#Dead dove do not eat

[aurorawritestoescape]

Thank you so much! I’m glad that you liked it!❤️💞

FLOWER

Pairing: post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Tw: 18+ mdni, dead dove do not eat! dark fic! creator chose not to use all the warnings, unprotected piv, rough sex, enthusiastic consent, praise, choking, heavy angst

I didn’t include some warnings so as not to spoil the fic. If you wanna know them before reading DM me🖤

Word count: 900

A/n: Thank you for the moodboard and the writing challenge @iamasaddie ❤️ Your creativity never stops to amaze me😘😘😘

Masterlist

*****

Joel’s gripping the shovel tight, scowling at the first rays of the rising sun. A drop of sweat is sliding down the side of his face while he’s working tirelessly. His plaid shirt is completely soaked and an early morning breeze makes him shiver.

It’s the second time today that he’s sweating so profusely. The first one was a few hours ago when he was fucking you on his bed. Still wearing his shirt and jeans having just returned from a shift he was ruining your tight pussy as his sweat was dripping on your naked breasts.

“Sorry for waking ya up, baby. Need this,” he growled thrusting into you. “Fuck, that’s my girl!” he praised you, his face hovering over yours, after you tilted your hips up and opened your thighs wider for him to plunge deeper into your core. Your white nightie was bunged up in his fist, the skirt pulled up to your waist so he could see your greedy cunt swallowing his cock. His other hand found its usual place around your throat. Squeezing and letting go. And squeezing again.

***

You were always hungry for him, always ready to give yourself entirely. You never minded the dull ache of the stretch when his cock was splitting you in half. You loved the pain he bestowed on you, be it from his thick member or his harsh hands. You cherished every bruise and every scratch. He kissed them all after, gliding his calloused thumb over the ever changing rainbow of his marks on your body.

You’d been together only for a few months but his effect on you was tsunami-like. He quickly became your lover, your man, your god. You were new in town and the people in Jackson told you in a hushed voice to run, to escape, to leave him. He had a bad reputation, bloody trail of his past never seemed to wash off having turned him into a recluse. Yet no one could go against Maria’s brother-in-law. “He’s dangerous, violent, unstable���, well-wishers whispered in your ear at every opportunity when he wasn’t next to you. Which was rare. He became a major part of your life, all your life actually.

***

The first time he choked you, you came all over his thick thighs drowning his cock which was buried deep in your pussy. Soon you both couldn’t get enough of that feeling. Complete submission to Joel had already nested in your soul and you longed to give him more.

He’d never tell you but just the thought of holding your life in his hands like that made his cock throb. He loved your reaction to his hand wrapped around your neck. Joel groaned when your pussy vibrated around him, your cunt kissing his length. You looked so beautiful, your eyes rolled back, mouth opened desperate for air, your walls massaging his cock. He wanted to squeeze every part of you as if you were sand running through his fingers. He loosened his grip on your neck as soon as he started coming filling you up with his warm load. The color returned to your pretty face. You took a deep breath making up for the lack of oxygen and a surge of endorphins made you explode on his cock. You were in a pleasant daze after that and when he took you in his arms and stroked your hair you felt how much he loved you.

***

Today that love turned rotten. Poisonous. Suffocating. After fucking you still half asleep he sat up and put you on his lap with your back leaning against his broad chest. He was thrusting up into you and you helped him bouncing on his fat cock with your knees planted on the bed. His fingers were twitching your nipppes and rubbing your clit until his hand snaked up to the base of your throat and gripped it tightly. Your moan got muffled midway out of your lips and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Love feeling your pulse, baby,” Joel murmured in your ear as your vein was fluttering under the pads of his fingers and your pussy began buzzing around his cock. Your hand was clenching his hair, the other gripping his forearm. You felt his muscles tighten as his fingers were squeezing your neck.

Soon Joel started shooting his cum into your womb and got lost in his high. Your pussy was making him feel so good. He missed how your hand tugged on his hair a few times and then fell on the bed. His spend was dripping out of your hole when his fingers finally parted from your throat.

*****

He stares at the ground and imagines you standing in front of him in your white nightie. You plant a soft kiss on his weathered lips and give him a warm smile. His dick twitches and he hates himself for it. He picks up the shovel and goes home.

There he doesn’t bother washing his hands. They’ll never be clean again. What’s done is done. And he’s done so many unspeakable things. Lost so much due to his mistakes.

He grabs his revolver from the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. He thinks of all the people he lost. All the people he hurt. He thinks of you, a pretty flower crushed by his brutal hand and his eyes sting with tears.

Today he’ll pay for all his sins. Today he won’t miss.

*****

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you think❤️ your comments and reblogs will make me very happy!

[sammyakins]

Debating on writing a Fanfiction where dean does trade sam and watches him get non conned

[multi-stays]

Caught white red-handed

Paring: Dom!Werewolf!Chan x Subby!Werewolf!GN!Reader

Genre:Smut18+/*MDNI*

Inspo Quote: “The sirens keep on screaming, that's a warning”

Note: I know he's a vampire in the MV buttttt I like writing about werewolves. LMK if you want vampire Chan in the future.

Edit: I know the Reader has a vagina but once you read it you'll see why I put GN

💜✨Warnings below the cut✨💜

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, abuse, bleeding, bruising, cussing, being called a Whore, Darling, and Little Girl, oral sex M!receiving, non-consensual sex, masturbation, use of a vibrator, knotting, Chan yelling, Chan’s monster cawk

All day long you felt it, the aching and stinging of your body telling you that your boyfriend was in a rut.

You needed so badly to relieve yourself, all day long throughout the daily tasks your vagina did nothing but leak through multiple pairs of underwear, til finally you couldn't take it anymore.

Chan was at work and you knew it was against the rules to pleasure yourself without Daddy’s permission but your mind was fuzzed and you couldn't stop yourself, even if you wanted to.

You sat at the edge of your bed, vibrator in hand, and slipped it into your soaked hole. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when the dildo hit your g-spot, so badly you yearned to be fucked by Chan's werewolf dick, the big veins that ran down the side of it, his knot that held all his cum inside you, just the thought made you wet on the spot.

Every ounce of your body was reacting to the lingering scent of Chan that was left in your shared bedroom. He left early in the morning and had been gone all day, only leaving behind the scent of his rut, which is probably why he left without saying goodbye.

Only a few minutes had passed and your orgasm was near, you grabbed Chan’s pillow and stuck it under your head, breathing in his musky scent. Your vagina pulsated with each vibration from the dildo, only a few seconds and you'd be spewing all over the bed just at the thought of him.

~

You didn't hear the lock on the front door click open, didn't hear the car coming up the driveway, didn't smell his scent till he was right in front of you, staring at you with the most neutral expression you've ever seen and it scared you.

Perhaps the strong scent of your pleasure masked his musky smell and you were bound to be caught eventually. Either way, he did catch you and it was now plainly said on his face what he was gonna do with you.

Quickly you halted your movements, watching him as he casually walked over to the hamper, placing his coat inside. He then proceeded to undo his tie, the satin fabric making a snapping noise as he pulled it from his neck and gripped it tight.

“I'm really s-” he didn't let you finish, his two bony fingers pressed against your lips as he grabbed your wrists, tying the tie tightly around them.

“Get up!” he finally said, knowingly yelling it straight into your sensitive ears, causing them to ring and you to collapse on the bed.

“Fine then, you don't wanna listen ya stupid Whore,” he grabbed the tie and dragged you from the edge of the bed up to the headboard, tying you to the bottom rung so you'd have no room to move.

“I see you decided to break the rules, and you know what happens when little girls break the rules, don't you?” he said cocking his head to the side as he stripped his pants off, revealing his fluffy tail underneath.

“Yes I know Daddy and I'm sorry, your rut made me do it and I couldn't help myself” you pleaded out hoping he would have mercy on you but it was too late.

“You've been bad and Daddy doesn't want to hear you.”

The next thing you knew Chan was untying the tie from the bed and repositioning you so your face was right in front of his clothed cock, huge and pulsating in his underwear.

You bent down instinctually and started licking at Chan’s head through the thin fabric, his small grumbles scaring you with each kiss.

“Just like that Darling, you're making Daddy's cock feel good,” he said thrusting his pelvis into your face, the sweet-tasting spot of precum finding your lips as you made out with his penis.

With each passionate kiss to his twitching length, Chan slowly started to unravel. His growls got louder and his penis leaked more, making a sticky mess on your face.

You rubbed your face along the mess that accompanied his length. Tears, spit, and cum making a trail on the grey fabric as you rubbed your scent on him.

Before you could think you were being hoisted in the air by your tail and watching as Chan pulled down his underwear, freeing his hardened penis and forcing your mouth down on his length.

You sucked as much as you could, his penis was so enlarged you could hardly do anything but hold still and be used like a pocket pussy. Before long the harsh thrusting stretched the sides of your mouth open, causing them to split open and bleed a trail down to his balls where it dripped off his pubic hair. The guttural moans that escaped his throat as he pulled you off went down your spine, his now pink precum dripping out of your mouth as you tried to catch your breath.

“Tongue,” he said squishing your cheeks together, deliberately getting some of your blood on his hand. You let your tongue fall out of your mouth and he lowered you down, sliding you from his balls to the head of his penis, jerking himself off with your face.

You could feel his knot start to form, making you happy your punishment wouldn't last all night long like it normally would. His breathing was unsteady and he was pushing you down on his cock again, rough thrusts into your bruised and bloody lips as he abused you, inching his penis down your throat and into what felt like your stomach.

How you were holding on without gagging was beyond you, his werewolf penis was almost as long as your torso and as thick as your arm, if not more. But there you were, with his penis stuffed down your throat, nose sticking to his wet pubes that grew just above it.

His knot got stuck just behind your teeth as he cummed in your throat, him forcing it down with the small hammering thrusts of his penis.

“Don’t fucking waste a drop or you're gonna pay Whore!” he said, his raspy voice tickling your ear as you gulped his cum down, the flow seeming like it would never end.

You felt like you were in the air forever, all the blood had rushed to your head causing you to pass out, his smirky voice being the last thing you heard before you were completely unconscious. “Such a messy Whore ain't ya Darling, passing out on Daddy’s cock, was it too much for ya?”

When you woke up your voice was gone, you tried your best to mutter a single word but the pain was too much.

Chan sounded like he was in the bathroom, showering all the sex off himself so his members wouldn't smell it and tease like they always did.

You planned on waiting up for him but your body betrayed you, eyes falling shut as you breathed in Chan’s scent one last time, lingering on the pillow he put under your head.

[celtrist]

RADIOMOTH BAD END ROUTE

In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)

In this ending, Vaggie successfully catches Alastor and marries him much like Charlie's bad end (and this one like her can have the option of Charlie also being married to them or not). Depending if you want to go the force transitioning route: Alastor either gives up once Vaggie successfully forces a transition surgery onto him or (if you don't want to go that route) he just gave up too tired to fight Vaggie and her traps.

Transition or not, Vaggie dresses him as a woman, forces him to grow his hair out, and just generally takes on a more feminine appearance. She goes as far as to rename him "Alison" and only refers to him as female in public. In private she will at times refer to him as a male but in past tense and in a degrading way. She makes it a point to make sure he doesn't have his antlers. Whenever they start growing back, Alastor panics and hurries to rip them off before Vaggie sees them. It's painful, but always less painful than when Vaggie does it as she's very violent with her approach. She will sometimes hit him for having antlers or even seeing signs that they've regrown.

Anytime Alastor remarks discomfort with himself, Vaggie gets frustrated and berates him about it. When she notices him turning to accidental self-harm to deal with his discomfort (hair pulling, claw scratches, etc.), she admonishes and at times hit him as well (like if he pulls his hair, she'll pull his hair yelling at him "isn't this what you like?").

Vaggie hides this poor behavior from Charlie (whether or not she's still in a relationship with Charlie or not in this route), and forces Alastor to keep quiet about it as well. If he gives any indication otherwise, she will punish him in private. While I'm not sure if Alastor would or would not have all his bells and whistles (I feel like it would make sense in this route if Vaggie would find a way to "depower" him to make him easier to handle, but not sure how she'd do that. Maybe have him drinking diluted holy water over time?), Alastor more or less has just given up on this route. He doesn't feel like he can do much else and is unmotivated to attack back.

Vaggie doesn't touch him if he says "no" or gives a strong indication of "no". But she will touch if he bare minimum doesn't give an answer. She'll start slow and build up to more as it goes on (given the situation of course. She's not doing more in the middle of the hotel with others). It's not uncommon in the private sensual moments for her to get violent and belittle Alastor and how she's the only one who would love a woman like him. In the case of a transitioning route, Vaggie will taunt him about having used to be a man. And if Alastor gives an indication that he wishes he never transitioned, she will taunt him more and abuse him further until he says he's happy to be a woman. These more violent times occur when Alastor begins to show distress, typically for either the sex or his forced gender but not exclusive to those. She will lightly degrade him when she's not angry too, but it's mixed with sweet words as well. Afterwards of any sort of serious abuse, Vaggie will give Alastor a lot of aftercare. She'll stop touching him a little bit if he tells her to, but generally makes it a point that she has to at leat help him clean up either with a cloth or in the bath at least.

Most sensual times Vaggie does genuinely try to be nice and try to find what Alastor likes (whether he likes it or not). It's when Vaggie is already angry or frustrated with Alastor that she gets into the more abusive sensual moments. Vaggie isn't really abusing Alastor 24/7 (well, other than enforcing an unwanted gender identity and relationship I suppose). Anything nice she would do for Charlie she'd do for Alastor. Surprising him with things that he doesn't expect (like sinner meat or masculine clothing) is one of her favorite ways to show affection to see the brief light in his eyes from the gift.

Vaggie is as protective of Alastor as she is of Charlie, and she is also as very loving of him as she is of her. Vaggie will shower Alastor with genuine compliments, even in private sometimes she just wants to shower Alastor with love rather than any sort of abuse. Whenever Alastor does something particularly good (like introducing himself as Alison the first couple of times and holding her hand out of his own volition), she'll praise him and reward him for it. Vaggie takes more into consideration of attire for Alastor rather than what she just wants to see. While she still puts Alastor in "less than Alastor styled" outfits from time to time, those clothes are mainly for private or special occasions. For the most part, Vaggie gives (and allows) Alastor clothes more up his alley, even suits as long as he still looks feminine enough. While Vaggie will get violent with Alastor for showing discomfort with his forced gender, she normally first tries to comfort Alastor about his body and self. It's when Alastor begins getting more upset that she'll go into the abuse as described above. Even when the circumstance isn't sensual, however, she will always follow up her abuse with comfort for Alastor. This would, I can imagine, grow into a stockholm syndrome situation, especially if Alastor wanted to deny the situation he's in.

[lisziztaken]

First of all I agree second of all the same Robin run but Cass is Robin! Steph’s batgirl and this dude going “what do teen girls do together” but accidentally unlocks the rawest friendship/relationship a la my little pony

(Would love to see Chuck Dixon’s version of Super Hero Girls)

(for free though. Tie him to a chair and see what comes out)

(this is not me going I want to give money to this guy this is me going i want to tie him to a chair and psychologically torture the one)

(in a fantasy world i make all the executive decision’s in dc but i do not alas)

goddd Chuck Dixon always wrote Babs and Dinah being soooo obsessed with interrogating each other about their love lives and I think it's just because he couldn't imagine what else women would talk about but it just comes across like they're desperately scrutinizing each other for signs of reciprocated dyke interest

[decayed-cartilage]

The Intern

Hannibal Lecter x AFAB! Reader

Masterlist. PT 1

Warnings for chapter: power dynamic? Mentions of erection.. creepy! Hannibal, Morally wrong! Hannibal

Synopsis: Y/N is on the brink of graduation, with just one requirement left—an internship. Somehow, she finds herself under the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a man as brilliant as he is unreadable. Cold, precise, and impossible to rattle, he keeps his thoughts well-guarded. But Y/N can’t help her curiosity—she wants to understand him, to get beneath the surface. And whether he intends to or not, bit by bit, he lets something slip. Something darker. Something she might not be ready to see.

After what felt like endless hours of writing and submitting, writing and submitting, I finally received an email back from one of the many psychiatrists I’d been desperately trying to reach for my mandatory internship—Dr.Lecter, A prestigious man with many colorful reviews, which had drawn me to contact him.

From: H***********@gmail.com

To: Y/e@gmail.com

Subject: Internship for Johns Hopkins University

Dear Y/N,

I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing your application and personal portfolio, and I must say—your dedication and talent are impossible to overlook. It’s clear you take your work seriously, and intelligence like yours is always refreshing to encounter. I have no doubt that you would be the perfect young lady for me to mentor

do get in touch at your earliest convenience, and please, use my personal number (***) ***-****

Best,

Doctor Lecter

My heart pounded out of my chest, my eyes scanning his words again and again as warmth flooded my face. Oh god—had I really sent all that? How had I forgotten? Yes—I had sent all of it, in a tired, near-lucid state, exhausted from working so hard. My words had grown almost desperate by the last emails, pleading for validation.

But really? My whole life story? A deep dive into why I chose psychiatry—endless run-ons about trauma and my relentless hope for a better world?

And—oh no—the pictures. Me in scrubs, grinning way too hard, double thumbs-up in front of a cadaver during one of my early tech programs. Or me, beaming like an overexcited tourist beside historical documents, looking ridiculously proud.

Yet, all of that faded as my eyes caught on one thing—his phone number.

I screamed like a teenage girl, shooting up from my seat as I sprinted to grab my phone, my hands shaking as I typed in his number—only to pause.

What do I even say?!

I groaned, throwing myself back onto my bed.

Third person (Hannibal's) P.O.V

Hannibal had been waiting. Days bled into each other, an endless cycle of monotony—listening to insipid patients whine about their problems, assisting in crime cases that barely challenged him, returning home to indulge in his more refined appetites. Even killing had lost its thrill. Nothing ever truly stirred him.

Until your email.

God, the desperation dripped from every word, a quiet, pleading sort of need that sent a slow, curling heat through him. You had laid yourself bare, unaware of what exactly you had just invited into your life. Your tragic little story, the way you carried yourself—so unassuming, so small. So easy.

Just picturing you in his office, lingering in his space, speaking to him with those wide, trusting eyes—his jaw locked, his fingers twitching with restraint.

Staring at the pictures you had attached, Hannibal felt his length twitch, his breath slowing as his free hand drifted—almost absentmindedly—palming himself through the fine fabric of his dress pants. God.

The way your lips curled, the way your smile beamed so effortlessly, so full of warmth—it was intoxicating. A stark contrast to the cold, calculated existence he thrived in. You radiated light, soft and unguarded, utterly unaware of the predator fixated on you.

His throat tightened.

Such an innocent little thing, standing there in your scrubs, so proud, so eager. So trusting. You belonged to a world of laughter and hope, while he—he was carved from shadow and silence, his smile only ever genuine when he was peeling flesh from bone.

And yet, here he was, jaw clenched, breath heavy, wanting.

Needing.

He exhaled sharply, fingers pressing harder against the growing strain beneath his waistband.

Oh, sweet girl… you have no idea what you’ve done.

Ding!

The sharp chime shattered the heavy silence, jolting him from his trance. His phone clattered against the desk, but his eyes were already locked onto the screen. He knew who it was. Of course, he did.

Hannibal was a meticulous man. A careful man. And yet, you had made it so easy for him. Every little detail of your life, carelessly scattered across the internet—your school, your favorite cafés, even the places you liked to study. He knew where you had been before you even told him. He had all of you at his fingertips.

And now, your number. Displayed so innocently on his screen.

"Hello Doctor Lecter! This is Y/n :),I got your acceptance email-"

The preview cut off, but he didn’t need to see the rest to know exactly how you would sound—bubbly, eager, grateful. A stark contrast to the dark amusement curling in his chest.

Still, he unlocked the phone, fingers rolling over the screen, expression unreadable as he took in the rest of your message.

and I just can’t express how grateful I am you responded! It’s even better since I’m attending the same school you did! I would love to set up a time for us to chat in person—I hope I’m not being too informal—if I am, please tell me! Thank you so much for your time!

Such sweetness. Such hope. He could practically hear the nervous excitement laced in your words, see the way your hands might have trembled as you typed, wondering if you were saying too much, if you sounded proper enough for him.

He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, his fingers pressing into the screen just a little harder than necessary.

You had no idea what you had just invited into your world.

He began typing.

I’m pleased to hear from you so soon. Why don’t we meet somewhere comfortable? Perhaps a coffee shop—there’s a lovely one, [your favorite coffee shop], that I hear is quite popular. It seems like the perfect setting for our first conversation. Let me know when you’re available, and I’ll gladly adjust my schedule.

And please, don’t worry about being too informal. I much prefer sincerity. I look forward to meeting you, properly.

With that, he sent the message, his thumb hovering over the screen for just a second longer than necessary before finally setting the phone down. It slid across his desk with a soft thud, the only sound in the stillness of his office.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, a drawn-out sigh that did little to temper the hunger curling inside him.

You had been on his mind long before your message arrived, but now? Now, you were real. Tangible. Just a text away.

And soon, within reach.

Rolling his shoulders, he adjusted his cuffs with careful precision, though it did little to distract from the heat simmering beneath his skin. His jaw tightened. He needed a walk. Fresh air. A moment to compose himself before his thoughts spiraled into something indulgent.

His lips curled slightly as he stepped away from his desk, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

You had no idea what you had just done.

But you would.

YOUR POV

Ding!

I was too nervous to look at his message right away. My fingers hovered over my phone, heart hammering so loudly it drowned out all rational thought. When I finally mustered the courage to open it, my face went hot instantly.

He mentioned my favorite café.

Had he been there before? Was he that local? Had I somehow missed him in the crowd? My stomach twisted at the thought—equal parts exhilaration and unease. It wasn’t strange for someone to know about it; it was a well-loved spot, after all. But the way he said it, so casually yet deliberately, made my skin prickle.

I let out a small, breathless giggle, my lips pressing together as I read over his words again. I needed to calm down. Breathe, Y/N. Act normal. But I wasn’t normal. Not right now. I was too warm, too jittery, too caught up in the weight of his attention.

A walk. I needed a walk.

Without responding, I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door. My scarf—a soft, muted rainbow of colors—was next, the familiar knit worn and comforting against my fingers.

"I know it gets cold out there Y/nn! You're taking this scarf with you- it's my dying wish!"

I could still hear my mother’s voice, warm with fond exasperation, as she fussed over me before I left for college. The memory made me smile.

I wrapped the scarf snugly around my neck, letting the soft wool shield me from the crisp autumn air seeping in through the doorframe. My outfit was hardly practical for the weather, but I had always dressed like this—formally, neatly, a habit ingrained into me since childhood. A plaid skirt, fitted but flaring just above my knees, swayed as I moved. Tights helped ward off the chill, but only just. My dark grey moccasins were polished and proper, and beneath my heavy coat, I wore a delicate white button-up. The heart embroidery around the collar was my mother’s handiwork—stitched with care, meant to remind me of home.

Despite the structured appearance, I was anything but composed. Anyone who truly knew me would recognize the contrast between my polished exterior and the nervous, sweet-natured girl underneath.

I stepped outside into the cold, the late autumn air nipping at my nose and cheeks, turning them pink within seconds. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves tumbling along the pavement.

-

The walk stretched on longer than I had planned. What started as a way to clear my head turned into an aimless journey, my feet carrying me farther and farther from my starting point. By the time I thought to check the time, my phone screen flashed 4:07 PM.

Four hours. Four hours.

I had wandered nearly halfway across the city, lost in my thoughts, replaying that message over and over in my head like a song I couldn’t turn off. The crisp autumn air had settled deep in my bones, my fingers stiff despite being tucked into my coat pockets. My legs ached, but I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

That was when I noticed it—the quiet hum of a near-empty park, tucked away from the city’s usual noise. Golden leaves fluttered from the branches above, painting the pavement in warm hues. It was peaceful here, the kind of place where no one would bother me, where I could sit for just a moment and-

That was when I noticed him.

A figure moving toward me, his steps slow, measured, deliberate.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Just another passerby enjoying the evening air, someone else drawn to the quiet solitude of the park. But something about the way he walked made my breath catch—a smooth, unhurried grace, like a man who never rushed for anything.

My brows furrowed as I squinted. Damn it, I forgot my glasses.

I could make out the tall, well-built frame beneath a long, dark coat, the way his shoulders sat perfectly squared, the way his hands—gloved—rested easily at his sides, as if he carried nothing but time and patience.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest, a quiet knowing before my brain even caught up.

Then, as he stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, everything clicked into place.

The sharp, unmistakable features. The neatly combed dark hair. The slight tilt of his head, like he had already recognized me long before I had recognized him.

Dr. Lecter.

Oh God.

My stomach flipped so violently I thought I might actually double over. What was he doing here? Had he seen me before I saw him? Was he here because of me, or was this just some freakishly timed coincidence?

My brain scrambled for an appropriate reaction��anything other than standing there like an idiot, heart hammering in my throat.

My cheeks burned before I could stop them, heat creeping up my neck, traitorous and undeniable. I must look ridiculous right now—flushed, wide-eyed, completely caught off guard.

But there was no turning back. He was already close enough that ignoring him would be rude. Unprofessional.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I forced my stiff fingers to move, lifting a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

And then—I smiled. Nervous, flustered, but hopefully not as painfully obvious as I felt.

"H-Hi, Doctor!" I blurted out, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless.

I forced a smile, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. My big, wide eyes locked onto him, searching his face for any sign of reaction.

A second passed.

Then another.

My stomach twisted, dread creeping in. Did I mess up? Did I sound stupid? The silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse stutter.

"I-It’s Y/N—" I started, my voice unsteady, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I know it’s you, sweetheart."

My breath hitched.

His voice was smooth, effortlessly composed, dripping with confidence in a way that made my skin tingle. He looked down at me with an amused sort of curiosity, his gaze steady, unwavering—like he was taking his time, drinking in every little reaction, every tiny shift in my expression.

"How funny is it," he continued, his lips curving slightly, "that I should run into you here—right after we had just spoken?"

I swallowed hard. My stomach flipped again, my nerves unraveling by the second.

He was so calm. So composed. And here I was, standing there like a nervous wreck, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Whatever little confidence I had managed to build up crumbled beneath the weight of his presence. My body felt too warm despite the crisp autumn air, and I could hear the rush of my own pulse in my ears. Still, I forced myself to nod, hoping it looked casual—hoping he couldn’t tell just how flustered I was.

"It’s t-totally crazy!" I rushed out, my voice a little too high, a little too eager. I winced at myself, clearing my throat and trying again, desperate to sound normal. "I-I mean, I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. I must’ve wandered too far—I couldn’t even tell you where I am right now if I’m being honest."

I let out a nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, willing my hands to stop fidgeting. My cheeks burned, and I prayed it looked like nothing more than the bite of the cold air rather than the sheer excitement buzzing beneath my skin.

I had imagined meeting him—dreamed of it even. But now that he was standing in front of me, watching me with that unreadable gaze, I felt like my legs might give out beneath me.

"I'm really sorry you had to meet me like this," I blurted, my voice smaller than I intended. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my jacket sleeves, twisting the fabric as I dared to glance up at him. His eyes—sharp, knowing—made my stomach flip. God, why did he have to look at me like that?

"I promise I would have been more presentable— and- l-less shocked—I'm very sorry," I squeaked, heat rushing to my face as I dropped my gaze again, mortified by how utterly flustered I was.

A deep hum left him, measured and deliberate. "There is no need for an apology, hon," Hannibal said smoothly, the richness of his voice wrapping around me like silk. "You present yourself in a manner most... revealing."

He tilted his head, gaze unwavering, studying me as though he were unraveling something unseen. "There is an honesty in moments like these. A rare and unguarded glimpse into one's truest nature."

My breath caught in my throat. What—what did he mean by that?

I tried to piece it together, but the warmth in his eyes, the weight of his words, left me grasping at nothing.

I nodded at his words, dumbly, still trying to process the way he spoke, the way his voice felt like silk wrapping around my thoughts. But then, like a slap to the face, realization struck.

Oh no.

He definitely saw that I had read his message but never responded.

My stomach twisted as I stepped closer, suddenly feeling the need to explain myself, to fix whatever impression that might’ve given. "I—I meant to text back!" The words left me in a rush, my hands gripping the hem of my sleeves anxiously. "I just got too excited—" I stopped abruptly, my breath catching as my face burned. Too excited? Oh god. That sounded ridiculous. Desperate.

"I mean—" I scrambled to recover, shaking my head quickly. "Not excited—well, I mean, yes, excited, but not in a weird way! Just… I thought I should wait until I wasn’t so—so—" I let out a nervous laugh, utterly failing to dig myself out of the hole I was sinking into.

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly, watching me with that same unreadable expression, his lips curving just enough to make my stomach twist even further.

"There’s no need to fluster yourself on my account," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Some things are best expressed in their rawest form, unfiltered… unguarded."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing, trying to decipher his words. Was he talking about my message—or something else entirely?"I—I completely agree!" I rushed out, still trying to steady myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

I offered a small, nervous smile, shifting slightly on my feet, hoping I sounded even the slightest bit composed.

Third person (Hannibal's) pov

Hannibal watched you with quiet amusement, his sharp eyes taking in every flustered movement, every nervous breath. You were trying so hard to sound composed, but the way your words tumbled out—rushed, uncertain—betrayed you.

"I—I completely agree!" you blurted, your voice carrying that same delightful eagerness from your emails. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

You shifted on your feet, offering a small, nervous smile, as if willing yourself to appear more put together. How endearing. You had no idea how much you were giving away. Hannibal let the moment stretch just a second longer than necessary, letting you stew in the weight of his gaze before finally offering a slow, knowing smile.

"How about now, then?" Hannibal’s voice was smooth, effortlessly calm. "It seems the only thing occupying you at this moment is our conversation. I don’t mind in the slightest."

He watched as you blinked, clearly caught off guard. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your lips parting slightly as if scrambling for a response. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t considered that he might take control of the moment so easily, turning your nervous rambling into something entirely inescapable.

Of course, he knew you wouldn’t say no. You had been so eager, so desperate for this opportunity, your emails practically dripping with the need to prove yourself. The way you sought validation was almost endearing—so open, so unaware of just how much you had already given away.

And now, standing before him, you couldn’t hide it. The excitement in your eyes, the nervous energy humming beneath your skin. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but he could see it all—the way your breath hitched, the way you hesitated for just a second too long.

He let the silence stretch, just enough to make you squirm, his face giving no hints to how he felt.

"Oh! Of course! Now is perfect!" she blurts out, nodding far too quickly, her voice pitching higher than she probably intended. She grips the hem of her coat, wringing the fabric between her fingers, as if the motion might tether her to reality—might stop her from unraveling beneath her own nervous energy.

How utterly transparent.

I say nothing for a moment, only watching, taking in the way she fidgets, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She is trying so very hard to maintain composure, but she is failing spectacularly.

She doesn’t realize how much she gives away. How easily every flicker of emotion plays across her face. It is almost endearing—the way she fights against her excitement, attempting to suppress it, as if I cannot already see through her.

And yet, there is something else beneath the surface. Something softer, untouched by the weight of the world’s cruelty. A rare thing, fragile and sweet.

My lips curl slightly.

She swallows hard, her breath quickening, the silence stretching just long enough for uncertainty to creep in. I can almost feel the way her mind races, second-guessing herself, wondering if she has said too much or too little.

Finally, I incline my head in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Perfect," I murmur, watching as her breath hitched

A/N oh my god I think is the first fanfic I've written since I was like ten, so if you like it tell me :) and if you don't, also tell me. I hope everyone is doing well and I hope to write more, or leave suggestions! Big kisses everyone :3

[depraved-poets-anonymous]

ok hear me out

has anyone ever considered what a goddamn good story it would be if Tav had like Hanahaki Disease for Raphael???? Like bear with me. Like the fact that he's a cambion with a devil mind and human heart knowing that his kind rarely if ever love, and any affection or good treatment is simply manipulation to further their own goals. I'm just imagining Tav taking his deal just to be close to him. Coughing up the first bloody flowers and realizing its practically a death sentence. Raphael eventually finding out and the human part of him hit with the painful implications as Tav either tries desperately to make the love fade or come to terms with the fact that even if they survive the tadpole, they'll die anyway. Exploring the idea of if its even possible for Raphael to love or must she simply be a pointless victim. Just imagine

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

(cw rape mention)

do you also wish there was a way to distinguish "whumpy rape" and "smutty rape" (for the lack of better terms)?

personally, when i'm looking for rape/non-con fics on ao3, i want the victim to be broken down, crying and feeling irreparably damaged, i'm not interested in fics where the victim starts enjoying it after a few paragraphs and becomes an enthusiastic participant.

personally, I think — if the authors tagged their works properly — the "victim starts enjoying it after a few paragraphs and becomes an enthusiastic participant" would have made the work fall under the "dubious consent" category, and not exactly "non-con".

although I do understand that this is a sensitive subject, and some authors see the "dubious consent" tag as "non-con", because — while this is fiction we're talking about and I'm fully aware of that — anything that isn't "completely consensual" is "non-con", and some authors may fear that they might trigger their audience by not tagging the works as non-con (because without the non-con tag, readers could find it triggering when they read it and saw what happened as rape, even if the victim later enjoyed it), thus the reason why the two tags can overlap, depending on authors' opinions.

but yeah, some authors prefer not to tag dubious consent as non-con, because they believe it defeats the purpose of "dubious consent" and "non-con" being two completely different tags. with one containing, self explanatory, somewhat consent, and the other is outright rape.

also what reads like dubious consent to some may be outright non-con to others.

there isn't really any actual rule and it all just... depends on what the authors think is best for their works.

unfortunately, I don't think there is a fully effective way to distinguish the two as of now, without reading the works and finding out if it's "whumpy for trauma and pain" or "smutty for the sake of being horny". but what I personally do when I want to read "whumpy rape for trauma and pain" that isn't "smutty one where the victim later enjoys it" is that I usually search for additional tags such as "dead dove do not eat", "angst", "whump", "dark theme", "hurt/comfort" (if I want the recovery part), "hurt no comfort" (if I don't want the recovery part), etc.

from my experience with browsing through tags, works that fall under dubious consent category (ones where victim later enjoys it) usually have tags like "porn with plot", "porn without plot" (not saying whumpy non-con fics for trauma and pain can't have "porn with plot" or "porn without plot" tag, because I've also read so many exceptionally/remarkably/very, very well written whumpy non-con fics that do have either of these tags, but yeah, around 6 out of 10, the "porn with plot" and "porn without plot" tags apply more to dubious consent than they do outright non-con), "orgasm denial", “orgasm delay", and — most importantly — "dubious consent".

again, there is no actual rule or a perfectly effective way to separate "whumpy non-con fics meant for trauma and pain" from "smutty non-con fics meant to get you horny" just by looking at tags or summary alone. I think, if you don't want to 'read and find out', it all depends on the vibes. but even then, yeah... the two do overlap a lot.

*also not saying there's anything wrong with "smutty non-con fics meant to get you horny" by the way. this is all about each individual's personal preference. read what you like. write what you like. it's all fiction. it's all good.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

these are all armand at different points in his life actually

[yumedelusion]

And if I said Last Words of a Shooting Star is literally Tim Stoker... sorry I'll go

[coffindove-hell]

Heya my beautiful creatures and freaks, it's been a hot minute but I'm coming at you with a collab with @terminallyuncapricious

🦈🦌 Art made by Mister_Nebulous on Twitter 🦌🦈

Yes it's a neat crossover crackship that has caught my attention and I'm rooting for it!

#RodeoRadioweek lasts till Feb 16th to the 23rd, we hope to see you!

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[sammyakins]

INTRODUCTION I FUCKING GUESS Hello my name is Chris I'm a 19 year old cis male I'm a huge wincester and samdean truther so turn away now this is your warning If your a wholesome shipper turn away im a dead dove type of guy, alot of bottom sam i write a lot soooooooooo if you have a request send dont be afraid to request messages r always open

[saymio]

In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)

hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group

hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.

hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.

hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic

hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.

hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.

hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.

hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.

hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.

hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.

hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.

hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.

hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.

hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.

hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.

hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.

hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.

Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~

[ao3-shenanigans]

What does the dead dove tag mean?

Wonderful question!

“Dead Dove” comes from this scene in Arrested Development wherein the character Michel Bluth opens a brown paper bag that reads: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. He looks inside and sees what is in fact, a dead dove. The then says: “Well, I don’t know what I expected.”

In fandom, the tag has come to mean: “pay extra attention to the tags!” And/or “this fic is what it says on the tin!”.

So if, for example, a fic includes the tags: Body Horror, Gore, and Violence along with the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag, the author is saying “Hey I’m not joking about these tags! Read at your own discretion!”

The tag acts as an honest intensifier to whatever tags are already in the work, as the author using it wants to give a double warning for their content, that it may be triggering and that the reader should proceed with caution.

One fic tagged with Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, also includes the tags: Seriously, this fic deals with some serious and disturbing content matter, mind the tags

Thanks for asking and happy reading!