were watching you, the frown back between his eyebrows, but this time motivated only by pleasure. His parted lips letting moans, grunts and deep breaths escape, only moving to repeat your name time after time.

It was all too much for you. You fell down again, taken by the man under you. Only him on your mind, his smile, his hair, his big hands, the sound of his voice.

Your orgasm wasn't just due to the stimulation from this moment. It was because of him.

For him.

It was like your way to pay homage to him, to show him just how much you loved and appreciated him. He was making you cum, not only his cock.

Your jaw was clenched together and your eyes doing their best to keep staring at his. When you were finally over, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna cum, peach. Can't fucking hold it anymore."

You searched for strength on your muscles and got up. Kissing him and quickly reaching for his cock. You grab him and just go right back to it. Taking him as deep as you can, swallowing around his cock to make your throat clench around him, earning a grunt and a hair pull from him.

"Fuck, shit." He's doing his best to last and savour this feeling. His hands squeezing both your hair and the sheets, the veins on his neck about to break his skin and jump out of his body.

"Can't, baby. Gonna f-fucking cum." His warning allowing you to remove a bit of him from your mouth. You suck his head and pump his length, moaning when you feel him twitch inside your mouth.

Joel screams your name and lifts his upper body when he cums inside your mouth. Filling you up more than usually, and oh... You love it, tightening your lips around him to not let any drop escape from you.

"Greedy fucking girl." He says when you remove your full mouth from him, squeezing your lips not to let anything drip. You drink him with the most beautiful facial expression Joel has ever fucking seen, and smile when he laughs lazily at your face.

You look down, noticing there's still some on his cock. You take it back into your mouth and Joel hisses, caressing your hair, once again mimicking the movement from your shower.

Rolling your tongue around his softening tip one last time, you moan and circle it around your lips. Then you lick them and go back up, looking for his lips.

He pulls you down, kissing you in a way he hopes you understand as appreciation.

There you are, laying on top of him, sweating even though you're going through the worst part of winter.

Just you, Joel and your love for each other.

"I love you." You say when breaking the kiss.

"I love you too, more than I could ever explain." His honesty breaks your heart.

You feel the familiar feeling on your guts, the desire to melt into him, to never have to leave this bed again, to never have to experience a second without him.

You lie by his side and rest your head on his shoulder. "Gonna have to take another shower." You say, half laughing, half serious.

"Is it gonna end like the last one? Cause if it is I'm fucking running to the bathroom." He laughs, and you know he means it.

"Gonna be an endless loop, till the end of time." You say and he looks down at you.

"Eternity sounds beautiful by your side." Fuck him, you're so fucking in love.

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

Can you tell I'm dying over this man? No? Cool.

Nothing to see here.

Feedback, reblogs and cuddles are highly appreciated 👑

Bye besties, see you next time 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #ghostfanwriter #smut #fanfic #joel miller #pedro pascal's characters #pedro pascal characters #I just want domestical and soft Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller writing #joel miller fanfiction

180 notes · View notes

lu-is-not-ok · 11 months

Note

if you can find any way to analyze capote meursault for my gay heart i will hit you with hammers appreciatively

Brain rested, time for analysis. Since Capote is a shared E.G.O, I'm gonna analyze Ishmael alongside Meursault. It'll give us more on insight on both characters that way.

You know the drill, under the cut we go!

First, let's look at the Abnormality - Brazen Bull. From both its Observation logs and Mirror Dungeon Event, the main theme it carries is obvious - suffering. Meaningless suffering that notably can't be helped, as the heat of the bull won't let any water touch the abno.

Another thing to note is the focus on Brazen Bull's reactions to this pain. It cries out and lashes out due to this immense pain, directing its grief and rage towards everyone around it, even those who tried (and failed) to help it.

So those are the main themes we're working with. Endless, meaningless suffering, and the destructive behaviors that stem from that pain. It's also important to note that, thanks to what the abno is based on, we can also note down the themes of torture, punishment, and execution. These feel especially important for Meursault in my opinion, due to his own personal themes of being judged.

Now before I move on to specifically analyzing Capote as an E.G.O, we gotta talk about the elephant in the room. That is, the fact that the form the E.G.O takes is that of a matador, someone that by nature is the one performing the torture of a bull. I don't think it's a coincidence at all.

Since both Meursault and Ishmael take on the form of both the matador and the bull, depending on whether their E.G.O is Awakened or Corroded, I think the idea being implied here is quite clear.

The suffering they are going through is one that they, in some way, continue to perpetuate themselves.

Another thing I want to note, for Meursault especially, is the inclusion of chains in his version of Capote. I think it's important, as chains are an important symbol of how he feels about the judgement he's put through by other people, as shown by his base E.G.O. It's especially notable, as during both of his Capote attacks, he breaks through those very chains.

Now onto my favorite part - Sin Analysis!

Both Capotes are Wrath damage E.G.O. In my interpretation, Wrath as a Sin corresponds to actions done out of self-righteousness and defiance. It's when one decides something should change for the sole reason that they believe it shouldn't be this way. While this can often correlate with the feelings of anger, it's not a strict requirement.

In this case, I think Wrath perfectly encapsulates how Brazen Bull lashes out due to its pain, wishing for it to stop. Similarly, both Ishmael and Meursault could lash out due to their own suffering, perhaps seeing it as an unfair punishment towards them.

The Sin requirements for both Capote E.G.Os are Wrath, Lust, and Sloth. The main difference between the two is that Meursault's requires slightly more Sloth, while Ishmael's requires slightly more Lust.

While I already discussed what Wrath means for Capote, I think it's important to note that as a Sin requirement, Wrath encapsulates the idea of finding the suffering both Meursault and Ishmael are going through unjust, and wishing to stop it at all cost.

However, this is where the themes of Brazen Bull come up again. Its suffering, and by proxy Ishmael and Meursault's suffering, are not something that can be easily ended. It keeps going no matter what they do, which means that their attempts at ending it could be causing destruction around them like Brazen Bull's lashing out does, or perhaps they could even be furthering their own pain with their actions.

Lust as a Sin is one I connect to actions done for the sake of indulging one's desires or finding personal fulfillment. For Capote, I think this could mean several things. It could mean trying to find some sort of meaning in the suffering Ishmael and Meursault are going through. It could mean that they view the idea of being free of their suffering as nothing but a mere dream to indulge in.

With Ishmael specifically, as she requires more Lust than Meursault, I think this could imply her specific method of trying to defy her pain, that being indulging in her compulsions. Both of her attack lines relay the idea of continously moving forward - pointing in a direction in her Awakening, and desperately searching for someone in her Corrosion.

The latter dialogue line is especially telling here, in my opinion. It aligns perfectly with what is believed to be Ishmael's biggest obsession - that is searching for any other survivors of her voyage. In this case, that compulsion would be her way of trying to stop her own suffering. It doesn't actually stop it, and perhaps even makes it worse, but to Ishmael, it might just be the only thing she can do.

Sloth as a Sin is connected to inaction and actions done out of apathy. It implies resignation to one's circumstances, and when put together with Wrath, I believe it recontextulizes it quite a bit. In this case, adding Sloth to Capote paints its defiance as hollow and meaningless, as is fitting for Brazen Bull's themes.

Both Ishmael and Meursault know that their resistance is, in the end, futile. That their attempts at ending their suffering will not work. That this pain they are in is as endless as it is meaningless.

Just how Ishmael's higher Lust requirements imply that to be her main method of warding away suffering, the same can be said for Meursault and Sloth. His main way of defying pain, or perhaps numbing it, is to become apathetic to the world around him. To become complacent and not judge anyone.

I think this is what his Awakening dialogue line encapsulates that perfectly. It's an order to stop, and an ensurance that there is no escape. Likely something that Meursault has heard and/or felt quite a lot in his life.

An interesting thing to note here is Meursault's Corrosion line however. It doesn't express the complacency of Sloth, as one might expect. No, that's Wrath's defiance baby, a sign of Meursault finally lashing out and standing up for himself.

This is where we tie back to the imagery of breaking through the chains. Meursault, as he currently is, is still too apathetic and complacent to break his chains. However, Capote shows that he has the capability to stand up. To finally lash out and break out of his chains, defying his own internal matador telling him there is no escape.

It won't stop the pain he's through. It might even make it worse. But it's something Meursault will need to do eventually, for his own sake.

#limbus company #limbus company project moon #meursault #meursault lcb #ishmael #ishmael lcb #capote ego #lcb analysis #ask #oracle-milkman #lu speaketh #stop making me analyze meursault you're gonna make me like a french guy //j

67 notes · View notes

glitchtricks94 · 14 days

Text

Addiction - Chapter One

Gyokko x Fem!Artist!Reader

Well. Here we are, the first chapter of my most ambitious fanfic project to date. I'm excited about this because I've poured my little heart into this for months and just barely managed to finish the first chapter today after a sudden burst of motivation. Keep in mind, I don't shy away from serious topics, so check the warnings below. Betareader: @kakushino Word count: 5.2k Summary: Gyokko couldn't explain his new fascination with her, and yet he finds himself craving her attention and longing for her validation. He cannot get enough. Content warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, violence, vomiting, death, mourning. Reader discretion is advised. With all that out of the way, kick back, relax and enjoy~ -Glitchtricks

Nothing could ever compare to him. Nobody could ever be better than he was in his craft, his focus, his unbridled passion. If anything dared tried to outshine him, it’d be cut down in the wake of his wrath, the Upper Moon’s vanity always screaming at him to surpass such things. Yes, the Upper Moon Five was a very prideful being all around, hungry for recognition and starving for superiority, for the favor of his master. Any other being aside was dirt beneath the porcelain vase he often confided his body to. A brilliant lure in his opinion, a pretty vase of his own design, simply appearing near the pathetic humans he planned to devour, both in and out of their homes, their screams being muffled when he sucked them into its confines, into his hungry maw. The demon did take pity in a few beings, a few having asked out loud who made such a pretty piece. He granted mercies with a small chat before simply skewering them using his abilities. The ones who appreciated his work were the ones he found to be the sweetest spoils of his hunts. He had set his sights on a quiet village this time; a beautiful summer’s night, clear sky filled with the glittering jewels of stars, all encompassing a secluded location. Immaculate. Perfect. Surely, such scenery could inspire his next masterpiece! With a delighted titter, Gyokko used his speed to appear at the doorstep of a woman who was said to be the envy of the town. He had sent out a few feelers while he lurked, staking out who he should eat first as he felt like treating himself that night. The place was isolated, everything silent. He was quivering with excitement. He couldn’t hold back, even! He blew open the door to the house, a giggle bubbling inside his chest as he slunk back into his vase, an annoyed groan gracing his ears. “Knocking is fine, Mikami!” A woman angrily called from deeper within the house. “There’s the usual beef onigiri in the kitchen! I’m busy working right now, I told you this two days ago!” Oh, so this was a more feisty human? That’s fine, Gyokko would work with such a thing. He preferred them a touch more foolish, though he certainly knew how to handle those that wanted to put up a fight, having tried to dip his hands into any and all, for the sake of his art of course. Pressing forward, Gyokko decided to let himself inside, using his speed to appear deeper into the home, the home dark except for one room, candles lit in the main room, the scent of a previous meal still lingering in the air, the spices swirling into a cocktail that permeated the house.

Silence hung all around Gyokko, mutterings of the woman that barked at him earlier soon filling the space. His curiosity piqued, he proceeded deeper, a light streaming into the hallway of the home, beckoning him forward. He fell for such a lure so quickly, eager to see just what little surprise he stumbled upon. Rising from his vase, Gyokko peered into the room, being welcomed by the sight of a glorious sculpture depicting a man in utter agony still being created under the delicate hands of a woman kneeled at the base. His eyes widened in disbelief at the level of detail being produced before him. He had stumbled across an artist crafting her magnum opus, there was simply no other way to explain the marble sculpture before him. He couldn’t stop the utter delight that flooded his senses, finally one that could truly appreciate and comprehend his work! And what luck, he happened to just have a new piece tucked away in one of his vases! He caught a lovely family of five, all grown up no less, a set of siblings that lived a little ways away from the village. This strange woman would understand him at heart, surely she would! The thought of having an intellectually stimulating conversation before his meal sounded so delightful, Gyokko could hardly contain himself as he soon came back out of his own excited thoughts, taking notice that the human he had come across was now on her feet, looking up at her work with an intense expression, the woman standing beside him in the light. He was lightly irked at her concentration, though, he cannot say he didn’t admire such a thing, especially as he got to gaze at her soft features for a spell. Her eyes were harsh, scrutinizing and a very lovely hue, skin pale with a thin layer of dust from the rock she had dug her work out of, lips pursed into a thin line, a slight rosy shade being revealed when he looked closer. Her hair was pulled back into an incredibly messy bun, stray hairs sticking out all over, a plain white yukata and obi decorating a small frame, hiding any possible muscle she could have built given her chosen medium. Rather drab looking overall, but she herself could be a lovely work of art if given the proper treatment. Perhaps Gyokko could make something out of her, something aside from a meal. Perhaps he could shape her limbs into some intriguing poses, like that of a dancer, or- “Can I help you?” Oh! It seems he was too focused again! She was looking at him. Such a vibrant expression, the upper moon couldn’t help but to laugh slightly and retreat back into his pot, moving with lightning fast speed to appear before her in her work room. Popping out of his vase again, he gazed at the human with an excited grin, the woman before him looking at him with a scrunched up expression. It looked alright on her, but he thought something more pain induced would be better, something that reminisced the throes of death wrapping around her figure. Yes, that would be very fitting for a woman like this. “Hello, miss! Delightful to come across you this evening!” Gyokko chirped, smiling at the woman, who crossed her arms at him, glare sharp and cold. “Just spit out whatever you’re going to say and get out.” She hissed. Oh. Goodness, she seemed to be such a vulgar thing. No matter, Gyokko could handle such things! He could certainly feel the passion of your work matching his own, so she would let her walls down eventually.

“I was merely hoping for a minute of your time!” Gyokko hummed, a set of grins sitting on his porcelain white skin, small arms sprouting at his sides, a brown vase appearing in one of his many hands. Gyokko took his cue to keep talking as the woman raised a brow at him. “I wanted to speak to you, my dear, for you and I share something in common; our passion for art! I can see you are rather talented in sculpting, not as brilliant as I am, but still worthy of-” “Stop yapping and get to the point. I’m a very busy woman.” You snapped, Gyokko gawking at you for a moment, three sets of frowns forming on his features. “My, my, impatient, aren’t we?” The demon huffed, feeling himself prickle at how harsh this woman was, how snappy. It made him want to tear out your tongue and devour it, just so you wouldn’t be able to speak. Maybe taking your vocal cords as well. “Well, since you’re so insistent, my dear, I shall concede to your wish.” The Upper Moon Five placed the brown vase on the ground, the human before him looking on with shock as a, quote unquote, “sculpture” burst forth, the dead eyes of the siblings he ruthlessly collected and twisted into a long braided pillar, a face of each sibling jutting out, mouths hanging open in a silent scream of agony. Gyokko looked up at his work, a prideful grin written on his face as he began to detail his choices for the piece. “That’s disgusting!” The demon froze, fury suddenly filling his bloodstream as veins appeared all across his face and body. Snapping his gaze to the woman before him, his art that he so graciously put on display was sucked back into a new pot that appeared at its base. “What did you just say, you hideous wench?!” “Your so-called artwork is hideous! What were you thinking?!” You screamed. “Were those people? Are you so heinous that you cannot be bothered to work with stone?!” “You insult my work when I so kindly showed you an exclusive piece, one that I, the grand and marvelous Gyokko, had created just recently?! You are blind! Foolish!” Gyokko yelled, raging so much that blood popped from the veins on his face, painting him in droplets of red. “No, you barged into my home, interrupted me in my work, stole first looks at my latest piece and then expected me to praise a disgusting beast with equally disgusting work?! You’re insane and asinine! Get out!” “You are a farce! Anyone with eyes and mind can see the brilliance of my works, they’re beautiful, as magnificent as I! You-”

“I said get out!” You spat, the darkness of an incoming storm hanging in your eyes, tears even welling up in the corners. Gyokko sneered at you, a look of disgust drawn on his features. “You are no artist, you can barely pass as a work of art with that grotesque form you call a body! I’ll always be superior to you if that is what you present, what you represent! Begone!” “A filthy worm like you isn’t even worth my time.” The demon hissed, a new pot appearing in his hand, this one orange with blue swirls of varying shades decorating it. A tendril of water shot out and charged at you at breakneck speed, slashing the side of your abdomen, ripping a scream of pain from you as you collapsed to the floor, the water splitting off into two tendrils and slashing at your arms before they dissipated, a scoff following. “Even your screams have killed my appetite. How disgusting, you absolute ape.” He spat before all went quiet in your humble home, a new voice calling out to you, calling your name. “Are you here? Please tell me if you’re okay, your front door is busted open!” Mikami. “Get the medical supplies! Help me!” You screamed, a small pool of blood forming around you, the copper scented liquid smelling acrid against your nose, the pain agonizing. Your friend shrieked as she came across you, following the sound of your voice. Mikami didn’t waste time in following your instructions. You couldn’t be more annoyed and agonized after getting bandaged up. Who was that freak? Why on earth was he connected to a vase? What was his weird enthrallment? And what the actual hell was that thing he showed you?! The faces on the pillar were horrifyingly familiar to you, the scent of iron now hanging in the air in your home, the smell being at its peak in your beloved studio. It would take ages to scrub the hideous crimson stains that soiled your floor, time you could sink into other things, things far more important than having to wipe away gross iron liquid. Mikami was shooting questions at you, her warm amber eyes filling with worry as she spoke, you looking at her with a stern glare before you shoved the onigiri towards her. Your patience was frayed, and you honestly wanted your friend to be quiet so you could think. “What-” Mikami sputtered, looking at you in confusion, your name twisting in confusion on her tongue. “Shut up. Eat. You do that when you’re stressed, so shut up, eat and let me think.” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at her. Mikami gaped, but reluctantly picked up a rice ball and began munching away. Your mind honed in on that pillar that the peculiar being, that disgusting monster had showed you, the faces being present sharpening. Your eyes shoot open, your complexion paling. Those were the Gishiwara siblings.

He used the siblings you practically treated as your own in that monstrosity he dared call art. He used the people you considered closest to you and twisted their limbs, braiding them together like some sort of grotesque tapestry. Tears filled your eyes as the gravity, the tremendous agony of what happened to you finally began to take hold. “You did really well on these,” Mikami complimented before her eyes moved to you again, your trembling form greeting her, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.”Hey, what’s wrong?” “H-He killed them…” You breathed, voice cracking as sorrow gripped you in its iron fists. Mikami abandoned the meal you had set out for her just on the off chance she’d swing by to see you, rushing to your side again. “He killed them…Yuri, Joto, Kaiyo, Hinari, Tetsuki, all of them…” You repeated, hands coming up to clasp at your head as you let out a wail, a scream leaving your throat and echoing into the night. Gyokko was fuming as he wove his way through the forest floor. How dare you insult his work! Such uncivilized swine! He could have perhaps waved it off if you had merely shown ignorance, but outright disdain? Calling him a beast, calling him asinine when he was trying to bless you with such imagery? He felt sick to his stomach. Part of him wonders if he should’ve just killed you, molded you into a work worthy of the gods above, you certainly had the beauty of some of the most ornate and divine oirans at your fingertips. Yet, you were not worthy of such a fate, of such mercy even, your blood not worth much even as paint on a brush to decorate a new vase, barely worthy of being spilled by his hand. No matter, you’d be decommissioned for your indiscretion. At least that much was fitting for you. Your words still stuck like sap to his skull though, such things normally being trivial to the artist. Gyokko paused before a small lake surrounded with foliage, the clear night sky reflected in the glass like water, fireflies dancing and glittering in the air all around. Peace, beauty. Gyokko decided here is where he will draw inspiration from within himself tonight, this lake did always feel sentimental to him, even if the reason had faded away after so long. It was somewhat of a creative haven, even with the dull ebb that always seemed to spark in his chest. A serene expression crossed his features for a moment, before your words echoed within him again.

“That’s disgusting!” “Your so-called artwork is hideous!” “You are no artist!” “I’ll always be superior to you if that is what you present!” A new wave of anger flooded Gyokko’s system as he clenched his fists. How could such a lovely looking being, a being that even shared a passion for the arts with him, one of the same medium no less, spew such vulgarity, such vitriol to him, the great and divine Gyokko? And you even managed to escape his wrath with your life, no less! Such filth, such disregard to all that could be considered beautiful! The anger was chased with a new feeling, one Gyokko always despised ever experiencing; humiliation. Humiliation flew through his veins as the realization that a pathetic human woman managed to shake him, a being of divinity, of glamor and beauty, someone so far below him managed to shake him from his pedestal, fill him with this mess of anger and strife. Inexcusable. There was only one to properly atone for such things; Gyokko would simply need to create his very own magnum opus, his own work of art that would trample, stifle your own. You already finished yours, but his, his will dwarf your work to where it’ll be seen as so minute, it could be mistaken for a simple anthill. Yes, that’s perfect, simply excellent. Brilliant. The next morning, with your wounds all bandaged and inspected by Mikami, you made your trek to the Gishiwara’s household, dreading just what you could possibly find within the depths that lay behind the shoji door. The trip was shorter than you would have liked. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the unnerving stillness of the fields and hills that surrounded the home adding to your ever growing discomfort. Steeling your nerves, you took a deep breath, the heavy taste of copper dancing across your tongue as it wafted through the air through a crack in the door. You knew what you would find, you just had to confirm it, at least to try and perform a proper burial of sorts for your dear friends. Blood was everywhere. As expected, the crimson substance was caked on everything, pools on the floor not even dry as you stepped inside, the acrid scent invading your nose and making you dry heave. There were stains littering the walls, handprints littered about amongst deep gouges in the wood. Wandering deeper into the house you see everything in disarray; furniture upturned, floorboards ripped up, debris everywhere, all followed by a trail of sickly red. The struggles of all the siblings couldn’t be more evident. A new wave of tears began their cascade down your face as you explored the house. The stench of old, rotting meat blasted your senses as you slid open the door to the sibling’s bedroom, a scream being ripped from you.

Limbs were scattered about the room, pools of dried scarlet surrounding and staining them in a sickening tapestry of gore. Fingers were broken and bent in all sorts of directions, the joints on elbows exposed to open air, flesh peeled and bitten away from legs, feet bent backwards- You couldn’t look at it all anymore, you turned and began scrambling to get back outside, practically hurling your body out onto the dirt road, getting on your hands and knees while coughing heavily. You felt bile rising to your throat, the horrendous scene you subjected yourself to playing back over and over in your mind. This is what that monster did to them? Not only mutilating their bodies but ripping their limbs off? How you managed to keep yourself from vomiting only the gods and spirits of these hillsides will know. You gulped back all your feelings of anguish and disgust, shakily getting back on your feet and gazing back at the house of the Gishiwaras. You could practically hear the screams of Yuri and Tetsuki, the youngest of the siblings as they were terrorized and slaughtered, you could only imagine the pain poor Joto was in, watching all his younger siblings die if he wasn’t killed first. You retched, unable to hold back your disgust and pain anymore, the bile that you previously swallowed back forcing its way out your mouth as you coughed. You couldn't despise that bastard you met last night any more if you tried. He had ripped your friends away from you, friends that treated you as if they were your family. Now, your final memories of them are tainted with their agonized faces of death and bloodied walls of their home.

All because of him.

You shot a snarl at the house as you wiped the drool from your mouth, imagining that you were actually looking at the one responsible for all of this, all that happened to them. You felt hatred bubbling deep within your stomach as you tore your gaze away and got to your feet again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Anger was fading fast as you continued to stare down the home of your deceased friends, family really, and a hollow sadness was taking root. You shook your head, starting to walk away. You can’t dwell here too much, not now, not when the wound is so terribly fresh. Glancing back one last time, you grit your teeth before storming back to your village, a renewed fire in your eye and anger ebbing away inside your chest.

It was sunset by the time you arrived back home, your fury now having boiled down into a deep sadness as everything fully sunk in, a conclusion having been drawn; your dearest friends, your family, were now gone, and you couldn’t even say that it was painless. It was never to be painless for them with that monster at the root of it all. You trudged forward through the shoji doors of your home, vision blurring as tears brimmed around your eyes. Your feet instinctively carried you to your studio room, the hefty scent of powdered marble and wet clay filling your senses and comforting your poor heart. You had trusted Mikami to look after your home while you were away, as you weren’t sure if you would even come back or if you would come back. She was horrified either way and tried to stop you, yet you simply shrugged off her pleas in favor of sating your curiosity. Amber eyes landed on you as you stepped further into the studio, Mikami dropping the broom in her hands and scrambling to your side. “You’re back! Are you okay, do you-” “I’m fine, Mikami, just…Very sad, if I’m honest.” “You need tea, you’re never like this.” “They’re gone, Mikami. I’ll never see them again.” You spoke, voice tightening as Mikami hugged you tightly. “I’ll never be able to go and see them ever again! Oh, why did I have to spend the night here working instead of visiting them like I had planned, it could’ve been me instead of them! They were tormented, Mikami! Tormented!” Mikami looked at you with a saddened expression, watching your tears flow freely down your face as you began openly sobbing in front of her. She wrapped her arms around you, allowing you to cry into her shoulder, staining her purple kimono. She didn’t care, never did, she could never hold anything against you, as abrasive as you were, truly. “There, there…It’ll all be okay…” “How can it be okay when they’re gone, Miki? They’re dead, I can’t even give them a proper burial! That- That monster mutilated them into something hideous! I saw their faces in what that thing showed me!” You wailed, every barrier you had put up now crumbling before Mikami. “I don’t know…” “No one will ever know…” It seemed like the rest of the evening lasted for years to Mikami when she got you to calm down, able to step away and cook up some rice and tea for you to eat. There was no taste really in the food, more or less just acting as plain sustenance for your weary body. She wanted to get you to have something more, as she wasn’t a slouch in the kitchen, but nothing was appealing to you, in fact, you seemed to shut down and yourself close off, the shock coiling around your poor heart. It hurt her to see you like this.

As the moon was beginning to peak out over the mountains, you insisted Mikami head home quickly, panic in your eyes at the aspect of that monster returning and deciding to torment you further by targeting her next. Mikami argued back, but eventually conceded to you when she saw a fresh wave of tears ready to begin falling. You felt as if a weight had lifted as you watched Mikami make her way back into the village, there still being light out enough to allow for your dear friend’s safety. When she disappeared from your sight, you let out a soft sigh, trudging back to your studio. Slipping inside, your body instinctively went for your sculpting tools, the chisel and hammer feeling good in your palms, the weight of them bringing you down from whatever strange high you found yourself in. “Ground yourself.” You repeat to yourself, saying it over and over as you begin to chip away at the large marble sculpture you had been dedicating the past two months of your life crafting, your tragic vision being what you’ve always longed to see in the flesh. You were compelled for years to create this, near obsessed with it last spring to where Mikami had to physically drag you away from your meticulous planning every three days to get you to take care of yourself. She often enlisted Joto to help drag you away, as his bulkier form could overpower your own stubbornness and strength. You paused, heart clenching in pain. Joto. “He was so young…barely my age…” You uttered softly, eyes falling to the ground. You tightened your grip on your tools, trying to push down your sadness, you had work to do, you need to get this piece done, it’s been the only thing you could think about for months. You can’t lose yourself now! You clenched your jaw and raised your tools to the marble. Chisel positioned, you struck the back with your hammer, beginning another long night of digging out your masterpiece, the familiar motions quieting any buzzing that was blaring in your mind. You had your focus back at last. “Hyo, hyo! Not as alert as you were last night, were you?” No. No, he couldn’t be back already. Your breath stilled as you froze, hand halting right as you were about to strike your chisel again. Slowly turning your gaze, your eyes landed on the porcelain pot that held the monster who killed your beloved friends. “Get out.” You breathed, hands now trembling, eyes unfocused. A black ooze shot out of the pot, tightening and shifting in color until he was there again, the eyes in his forehead and mouth locked on your figure, two pairs of emerald lips curling up into sinister smiles, his mouth eye mimicking the gesture.

“How rude! I see that your lack of hospitality carried over from last night.” The demon hummed, his gaze sliding down your figure. “Here I thought a dame such as yourself would behave less like an ape than before upon realizing just who I am.” “I know what you are…” You croaked out, throat tightening. “I know exactly what you fucking are! I know what you did too!” “Oho? Then, my dear, would you care to voice your thoughts, finally praise my greatness as it deserves?” Gyokko crooned, puffing his chest out in pride. So perhaps this woman truly wasn’t utterly brainless! “I would never praise a monster like you! A murderer with no heart!” You cried, a new wave of tears now cascading down your face. The demon before you turning from prideful to furious. “What you did to me, what you did to them, it’s nothing short of horrendous! No one but a heartless monster like you could have done that to them!” “Those filthy siblings were worthless, they were merely only good under my hands, under my expertise! You must be too ignorant to know just what brilliance-” “Brilliance?! You dare say your heinous crimes are a form of brilliance?!” You barked, your breathing turning heavy as you suddenly took a step forward, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you as you hissed out your next words. “You’re delusional! Disgusting! Horrible! They were never worthless, they were kind, sweet, loving! Things you would never deserve a taste of, to know the feeling of!” Gyokko felt his blood boil hearing such things, the demon already feeling the urge to rip you to shreds, yet, his gaze trailed to the tears rolling down your pale cheeks, watching them wash away the marble powder. Elegant in a way, like blood oozing from the skin under his claws. A mild distraction as he gazed upon you, a strange beauty being pulled forth before him. It made him pause for a moment, temporarily forgetting the fact you were berating him for killing those pathetic farmers you called our friends. Gyokko’s stupor was soon forgotten as he suddenly felt a dull pain on his cheek and the taste of iron on his tongue. Snapping back to reality, he realized that you, a mere human woman, had just slapped him and were now holding your now bleeding palm to your chest. He shifted to where he sat straight, rising further from his pot to look down at you like a djinn rising from its prison to look down at the foolish mortal that released them. His expression turned harsh once more, his lips forming into three distinct frowns as veins appeared all across the edges of his face. You merely held your teary eyed glare as you stared up at him, standing your ground in all your stubborn glory. The demon before you let out a low growl.

“You dare lay your hands upon me, you disgusting worm?!” Gyokko shrieked, snarling as you bared your teeth at him. “Me, the disgusting worm? The filth and tarnish of everything you create will never compare to my works, to my heart! You are hideous, abhorrent, sickening! And the works you create are no more than a mirror to you, you-” Your rant was cut short, the same watery tendril flinging you back against the wall of your studio, destroying a few of your smaller sculptures from the force of how hard he threw you. “Silence, you insolent ape!” Gyokko bellowed, appearing in front of you in the blink of an eye and leaning down until you’re both nose to nose. “You should count yourself lucky that I have not found you worthy enough to be turned into my next work of art, my glorious hands could work wonders beyond your imagination, and clearly you are but an ignorant stain on this earth, just like the rest of your ilk.” He hissed, earning a sneer. “I’m flattered you don’t want to make me into another one of your grotesque monstrosities.” You spat, earning another growl and another strike from him at the hands of his strange orange and blue pot. You hissed in pain as there was now a burning sensation slicing through your abdomen, your yukata staining from a soft blue and green to a deep crimson red. A spectacular sight in Gyokko’s vision. “You aren’t worth killing, either.” Gyokko hissed as he vanished once more, your window being flung open like two night’s prior. You staggered to your feet with a groan as you pressed your arm to your new wounds, going off to treat them on your own, praying to the gods above that you’ll never have to encounter that foul creature ever again for the rest of your days. Your bandage work was shoddy at best and bound to let you bleed out at worst. You decided that optimism would be your better half at this point in time. You sighed as you tidied up the mess that monster had left behind again, sweeping up the fractured pieces of your beloved sculptures and disposing of them before returning to your abandoned masterpiece in the making, the chisel and hammer returning to your hands effortlessly. Pouring your pain into your work once more, the strike of your tools rang out, as if singing the very essence of your soul into the night until you collapsed from exhaustion, falling asleep on the floor of your studio, like many nights previous.

Taglist: @vampcubus

Just tell me if you wanna be added and I'll add you at the end of the fic to make sure you get a tag so you don't miss anything. Check out the prequal: Ache Ao3 Link

#glitchwrites.notepad #demon slayer x reader #gyokko x reader #gyokko #upper moon 5 #cw blood #cw: gore #angst fanfic #slow burn #enemies to lovers #This was beautiful to write #I'm genuinely very proud of this

15 notes · View notes