#3123

[sleepsucks]

[harveyphotography]

Acquapendente - (VT) La Gerusalemme Verde: un territorio dell’anima, un viaggio interiore, un posto dove ritrovarsi, una pausa rigenerante lungo il cammino della vita.

[mostbelovedaewwrestlertournament]

Most Beloved AEW Wrestler Tournament 2

[cardismantlers]

Sell my Car Auburn 3123 #Auburn #3123 #Victoria #Australia https://www.cardismantlers.com.au/auburn/

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

For those who know me, I tend to view celebrities of all types and all places with a slightly cynical view. My dad sort of ruined parasocial relationships with brands and famous people as he’s in product marketing. (Not entertainment, but he said marketing uses the same techniques and tactics for almost every field or situation.)

Short version: the goal of any company is to market their product/person in a positive light. They will craft this image to appeal to the majority of people that could be interested in the product/person. In order to keep things going between the audience/fan and their product/person, the company will continue to release relevant content or materials to remind the public about their product/person and encourage the audience/fan to engage by purchasing said content or materials.

Twenty One Pilots said it well with their song “Ride”: “But it’s fun to fantasize!” The fans need to remember that fantasy does not equal reality most of the time.

To those who used to support the individual in the news now, I’m sorry and I hope you’re going to be okay. To anyone affected in the situation coming to light, please take care of yourselves.

[jam-packed]

hm crack ship between esteban ocon and enea bastianini do we see the vision

[drrafaelcm]

Presidente do STJ suspende decisão que autorizou show de Gusttavo Lima na Festa da Banana

Continue reading Presidente do STJ suspende decisão que autorizou show de Gusttavo Lima na Festa da Banana

[nocontextspiderman]

Spider-Verse #2 (2019)

[peakypeakiiii]

me when when peopel reblog my silly little hc's

/pos

[paranoiias]

yoooo do people still swap currency on fr?? I'm having a tough time finding anything just posting on the forums but I need gems for an art piece. I have treasure, I'll take either of the two currency ratios, pls skgdjk

[veeloveshawks]

Sent 9:01

summary: clicking on contacts in a hurry, you accidentally send a compromising photo Deku, your fellow classmate. Neither of you were expecting the other to be up so late when classes were to presume the next day, and neither of you really minded.

warnings: blowjobs, teasing, Deku’s first time

word count: 3123

[new message: yn]

Deku could hardly grab his phone fast enough, fumbling with the passcode in his excitement. Despite texting you numerous times a day, the rush of adrenaline he received when your name popped up on his screen was greater than any feeling he could get from battle. Maybe it was because he usually knew what to expect from fighting, always a plan in mind. But, with you, the possibilities were endless. Training? Study session? Dinner? Just chatting? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t wait to find out. Scrolling through the pages of his home screen, he landed on the one with his texts on it, quickly tapping it with his thumb. You two chatted quite frequently, and in comparison, he didn’t text anyone much (with the exception of All Might, who constantly asked to speak with him during lunch periods, and Bakugo, who found the idea of being able to berate Midoriya without having to physically see him appealing), meaning you were already on top of his notification list. He anxiously opened your contact, reading the message hastily.

Minaaaa, this set is cute but lwk expensive - sent 9:00 p.m. do I keep??? - sent 9:00 p.m. wait let me send a pic - sent 9:00 p.m.

Admittedly, he’s a bit confused. First, he’s definitely sure he’s not Mina, looking down at the skin he’s confident hasn’t been changed to pink through some miracle. And, second, what were you even talking about? Set? Of what? Realizing it must have been a mistake, maybe even something he should stay not knowing, he opens his keyboard to tell you you must’ve clicked on the wrong contact. But, just as he begins typing, his eyes flick up at a new message.

[image attached] - sent 9:01 p.m.

Deku probably shouldn’t have been nosy, digging into texts clearly not for him. He wonders if this was almost as bad as digging into your texts with Mina herself. But, another part of him is curious. Most of your peers were sound asleep, not a single noise in the dorm except for the gentle breeze the stirring papers in front of him. He was supposed to be studying, was studying, before you texted. Fine, he decided to himself silently, going to click on the attachment. I’m already in this deep, what’s one more harmless distraction? He predicted he would click the image quickly, send an apology text that he’s in fact not Mina, but hello regardless, and be on his merry way. What he couldn't have predicted, though, was the image he actually saw. You stood in front of a full body mirror, one he saw before in your bedroom while passing. He observed a few things: posters of your favorite shows, shows you’ve bonded over, a particularly made bed, silk sheets flowing over the frame, and finally, the subject, you. Your face is covered by your phone, but almost every other aspect of you is exposed. One leg over the other, you showed off the white mesh socks you were wearing, sitting right below your thighs that were pressed together. Between your thighs were the lace underwear that rested just about on your hip line, lace trimming the edges . The color was light pink, along with your bralette, that hung on your chest, clinging to you. Looking a bit closer, he recognized the pattern of roses adorning the fabric. He admired for a moment before realizing what he actually just saw.

Oh. Oh.

Once he fully comprends, he shields his eyes immediately, wincing at how hard he just hit himself. That would definitely leave some mark, but it didn’t matter. Not with the already red shade crawling up his neck, threatening to seep into his face. He cracks an eye open only to swipe away, immediately hiding away in his face again. He just saw your legs with nothing on them besides, practically clear socks and a small garment covered in lace. Was this what girls usually send each other? He couldn’t even fathom the thought of asking Denki if a pair of boxers made him look good, or Todoroki if a compression shirt looked nice on him with his abs. There were too many questions whirling around his mind, and if he wasn’t short circuiting on the impact of seeing you, he was now. Maybe the, now swirling, gut feeling planted within him was correct. He rubbed the face once more over his face before opening his eyes, looking at the screen again. He was grateful for the phone’s option of being told there was an image attached without having to actually see it. What he wasn’t grateful for was the option to see when someone was typing, because it made him dizzy, not knowing what you were to say next. Did you notice it wasn’t Mina? Were you embarrassed? Mad at him? He couldn't even think about the last option without his chest tightening. The forewarning of a message almost made him sick. Through his fear induced haze, he came to an epiphany. If he could see you typing, that means… He looked at his keyboard, to discover not only was it open, he was very much typing. Ohgodohgodohgod he was so screwed. Maybe you weren’t aware of your error yet, but you knew whoever was behind the phone saw it, and was actively in the inbox. Red fully consumed him now as he scrambled for ideas of what to do next. He couldn’t even think straight with the mortification. And, though he’d been training extensively, he wasn’t sure his legs had gotten bulkier to the amount his boxers would feel this tight. Facing you seemed unbearable, and he went to the next best thing. Ending it. Through the window sounded like a good option, but since you were still awake, you might make eye contact on the way down. Suffocation could work too, but he felt weirdly… possessive over accidentally dying with his phone unlocked and anyone being able to see the photo. Plus, he really didn’t want to die with everyone knowing thinking he was a pathetic, lonely, horny loser. Did boners work when you were dead? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care to find out. He reached a dead end of idea as you texted again, the notification snapping him out of it.

why are you taking so long to type - sent 9:07 p.m. does this mean I’m jaw dropping lmfao - sent 9:07 p.m.

You were, Deku said to himself before scribbling the thought out of his mind. What was he thinking? You were his classmate! Yes, you were pretty, prettier than any girl he’s ever seen, but what he saw was still wrong. This entire situation and every detail was wrong. He took a sip of water to cool himself off because has it always been so hot in here? He spits it out and chokes on it with the next message.

Deku??? - sent 9:08 p.m.

This was it. He’s lived a good life, could’ve experienced some more things, sure, but simply couldn’t live after this. He threw his phone across the room, almost hitting a valuable All Might figure, and his face into the pillow. No one could see the photo if the screen was destroyed, he supposes. What could he do now? He had to see you tomorrow, and wasn’t sure if he could look you in the eyes. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do that again. He could try to pretend he saw nothing, but you were smart, and he was a bad liar. No, if he was going to die, he’d at least apologize first before smothering his face full of cotton. He paced around his room, practicing to himself. After a few minutes, he picked up his, surprisingly not cracked, phone again. Though, he did feel a bit light headed, so he assumed the throw hadn't been too hard. He was faced with four new messages from you.

your poor innocent eyesssss I’m so sorry - sent 9:15 p.m. omfg are you choking??? - sent 9:15 p.m. what just hit your wall, you okay? - 9:16 p.m. please relax I can hear your shuffling - sent 9:16 p.m

If he didn’t deem himself an idiot a few minutes ago, he did now, as he completely glided over the fact his dorm room was separated from yours by a single, thin floor. At least you didn’t seem mad, more concerned if anything, but it was still humiliating. He didn’t even send the photo, he was probably working himself up over nothing, but still. It’s been two minutes since your last message, and since you already knew, he may as well say sorry. Just as his hand reaches the first initial of your name, a new message comes in from you.

you can come see it in person if u want - sent 9:18 p.m.

Huh? You wanted him to do what? If there was anything Deku was, it wasn’t a ladies man. He was far too busy for that, the thought of dating hadn’t even crossed his mind. Very few were surprised when he mentioned to a small group of U-A boys that he hadn’t even had his first kiss during a game truth or dare (where he was originally asked his body count, and almost passed away on the spot). So, going over to your place would be a huge step. But was he willing to take it? Absolutely. He closed his notes immediately, maybe slamming the book down a bit more enthusiastically than he should’ve. He moved to his dresser, picking out a new pair of sleek black boxers (thinking it wasn’t very cool to show up with pre already staining his briefs), a pair of sweatpants, and an athletic shirt. He looked good enough. It didn’t really matter, he was going to take them off anyway. He opened the door gently, so as to not wake anyone, before closing and locking it to make it appear as though he was still in there. He was normally a rule follower, and sneaking out this late for a hookup was probably breaking the rules, but did he care? For once, not really. Then he checked the hallway, making sure no one was in there. If he got caught now he may as well just turn back, pretending he was sleep walking. When the coast was clear, he booked it down the stairs, not caring if anyone heard this time. After all, he was always known for moving before he could think.

-

One, two, three. He rhythmically knocked on the door, gently this time. He didn’t really care about waking the guys up, they woke him up with their late night shenanigans all the time, but the girls were a different story. He could say he was on his way down to the bathroom when on the guy’s level, but the girl's floor level? And at a door? There was no coming back from that. So as anxious as he was, he knew he had to be careful.

“Door’s unlocked!” Your bright voice echoed outside the door, and he winced. He loved your voice, it was his favorite sound, but he’s sure that just the phrase alone would cause a discussion among a few people that were either woken up, or happened to be quietly awake. He pushed the door open and the scene was even better than what he had seen on the screen. You laid on your bed, back facing the sky, and your neck twisted over to look back at him. Were you sure it was okay for him to see you like this? From the smile you made at his flustered expression, he guessed it was. You sat up, legs moved to the side on your bed, patting the space next to you.

“Come here, Izuku.” His name. He was already weak in the knees, wobbling over to sit on your bed. Out of what seemed like instinct, you placed a hand firmly on his upper thigh, and he swallowed a whimper. “I’m really sorry for looking, it was an accident, I swear!” He tried to be as expressive as possible without causing too much noise, to which you just laughed. Replacing the hand on his thigh to go on his cheek, you replied. “You’re fine, I didn’t mean for you to see it. Not complaining, though.” Your thumb began to rub figures on his face in a circular motion. He melted completely, his brain going to mush. “You and Mina’s contacts are both pinned on my phone,” you began to explain “I accidentally clicked your’s instead of her’s.” “Wait wait wait, I’m pinned in your texts?” He exclaims, not trying to be subtle about his shock. “Well yeah, I text you all the time. More than anyone I think.” He’s at a loss for words. Noticing this, you take charge, pulling him in further to kiss him. The connection brings sparks to his lips, which in turn, makes everything in him short circuit. This was really happening, and he had no clue what to do. He awkwardly guides a hand to rest on your lower back, and the other to hold the back of your hair. Trying to test for boundaries, you slip your tongue slowly into his mouth, two which he immediately gives access to. Just when he fades away into a shell of himself, you pull away, giving him time to breathe. Panting, he looks at you with a bewildered expression. Why did you pull away, was he not doing a good enough job? He hoped you enjoyed just a little, it was his first time after all. And he knew he was enjoying it thoroughly, wanting to feel your soft lips combine with his again. “Think you could take these off for me?” Confused, he looks down. Oh. Your hand is pulling at the hem of his shorts, and he nods immediately before slipping them off and tossing them somewhere in the dark room. He was about to take his boxers off too, before you stopped him, holding his hand so he wouldn’t continue.

“You seem really eager already,” you motion towards his dick, that is fully hard and straining against the boxers, threatening to break through at any time. Great, you hadn’t even done anything yet and he was already rock solid. Nice going. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this your first time?” How did you know? Well, he wasn’t going to lie and say it wasn’t The way he looked away, a mixed between desperate and petrified, told you everything you needed to know. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.” He felt a hand palm his cock through fabric, and gasped, instantly going to rock against it for stimulation. “Here, you can take them off now.” By the time you said the last word, they were already off. Promptly, you got on your knees, not worrying about hair getting in the way. You palmed him again, finding it amusing how sensitive he was from just a light touch.

Then you flicked your tounge against his tip, swirling around the precum that was starting to run. Reveling in the feeling, you decided to stop teasing, and finally wrapped your lips against him. He gripped your hair, squeezing hard as you moved up and down. He’s never felt anything so exhilarating before, the fear of waking anyone up completely washed away under your mouth. He begins thrusting his hips forward, the movement being a bit stiff at first. Once he found his rhythm, though, he was completely addicted. Stuttering breaths and mumbled praises left his mouth. At one point, he slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to conceal a moaned out swear. You looked up, his eyes glossed over completely at the new feeling of your tongue. He looked down at you, taking note of your hand now placed on his hip, your concentrated look, and most importantly, the lingerie that landed him here in the first place. He wanted to rip them off you immediately. That would have to wait for next time, until he got more comfortable. For now, you being able to please him would be enough. When you made eye contact, that was enough to finally make him finish. Singing in your praises, ropes of white, glistening cum coated your throat, and you swallowed, savoring the taste. He layed back on your bed, completely out of breath. Disheveled was an understatement to how he looked at the moment, and you adored it. His green hair was slicked back with sweat, pink misting his face. Though collapsed, he made sure to plant a hand on your shoulder, as if commending you. You stood up and joined him, underestimating how much the quick blowjob would take out of him. Right, it was his first time, you remembered. Baby steps. Originally you planned on removing his shirt and going further, but he seems perfectly content right now.

“How are you feeling?” You said, interrupting his jagged breathing. Your hand began to caress his face again, as if lulling him to sleep. “That was… incredible.” “I’m glad you enjoyed your first. Maybe I should give you a closet tour sometime so you can come back.” You teased, and he turned beet red at the thought of coming back multiple times. He moved your hand away from his face, opting to hold it in between the space that divided you. He didn’t want to move, breathe, or blink. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this. “Do you want to stay the night?” You chirped in, noticing how his grip was growing more intense by the second. Cute, he was protective. “Can I really?” He replied enthusiastically. He never really considered it an option. But he was more than happy to find out it was one. “Of course. Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?” You stood up, guiding him to the bathroom, and he quickly followed.

Midorya was known for moving too fast before his brain could fully think. Midorya was also known as a lot of things. Innocent. A rule follower. A loser. To some, a virgin. And hooking up with a girl in his class well beyond curfew, and sneaking into her dorm nonetheless was considered none of those things. But, just like the time, he was ever changing. Sneaking out this late for a hookup was probably breaking the rules, but did he care? For the second time in the night, and the second time ever, no, not really.

Author’s Notes:

First fic🙈🙈 This was sosososo fun to write. This might actually be my peak writing and it’s the first one but. I tiny tiny bit ooc but this is my first time writing for Deku so pls bear me. Also virgin Deku pls save me I love him.

[professorsnape394]

DAY 14: Potion Predicaments

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😠

Prompt: Trick

Summary: Y/N gets back at Snape for interfering with the Gryffindor students one too many times.

A/N: Part 1 to the 'Trick' and 'Treat' prompts. Something a little bit different but I hope you all like it.

Warnings: Pranks. Unwilling intake of potions (none harmful).

Word Count: 3123

Credits to Gif Creator.

“That man is infuriating.” I yelled, pacing behind my desk.

I was confronted with the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, all looking at me for guidance. They had traipsed into my office mere minutes ago, after their practice was due to begin, looking forlorn and pissed off. They all suddenly began to speak at once.

“This is the third time this month he’s let them steal our time slot for practice.”

“What gives Slytherin the right to train over us?”

“Can’t you speak to him, Professor Y/L/N, he won’t listen to any of us.”

I raised my hand to silence the rabble of teenagers.

“Of course, I’ll speak to him, Miss Bell. Not that I think it will do much good, that man answers to no one but himself.”

As Ginny Weasley had pointed out this was the third time Severus Snape had allowed his students priority of the Quidditch pitch over mine, and it was threatening to become a weekly occurrence.

I knew something had to be done about the situation, but I had tried talking to him before and yet still the issue continued. Like I said, Snape wouldn’t listen to me. Short of taking the issue to Dumbledore, which is not something I planned on doing, there wasn’t many other options. But I knew something had to be done, and soon.

“I’ll deal with the issue as soon as I can. For now, move your practice to the following day, I’ll let you all know when it had been resolved.”

The team groaned collectively, and began pouring out of the room all at once.

“Fred, George. Do you mind staying a minute.” I called to the Weasley twins, a thought suddenly occurring to me.

It was well known that they had a proclivity for mischief; causing havoc around the school since their very first week here at Hogwarts. And for once I found that their particular set of skills may in fact be a benefit. At the very least it would teach Snape a lesson.

My conversation with the twins lasted no more than a few minutes before the details of my plans were set in stone. It hadn’t taken much convincing, or rather any, to persuade them into helping me. The three of us had concocted a plan that would have Severus Snape paying for how badly he treated my house.

“And you give us full permission to do this?” Fred clarified.

“And we won’t get in any trouble if we’re caught, you’ll take the blame?” George added.

“Yep, and Yep. Just make sure you don’t mess with anything that could be fatal, just things that could inconvenience him for a bit. Do you think you’ll manage it.”

“Easy.” They said together.

“We’ve been pranking Snape since first year, we know his potions cupboard inside and out by now.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting in my office once you’re done. I’ll vouch for your whereabouts.”

The twins high-fived, faces looking like they had just been given the keys to the kingdom. An exploding cauldron, filled with countless potions whose very aroma would have even the most intense effect. It was genius.

~

Allowing Severus one last chance to redeem himself before my plan was set into action, I paid him a visit that evening to confront him for the third time that month.

“Enter.” He droned upon hearing my knock echo through his office.

“Severus.” I greeted him, storming my way up to his desk. “We have to talk.”

The Potion’s Master barely lifted his head from his marking when he spoke.

“Again, Miss Y/L/N. What could I possibly do for you now?”

“It’s Professor Y/L/N.” I corrected. “Or better yet just call me Y/N. And you know fine well what you can do.”

“Care to elaborate?” He said boredly.

“My Gryffindors have been deprived of their practice time yet again. By none other than the Slytherins.”

“I see not what this has to do with me.”

“You are the one who gave them permission, Severus, or have you already forgotten?”

“My house require practice for their upcoming game.” He offered no apologies.

“Oh, and mine do not?” I folded my arms defensively across my chest.

“The damage is done now, Professor Y/L//N. What exactly do you expect me to do about it.”

“I expect you not to do it again. I am sick and tired of coming down here and trying to reason with you when you refuse to even look me in the eye.” Feeling even more pissed off now, I found myself practically yelling at the man.

Severus finally, reluctantly, looked up from his papers.

“If my students in my house come to me with a request, Miss Y/L/N, it is my duty to help then in whatever way I am able, as I’m sure you well know.”

“But not at the expense of other students. Don’t you see what you’re doing isn’t fair.” I threw my hands in the air, exasperated with the whole conversation.

“Unfortunately, life isn’t fair. Now if there’s nothing else?”  The professor shot me a stern gaze, his eyes finally meeting mine.

I opened my mouth to speak but came up with nothing. He had his chance. With a final sigh I trudged out of his office, feeling his stare burning into my back as I left.

At least now that last shred of guilt I felt for what I had planned had immediately been squashed upon visiting Snape. He deserved everything that was coming to him.

~

The following evening the plan was set in motion.

I waited patiently in my office, as I said I would, anticipating the twins return from setting up the prank.

Not much long later, they sprinted through my door; practically barricading themselves in with their bodies.

“Is it done?” I jumped up at their entrance.

“We think so.” George panted breathlessly.

“What does that mean, you think so? I pressed.

“We heard the bang.” Fred smiled.

“And his scream.” His brother added.

“He swore, like a lot.”

“A lot, a lot.”

“Is he hurt?” I wasn’t sure why I bothered to ask.

“No. Just pissed I think.”

“Good, it’s what he deserves.” I finally relaxed.

The three of us hid out in the safety of my office until we could be sure Severus would not come knocking.

~

The next morning Severus was not seen at breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.

The same happened the day after that.

And the day after that.

Eventually my stress and curiosity got the better of me and I finally enquired about his absence.

“One of the students broke into his classroom and set something explosive off.” One professor explained.

“He’s under the influence of a dozen different potions but he has no idea what they are.” Another joined the conversation.

“He’s been holed up in his office for days trying to figure it out.”

“I heard that if he doesn’t return to teaching soon, Dumbledore has been ordered by the Ministry to let him go.”

“What?!” I gasped, listening to the information my colleagues had gathered over the past few days. “Shouldn’t they have worn off by now?”

“Because of the rare combination of the ingredients, there is no telling when it will wear off. Or if it will even wear off at all, the only solution is to find a cure for each potion individually and hope for the best.” Minerva confirmed as she took control of the conversation.

“So, he has to know what they all are?” I pondered.

“He’s working through it as we speak. I believe he has already successfully identified a few.”

“I should go see him.”

“Severus isn’t the most gracious host on the best of days.” She warned. “I don’t believe he is taking any visitors at the moment. I think it’s best if you let him be for now.”

Not bothering to heed Minerva’s word, I mentally prepared to pay a visit to the infamous dungeon bat. If only because the guilt had begun to eat me alive. But first I had to speak to the perpetrators of the prank.

“What did you do to him?” I questioned the Weasley’s upon summoning them to my office.

“Exactly what you said to do; inconvenienced him”

“Nothing will actually hurt him.”

“I only meant for it to last a few hours; it’s been days.” I cried.

“He deserves everything he got for all he’s done to us.” Fred huffed.

“You need to remember boys; Severus has a job, one that he is currently unable to do. Anymore time off and he’s at risk of getting fired.”

“Even better, then we’ll get rid of him for good.”

“He doesn’t deserve that.” I shook my head.

Fred and George shared a knowing look that said they thought otherwise.

“I’ll need a list of everything that you gave to him.”

Fred hissed through his teeth, while George shook his head slowly.

“No can do, I’m afraid.”

“What?” My eyes bulged; this was the only plan I had to help Snape save his job.

“We didn’t keep a list; it was more of a fire at will situation.”

“We just grabbed anything that wasn’t dangerous and chucked it in.”

I buried my head in my hands, utterly defeated.

“Okay, I guess you’re dismissed.” I sighed.  “I’ll have to figure it out myself.”

~

“Severus.” I rattled on the door erratically. “Severus, open the door.”

“Go away.” He growled from inside.

“I’m not leaving here until you open the door so you might as well get it over with.”

The Potion’s Master grumbled agitatedly, but eventually, after a long pause and a few muffled curse words, Severus opened the door.

I expected the worse from his reaction, wincing I looked the man up and down, scrutinising his features.

Fortunately, there wasn’t too much different about Severus’ appearance. Well…besides his hair; being that it was now bright blue and sticking up on end. It was a struggle to stop myself from bursting out into hysterics, but I bit my lip and silenced myself knowing he would did not see the humour in it.

The worst of the prank had manifested itself in different internally; most notably the chronic hiccoughing Snape could not seem to put a stop to.

“I mean, it could be worse.” I covered my mouth to hide my reaction.

“It is not amusing, Miss Y/L/N. Once I find out who did this to me there will be hell to pay.”

“Do you have any idea who it was?” I ventured.

“The usual suspects; those infernal Weasley twins.”

“It wasn’t them.” I rushed to defend. “I mean, it couldn’t have been them. They were serving detention with me that whole evening.”

Severus hummed, unconvinced. Slowly he opened the door a little wider and disappeared back into his classroom.

I took this as an invitation to follow him in.

The room was clouded from the steam of a dozen different cauldrons all bubbling at once; their different scents mixing in the air to create an aroma of confusing smells. It was a sensory overload, but one Severus seemed used to. The thick fog of smoke didn’t seem to faze him as he continued to work away like usual. He had returned to his desk, yet again hunched over numerous pieces of parchment paper.

“How many have you figured out?” I asked.

“Seven. So far.” He ran a hand through his cobalt hair. “But I only have the antidote for two of them.”

“Hence all the cauldrons.”

“Correct. I have taken to brewing as many counter potions as I can think of so when I do discover what infernal afflictions have been forced upon me, I am able to rid myself of them as soon as possible.”

“Let me help.” I begged. It was clear all this work would be too much for one person to tackle alone, and now he had the pressure of a ticking clock to consider.

“Why would you want to do that?” He looked at me sceptically.

“Because I don’t want you to lose your job.”

Severus stopped scanning the page, and stared up at me blankly.

“I see word has gotten out of my precarious employment status; news does travel fast.”

“Let me help you.” I repeated.

Severus dropped his head with a resigned sigh.

“Okay.”

A pleased smile spread across my face.

“Budge up.” I ordered, dragging another chair behind his desk. “Let me get a proper look at you.”

“You really think looking at me is going to help? I have studied myself countless times and have come up with nothing, and I think I possess more knowledge on the subject than you do.”

“I just thought that maybe a fresh set of eyes would be a benefit.” I huffed.

Severus continued to avert his gaze from me, refusing to look me in the eye.

“Fine. Then show me what you have so far.” I snatched the parchment from his grasp. One was the inventory list of his store cupboard which he seemed to be cross referencing to account for what was missing. The other was a list of his possible ailments, a few having already been scored out.

“Tell me what you’ve found so far.?”

“Within the first few minutes I was able cure two of my afflictions.” He stated plainly.

“What were they?”

“Babbling Beverage and Elixir to Induce Euphoria.”

This time I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That must have been fun for you.”

“It was hell.” He glared.

“At least they were easy to identify. What else?”

“I’m currently brewing the cure for a few more; Hair Dyeing and Hair-Raising potions, and Hiccoughing Solution.”

“That much is obvious.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“I also took the antidotes for both a Fatiguing Infusion and Befuddlement Draught. But neither seem to have taken affect yet.”

“Hmmm.” I scanned my eyes between each parchment, wondering why they might not have worked. “What if it’s not taken affect because you’re curing the wrong potion. What if it’s something similar like a Confusion concoction or a Dizziness Draught.”

Severus’ brows shot up his forehead, it was clear he had not considered this possibility.

“You could be on to something.”

“Do you have the antidote for either of them.”

“I believe I do, let me go check.” He rounded the edge of his desk, disappearing into this store cupboard.

Severus and I continued to work through his list for the next day and a half; with me helping him in the brewing of the cures crossing off item after item on his lists.

In that time, we were able to cure him of all visible affects, and discover almost all of the missing potions used in punishing him, which were; Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Babbling Beverage, Hair-Dyeing Potion, Hair-Raising Potion, Hiccoughing Solution, Confusing Concoction and, as we eventually discovered, Drowsiness Draught not Fatiguing Infusion.

As we sat waiting for the final cure to finish brewing Severus’ stomach growled.

“Hungry?” I asked realising we had skipped lunch.

“Not particularly. Though now that I think about it, it has been doing that a lot more recently.”

Both our eyes widened as the realisation hit.

“Garrotting Gas?” I wondered.

“It appears so.”

“Do you have the cure.”

“Yes.”

“Then go take it, quick. Let’s see if we’re right.” I squealed with excitement.

Severus dashed to his stores, and downed the entire contents of a small crystal vial.

We waited.

Silence.

“Has it stopped?”

“I think so.”

I cheered gleefully, noticing the ghost of a smile appear on Severus’ face.

“Finally! Surely that is all of them now.” I prayed, flopping back down into my chair.

“Let’s hope so.” He sighed.

Silence fell around the room as Severus’ gaze landed on me. His eyes were softer than I had ever seen them, staring at me in almost awe-like state. The weight of the pressure he had been feeling now gone, Severus allowed himself a moment to relax.

“Thank you, Y/N, for helping me. It really means a lot.” My eyes snapped to his, it was the first time he had ever called me by my first time. I returned his almost-smile.

“Really it was no bother. Actually, I sort of feel a bit guilty bec-“

The professor silenced the words from my mouth with a wave of his hand. He didn’t seem to care about what I had to say at this moment. Continuing to keep his eyes locked onto mine, he slowly made his way across the classroom towards me.

“I mean it, Y/N.” He said sincerely. “I am so very grateful to have you in my life. Your beauty and your wit are simply astounding to me, so much so I find myself struggling to even look at you when you are near. You are such an incredible woman.”

“What?” I looked at him dumbfounded, my body tensing as he stopped at me feet.

“I know I must piss you off sometimes, but I mostly do it on purpose because it means I get to see you more. You only ever seem to visit when you’re angry with me. You’re adorable when you’re angry with me”

“Severus, what are you saying?” I laughed nervously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I like you; I always have, I’ve just never known how to tell you before now.”

“Ah.” The penny drops. “I think we may have discovered another potion.”

Severus raised a single eyebrow.

“Amortentia. Or some other generic love potion.” I got up from my chair and started rummaging through his cupboards once more. “You’re clearly infatuated with me.” I laughed again.

“Y/N.” Severus whispered from the other room.

“Two minutes, I’m just double-checking what potion it is.”

“Y/N.” He repeated.

“Just a second.” I called back.

“Y/N, I don’t keep love potions in my stores.” He spoke louder this time.

My hands froze mid rummage.

“What did you just say?” I emerged slowly from the room.

“I don’t keep love potions in my stores. I brew it fresh when it comes up on the curriculum, and dispose of it immediately, I see no benefit it keeping it in my stores, it poses no purpose to the welfare of the school and I-“

“Wait Severus, what are you saying exactly? Why else would you be saying any of this?”

Without a word he rose from his seat, and disappeared into the store room. I stood with bated breath while he furiously searched his shelves. Finally, he emerged from the room, face even paler than usual.

“Veritaserum.” He stated simply.

My eyes rapidly searched his face for any sign of humour before understanding finally dawned.

Was Severus Snape in love with me?

.

.

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Taglist:

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[cardismantlers]

Car Removals Auburn 3123 #Auburn #3123 #Victoria #Australia https://www.cardismantlers.com.au/auburn/

[its-quiet-colter]

Warm Hotel Rooms.

Agent Whiskey x Agent Pisco - Male! Reader

Word count: 3123

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, implied switch!whiskey but he's a bottom here. friends w benefits, anal sex, blowjob, whiskey being a harmless flirt. also implied bisexual!whiskey but nothing is mentioned for the reader.

Notes: this took me WEEKS to finish, omg i low-key hate how it turned out but here we are. i'm hoping this is one of a five part whiskey and pisco series.

| Part One | Part Two |

| archive of our own |

The door of the hotel barges open, hitting the back wall with the force of your combined weight as Whiskey pushes you through the doorway. Your lips are locked together, and you feel the addictive rumble of the other agent groaning into the kiss as he nips at your bottom lip like a man starved. Both of you nearly trip over each other as you toe off the bespoke leather shoes you wore for the mission, courtesy of the Kingsman, and stumble your way to the couch.

Whiskey goes down willingly when you lightly push on his chest, hitting the cushion with a thump. His cowboy hat sits askew on his head and he pants with ragged breath. The rise and fall is soothing underneath your palm, his heartbeat heavy, as you feel the heat through his shirt. A sly grin sits on Whiskey’s face, his eyes flashing with excitement and anticipation– arousal. 

You’re not so different; with messy hair from where his fingers slid through it, and your top lip red from the brush of his mustache against your own stubble. You can see the visible tent in Whiskey’s slacks as he looks up at you expectantly and you hook your fingers under the loop of his tie and tug it loose. His breath hitches as you straddle him, your leg sliding between his own and he reaches out to grip the lapels of your suit.

“You’re killin’ me here, Pisco.” Whiskey chuckles breathlessly, but you notice the way his hips buck, searching for friction against your thigh. “And I ain’t a man that begs, sugar.”

“Alright, alright.” You grumble half heartedly, too worked up to argue. Pushing off his chest, you sit back enough to take off your tailored blazer and unclasp the holster strapped around your chest, discarding both in the dark hotel room. The clank of the weapon is a little jarring as it hits the coffee table and disturbs the heavy air around you two. “So damn impatient, whining like a proper pillow princess.”

The joke earns you a playful spank over your ass as Whiskey tugs you closer, the feel of his palms squeezing your cheeks, even through the fabric of your slacks is nothing if not addictive. But then again, so is the agent under you. 

Whiskey brings your lips together again, feeling the way his tongue slides against yours as you grind against each other on the couch. The previous playfulness, whilst always present– it always is with a man as cocky and self-assured as Whiskey– is forgotten in the dimly lit hotel room. Instead all that remains is the soft, heated feeling that hangs around you both, the hum of arousal that settles in your gut, and the quiet little grunts and moans that are swallowed by each other.

Your clothes rustle against one another as you roll your hips against Whiskey’s, grinding your erections against one another as you kiss. His hand wraps around your tie, the other sliding through your hair as he cups the back of your head, ensuring you stay close. Barely giving you enough space to breathe. Whiskey has always been a man that takes as much as he gives.

“Fucking hell,” You pant against his lips, your tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. Both of you have been geared for most of the night, ready to pounce on each other the second you arrived back at the rendezvous point at the hotel. “You sure know how to rile a man up, Whiskey.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, low and rumbly with that signature grin of his. “You enjoyed that little stunt I pulled with the scientist?”

With a shake of your head, you look down at Whiskey, all disheveled and flushed underneath you. A lighthearted laugh leaving you. “In a room full of biochemists bidding for pharmaceutical companies to fund their experimental drugs, you somehow still managed to find a way to flirt with the prettiest woman in the room.”

“So you admit she was pretty?” The other agent chuckles, his grin wide. It’s a playful game between the two of you. It’s addictive. Always walking a fine line between how far Whiskey can push– flirting with targets, informants, marks and the like whilst out on the field. How long can he spend riling you up? How long before the two of you wind up in bed together after missions? Or any surface for that matter. Finding fleeting moments between debriefs and stakeouts to expend all that pent up energy. That’s how it’s always been for you two. Something neither of you are willing to address or admit to enjoying far more than partners should.

You roll your eyes at Whiskey’s banter, your hands sliding down to find his belt and pull it from the loops. He moans softly, hips lifting up so you can work his slacks down. Making him shuffle awkwardly in that rare display of the real man underneath the suave Agent Whiskey. The one who likes too many teaspoons of sugar in his coffee, the one who couldn’t loop his tie properly until you taught him in the bathroom outside Champ’s office after your first mission together. The man who bites his top lip, his brow always furrowed slightly whenever he tries to work out of his slacks, just so you two can fuck over whatever surface is avaliable out in the field. The man you know and trust as your best friend, Jack Daniels.

Whatever fancy one-liner Whiskey had ready dies on his tongue as he shuffles down his pants and boxers enough for his cock to spring free and rest up against his abdomen. He hisses slightly as the end of his shirt brushes against the sensitive underside, and you push the offending fabric up enough to kiss your way down his chest. Starting from the middle of his sternum, his skin warm and soft, you leave a trail of kisses down his chest and to his navel. The end of your nose and the scrape of your stubble has him shuddering under you, heat settling in his gut.

Whiskey sucks in a breath, his palm coming to cup the back of your head. “Pisco–” He all but whines your name as you lick a strip up the underside of his cock, your hands holding his waist to keep him still. You feel him twitch against you, his resolve slipping as he tries to rock his hips up and get more of you. Blunt nails scrape the back of your neck, sliding up into your hair and messing it up further in a desperate attempt to keep you close. “Please, sugar.”

You lean up enough to take him into your mouth, tonguing at the slit as you lap at the tip of his cock. Whiskey’s head falls back against the arm of the couch with a hearty moan, his eyes falling shut in bliss as you take all of him down. You can feel the heat of him on your tongue, the taste of his precum, the heady smell of his scent. A potent mix of whiskey, worn leather, and something else which can only be described as Jack himself.

He all but moans as he feels the swipe of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and his fingers tighten in your hair. He can’t help it now, his hips jutting up in little thrusts as you suck hard and hollow out your cheeks. Your own appearance is flushed, hair stuck out in multiple directions and spit trickling down your chin. Not that you mind. Being a mess for Whiskey is as intoxicating and addictive as it is to turn him into one.

———————

The two of you had been wound up all night, the feel of arousal simmering under the surface of your skin as you watched him flirt with pretty scientists and handsome businessmen alike. Whiskey loved the attention, always jumped straight to playful flirting with targets, knowing it riled you up and put him in the centre of attention. It felt good. And Whiskey loved the tease.

Your eyes followed him the whole night at the convention, watching as Whiskey weaved through the crowds, polished and suave with his bespoke suit and his Statesmen glasses on. He was handsome. Whiskey knew it and so did you, neither of you bothered hiding it. The physical attraction to one another–the unspoken arrangement between the two of you. It somehow strengthened your partnership, your trust with the other agent. Each physical touch, a statement to your bond. Your friendship; solid and unbreakable both in and out of the missions.

You watched as Whiskey flirted with her, the scientist. Soft blonde hair, bleached a few shades brighter than her natural tone and dark brown eyes. She tied it back messily, a last minute decision to keep the wispy ends out of her eyes. Pretty, Whiskey had called her. She’s a good ten years younger than the both of you, but her white lab coat, long and unbuttoned– her achievements embroidered into the breast pocket– a signature of her achievement, shows her worth amongst a room full of male colleagues.

Her laugh is full and bright, smiling with her teeth at whatever flirty joke Whiskey made. And you watch as she shuffles on her heels, leaning towards him. The slight flush on her cheeks, the way she runs her fingers along the rim of her medical brochures, ready to hand out to pharmaceutical companies ready to potentially fund her research. Her touch, so subtle only you would catch it. Because you’re looking at him, and he’s looking at her. The slight curve to her jaw, the dimple on her cheek, the pink gloss of her manicured nails.

Whiskey knows you’re watching. It’s a part of the game. He knows you see the way he touches her elbow, his fingers soft on her skin. He knows you see the way he leads her through the expo, like he was meant to be there. You watch as he passes right by you, his eyes meeting yours. The slight curve of his lip and moustache as he grins, giving you a wink before he diverts his attention back to the scientist as pretends to indulge in her conversation about biochemics. That’s when he knows he’s won, done his job in wedging himself under your skin so Whiskey is the only thing you’re thinking about on this mission like every other one you’ve done together. He knows he’ll have it good tonight, laid out underneath his agent Pisco. 

Distracting yourself, you turn and focus on the three men in front of you. Three men in their sixties talking about some research project they all worked on decades ago. A dry, monotonous conversation that drags on like boots on carpet. All the while you pretend like it interests you, laugh and smile with your own charm and lull the men into a false sense of security. It's enough to settle the heat in your belly, enough to stem the simmer of arousal that built up when you had half a mind to drag Whiskey out the back and fuck him against the door of the cubicle. Instead, you watch and listen as you drift in and out of your thoughts. Distracted. 

“Pisco, Whiskey has made it to the data room. Standby. If security is alerted you two might need to get out of there fast.” Ginger’s words are like a bucket of ice, sharp and startling as she speaks through the comms. Her voice in your earpiece, always comforting on missions, brings you back to reality and into the environment. Whiskey is notably missing, presumably out the back hacking the data servers holding all the scientists research and project proposals whilst you’re out here keeping an eye on the exits and making contact with the targets.

Whiskey’s charm, for all that it does to you, makes him one of the best agents Statesmen has. He’s just cheesy enough to fly under the radar. He lays the flirting on thick, playing dumb half the time like he’s drawn to every attractive person he meets, unable to stop himself. Makes himself the loudest one in the room so as to be seen as the innocuous one in the room. Harmless and inoffensive. No one stops to think the himbo cowboy– the one preoccupied with every woman in the room is there to steal highly sensitive intelligence.

It’s something you’ve come to love about the other agent, only because you know the real man underneath is far from it. Jack cares when he wants to, and when he does it’s not done lightly. For those he considers family, Jack will protect them with his life. You’ve seen how he’s run head first into danger, following after you and giving you cover and back up. You’ve seen him half heartedly try to patch you up after you’ve done the same. He remembers the coffee order you like, he always gets you something on your birthday, always lets you fly in the front seat of the Silver Pony.

Jack is your dearest friend. Agent Whiskey is your partner. Neither of you dare to break what trust you two share.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I need a word with my associate.” Whiskey’s voice breaks the conversation, the men watching as he takes your arm and pulls you away towards the entrance.

“You got it?” You ask, watching as he takes out a disk holding the intel you both need. 

“It’s all in here, darlin’.” He says, his hand still holding your arm. Leading you much like he led her. Only this time he’s more hurried, anxious to get out of the expo. It's only a matter of time before security figures out they’ve been hacked.

It’s only about an hour’s drive to make it to the other side of the city, where the rendezvous point is set. Room 802 in some bougie downtown Hotel in Seattle where Statesmen have gadgets stored in the walls and behind the closet doors, a bottle of their finest liquid gold on the nightstand and the perimeter secured. 

Whiskey could barely keep his hands off you in the car as you drove. His palm, rough and calloused as he untucked your shirt, touched the skin above your hip, palming over your erection. Red lights and speed cameras be damned, both of you were ready to be out of the car. The other agent barely able to contain himself once you checked in, his hands scrunched in your lapels as he pushed you through the door of Room 802. Pressed against your front, the two of you kissing with moans shared between you.

———————

“Ngh, fuck. Give it to me, sugar.” Whiskey all but purrs, his amused grin faltering as he feels the stretch of your cock bottoming out. He clenches around you, hands clawing at your back as you hold his leg up to his chest. 

Neither of you move from your place on the couch, muscles tight and tense as Whiskey pants underneath you. Giving him the time his body needs to accommodate you. His skin is slightly coated in sweat, already wound up and ready to come since you spent a good twenty minutes holding him on the brink of an orgasm whilst you lapped at his cock and worked him up to three fingers.

“There you go,” You can’t help but praise, almost cooing as you feel him relax. Whiskey shuffles on the couch slightly, giving you more room to plant your knees and pull back, beginning to thrust into him properly. 

The first brush of your cock against his prostate has him crying out, arched beautifully under you. His cock, untouched and leaking against his stomach twitches with precum beading out of the tip. “Ah..” He whimpers, hands planted on your back as he draws you closer.

“Whiskey,” You moan his name, your hand cradling under his knee as you hold him open, watching the way your cock slides into him with each moan you drag out. His lips, soft and red from where he bit them, are held open as he’s lost in pleasure. Each little noise falling off his tongue as he looks up at you with doe-like eyes.

He begs for it harder, deeper but no less intense. And who are you to deny your partner anything?

Whiskey groans, one hand settling on the couch to steady himself as he fists the pillow, the fabric stretching under strain from his palm. His brow furrows as his prostate is hit again, eyes fluttering shut. He’s so pretty like this, you think. You hold the angle, thrusts steady and deep as you ram that one spot inside of him, your own chest panting with the exertion.

He clenches around you again, the warm feel of him around you causing heat to pool in your stomach. But you hold on, determined to see him come first. Whiskey isn’t far away, his thighs starting to shake under your hands as he takes all that you give him. His toes curl and he cries out, head thrown back slightly.

“Pisco– please sugar.” Whiskey begs, gasping with each thrust of your cock inside him. He wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him. He likes to come like this, sweaty and flush against you, panting in your ear as he scrambles to hold onto your back. “C-cumming–”

You groan as you feel him spill between your stomachs, warm come adding to the heat that surrounds you both. Whiskey’s moan in your ear is like heaven, his southern accent thicker when he’s riding out his orgasm. Breath hot and panting against the shell of your ear, his hair sweaty and stuck to yours.

It’s only a few more thrusts before your own orgasm crashes into you, pulling out a deep groan as you pull out and add to the mess on his stomach. You pump your cock, once, twice and three times, spilling over Whiskey as he moans underneath you. Still shaking in his residual pleasure.  

You had half a mind to lick him clean and wring another orgasm out of him, but both of you are spent. Reaching over to the coffee table, you pick up the tissue box and wipe the two of you clean whilst Whiskey comes down and regains his breath.

“You know… this place has a pool, Pisco. It’d be a shame to waste Statesmen money…” Whiskey says, his eyebrow raising expectantly with a knowing look.

A soft laugh escapes you, light and satisfied after your orgasm. “We should shower first.” you say with a kiss to his shoulder.

“Alright, sugar.”