For The Love of Snack (NC17, NWS) First Wave
What happens when you get a bunch of authors and artists together that love Snack? You get this... It started out as one thing, but then turned into an amazing, fun collaboration. Thank you all so much for contributing ♥
Contributing Artists: ani_bester, ariadneelda, canonfodder123, dosandazalbra, electromoon, eliathanis, hill_, karasu_hime, lysa1, mieronna, tripperfunster, vimessy, and xterm
Contributing Authors: biting_moopie, lysa1, scribbulus_ink, snegurochka_lee, and themostepotente
Warnings: Oral, anal, cockslappage, angry wanking, hatesex, unicorn!sex, humour, love&romance, you name it we got it...
Most Art and Fic NC17, NWS!
canonfodder123: Snack Sketch 3
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ariadneelda: Momentum
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karasu_hime: Unveiled
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themostepotente: drink and the devil did for the rest
"Black Sparrow, you stand accused of drunken debauchery, high treason, lewd and lascivious behaviour, pillaging, poor fashion sense, stinking, and whoring. How do you plead?"
The edict read like a ship's manifest.
Black shook the dreads from his eyes, fixing Commodore Snapington with an accusatory stare. "That's Captain Black Sparrow."
"Captain of what exactly? Poor pirating, I'd imagine. It never takes my men more than a few weeks to find you again. Usually in the company of some tavern wench."
Black eyed the bottle of liquor on the Commodore's desk. Rum. It was a game of sorts. More like a trap he fell into. "Oh, let's just get on with this then. You give me a slap on the wrist. I give you a slap on the arse. The game begins anew."
Snapington brushed a lock of greasy hair behind an ear. Even the white wig he wore couldn't mask his obvious lack of fairness. "You have a keen eye, though. You always elect to see things my way. For that I shall reward you."
The Commodore took hold of the bottle of rum, using the cork stopper to perfume his pulse points. When he undid his breeches, he dabbed several places on his cock and balls.
Contrary to popular belief, Snapington had a king-sized cock. The meaty slap of it against Black's cheek belied any rumourmongering that it was hidden in the 'Limp Man's Chest' buried somewhere. "Sssuck, ssslut. You've been gasping for this all day."
Liquid courage, that rum was. Black seized the bottle and tipped it up.
Much to his annoyance the bottle was empty.
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ani_bester: Snack
photo ref used
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hill_: Scene from "The Piss Boy" by themostepotente
"If Sirius was desperate to come, Snape was more desperate to spoil his orgasm."
*******************************************************************************
scribbulus_ink: Eurydice Redux
Severus gets more than he bargained for when he brings back Black.
After the war, Severus set about finding a way to bring Black from beyond the Veil. Not, he asserted, because he cared about Black, but because it was an academic puzzle, and with no job or friends remaining, he had nothing else better to do.
He was exultant when, on his first attempt, Black appeared on the other side of the now-opaque Veil, shimmering, coalescing, and finally solidifying. Black lifted his hand, reaching out hesitantly, peering at Severus as if he wasn't certain Severus was real or an hallucination; Severus stretched out his own hand, grasping Black's wrist, pulling...
And Black was there, stumbling into his arms, chest heaving as he clung to Severus. "My own Orpheus," he murmured raggedly.
Severus was shocked to see gratitude in Black's eyes just before he was shoved against the wall. Black's mouth was on his, hot and demanding, and Black's thigh was wedged between his legs as Black plunged his tongue between Severus' lips. claiming his mouth thoroughly.
"I don't want a pity fuck!" Severus struggled to push Black away.
"Neither do I," Black growled, biting Severus' earlobe.
"Then why-?"
"Being in limbo helps one put things into perspective," Black replied, grinding his hips against Severus, wringing a reluctant moan from his throat. "I had lots of time to think about wasted time, lost opportunities, and foolish pride. In short, I don't want to argue with you. I want to fuck you senseless."
Severus gaped at him, fish-mouthed, and tried to find his voice. When he did, it was breathless, questioning and quite unlike his usual smooth, sure tone. "Only once?"
"As often as you'll let me."
A small, pleased smirk curved Severus' thin lips. "I'm quite hungry."
"So am I."
"Then let's get started. We have several decades to make up for."
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hill_: Complicated
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themostepotente: the vomitorium
The stench was horrid.
Even crab claws pinching their nostrils shut couldn't drown out the smells.
Black was to blame. He wasn't the least bit amusing. Why he'd chosen comedy as his life's pursuit was a mystery even Cicero couldn't decipher.
As if the punishment wasn't bad enough, Black saw fit to try and lift Snape's tunic with the handle of his spade. But he was met with a sandal heel to his instep.
"Knock it off, Black - or I shall make you eat what I shovel. I hear mutton's better the second time around."
"C'mon, Snape, the joke was funny." He told it again as an assurance.
"How do the Romans separate the boys from the men?"
"With a spatula," Snape said, thoroughly unamused.
Black waved his spade about in a gesture of clowning, dappling Snape's face with what appeared to be fig remains. "See? Funny."
"Next time," Snape hissed. "You might refrain from telling that joke to Julius Caesar!"
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eliathanis: Summer Day
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snegurochka_lee: ~ Crash ~
It's no good, it won't work. The throttle's fucked up, or maybe it's the Charm, keeping her in the air but slicing through the tank and bleeding her dry. Doesn't really matter, because either way you're going down, hard and fast and with barely a courteous nod to the laws of gravity. All you can do is stare blindly at the curve of your fists around the handlebars, a jolt of adrenaline slamming through your body as you wonder how the hell it ever came to this.
But there's no time to worry about that right now, because now he's seen you (of course - fuck) with all your vulnerabilities laid bare, tumbling from the sky like an angel with too much metal between your legs and too few wings on your back. He's seen you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now, with the night air rushing past you and chafing your lips.
You've got to bail out. You should never have pushed this fucking thing so far in the first place. It was only a harmless dare - "Put her under the right spell and I bet she'll fly for you, Padfoot. You don't want to find out? Like hell you don't" - and now it's done, it's happening, and there's maybe five seconds left before you're lost to the devil forever.
You have to move. You have to do something, but not yet, not now, not when your body is thrumming like this, hot and hard and so fucking angry because that Charm was not supposed to fail. That bike was meant to stay in the air through anything. It could get slammed with a Bludger or a fucking missile and it wouldn't matter, she'd just keep sailing through that ink blue sky like a… well, like a motorcycle held up by magic, for fuck's sake.
Or like a man held up by what he knows to be true.
Trouble is, when truth shatters, the shards cut like ice - that cold, soothing burn that hurts like fuck and leaves you furious and addicted. And fucking begging him to do it again.
You shift your body, trying like hell to stay in control, not to let him win, but he's hard as steel and you're slicked with oil and your brain has entirely shut down. You're going only on instinct here, on the sweet slide of your senses as you fall through the night, and you can't think of a single thing besides how good it feels and how sorry you're going to be when it's over.
It's a freefall now, a glorious aching rush of air and a whirl of limbs and trees as the ground hurtles towards you, and you can only clutch at the bike and claw at his pale skin. He sure as hell won't save you, but he might soften the landing if you can just get him to move like that again, writhing underneath you with that angry growl and that desperate thrust of hips.
The air is gone, the night and the stars and the clouds are all far behind you now and you're coming, you're crashing, all fists and groans and rough grass under your knees as you slam into the ground, and you've never, ever felt more alive. There's no more breath in your lungs and no more energy to fight. You can leave the hatred for tomorrow, but for right now, and right here, you have everything you need.
Later, as you make your way home and wonder how the hell to fix it this time, you shake out a fag and bend your head, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Yeah. That's about what it feels like to fuck Severus Snape.
photo ref used
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dosandazalbra: Over A Table
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vimessy: Bubble Bath
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hill_: Scene from "Eight Times" by fabularasa
"He bucked up, muttering something that I don't think was English.
I ran just my tongue up and down his length, letting my teeth scrape him ever so gently."
Black and White version
*******************************************************************************
biting_moopie: I was inspired by this thread on FW.
A spell goes awry, and Severus and Sirius are transformed into unicorns.
“Snape, this is all your fault. I hate you.”
“Black, it’s your fault and I hate you.”
“We can still shag, right?”
“Well, I am very horny.”
Forgive the horse anatomy...no refs. Is there a ref for gay horse sex? lol
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Scene from "Repechage" by fabularasa
"They sat there, upright, arms wrapped, heads folded on shoulders as they waited for breath to return."
photo ref used
*******************************************************************************
xterm: Snarky
*******************************************************************************
electromoon: Too Good At What He Does
Notes: They must have done it a little too right, because now Severus has fallen hard asleep, and Sirius is wondering how he's going to get him off his chest ... without getting himself Hexed. That black line-thing on Sirius's chest is a prison tattoo, it came out looking pretty obscure.
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Make Me Come, Severus
*******************************************************************************
themostepotente: the wristwatch
It was not unusual for Sirius Black to fuck three men a night.
Snape was usually sandwiched between the two. Hatesex was always invigorating, and it always saw him through the last fuck, no matter how spent he was.
Black always relied on his wristwatch (a gift from James) to keep his amorous appointments. He was never late to a fuck.
Snape was a shameless slut who liked to be fisted. Clear past the wrist. And Sirius always obliged, imagining his hand to be the butt of a battering ram, hurting and humiliating Snape.
Black always ended a tryst with a cigarette, puffing satisfactorily while his Triumph purred between his legs. He was due for his next fuck shortly, but he took this time to gloat over his performance. Snape had never moaned so whorishly.
Extinguishing the fag under the toe of his boot, Black checked the time.
His watch was missing. Panic ensued, followed by laughter when the realisation sank in.
Black wondered whether Snape would hear it lying in bed that night, ticking away, inside his arse.
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lysa1: Severus and Padfoot
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tripperfunster: Oral Sex II
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mieronna
*******************************************************************************
Also for the Snackathon First Wave...
Tie, Mark, Burn, and Trust: A Love Story in Four Parts by lysa1
Contributing Artists: ani_bester, ariadneelda, canonfodder123, dosandazalbra, electromoon, eliathanis, hill_, karasu_hime, lysa1, mieronna, tripperfunster, vimessy, and xterm
Contributing Authors: biting_moopie, lysa1, scribbulus_ink, snegurochka_lee, and themostepotente
Warnings: Oral, anal, cockslappage, angry wanking, hatesex, unicorn!sex, humour, love&romance, you name it we got it...
Most Art and Fic NC17, NWS!
canonfodder123: Snack Sketch 3
*******************************************************************************
ariadneelda: Momentum
*******************************************************************************
karasu_hime: Unveiled
*******************************************************************************
themostepotente: drink and the devil did for the rest
"Black Sparrow, you stand accused of drunken debauchery, high treason, lewd and lascivious behaviour, pillaging, poor fashion sense, stinking, and whoring. How do you plead?"
The edict read like a ship's manifest.
Black shook the dreads from his eyes, fixing Commodore Snapington with an accusatory stare. "That's Captain Black Sparrow."
"Captain of what exactly? Poor pirating, I'd imagine. It never takes my men more than a few weeks to find you again. Usually in the company of some tavern wench."
Black eyed the bottle of liquor on the Commodore's desk. Rum. It was a game of sorts. More like a trap he fell into. "Oh, let's just get on with this then. You give me a slap on the wrist. I give you a slap on the arse. The game begins anew."
Snapington brushed a lock of greasy hair behind an ear. Even the white wig he wore couldn't mask his obvious lack of fairness. "You have a keen eye, though. You always elect to see things my way. For that I shall reward you."
The Commodore took hold of the bottle of rum, using the cork stopper to perfume his pulse points. When he undid his breeches, he dabbed several places on his cock and balls.
Contrary to popular belief, Snapington had a king-sized cock. The meaty slap of it against Black's cheek belied any rumourmongering that it was hidden in the 'Limp Man's Chest' buried somewhere. "Sssuck, ssslut. You've been gasping for this all day."
Liquid courage, that rum was. Black seized the bottle and tipped it up.
Much to his annoyance the bottle was empty.
*******************************************************************************
ani_bester: Snack
photo ref used
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Scene from "The Piss Boy" by themostepotente
"If Sirius was desperate to come, Snape was more desperate to spoil his orgasm."
*******************************************************************************
scribbulus_ink: Eurydice Redux
Severus gets more than he bargained for when he brings back Black.
After the war, Severus set about finding a way to bring Black from beyond the Veil. Not, he asserted, because he cared about Black, but because it was an academic puzzle, and with no job or friends remaining, he had nothing else better to do.
He was exultant when, on his first attempt, Black appeared on the other side of the now-opaque Veil, shimmering, coalescing, and finally solidifying. Black lifted his hand, reaching out hesitantly, peering at Severus as if he wasn't certain Severus was real or an hallucination; Severus stretched out his own hand, grasping Black's wrist, pulling...
And Black was there, stumbling into his arms, chest heaving as he clung to Severus. "My own Orpheus," he murmured raggedly.
Severus was shocked to see gratitude in Black's eyes just before he was shoved against the wall. Black's mouth was on his, hot and demanding, and Black's thigh was wedged between his legs as Black plunged his tongue between Severus' lips. claiming his mouth thoroughly.
"I don't want a pity fuck!" Severus struggled to push Black away.
"Neither do I," Black growled, biting Severus' earlobe.
"Then why-?"
"Being in limbo helps one put things into perspective," Black replied, grinding his hips against Severus, wringing a reluctant moan from his throat. "I had lots of time to think about wasted time, lost opportunities, and foolish pride. In short, I don't want to argue with you. I want to fuck you senseless."
Severus gaped at him, fish-mouthed, and tried to find his voice. When he did, it was breathless, questioning and quite unlike his usual smooth, sure tone. "Only once?"
"As often as you'll let me."
A small, pleased smirk curved Severus' thin lips. "I'm quite hungry."
"So am I."
"Then let's get started. We have several decades to make up for."
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Complicated
*******************************************************************************
themostepotente: the vomitorium
The stench was horrid.
Even crab claws pinching their nostrils shut couldn't drown out the smells.
Black was to blame. He wasn't the least bit amusing. Why he'd chosen comedy as his life's pursuit was a mystery even Cicero couldn't decipher.
As if the punishment wasn't bad enough, Black saw fit to try and lift Snape's tunic with the handle of his spade. But he was met with a sandal heel to his instep.
"Knock it off, Black - or I shall make you eat what I shovel. I hear mutton's better the second time around."
"C'mon, Snape, the joke was funny." He told it again as an assurance.
"How do the Romans separate the boys from the men?"
"With a spatula," Snape said, thoroughly unamused.
Black waved his spade about in a gesture of clowning, dappling Snape's face with what appeared to be fig remains. "See? Funny."
"Next time," Snape hissed. "You might refrain from telling that joke to Julius Caesar!"
*******************************************************************************
eliathanis: Summer Day
*******************************************************************************
snegurochka_lee: ~ Crash ~
It's no good, it won't work. The throttle's fucked up, or maybe it's the Charm, keeping her in the air but slicing through the tank and bleeding her dry. Doesn't really matter, because either way you're going down, hard and fast and with barely a courteous nod to the laws of gravity. All you can do is stare blindly at the curve of your fists around the handlebars, a jolt of adrenaline slamming through your body as you wonder how the hell it ever came to this.
But there's no time to worry about that right now, because now he's seen you (of course - fuck) with all your vulnerabilities laid bare, tumbling from the sky like an angel with too much metal between your legs and too few wings on your back. He's seen you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now, with the night air rushing past you and chafing your lips.
You've got to bail out. You should never have pushed this fucking thing so far in the first place. It was only a harmless dare - "Put her under the right spell and I bet she'll fly for you, Padfoot. You don't want to find out? Like hell you don't" - and now it's done, it's happening, and there's maybe five seconds left before you're lost to the devil forever.
You have to move. You have to do something, but not yet, not now, not when your body is thrumming like this, hot and hard and so fucking angry because that Charm was not supposed to fail. That bike was meant to stay in the air through anything. It could get slammed with a Bludger or a fucking missile and it wouldn't matter, she'd just keep sailing through that ink blue sky like a… well, like a motorcycle held up by magic, for fuck's sake.
Or like a man held up by what he knows to be true.
Trouble is, when truth shatters, the shards cut like ice - that cold, soothing burn that hurts like fuck and leaves you furious and addicted. And fucking begging him to do it again.
You shift your body, trying like hell to stay in control, not to let him win, but he's hard as steel and you're slicked with oil and your brain has entirely shut down. You're going only on instinct here, on the sweet slide of your senses as you fall through the night, and you can't think of a single thing besides how good it feels and how sorry you're going to be when it's over.
It's a freefall now, a glorious aching rush of air and a whirl of limbs and trees as the ground hurtles towards you, and you can only clutch at the bike and claw at his pale skin. He sure as hell won't save you, but he might soften the landing if you can just get him to move like that again, writhing underneath you with that angry growl and that desperate thrust of hips.
The air is gone, the night and the stars and the clouds are all far behind you now and you're coming, you're crashing, all fists and groans and rough grass under your knees as you slam into the ground, and you've never, ever felt more alive. There's no more breath in your lungs and no more energy to fight. You can leave the hatred for tomorrow, but for right now, and right here, you have everything you need.
Later, as you make your way home and wonder how the hell to fix it this time, you shake out a fag and bend your head, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Yeah. That's about what it feels like to fuck Severus Snape.
photo ref used
*******************************************************************************
dosandazalbra: Over A Table
*******************************************************************************
vimessy: Bubble Bath
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Scene from "Eight Times" by fabularasa
"He bucked up, muttering something that I don't think was English.
I ran just my tongue up and down his length, letting my teeth scrape him ever so gently."
Black and White version
*******************************************************************************
biting_moopie: I was inspired by this thread on FW.
A spell goes awry, and Severus and Sirius are transformed into unicorns.
“Snape, this is all your fault. I hate you.”
“Black, it’s your fault and I hate you.”
“We can still shag, right?”
“Well, I am very horny.”
Forgive the horse anatomy...no refs. Is there a ref for gay horse sex? lol
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Scene from "Repechage" by fabularasa
"They sat there, upright, arms wrapped, heads folded on shoulders as they waited for breath to return."
photo ref used
*******************************************************************************
xterm: Snarky
*******************************************************************************
electromoon: Too Good At What He Does
Notes: They must have done it a little too right, because now Severus has fallen hard asleep, and Sirius is wondering how he's going to get him off his chest ... without getting himself Hexed. That black line-thing on Sirius's chest is a prison tattoo, it came out looking pretty obscure.
*******************************************************************************
hill_: Make Me Come, Severus
*******************************************************************************
themostepotente: the wristwatch
It was not unusual for Sirius Black to fuck three men a night.
Snape was usually sandwiched between the two. Hatesex was always invigorating, and it always saw him through the last fuck, no matter how spent he was.
Black always relied on his wristwatch (a gift from James) to keep his amorous appointments. He was never late to a fuck.
Snape was a shameless slut who liked to be fisted. Clear past the wrist. And Sirius always obliged, imagining his hand to be the butt of a battering ram, hurting and humiliating Snape.
Black always ended a tryst with a cigarette, puffing satisfactorily while his Triumph purred between his legs. He was due for his next fuck shortly, but he took this time to gloat over his performance. Snape had never moaned so whorishly.
Extinguishing the fag under the toe of his boot, Black checked the time.
His watch was missing. Panic ensued, followed by laughter when the realisation sank in.
Black wondered whether Snape would hear it lying in bed that night, ticking away, inside his arse.
*******************************************************************************
lysa1: Severus and Padfoot
*******************************************************************************
tripperfunster: Oral Sex II
*******************************************************************************
mieronna
*******************************************************************************
Also for the Snackathon First Wave...
Tie, Mark, Burn, and Trust: A Love Story in Four Parts by lysa1