#May Rut Island

[a-wei-lin]

富國島跳島一日遊 | 富國島跳島這樣玩！浮潛、海底漫步、拖曳傘等等～

《富國島跳島一日遊》真的必玩！如果你以為富國島跳島一日遊很浪費時間，那阿偉可以跟你說，富國島自由行真的要來玩！畢竟都到富國島旅遊了，以往在台貴貴的海上休閒活動，來富國島玩真的很便宜，就跟富國島按摩一樣每天都要按，《富國島跳島一日遊》非常值得來大玩特玩～ Continue reading 富國島跳島一日遊 | 富國島跳島這樣玩！浮潛、海底漫步、拖曳傘等等～

[oatmealwrites]

JJK FOREPLAY FAVORITES

their fav way to increase sexual tension!~ HC

[non curse AU ig -> i like being happy ok]

regular masterlist (i will be editing it/making a new one eventually)

Increase the tension= things they loooove to do you/with you to crank the heat up AKA when this happens ur gonna be banging 

tags: hickies, oral (m & f receving), sloppy ass kissing, hair pulling, full nelson, orgam (m & f), implied f anatomy of reader, p in v, no protection, car sex mentioned, dirty talking, riding, chocking, degrading, lots of cumming, wlw, fingering (f rec), prob more tbh, MDNI, 18+

NOT PROOFREAD -> maybe ill edit it tmr idk

Characters: Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kamo Choso, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Higuruma Hiromi, Ryomen Sukuna, Shoko Ieiri

words: 2.7k

~~~~~~~

Nanami Kento - neck kisses below the collar

After a long day of work, coming home to you is the only thing on poor Kento’s mind; insufferable colleagues and idiotic customers, the one saving solace is ending the day by your side. If he comes home at a reasonable hour, and you’re still awake, he’s immediately hanging up his coat and pecking your lips full of all the love he’s been harboring for the past few hours.

You stand in the entrance way to your shared home, peck after peck; only breaking to breathe and murmur ‘i love you’s in between. The two of you sway and stay that way for a few minutes before you part and separate to prep dinner while he takes a swift shower. BUT, if you’re in the mood or he is… those lips may linger just a bit further down.

They start off trailing down his sharp jawline, then the spot under his ear, and finally he’s undoing his tie and top two buttons to make room for your lips sucking little bruises on his flesh. Groans of pleasure escape his lips in octaves so deep your poor cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. By this point, he’s dragging you to the couch or even kitchen island; never parting far enough to break the suction you have on his flesh. 

Each suck is below where the collar of his shirt hits his neck; the fabric being able to cover each indecent mark that none of his coworkers will ever see. You stay hovering over him; his hands digging into your waist while his head tilts back further and further to give you access. When the canvas efficiently marked up, his hands slide down to the swell of your ass and…. Well, he’d like to leave a trail of bites where no one will ever find them on you. ;)

Fushiguro Toji - standing behind you (caged in)

It’s when you’re doing a mundane task, like folding laundry or taking a mental note of the food in the fridge to be restocked, when Toji walks up behind you. If you had headphones on, he slides them off and pushes his biceps forward to effectively cage you in between him and whatever furniture you’re in front of.

The cologne radiating off him is intoxicating, and the way he can look down over you makes his cock twitch in his pants. Toji acts like it’s casual, offering you help in sorting laundry or a reminder that you were nearly out of orange juice, before he steps even closer. The swell of your ass now plush against his semi; Toji closes the fridge door or places the towel you’re folding back on the bed. He wants your full attention.

Though the man behind you doesn’t spin you around quite yet; instead, he digs his hands to grip your waist and pull you back into his chest. His full erection now grinding into you, he’ll continue whispering casual questions while his body radiates enough sexual energy to make your mind dizzy.

Hovering above you, cock hard in jeans and pushing sluttily into the curve of your ass, Toji ruts into you a few more times until he’s sure you’re as horny as him. When he does spin you around, it’s to either pull you up to the kitchen island or push you onto the mattress and solve the little big problem that’s aching in his trousers. Be ready for a full nelson~

Choso Kamo - hair pulling

It starts as a simple makeout when Yuji leaves the shared apartment to hang out with Nobara and Megumi. You’re sitting on the couch, video game or movie loading idly in the background, while the two of you exchange a moment of heated kissing. Given the amount of time Yuji hangs around his brother, romantic moments are rushed and sometimes awkward between you both.

Though in this moment on the couch, tongues exploring each other's mouths and teeth clicking every so often at the sloppiness of it all, there’s no better feeling. Choso’s hands rub tiny circles into the bones of your hips while yours find solace wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. When you reach forward to pull those two elastic bands and let his hair down; he moans.

Choso loves when you tug on his hair; it’s the best indicator to know you're into this as much as he is. Whether it’s when he’s splaying your thighs apart and eating you out, or when you're tugging him back to kiss you while you ride him; Choso is putty in your hands when your fingertips pull on his hair.

When you’re kissing and he feels that familiar tug, his cock is getting stiffer by the second. Groaning into your already messy french kiss, he pivots to pin you to the sofa cushions while your hands occasionally pull him back so you can breathe. But it’s not enough; every scrape against his scalp leaves him chasing your lips again and again and again.

If you tug one more time… Choso will leave your lips with a slight whimper before moving down a bit lower to another area he’d like his lips to be on. Once he’s set up shop and comfortable down there, he’s not leaving your pussy until you’re ripping the follicles from his head. 

Geto Suguru - whispers in the ear

Yelling was something Suguru was quite familiar with: Yaga scolding him during his high school days and Satoru constantly yapping his ear off every time they hang out; leaving the moments of silence in between something he’s grateful for. Whether it’s a casual conversation in an area reserved to be quiet or a simple hushed comment you don’t want to repeat; Suguru loves it when you whisper in his ear. 

The way you lean up on your tippy toes to reach his ears and cover your mouth with your hand as if it’s a secret being shared makes his pulse spike. Usually, he’ll take your hand once you finish speaking and place a light kiss or bite to the flesh before continuing on whatever activity you were both currently doing. BUT, if he’s pent up or you’re just looking extra cute that day, he’ll return the favor and lean down to whisper in your ear.

His hot hushed breath on the shell of your ear makes you jump from the sudden action, and he laughs when you raise an eyebrow at his intentions. He’d never do anything naughty though…. Jk ofc he does. It’d start with a couple suggestions in your ear about new cafes to go to, movies to watch, until it becomes completely filthy. Positions he wants to fuck you in when you return home, how the way you squeak when he talks in such a whisper reminds him of the way you squeak when pushes the tip of his cock in, and how the way you shiver makes him wanted to pinch your hardened nipples right here and now.

The sensuality of it all is what makes this arousing for Suguru. It’s not exaggerated pornographic moans; it’s raw and real. Of course he loves when your voice is hoarse from groaning his name out as he drives you to multiple orgasms, but he also loves the hushed whisper that only he gets to hear. So next time you pull him down to tell him something in secret, just know you might end up yelling by the end of the night. ;)

Gojo Satoru - eye contact

Tugging off his sunglasses and enjoying the view is not something that Satoru gets time to do very frequently. More often than not, he’s dealing with bullshit from his higher ups at work, trying to clean up the messes other people make, all the while assisting new students/hires in training for their future careers. So when Satoru does finally get a moment of peace to sit back and take in the scene around him, he always ensures you’re by his side to enjoy it as well.

At first glance, it’s not always the most photogenic moments where Satoru gets this moment of reprieve: sitting on the sofa after work, cafe dates during his lunch break, sitting in your kitchen making a grocery list; however, they are his favorite. In these moments, all eyes are on you. 

When you pause from whatever task and take in the man in front of you, his pupils immediately dilate. He’ll silently admire the way you sway your hips from side to side in mindless motions; falling in love with you all over again for the trivial little habits he loves to watch you perform. But when you pause and meet his lingering gaze? Buckle up.

Satoru will raise an eyebrow, but not break the connection. Instead, he splays a half grin on his face and pulls you into him; strong arms wrapping around you. It’s when you admire his eyes and then finally break the gaze to peer at his lips does Satoru finally kiss you. Now this kiss can either be sweet and romantic to convey the emotion between you both… OR it be a precursor to something more. 

His gaze on you doesn’t stop when you’re sinking to your knees to suck him off on your shared sofa; admiring the tears that prick from the tension in your jaw. His gaze on you doesn’t stop when he’s fingering you on his sheets; watching the way your face contorts in pleasure. But his favorite sight is when you’re both eye level and you’re riding his cock while gazing at his blue eyes. 

Higuruma Hiromi - hand on throat

Hiromi is a lawyer, in which this position gives him a lot of control over the future of a person’s fate. He can watch someone walk free or spend the rest of their life behind bars all simply based on how well he can perform his job within given evidence. Though the final verdict is never up to him; the sentencing is decided by the jury or judge. So when you’re in the middle of a heated makeout, and you bring his hand to gently grasp your throat for the first time; he pauses.

It’s the only time he has absolute control in the moment; one you willingly and trustingly submit to him. The rush of it all gets Hiromi feeling more on edge. You can be making out in his car, interrupting him while he’s getting dressed, or simply straddling him on your bed; regardless of the location, he’s getting hard.

Long deft fingers keep his hand in collar around your neck, pulling you in for messy kisses or pushing you back to admire the drunk look on your face. Tightening the pressure and watching your eyebrows furrow from lack of oxygen and heightened ecstasy make his slacks feel extra tight; pre-cum pouring embarrassingly from his weeping tip from within his boxer briefs.

When you kiss, regardless of the position, and Hiromi has a hand around your throat; he intends to keep it there for a while. If you’re sucking him off, he cums even faster if he can feel the way his dick is sliding down your throat with his hand. Even when you inevitably get to fucking, his hand is latched around your jugular; occasionally tightening and releasing to give right ratio of pain and pleasure. 

Of course, he’ll eventually need both hands for your activities, and release his grasp; ensuring you can breathe properly once more. However, if you ever bring his hand to your throat, just know you might have his cock sliding down there soon.

Ryomen Sukuna - you’re on his lap (u being dominate/initiative)

In every aspect of life, Sukuna has always been in charge. Whether it’s work positions, social hierarchies with peers, and even your sex life; he’s always the one calling the shots. So on those occasional moments when he’s been busy with work and you’ve been feeling a little neglected; you slide onto his lap and peer down at him.

Regardless of how tired or worn out he is, Sukuna will always pry open an eye and peer at you as you sit on his muscular thighs and look down at him. He’d never admit how much of a turn on this vision is; but the sight of you trying to use power and make him submit leaves his cock twitching.

Even if you just wanted passing attention and a few simple kisses; Sukuna isn’t letting you off his lap. Large hands keep you seated in your position while he nips and licks at the flesh on your neck; urging you to finish what you started. It’s when you finally get comfortable and pull his face to meet your lips, tug his hair to look up at you, and when you guide his hands to touch you where you want it that pushes him over the edge.

Sukuna loves power, and he loves you even more for wanting a fraction of that feeling; even if it does mean he’s the one submitting in this situation. This is where that submission ends though, after things get steamy, he’s effectively throwing you on to whatever surface he feels like and bending you into a pretzel of positions. He’ll tug your hair, degrade you, fuck you so hard that your pussy has molded to the shape of his cock. BUT, the fact that you took the initiative and tried to overpower him is what makes him so rut so ruthlessly into you. Whenever he thinks your cunt has milked him dry, he’ll conjure up that image of you sitting so coy on his lap that he’s pouring another load into your pussy without even realizing. 

Shoko Ieiri - hand on thigh

Ieiri sees lots of injury and death within her line of work; though she’s forever grateful her gloves protect her from touching anything. A thin layer of latex protects her from the grime and bacteria from wounds and decay; but finally home alone with you, leaves her wanting nothing separating the space.

Whether it’s hand holding in the supermarket, cuddling with legs intertwined, or running a hand through each other’s hair; the physical touch makes her sigh in content at the simplicity. BUT, when that lingering hand moves to the plush and fleshy area of an exposed thigh? Expect some other sighs.

Now Ieiri likes you touching her thigh and touching yours; so here are both scenarios:

If you are the one initiating it:

You’re sitting on the sofa, watching reruns of your favorite show and enjoying the evening with some snacks and wine, when your hand moves from hers to the soft subtle flesh of her exposed thigh. It’s a gentle squeeze at first; reassuring of your presence at her side after such a hard week of work. Though Ieiri finds it more than reassuring.

At first she’ll place her hand on yours, and you when you're about to stop, thinking that’s what she meant; Ieiri will guide your hand up higher. You’ll pinch each inch of her thigh until your fingers are grazing her sleep shorts and she finally peels her eyes off the screen to shoot you a knowing gaze. Yes, she loves your hands on her… but she’d like your mouth to now replace that spot ;)

If she’s initiating it:

It starts harmlessly when you’re both relaxing on the sofa after a long week, when her hand rests on your thigh. At first you thinking nothing of it; her fingers digging into the flesh and occasionally kneading it without ever looking off the tv. Right when you think she’s about to stop is when she reaches up juuuust a bit higher to repeat the action to the new area.

This continues until she’s up past the hem of your sleep shorts pant line and tracing the outline of your sopping pantines. Fingers are still pinching the skin of your upper thigh; they’ll occasionally move to press against the pathetic wet patch of the fabric and rub small circles on your clit.  Ieiri loves the feeling of your thighs under her hands, but she loves her fingers inside you more.

a/n idk where this came from tbh; im actually so tired and this isn't proofread

IK i should work on my series... but i have like horny thoughts motivation and wanted to write before bed hehe

reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated

-oatmeal <333

[tojisun]

!! age gap (mid-20s [reader] and late 40s [gaz])

thinking about making a dating profile and setting the maximum age to 50.

your friends told you to be careful; they told you that a lot of older men are in dating apps specifically because they are looking for younger partners, and you don't have the heart to tell them that that's exactly where your preference lies—someone older, who's had years to be financially stable, and who you know would be able to truly spoil you.

so you tell them it's just for jokes. that you'll change it back later, you swear, but you don't. instead, you fix up your profile, putting pictures that you know were just on the right side of seductive, before gearing your hobbies as broad as possible. make them come talk to you about them; make them want to know more about you.

it was a boring run for a while. some may have appealed to you but they all lost their charm after a chat or two.

then, you come across kyle garrick, arguably the most good-looking man you've ever seen in this godforsaken app. he's almost twice your age, you note with a heavy gulp, and his pictures are... extensive.

they're too detailed, almost like a visual resume of how loaded he is.

he's got a picture in his yacht, or in some island—in the bahamas or in the maldives—or of him golfing with some of his buddies. he's lethally good-looking, no matter what damned angle it is, and he's still so fucking buff. he's all thick arms—inked, you note—and shallowly cut abs. he's even got that defined 'V' on his pelvis, obscured only by the unzipped wetsuit he's wearing in that one photo where he and his friends went out swimming with the fucking sharks.

of course they did.

you're so distracted by his pictures that you didn't even realize he's sent you a message.

> i've got tattoos older than you, love.

you can't even fathom how quick that made you wet, crossing your leg over the other as fervid desire blossoms in your core, before matching with mr. garrick and sending him a reply.

.

the first time kyle fucked you, you ended up in a mating press. your legs spread as far as they can with how he's got your ankles in a tight grip—he's got you folded, exposing your wet and dripping pussy for him. exposing it for an easy fucking.

"fuckin' tight o'a cunt y'got there, pretty," he moans, his voice coming out in a rasp.

kyle's unrelenting as he pounds you, measured strokes filling you up until you feel like you're bursting, the throes of your pleasure ramping up until your ecstasy tears through, so close. so ready to break and spill over—

"god, darlin'," he croons, his voice a measured taper like he isn't drilling you until you're all delirious. like you're not being fucked stupid. "you make the happiest sounds, don't you?"

he humps forward, rutting like he's savouring the way your walls are gripping him.

"yeah." kyle laughs. "will definitely keep you."

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: GATEAU

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon/rape, abuse, past child abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, death mentions (including of a young people), Stockholm Syndrome

Read after the cut

---

As the night goes on, made odd by the truths held above your head, Hannibal sends you into the kitchen for the wine Will has forgotten there as though you are his little maid to be so imperiously commanded. Grumbling under your breath you slope into that other room, thinking to spit down the neck of the bottle to lend it the flavour of your displeasure.

Your gaze falls first upon a vast chocolate gateau resting on the sideboard, its rich aroma stirring awake your appetite, the pangs of which you now rarely know.

At this you feel an acute disgust at your body’s failing. No doubt some human matter has found its way into this creation, likely by blood to bring salt to its flavour, but even if by a rare chance it hasn’t you cannot stand that you desire it after all the years you’ve abstained from dessert.

Still, even as you scorn yourself you reach with one finger across to the cake and scoop from it a curl of icing, shuddering as it glazes the roof of your tongue with its silken sin.

Guilt rides over you at once: the totting up of numbers, the phantasmic sense of weight already building on your bones. In a panic you smooth over the gap in the cake left from your burrowing finger with a nearby clod of icing, hoping it won’t be noticed when Hannibal comes to cut a slice for supper.

The kitchen door opens behind you, making you jump and wipe your guilty hands together as Will appears in the frame.

“You were taking a while,” he says. “Thought I’d check on you.”

“What do you care?” you reply with a haughty toss of your head. “You’re barely here anymore. Don’t pretend to give a damn now you’re back.”

Will shuts the door behind him and leans against it, his arms folded.

“I thought you wanted me to put my full efforts into this case.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should just abandon me.”

With an unpleasant laugh Will says, “I’m sure you and Hannibal get along just fine on your own.”

You think cynically of your elder captor assaulting you against his front door, biting at your flesh. A lean coyote in a gentleman’s clothes.

“You don’t like the idea of him fucking me when you’re not there, do you?” you ask, and Will shrugs, refusing you an honest reaction.

“I’m just aware of what I’m missing, that’s all.”

It occurs to you to question how often he thinks of rutting you in those elongated hours apart, or if it is only Hannibal that inhabits his mind in ire and yearning alike. Will may not have forgiven him the harm he’s done, but he certainly cares for him still.

Perhaps it is the homosexual angle of the romance that prevents him from viewing it as such; if only women have otherwise enchanted him what sense can he make of this new lust?

“Well,” you say, “if you want we can swap places. You stay home with Hannibal and I’ll play detective with the FBI.”

“Funny,” says Will. “I like our arrangement the way it is.”

You look at him doubtfully.

“So you’ve really never considered it? You and him together, the way I am with him?”

“I consider you and me together,” says Will, and he steps towards you, driving you against the kitchen island until its edge impresses a horizontal groove into your back. “How I’m starting to forget what you taste like.”

Your breath jars in your throat, and you’re ashamed by the airless, claustrophobic sensation of desire that his words elicit.

“What would Uncle Jack think hearing you talk like that?” you ask.

Will smirks.

“Not everything I do is for Jack’s approval.”

He loops an arm around your waist, his palm grazing your skin through the smoke of your dress.

“Maybe you should be thinking about him,” you say, wriggling against the hammerhead of Will’s forceful want. “I don’t think he’d put you and dear, dear Daddy onto the Lover case if he knew that you were raping me.”

“Are we?” asks Will, and there is laughter of such an easy cruelty in his eyes that you wonder how you ever thought him good.

“Yes,” you say. “You are raping me, even though you love me. Maybe even because you do.”

Your voice is frail with emotion, no longer teasing. Will touches your cheek, and even that light touch is something evil, knowing of your weakness for him.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he says. “Not about me.”

You shake him with both hands, unhinged with a sudden desperation.

“It’s messed up, but I’m right, aren’t? You love me. Say it. Just say it. I need to hear it.”

With an abrupt motion Will hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, your unmoored limbs flailing around him.

“How about I show you?” he says, and reaching up under the gauzy skirt he pulls your underwear down to your ankles.

How often he disappoints you, refusing to free you, refusing you the words you beg of him.

Will kisses you from your hardened mouth down your clothed body to your unclothed cunt, and his lips are like a roaming spark beneath which you flinch in revulsion and response.

Your hands weave through the thick of his hair, and you kick at his shoulders briefly before the motion of his tongue makes you still.

The sight of Will glancing up at you between your thighs, the stirring of his mouth against the bead on which he strings you out—

You moan, yet through you, as always, is the disgust of having your flesh expressed of its need like juice from a persimmon, that he to whom you’ve grown close engages in this incest, and has you indulge in it, as well.

No longer can you envision an existence with him where that element were not part of it, nor one absent of his envy.

Even as Will devours you it is Hannibal whose taste he seeks, hunting the remnant he’d left in you that morning against the shower wall, hoping there is some trace not rinsed down the drain.

Against Will’s claims you know there is some sleeping shred of him that thinks of the hand, the mouth, the carefully trained form under the designer suits, and resents that you—his subordinate, and unwilling at that—have experienced all in place of him.

You muse upon how it will be if ever Will gives in to the cravings of man, envision him shunting you off into some corner to observe as they make violent love like the dispute of brother gods.

This, in conjunction with the roll of Will’s fingers and tongue-tip upon you, conducts a new music of pleasure, and afterwards an anger that he has transformed you so utterly as to be this easily aroused.

Scuttling your hand across the kitchen island you feel for the wine bottle, toying with the notion of striking Will over the head with it, and wonder if you’ve gone as bad as him to feel joy at the thought of his red brains and the red wine of his warm blood across you.

You’d never do it, yet the thought comes back and back unbidden. Hannibal has beckoned it in with his talk of killing, the resurrection of the poorly buried dead.

It’s as your fingers wrap around the glass that Will says darkly, “Don’t you dare.”

His face is turned against your thigh, its expression stern, though not entirely serious.

“I wasn’t doing anything” you protest.

“You were thinking it,” says Will. “That’s enough.”

Then his jaws are on you again, and pleasure crushes you flat as though between the earth and a stone.

He loves you, you think, in the midst of it. The only man outside your family that ever has, and he has treated you with greater cruelty even than Leland Frost. Yet you cannot resist affection of any kind, and so as Hannibal rightly guessed it is no longer entirely unrequited.

Self-loathing takes over in your orgasm’s decline, and you push Will away with the soles of your feet, not wanting to sully your hands with him.

“I’m bored now,” you snap. “Take your wine in yourself.”

You thump down onto the kitchen floor, swerving Will as he reaches for you with a testy jerk of your shoulder.

“Little One,” he says, and then he corrects himself with your real name, so rarely heard from him now that you are touched that he thinks of its use.

Still you leave the room, finding yourself on the bitter verge of tears.

*

In sleep you have one of those particular dreams that read more of latent prophecy, a canon yet to give itself birth. In a scrub of forest you crouch over the nude body of a woman, pulling from the open mouth of her gut glittering organs upon which you feast with a scavenger’s appetite.

Will and Hannibal oversee this feast in approving silence, their figures a second darkness in the night.

Why they do not share in that meal you do not know; perhaps they have eaten already of their own kills, observing with full bellies as you follow suit.

It does not strike you in this dream to loathe the thing you do, for to eat is to survive, and so to meet the approval of your masters. With eagerness you crawl up the cool length of the cadaver, ripping up carpets of meat as you go.

Only when you reach the face, upturned to the dish of the moon, that you recoil with a spasm of horror and recognition of it. You know this woman, yet cannot in sleep recall her name, nor conjure the place from which you remember her.

“Did I kill her?” you ask, for this, too, you do not know.

“No,” says Will. “Not with your own hands.”

“Your proximity to her was enough,” says Hannibal. “All those who have been even in passive orbit of you may fall foul of death. We have told you this, Little One.”

You stare into the dead woman’s sunken eyes which appear in their stillness like replicas of glass.

“But if I didn’t kill her, and you didn’t either, then why am I eating her?” you ask.

“I fear you will go mad in losing those you love,” says Hannibal. “So you must consume and accept the dead as part of you, as I have. That way both mind and memory will last, if not intact then transformed as you are by the sating of your hunger.”

“It won’t work,” you say. “I don’t believe that. That’s your religion, not mine.”

“You’ll learn to embrace your madness, then. After all, each of us three would be consigned to an asylum for our habits by those that don’t understand us. But I would always understand you, Little One, no matter what condition your broken mind was reduced to, in the end.”

Then your captor’s hand presses down on the base of your skull until you're forced to lap at the dead woman’s blood.

You awake half hanging off the side of your bed, your body having mimicked the acts of your dreaming self as it has not done since you were young. In those years you’d often jarred yourself awake by attempting to speak aloud or to gesticulate to some ephemeral figure.

That you’ve resumed this abandoned habit disturbs you far more than the content of your dream, and in a panicked rush you start out of your bedroom into the hallway, turning not into Will’s chamber—which tonight is occupied by his sleeping form—but into Hannibal’s.

The door swings open under your frantic touch, and a startled figure sits upright in the shadows, as disbelieving of you having come to him as you are yourself.

“What’s happened?” asks Hannibal. “Are you feeling alright?

“I had another dream,” you say. “I’m scared.”

You find yourself sitting on the end of Hannibal’s bed, the first time you have done so willingly. His face is an amazed blank, unable to translate the meaning of this new and impulsive action.

“Your nightmares are likely a side effect of reducing your medication,” he says, at last. “I should have warned you. I apologise; it’s my mistake.”

With a hoarse laugh you say, “What do you have to be sorry about? Everything that ever goes wrong... you know exactly what to do. You take care of me even if I don’t want you to. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

Hannibal switches on the bedside lamp, his face solemn in the belt of its light.

“That is untrue. I have many flaws and failures; you’ve seen for yourself that I’m not always as in control as I’d like to be.”

The attack with the knife, he means, or his tampering with Will’s mind, both grave mistakes, so few of which have occurred throughout your stay that only they, of all, occur to you. That Hannibal is a killer, a defiler of flesh living and dead does not present itself despite its obvious nature, for even in this he is unerring, cunning and clean.

“I’m going to let you down,” you say. “You think you can fix me, and I know how hard you’re trying, but I’m not okay. It’s going to get worse.”

Hannibal runs your cold fingers between his own until they warm.

“You say this because recent developments are frightening you. Because you assume the good that will come of submitting to mutual love will not last. You would rather propel yourself into a fit of anxiety than permit yourself the slightest happiness.”

You turn him a look of reproach.

“You know why I can’t.”

“Because we are killers.”

“Yes.”

“But you love us still.”

Tugging your hands from Hannibal’s own you say, “If I did I’d be a terrible person.”

“We can’t help who we care for in this life. That you are able to love against the bounds of your morality isn’t evidence of personal failure.”

Yet surely it must be, you think, is in fact a marker of how greatly you’ve given in to him.

You say nothing of this aloud, however, only inch across the bed into Hannibal’s arms, kissing him in the hope of ridding your mouth of the taste of blood from your dream.

“There’s time for this tomorrow,” he says, gently, drawing away; clearly he thinks you’re seeking sex, an invitation you’re amazed to see him decline. “It’s very late, and I have patients to see in the morning. Rest now. You’ll feel better for it.”

You sleep nestled against him, his palm on your belly, which for once you neither mind nor think much of, merely consoled by his presence there with you.

*

The following week you are suspended between shame and self-pity, aware that you have fallen by a missing rung on the ladder of pious restraint into collusion with the men that you’re unsure you can arise from.

Will becomes as present in the household as work and commitment to his dogs will allow, the continued, quiet feud with Hannibal still complicating the evident need to remain at his side.

With you Will is tactile, sensual, smothering you with the weight of his covetous desire.

"You need to talk to him about what happened between you," you say to Hannibal one night, your head in his lap as he draws another portrait of Will as some tragic hero. "He's driving me crazy. I wish you'd just hash it out together or something."

"He's lost trust in me," says Hannibal in a tone of martyred sadness. "That can't be rebuilt inorganically. In time I hope his anger will pass."

It's on the tip of your tongue to suggest that he unburden all of his wrongs in one grand gesture, but thinking the better of it you return to placid silence.

This new method of survival you have taken on, though considered wise even in your early days of imprisonment, is so indistinguishable from genuine attachment that you could not confidently distinguish the two from one another.

Amy would be disgusted with the woman you've become, pining for the approval of predators, one of which has struck up a friendship with her own attacker. It is a dark blessing that through hypnosis she has forgotten this, will read of you in Tattle Crime and frown at the strange pang she feels at the notion of you shared by the named men.

In this way you become your own accuser, sparing no empathy for the difficulty of your plight. As others would judge you so you judge yourself, are brutal in the manner your keepers have sought to discourage.

Rebellion comes in strange forms, as of late.

You while away your days in windows frosted with the turning of autumn into its pale sibling, writing the first coherent entries of the journal you've long been unable to manifest. Your prose is clumsy, your handwriting without any particular art, but in this alone you gain some tangible accomplishment and distraction from your conflict.

Knowing Hannibal surely reads your diary you consider caution, but upon realising there are few secrets left between you both you write honestly and without fear of being bent across his lap.

“WEDNESDAY—

I haven’t been allowed to talk to my parents in so long that I can’t even hear their voices in my head anymore. I guess I’m realising that I’ve been picturing strangers ever since I came here, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

Do I even miss them anymore, or is it other, made up people I just tell myself I miss? Were they ever real to begin with?

They call it solipsism, the theory that nothing actually exists outside your perception. I read that it one of Hannibal’s books— George Berkeley was the name of the philosopher. I hope I spelled his name right.

Since I was little I had this fear that I was the only real person in the universe, that everyone else I ever met just vanished the second they weren’t in front of me. I still feel that way, I guess.

My bad memories are the only proof that I’m not alone, as much as I’m afraid—or sometimes find myself wishing—that I am.

I just remembered a day my parents took me shopping around Christmas one year. We went to this huge shopping center, and it was so busy and noisy that my Mom got really worked up and started snapping at everybody as if it was our fault the whole city picked that day to buy presents too.

I guess I did something wrong— maybe I wandered off, or I said something she didn’t like. But suddenly she yelled so loud everybody around us turned to stare at us except my Dad, who looked away just like he always did. Messed with his glasses. Pretended he saw something interesting in a store window when we all knew he hated shopping and was just dying to get out of there and go home to the TV.

Five minutes later Mom tried to hold my hand like nothing ever happened. Like she forgot what she just did, or didn’t realise that it upset me. Then when I wouldn’t let her take my hand she got mad all over again, and I could tell it hurt her feelings.

I’ve always wondered how she justifies those moments to herself, or if she shoves them down so far that she can just pretend she’s never in the wrong.

If I did imagine my mother, why would I make her that way?

Anyway, I think this whole solipsism thing is why I don’t buy Hannibal’s idea of absorbing life, even if it’s just a symbolic gesture. If I can’t see you then you might as well be dead, so really the thought that something would be left of that person after their heart stops beating makes no sense to me.

Only my dreams are real. Realer than I am. But if they’re repeating what Hannibal keeps telling me then what does that mean?”

"FRIDAY —

“I spat out some of breakfast into a napkin today. Daddy Hannibal took me upstairs and hit me with some kind of leather flogger till I said I was sorry. I wasn’t, though, and he knew it. He told me I’d never get to go to nice places with him if I kept behaving in that way, and that would be the real punishment.

I keep forgetting that’s what he and Daddy Will want at the end of all this. To take me out of the shadows of this house into their light.

Haven’t they thought about how weird it’s going to look to everybody? What will they tell people? That I’m their daughter? Their inappropriately young girlfriend?

They’ll have to take me somewhere nobody knows us and no one really cares. Places we can be different people except to ourselves. But maybe we’ll become the people we pretend to be. I’d like that to be true.”

It’s as you’re finishing this particular entry that you overhear voices in one of the many hallways— Hannibal’s, and that of Jack Crawford, who’s been invited to dinner again. Perceiving a hushed secrecy to their dialogue you return to your talent of eavesdropping and sidle up to the nearest door.

It’s Jack you hear first, partway through some muttered sentence.

“—Heard about the fibre sample Beverly picked up on in Lillian Greyflower’s file.”

“A thread from a hospital gown,” says Hannibal. “Yes. She had Turner Syndrome and was undergoing frequent medical checks to monitor her health.”

“She wasn’t the only one,” says Jack. “Bryce Mulligan was struggling with Kidney Disease, Anaïs Foreau was a premature birth— all the Mask Murder victims had conditions that affected their weight and height in some way. None of them were much over five foot tall.”

So these are the details Will did not wish you to know, cautious of spooking you with the implications of the discovery. Your illness is the reason for the Lover’s interest in you: as many differences as there are between you and his first set of victims this is the one great likeness to have drawn him in.

“The killer’s first muse herself was in poor health,” says Hannibal, “and with stunted development for her age. I suggest you search missing persons records for a white, blonde female under the age of eighteen, last seen accompanying an older male family member; I believe she disappeared around the time the Mask Murders began. Look specifically for girls with growth disorders, genetic, and chronic conditions.”

“We need to narrow down a state,” says Jack. “The murderer is clearly a travelling man.”

Then, clearing his throat, he adds, “Speaking of the Lover, have you—”

Hannibal intercepts the question briskly.

“Not yet. As things are now I couldn’t possibly disturb the peace by announcing such unpleasant news. I will attempt it as soon as I can.”

Lost as to the meaning of this abrupt turn in the conversation you strain your ears, frustrated when the men’s voices lower so far as to become incoherent. Only Will’s footsteps approaching behind you compel you away from the door.

“Stop it,” he says. “You want them to catch you like that?”

Turning around, you stick out an irreverent tongue at him.

“Who says they were going to catch me?”

Will scoffs, scarcely masking his amusement.

“Quit screwing around. Go sit at the table. We’ll be eating soon.”

The dinner you find awkward in the deliberate avoidance of the Lover case, small talk expanded into impossible complexity across the courses. Having seen death in its multiples you are both angered and entertained by the senselessness of your fathers thinking you too delicate to endure what you have learned.

Jack’s hesitation you understand, being that of the three men only he thinks you wholly innocent. Your keepers, however, are purely concerned with avoiding the resulting unseemly outburst, and in this you are reminded that no matter what affections you’ve developed to protect yourself from a prisoner’s despair a prisoner you still are.

Glowering at them both under your lashes you crush a slice of ‘fish’ under your fork, watching it take the shape of the tines. It’s as you’re observing this process that an idea occurs to you, brought on by the visitor in the room. A chance to communicate to Jack that he dines with a cannibal, that he has eaten of the same people for whom his officers seek justice—

Stuffing the morsel of fish into your cheek you say, “I’m full. Can I be excused?”

Jack glances at Hannibal, his brows angled, and you realise that he discerns something overfamiliar in your tone or body language he isn’t sure enough of to interrogate.

“You’re free to leave whenever you like,” says Hannibal. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks for joining us,” says Jack, and you offer him a weak smile before rushing out into the living room where your journal and ball point pen remain.

Tearing a leaf out of the back you write

‘TEST THE MEAT!!! IT’S HUMAN!” in a hasty scrawl and spit the fish you’d kept from dinner into your hand.

Your heart clatters in your chest like a train across some treacherous road as you dart through to the hallway. On a rack hangs Jack Crawford’s overcoat, the pocket of which you intend to deliver your grim parcel to.

This is the answer to the question of your freedom, the sole proof required to unlock the criminal mystery of the Copycat.

Upon reading your note Jack will take this meat to the lab where all forensic discoveries are founded, and in the makings of its DNA will realise what creature he has dined with, and what he has been tricked to eat at his table.

He will get you out of this house, give you back to your parents and end this horror you’ve been bent to fit by moulding hands. Hannibal will be imprisoned or institutionalised, perhaps Will too, if he’s discovered to know more than he suggests of his companion, or if your relations are found out.

There will be no more men and women eaten in the grand house of death, and no more will you be abused and infantilised, or forced to take your fill.

Things will be as they were before your abduction, a known unhappiness which from having lived before you know that you can bear.

Yet even as you reach into Jack’s pocket the negative aspects of this plan suggest themselves to discourage you from this rash and unplanned act.

You think of the Lover’s crimes going unsolved and continuing around you, closing in until you too are taken and locked into a doll. Even if the killer does not dare to capture you in your infamy there are the choking attentions of the press to think of, the humiliating questions as to what you have been made to do as concubine to your insatiable men.

Leland Frost would likely make some comment on it, as thoroughly as you’d attempt to avoid him, his eyes bright with a jilted humour.

“Guess you’re not my girl anymore, cher.”

“Shut up,” you whisper aloud. “I never was.”

The cold grease from the meat soaks the skin of your fingers, and your stomach turns over at the smell of it.

All your doubts have surely been injected by Hannibal’s hypnosis to dissuade you from escape, for even as you dismiss those that have already come to mind more follow, each more unpleasant than the last.

After all, these previous concerns assume the success of your attempt to rally Jack to your side. He has been groomed by Hannibal to think you mad, and a conniving lunatic at that, one poised to invent scandal and atrocities abound if it means you’ll be released from treatment.

Upon discovering the note and meat making filthy his beautiful coat Jack is unlikely to follow the command you’d penned there; rather, with a pitying look, he’ll deliver it to Dr Lecter, bringing down, unwitting, another brutal lesson from your keepers upon you.

But even should Jack believe or humour you and process the sample as is your design there is no likelihood of Hannibal submitting quietly to arrest. He is a killer, and as such will fight every man against him until none stand.

Then he will turn upon you in whatever fashion he decides, and the attempt will be for nothing, one you may not even live to regret.

The risk of failure is not worth the pursuit, you decide, and resign yourself to retreat from the hallway and from the temptation of hopeless escape.

As you turn into another room you collide with Will, who has followed you from the table.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and attempt to sidestep him, your full hand held partially behind your back.

Will takes you by the shoulders, pushing you lightly up against the nearest wall.

“Wait,” he says. “I know you’re up to something. You’d better admit it now before you’re in even more trouble. Don’t bother to lie; there’s no reason for you to be loitering out here unless you were doing something you’re not supposed to.”

When you don’t answer his gaze falls to the fist tightened upon your shame, and the set of his mouth steels.

“You’d better show me what you’re holding,” he says. “Let’s hope Hannibal’s feeling more forgiving than I am.”

[thesoulbonder]

NND Week Prompt Revival - Childhood Friends

Hey peeps!

Ever since my let down on Nuts & Dolts Week 2024, I’ve been really wanting to make it up to everyone (and myself), so I figured I’d put together a list of Nuts & Dolts Week Prompts from years past, and I’d complete them at my own pace over time :D

I love these two after all, and sometimes I just need some spontaneous ship art to get me out of a rut, y’know?

The first contender for this revival is a prompt from 2021: Childhood Friends!!

It may not be canon, but I think Penny and Ruby would be SUUUUUCH cutie pies as 7 year olds. They’d be the type of kids who’d play in the woods and make fairy houses or flower jewelry, climb trees, eat honeysuckle; the whole nine yards.

As for how they’d meet? Idk Pietro made a prototype body and field tests revolve around going to a remote island in Vale and having her play with other kids. She can’t fight Grimm if she can’t withstand a day at the playground, right?

They’re so cute I friggin can’t aaaaaaa-

[nocturnalrorobin]

TWIN FLAMES

Heat x f!reader

@fanaticsnail, here's a little treat from your friend @quinloki. I tried my best to stick to the request (NSFW Fluff vibes, with with some Soul Mate AU or BDSM AU, maybe Heat being pliant when horny >.> Or some Lazy Morning sex, OR some body writing ) , but the fic sort of hot away from me. I hope you like it! 💝

Cw: piv, cunnilingus, body paint, blindfold, failed attempt to lazy morning sex

Minors DNI

“Twin flames in the shape of a heart,just like our mark.” He kissed the crown of your head. “I'm never letting you go again and no one will come between us again. I promise you that my love.” He held you tight and you nuzzled into him.

You woke up before Heat, your cheeks immediately flushing, remembering the previous night. Your finger traced over the scars on his face, down to the coarse lips of his Glasgow smile. A part of you will always blame itself for not being there to help him, but the night he was made an example of in front of everyone was when your parents left the island with you and never looked back. Your parents always told you that if Heat was truly your soulmate, the two of you would be bound to meet again. Now, here you were, both of your flaming marks no longer greyed out. 

“Do they bother you?” Heat's sunken eyes stared at you. He wouldn't blame you at all if the scars were a deal-breaker; it's how it usually went in the past. You flinched when he suddenly spoke. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't notice him opening his eyes. 

“What are you saying, my flame? You are perfect the way you are!” You smothered his face with ginger kisses. “I just got lost in thought and parts of me will always blame itself for not helping you back then. I Should have done something, but my parents took me and I was so weak.” Soft sniffles could be heard from you; you weren't even aware that you held this in.  

“Hey, none of that, my love. I never once blamed you. We were both kids; I’m glad your parents took you to safety. I always knew I would find you again; I was just worried my scars disgusted you. This is how it usually goes, so.” He held you close and caressed your back while he explained, but you noticed his expression was more melancholic than it normally is.  

“It’s their loss. You are mine anyway.” You stated and gently bit his lower lip so that he would give you access. The kiss quickly grew more heated as your tongues wrestled for dominance.  You heard soft whimpers from him as you pulled him on top of you and pushed your tongue between his lips. You felt something hard poking at your ass trying to get some friction. You humped your hips towards his crotch. 

“Hmmm please my flame…” He desperately rutted his hard cock on your clothed pussy, hungrily kissing you. 

“Please what, my dear? You have to be more specific!” You grabbed his hair and made him look into your eyes. 

“I want to fuck you. Please, I wanna feel you. I will do anything.” He begged.

“If you are a good boy and make me cum you may fuck me.” You promised him. Heat beamed at you, eyes sparkling. 

Heat got up from the bed and went to one of his cabinets. “Be a good girl and take off your clothes!” You did as you were told, excitedly biting your lower lip. He bound your hands above your head to the bed and blindfolded you as he returned. His warm rough fingertips trailed down your right leg, you whined at the sensations. When he reached your foot, he knelt down covering it in gentle kisses, before spreading it to the side so he could bind it to the end of the bed. He did the same to your left foot, before gingerly tracing back up on your leg. He quickly took off his shirt and shorts and joined you in bed. 

You felt the bed dip when he came back, he positioned himself above you, and for a moment you could have sworn he used his flames on something. “How does that feel, my flame?” He used something against your nipple and then down to your clit. You couldn't quite figure out at first what it was, but when it brushed your clit and made you wiggle involuntarily you could feel bristles. 

“Is that a brush?” You quizzed, but something warm drizzled on your chest down to your belly before you got an answer. Heat started drawing over your left nipple while his right hand spread the chocolate body paint all over your upper body. He enjoyed the way your body twitched with every touch of his hand or brush; you mewled as the rough pad of his thumb caressed your right nipple, only to move on seconds later. The brush eventually hovered over your clit, but first, he gingerly ran the brush over the outer parts of your pussy anywhere but where you wanted him, and he knew it.  

“Hmmm, Heat. Please I need it.” You humped your hips forward, trying to get some friction to no avail.

“Yes, my flame. What do you need?” He feigned ignorance with a chuckle. 

“You. I wanna feel you. I wanna cum. Please.” You whined. 

“Tsk, tsk. What to do? My masterpiece isn’t finished.” He faked contemplation before he threw the brush across the room and spread your lips so he could take a slow, long lick swipe with his tongue. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue while he gently eased in one of his large fingers. You bucked your hips as you felt him wrap his lips around your clit and suck it. You groaned as he added a second finger and bent them in the come-hither motion, making sure always to reach that spongy spot deep inside of you. He quickly added a third; you were so wet and needy for him. As your breathing became more erratic, you wanted to grab his hair and push his head closer, but you couldn’t. Heat noticed you were struggling with your cuffs and bit into your thigh. “Stop struggling, or I won’t let you cum, my Flame.”

“I’ll be good Heat. I promise.” You whined fucking yourself on his fingers. Heat kissed the bitemark and went back to sucking and licking your clit. The thrusts of fingers increased, and after two more swipes of his tongue, you were shaking and moaning around him. Heat worked you through your high and then gently pulled out fingers.

“Open your mouth, my love, and clean the mess you made.” He ordered and pushed his fingers inside your mouth. You whined at the taste of your own release and flicked your tongue around his fingers, and sucked on them, finishing them off with a pop. Heat kissed you while removing the blindfold and cuffs and then moved to free your legs. 

Heat cuddled close to you, his hard cock poking at your side. You rolled on top of him and slowly slid your fingers down his upper body that now had paint on him as well. You hovered your pussy at his tip, but didn't move down. “I'm not sure if you deserve your price, only good boys get to cum.” You instantly felt bad when he whimpered, but you tried to hide that fact. 

“But I was a good boy.” His sad puppy eyes looked into your soul and his grip on your hip turned almost bruisingly. He couldn't take it anymore and thrusted up into you with brutal pace, his lips devouring yours. “I'm sorry.” He mumbled between the hungry kisses. “But you teased me for too long.” His kisses went down from your jaw to your neck all while you bounced on him in rhythm with his thrusts.

“He-Heat, please don't stop!” You begged. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Heat thought you were an absolute vision, the way you were all blissed out on him. Heats thrusts quickly became more erratic as your gummy walls took his release. You hit your second high shortly after, collapsing onto him. 

“What were you trying to paint anyway?” You looked down on yourself, but it was way too smudged to see. 

[hlficlibrary]

✤ Vacation Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl {E, 34k}

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

2️⃣ waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds {E, 59k}

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too. 

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

3️⃣ love is a word, you gave it a name by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry {E, 158k}

After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

4️⃣ Fake It Till You Make It by thealmightyavocado / @avocadolouie {M, 136k}

In a twisted turn of events, Louis finds himself posing as the brother of his fiancé, Harry, for an annual company retreat.

Did he sign up for this? No.

Is he doing it anyway? Yes.

Can they actually pull this off? Probably not.

5️⃣ Falling For Me Won't Be A Mistake by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 58k}

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 Love Moves Like The Sea by flamboyo / @riverswater {M, 33k}

“Of course I want to stay with you, I missed you, you know? We haven't spent so much time apart since…” Harry’s smile dims a bit. “Well, we've never done it.” There's a hint of a question there, a why. Why did you stop reaching out, why did we stop talking for months? Louis doesn’t answer. He can’t say, ‘I was hoping that by ignoring you for months I would have fallen out of love with you, and it didn’t even happen’ on their first day of vacation, can he? * Spending two weeks in his uncle's old house by Lee Bay beach is not Louis' ideal holiday, but sadly is the only one he can afford this summer. Spending those alone with Harry, his best friend who he has spent the last five years in love with, may make everything a little better, though. Away from everyday reality, alone somewhere that makes you forget your past and gloss over your future, maybe it's time for two friends to finally explore what they haven't said (but felt) for years.

💎 Like Those Foreign Stars by @beanno28 {E, 18k}

Louis' family go on a vacation to Mexico, he never expects to meet a handsome young entertainer who seems to have taken a liking to him. What happens when Louis easily gives in and decides sneaking around his family's back to have a fling takes a turn?

💎 BLVD by @kingsofeverything {E, 12k}

It’s the first week of summer break and Harry just wants to relax and enjoy his vacation in Myrtle Beach.

If only he could stop making an ass of himself.

💎 i need something, so tell me something new by @alwaysxlarrie {E, 10k}

Louis goes on vacation to New York City to enjoy the good weather and good food - he even has a list of restaurants he wants to eat at. Much to his delight, his first restaurant stop includes a gorgeous curly boy and his nosy but supportive best friend. Maybe he'll get more than what he came here for.

💎 hear my belated regret by theankletattoo / @peachade {E, 3k}

“Baby, can you look at me? Please,” he pleads, thumbing over his cheekbones, pads of his thumbs calloused. It reminds him of the beach, feet wet from salty waves, sand coarse, sticking to him, laughter and waves and salt and lovers.   “Don’t ask that of me,” he says out loud.

they find love in each other on a vacation.

[ambrosialdesire]

down boy, down

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: gorou x fem!reader word count: 6.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, kinda pwp, slight misogyny, dubcon, edging, male masturbation, heat (rut), knotting, breeding, innocent virgin (for now) & pervert gorou, mentions of panty stealing, brief sub gorou (he's just insanely horny), begging, degradation sorta, religious guilt implications, power imbalance/abuse of power, corruption (kinda, it's just yae miko is just nudging him), all characters are 18+ synopsis: generals are supposed to be the prime example of rigorous restraint and complete self-discipline, but this doggy general can't control himself when your presence is around. gorou feel like he's losing his mind with the way his thoughts only contain the need to completely breed you and it's getting worse as time goes on. a/n: yes i can write something else besides aot lolol some terms are not officially in-game (mostly the military terminologies) and some parts of the lore i sorta forgot because its been so long since i played inazuma's story. i tried as best as i could to fill in. there's not a lot of yandere gorou so i wanted to try my hand at it. this is technically my first smut fic in a while so apologies in advanced if it's bad (i'm terrible at dirty talk cause it's so awkward to write lol). in my mind, he has scars, muscles (but not super super defined ones), and is slightly taller than his in-game model. i wanted to try and write in the guy's perspective cause it may or may not be a practice for some incoming fics hehe enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

For Archons' sake, Gorou's a general.

Someone who has the respect of all that he swore to protect. He's the supposed "top-dog" soldier of Watatsumi Island. He built his reputation from the ground up, spent years upon years training himself to be the best soldier on the island. He's the number one supporter of Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess who entrusted him with leading her army safely through the throes of this terrible war. He's been told he was a humble leader, a man of sincere righteousness, a good person.

Internally, he knew that everyone had it all wrong about him.

They don't know that this man, this soldier, had become a disgusting degenerate of an animal.

Sick, sick thoughts filled his mind when the nights grew quiet and the bonfires outside had soon slowly burned out. The innate want — no, need — to breed, consistently grew stronger with each passing night; it was a genetic predisposition that he felt like he had been cursed with. If he thought about it for too long, he could feel himself harden and strain against the restraints of his garments. He'd get himself to the point where he'd slowly palm himself, his body growing warm and his breathing quickening, but he'd never finish. It was frustrating from the way he'd get oh so close but he just couldn't cum, no matter how much his cock was twitching or how much his tip was leaking out precum.

It was too shameful, too scandalous.

Gorou wasn't always like this. For the longest time, his urges had always been easy to control. His mind had always been focused on battle positioning plans and extreme training regimes, anything to get the upper hand against the Tenryou Commission. It was like everything in him was suddenly rewired the day you joined the ranks.

Usually it was not his place to oversee newcomers, the lower ranked captains were assigned for that position. However, Her Excellency wanted him to train this group of newbies this time around. She told him that it was the utmost emergency, resources and people were running low and she needed time to gather more support. Gorou would never refuse her request so he obeyed her command, preparing himself with speeches and strategies.

Very few people were willing to go up against the Shogunate and her powerful army; he was the one that had to inspire them and ensure that their minds were set for fighting for what was right. They had to fight, not only for the island but for the people who were currently being persecuted in the Inazuma mainland.

As he approached the training area while reading over the speech, he stopped dead in his tracks. A light scent, almost a sweet floral, lingered in the air. It was a complete contrast against the sweat and dirt so he followed after it, his eyes finally landing on you.

You were sparring with one of the other newbies, pinning him to the ground while laughing. You held your own well, the man was twice your size and there he laid in a dazed confusion. His tail fluffed up as he watched you get up and stretch, the disheveled training uniform pulling up and revealing the smooth skin of your stomach.

He felt himself swallow nervously as you noticed his presence, your body stiffening and going into the position of standing at attention. You were the only one to do so, the others scrambling to copy your actions as they finally realized he was watching them.

It was rare to see women in Watatsumi Island or in the village, much less so his age. Most of them either were dedicated shrine maidens, women who were already happily married, or the elderly taking care of their grandchildren while their parents worked outside of the island. To see you was quite a surprise, especially since the other trainees that surrounded you were all men. There was a small handful of resistance soldiers that were the opposite sex, all working alongside Her Excellency as her advisors.

Gorou had to regain his thoughts, trying to shake out your smell out of his head. He began to speak, slowly pacing back and forth as he recited the whole trainee speech in verbatim, finally turning towards them and saluting a dismissal. The crowd saluted in return, soon dispersing to carry out other assigned duties and he opened his communication box to send back a message to Kokomi when all of the sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was the flower-smelling soldier, you. He tried not to stare at you while he was talking but your scent was so enticingly distracting, he couldn't help but take a few glances. You were even prettier up close, the particular aroma was even stronger as you stood in front of him.

"General Gorou sir." You saluted quickly, your posture unwavering. You positioned quite well for a starting soldier, color him impressed.

"At ease. Do you need anything—?" He didn't know your name yet, lightly trailing off. You seemed to catch on with his hesitancy, perking up immediately.

"L/N. Private Y/N L/N. And yes General sir, I would like to ask when will we be doing weapon and hand-to-hand combat training."

"In a few weeks. The skills that we will be teaching this week is all physical activity training. It's quite necessary. It would be pretty embarrassing running down the battlefield and falling just because your body can't hold up the armor." He heard you snort, your hands going over your mouth almost immediately. His face grew warm as he stared at you with wide eyes, your gaze casting itself to the ground.

"Sorry General sir, I couldn't help but laugh."

Gorou's tail started wagging, his hand immediately catching it before it could move any noticeably faster. With his other hand, he placed it on your shoulder and smiled.

"Please, you can just call me Gorou. I'm not fond of formalities when we aren't on the field." Your eyes lit up once more, that was the funny thing about newbies. They always look up to the more skilled seniors, especially if they were a high rank like him.

"Yes sir- Gorou." You corrected yourself quickly, causing him to chuckle. The two of you began to discuss, mostly small talk to fill up the time. It was supposed to be a professional conversation but the more he spoke with you, the more personal he wanted to be. The two of you were soon interrupted however, you were needed by one of the captains. He quickly dismissed you, not wanting for you to get any bad first impressions from his colleagues. He didn't realize that his tail had drooped down low when you disappeared from view, the fur flattened down completely.

As the weeks went by, you proved to be a diligent and hardworking soldier, carrying out tasks with no complaints. During his observations, you rarely had any struggle keeping up with the men, not that it mattered in the first place. You were more nimble than most during close combat and you did better with a polearm than a bow or sword. During those weeks of training, he was only observing you. He swore it wasn't stalking, God forbid.

It was innocent at first, what he thought about you. He liked you, he usually liked all of his subordinates but something felt different about you. Was it because you were the only woman in the ranks at the moment? He wasn't like this around Her Excellency nor her advisors, but that was completely out of respect. Didn't he respect you?

The realization hit him when he saw your hair down one night while making his rounds around the camp. You were returning from the bathhouse, most likely bathing after all the men so you could have the well-needed privacy.

You spotted him first, waving a hand from afar. He only noticed when the floral scent hit him, barely smelling the hint of soap along with it. He finally became aware of the fact that your hair was still damp, pooling down over your shoulders. The moonlight bore down on you, giving you a glow that was absolutely breathtaking and then you smiled.

You smiled and everything suddenly felt tight in his body, as if he was being restrained by his own skin.

Gorou was lucky that it was nighttime and he was a distance away. Any closer and you would have been able to see how red his face had gotten. He'd only seen your hair up, a military standard that must be followed for all who had a hair length that went past their shoulders, so to see you like this left him dumbfounded. He quickly waved back and jogged off to his housing early, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest as he shut the door harder than it needed to.

He went over to sit on his bed, doubling over as he clutched a fist over his chest. His body was warming up and it felt like he couldn't breathe, only able to take in quick, sharp inhales. His mind felt like it was all over the place but still was able to only focus on one thing: you.

It was unethical with what he was feeling. He could only remind himself that he is a general — a rank higher than most — and here he was, thinking about a private. You looked up to him, you were supposed to because he was your leader, your guidance in this kind of world. Yet the way you gazed at him with complete adoration and fascination, the way you cheered praises at him when he showed off during sparring, it was getting to him when it shouldn't. Others had done the same but when it came to you, he just couldn't have enough.

Gorou's body felt like it was on fire and he moved to lay down, wincing when he finally noticed that he was hard. This never happened, this never happens. Maybe he could just sleep it off. In the morning, all of this would be gone. These... feelings.

He couldn't relieve himself. If he touched himself and came, it would be considered a sin. He had no room in his plans to visit the shrine maidens and confess something so innocuous. What would he even say? Forgive me, for I have thought and climaxed to one of my lower subordinates inappropriately. He'd prefer getting incapacitated by General Kujou Sara than say anything relating or similar to that.

He sat up and carefully removed his clothes, shuddering as the chilled air touched his bare skin. The bandages that he wore in his lower half were still intact but there was a definite outline of where his stiffened cock was being restrained. Fuck.

Gorou hesitantly went to trace his fingers along the outline, barely putting any pressure against it before he sharply inhaled, looking over and seeing that he reached the tip. It felt good, the wrappings were thinner than he originally thought. Shame soon shadowed over him, his hand retracting to his side and clenching the once-neatly made sheets. He shouldn't be doing this at all. Not when the origin of this came from a subordinate, a subordinate he shouldn't be thinking of in the first place.

He laid back down and shut his eyes tight, ignoring the panging throbs that were tempted to be relieved. He wouldn't let this issue bother him, so long as he can endure it. If he started something he would regret, then may the fallen god Orobaxi strike him down mercilessly.

Days turned into weeks and then into months. No matter how much he slept it off, tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, he was never able to get you out of his mind. He tried to avoid you as well, attempting to limit the interactions to important business only but it seemed that luck had never been on his side to begin with.

It was you who was always initiating, asking if your form is right as you held up the polearm in a perfect defensive stance, making him come to you and press his body against yours to fix your positioning. It was you who was always questioning whether or not a planned attack was coming soon, eyes lighting up as he mentioned a hint of any sort of battle. It was always you. Even when he was trying to map out positions on where a possible vantage point could be in his housing, he'd hear you approach the door and question him about what was arranged for tomorrow.

Some days, he wouldn't let you in. Gorou would tell you that he's busy at the moment and like a good little soldier, you obeyed his request and began to speak behind the barrier. What you didn't know was that his hand was pressing against his bulge as you spoke, biting his lip as he tried to keep himself quiet. His high morals always bit at him, making it so he could never bring himself to finish, a painful shame bleeding into the depths of his soul.

Whenever he heard your voice, it was like something was injected into his veins every single time you spoke to him. Your smell was even worse for him, his tail curling whenever you passed by him. And those eyes, God those eyes. Staring at him like he was the light of your life, turning into little half moons whenever you smiled at him. Everything about you ignited something truly terrible within him and he was addicted, the feverish heat never truly going away as you finally left his doorstep.

Her Excellency was worried about his change of state, telling him that he can take a break if he needed one. She noticed the sweat pool and drip down his flushed out and dazed face, even when the weather was fair and he barely moved an inch besides the occasional shuffle of his legs and tail. He couldn't, he wouldn't, not when the war was still going on. What would she think if he confessed to her about what he was doing to the thought of one of her soldiers?

You were a compelling distraction. A small bump in the road, a large sinkhole that he was struggling to get out of, slipping in deeper with every miserable attempt. The constant arousal and burning heat had diverted his busy mentality, only focusing on how his cock was aching and stirring for any sort of release. It was to the point where he started missing out on his other job, papers and requests piling up on his desk until his incompetence began to not go unnoticed.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

"My, my, my. I haven't smelled this kind of scent in years, no wonder my best writer has been slacking in his duties." A disappointed but amused tut had Gorou's tail bristling from the sound of a familiar voice, ears flicking and head turning towards the now-opened door. A decorative fan hid her face but he knew all too well who it was based on the red-colored shrine maiden outfit and the long muted pink hair.

"Lady Guuji! You're not supposed to be here on enemy lines." He got up from his desk and quickly closed the door behind her, nails digging into the wood as a pang of warmth ran through his body. Miko closed her fan and walked over to his desk, pushing and prodding papers around with it as she slightly clicked of her tongue. Shit, has he really been that distracted?

"Oh Gorou, as far as I know, the Grand Narukami Shrine sides with no one in this war. I just wanted to see why the aspiring Ms. Hina hasn't been sending over her column responses like usual, you know she's usually so punctual with her postings! But now, I can see — no — smell why." She sniffed the air once more, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

"It reeks of your rutting stench in here, would you be so kind and open up a window for me?"

He obeyed and barely cracked two of his windows open, his tail still puffed up with anxiety as she sighed with displeasure. "You can't just wait this out you silly little pup, you need a release in order for it to go away."

"Re... release?"

Miko blinked once then once more. As if she finally came to a realization, a smug smile grew, her purple eyes glowing with amusement. "Don't tell me this is your first rut, dear Gorou?"

Rut. He heard of it before, the desire to breed whoever his body had chosen as his sworn mate. His father had mentioned it long ago when he was a young teenager but he originally thought that he was excluded from the effects. Why did you have to pop up now, out of all times?

"I'm surprised that you haven't jumped on your beloved leader when it started, I must applaud you for the amount of self-control you have in yourself." Clapping her hands in false praise, he was tempted to snap back at his other boss for assuming that he would ever treat Her Excellency that way when a knock filled the room. Her attention was now at the front door, one of her ears twitching with interest.

"Afternoon Gorou! I have something I want to tell you, may I come in?" He wanted to tear his ears right out of his head, the same uncomfortable warmth bleeding through his skin like an infection. He could already feel the starting familiar stir within the confines of his bandages. He felt like screaming or crying, maybe even both.

Out of all times?! Miko made her way towards the door before he could realize it and nearly opened it, cracks of the outside sunlight peering through. His body collided with the heavy wooden door without him realizing how speedily he reached it, a startled and surprised cry coming out of the other side as he slammed it back shut. Fuck, you sounded so cute.

"Gorou? Are you alright?" You asked, concern lacing within your words and he chuckled internally, already imagining your eyebrows scrunching together.

"Y-yes, I'm fine! Sorry about that, I tripped on my... m-my rut— I mean my rug— yes, my r-rug." He winced afterwards, embarrassed of his unprofessional behavior. A stifled giggle was heard behind him and a low growl came out of him in return, blue eyes narrowed as he shot a look at the pink-haired kitsune.

"Um, okay. Is it fine for me to come in then?" He could feel his hard-on throb, the lack of touch and urge to be in something warm irritating him. Yet the Guuji was still in the room, waiting for him to be finished with this conversation, as much as he still wanted to talk to you. His forehead pressed against the door, eyes closed as he tried to imagine what you looked like behind there.

"No, sorry not today. I-I'm awfully busy, paperwork's been piling up." He was met with silence and then a soft sigh, the tip of his tail twitching.

"Oh. Okay, sorry to bother you again Gorou. I..." There was a light sound of shuffling and two turns, as if you had something else to say. "I'll — um — I'll ask you another day then. Good luck."

The sounds of dirt crushing under your boots slowly began to fade away and he finally let out a relieving sigh, laughter exploding behind him and suddenly all his nerves were on high once more.

"Hah! You haven't chosen the priestess, you chose a soldier. A nice smelling one at least. Why haven't you made your move huh? I'm losing precious Mora because of your interest in her." Miko teased, the sound of her sandals clicking on the floor as she moved around in the small space.

"First of all, I would be abusing my authority. I'd just be taking advantage of her and her respect towards me, God knows if she'd report me for being an absolute disgusting pervert." His fist clenched against the door, waiting for his body to calm down before he faced the fox yokai. Every little cell was begging for him to go and chase after you, to finally, finally claim you as his. A small voice of logic had still made its presence known however, whispering the futures of every consequence that could occur if he had chosen to follow his urges.

"Play your cards right then doggy, you have all the power and control compared to her. And it seems that your patience is waning thin." She ruffled through his bed and with the tips of her fingers, she carefully fished out a small piece of cloth from behind his pillow, a deep color of scarlet burning in his cheeks as he finally turned towards her.

It was an accident, he didn't mean to grab it when he was making his normal rounds. He wasn't supposed to be near the bathhouse but his thoughts were suddenly clouded with a searing appetite, one that he was unable to resist. He didn't even realize that he had grabbed the neatly folded white panty from the bench, his conscious suddenly clearing when the tip of his cock was messily spilling pre-cum all over it when he made it to his home.

Gorou snatched it from her and shoved it into his pocket, a furious snarl suddenly slipping through his bared teeth. He himself jumped at the sheer sound of it, putting another hand over his lips as Miko stared at him in shock before laughing once more.

"This is why I hired you, you keep surprising me general." She sighed pleasantly after, pretending to wipe a tear. She was extremely humored with his heinous actions, as if she didn't care at all that what he was doing was any short of shameful. Miko made her way finally out, her hand on the knob not before looking back at her underling.

"And Gorou?" He flinched, his shoulders tensed.

"Yes?"

"My advice is get rid of your rut, no matter what it takes. You don't want to hurt that little soldier, right? So get her in your bed before your instincts do."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Even if Miko had told him he should, Gorou couldn't bring himself to do it.

He had merely yielded, telling Her Excellency that he hadn't been feeling well recently and she agreed to let him sort himself through his "illness". She gave him some remedies and medicines, occasionally checking in on him when she wasn't busy planning. None of her treatments were working but she never gave up. News of him succumbing to a sudden sickness had spread through the ranks but their Divine Priestess had told them not to bother him while he was recovering, which he deeply appreciated.

He had locked himself in whenever she left, placing a chair against the knob to prevent any outsiders from entering and each of the windows were nailed shut. Even if he did open a window for a needed draft, he'd still be burning awfully hot. Plus, he didn't need the others to know why he was moaning and groaning in supposed pain. It sucked, everything about this sucked. Maybe if he had just a small taste of you, everything would go back to normal.

No. From the start, nothing about you was normal to him. Every time he thought about you, the heat would get worse and his already-sore dick would swell back to life. Were you thinking about him right now? Did you miss him? Gorou wasn't the type to get envious easily, but the rise of his rut enhanced those feelings to the max. He despised the image about you moving on to other soldiers, especially the higher ups. None of them were as kind and thoughtful as he was, clawing at his pillows at the idea of your sparkly eyes looking at someone else.

He couldn't do much to keep you away from those men, all he was able to do was finish up what he was behind with for Yae Miko and rest everything away, relieving what he can without a complete release. Would the ache go away if he finally did cum? Ugh, part of him wished she had explained this thing to him more but having your boss explain the birds and the bees for their kind would be horrifyingly embarrassing.

Nighttime rolled into the camp once more, his eyes shut in frustration and his hands restlessly grabbing and pushing around his sheets. He couldn't sleep, the pangs getting worse and his brain continuously fogging. If he went on a walk to try and clear his mind, he didn't trust himself not to walk into the sleeping quarters and not take you right there. So he decided to bathe instead, running cold water until it reached the right amount.

Since he wasn't on duty at the moment, there was no hassle in removing his garments, though he did keep the bandage wrappings on since somewhat helped control his urges. He carefully unraveled the cloth, shuddering as his already hardened cock sprung out of its restraints and lightly tapped against the skin beneath his belly button. Trying to ignore it, he stepped into the tub and sighed in relief as the water chilled his overheated body.

Only a few seconds passed by and he couldn't resist not looking. Observing himself, he felt strangely foreign seeing a swollen ball near the base of his dick as he bathed in the cool water of his tub. It was just as sensitive as the rest of him, exhaling a quiet whimper as his fingers brushed against it. As if something nefarious had suddenly grabbed ahold of him, his hand slowly wrapped around the shaft above the rounded flesh and began to stroke himself, the water rippling as he shivered from the feeling.

This was the first time he ever touched himself in this manner, his head arching against the rim as he tediously ran his thumb over the reddened, leaking tip. Despite the water, he could feel the smooth glide of the slick that was continuously leaking out of him. His canines gnawing at the side of his lips, eyes focused on the languid strokes. It was almost torturously slow pace, a building pressure forming at the pit of his lower abdomen.

This was bad, very bad. He needed to stop right now before he crossed a line into sin, an inescapable downturn into hell itself. But it felt so good, so so good.

Gorou panted, his mind forming the image that you were in the bath with him, that you were the one slowly stroking him off. He could feel the heat crawl up his chest to his cheeks, seeing your hooded gaze on him. Despite your training, your hands were always so soft compared to his callused hands. Was it because of the lotion that you used after bathing? God he missed your scent, the panty that he took was already losing your smell.

He let out a low groan as he thought about your flowery aroma and without thinking, he started to mutter your name. His hips bucked against his hand, the bulbous swelling preventing him from going further down to the base. With every rough movement, the water splashed out of the tub.

He imagined you teasing him, telling him that he's going to run the tub dry if he kept on moving so much. Still pretending that you were his hand, he began to pick up his pace, your name on his lips growing louder and louder. You called him a filthy general, asking him how he could think of you in such a way for a lowly soldier, simple cannon fodder. You then asked him why he decided to steal your used panty and he only could muster up a weak apology. He begged you not to tell the others, not to tell Her Excellency that he wanted you, that he thought of you for so long that it was poisoning him and his very soul. Gorou wanted you so badly but you were unobtainable, someone he could never touch. He loves his job, he really does but he loves you even more.

You finally kissed him, the faint traces of his ghastly imagination touching his lips. His pathetic chanting ceased as a blinding white painted his vision, his face contorting and crying out in agonizing pleasure. The waves of his sudden orgasm flowed through his veins as he gripped the side of the tub. He felt the material crack under his palm, bits of it crumbling onto his fingertips. His ears flattened against the side of his head and his tail had wrapped itself tightly around his leg, his breathing uneven and slow.

Gorou finally opened his eyes, his mouth still parted open in a quiet breathless pant as he looked down into the water. A white substance flowed around him, his red face contorting to mild disgust. Short feelings of drowsiness and a small sense of relief that the pain was gone ebbed throughout his body. He unwrapped his hand from his shaft, slightly twitching from the lost feeling.

In a slow realization, he then registered that the burning simply did not die out. No, it almost felt like it had gotten worse. The warmth crawled up his stomach and flushed around his face, the once-cold water now displeasingly lukewarm. He could imagine the sinking fangs of Orobaxi pierce his soul and label him as tainted, a sinner. A small part of him felt no regret, that this is what was meant to happen but most of him — if not all — had a sinking, devastated feeling. He shouldn't have done this, especially with you in mind.

There was a small knock on the door as he got out of the tub from his second bath, almost inaudible if he hadn't had these ears of his.

Weird. No one should be up around this hour, they would most certainly get in trouble if he catches them. He huffed, rolling his eyes. Pranking the sick general, are we? Gorou quickly wrapped himself up with a towel tightly around his waist, approaching the front door with light caution.

"Hello? State your name and purpose." He called out through the closed door, ears perked and twitching around for any signs of life. Maybe it was just a passing animal.

"Gorou? It's just me, Y/N. Are you okay?" Fuck. He's so utterly fucked.

"Uh y-yeah, why wouldn't I be? You shouldn't be out of the sleeping quarters, I won't be able to save you if you get caught." He tried to be as stern as possible but the growing mass underneath his towel was starting to make it difficult to think.

You softly laughed and he could imagine you shaking your head. "Don't worry, I'm sneakier than you think. And I wanted to check on you because I heard yelling coming from your direction. I... I got worried since you're still ill."

Gorou's heart was leaping out of joy. You were thinking about him? Of course you'd worry about him, it was part of your character wasn't it? He could feel his hands grasp at the chair holding the door, almost tempted to rip it out of the way.

"I know I'm not the best at medicinal assistance like Her Excellency but I want to help you. I feel bad not being able to do much besides train without your guidance." You quietly mentioned and his mind suddenly blanked, the heat crawling up his nerves and limbs.

"I do need your help actually."

"Y-you do? Well, I'll do anything to help you get better sir."

Anything, huh?

Gorou pulled the chair away from the door and opened the door, finally seeing you. The glow of his lantern-lit room highlighted your features, admiring seeing your hair down and your sleeping attire loose on your body. He couldn't be more grateful for your naïve willingness. His little idiotic soldier.

He grabbed your shoulder and tugged you into his home, almost slamming the door shut before you could have any change of mind. Your eyes widened as you soon realized that he was fully exposed, his towel barely covering his throbbing lower half. He let you drink in the scars and the muscles he's worked hard to achieve before he finally made a move.

"Wha—" Barely a sound was able to escape you before he collided his lips against yours, bodies toppling over into the wooden ground. In the haze of his lust, he felt terrible that you may have hit your head onto the ground but your mouth was so warm and your lips were so plush that all of his empathy was washed away.

His hands grabbed at the thin pajama pants the military provided for every soldier and ripped them off of you. He made quick work at removing his towel, his heavily aroused cock springing out and brushing against your covered cunt. He could see through hooded eyes that although you were most definitely confused, your fear could barely hide the arousal pooling behind your pupils.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispered frantically against your lips as he tore off the white panties, almost salivating as he felt his tip catch onto your bare warmth. A few ruts against your pussy lips and he could already feel some slick gather against his shaft, not knowing if you were getting aroused or that was just his own pre-cum leaking down and making a complete mess.

Slowly or at least, as slowly as he thought he was going, he pushed the head inside. A long and relieved whine came out of him and your back arched, body pressing against his as you cried out from the sudden intrusion. Swiftly, his mouth enveloped yours to quiet you down. It would be a shame if any other soldiers made their way to his home, but then again, he could make them disappear without a single trace left behind. Curiosity is such a fickle thing to have as a soldier, it could end them up dead in a nameless pit or in your instance, speared by a horny general.

His head threw back as he began to thrust shallowly in quick succession, the knot preventing him from going any deeper much to his displeasure. Gorou had never felt such an indulgence in his life, he thought his little session in the tub earlier was everything but this? He could live with the sins building upon his shoulders as long as he could relish in your warmth for eternity.

Your hands gripped on the rug above you, clawing and grasping at it for dear life, moaning aloud as his cock dragged against your walls. The blouse that you were wearing was slowly loosening with every sharp movement he made against you, revealing your chest that he could never bear to look at before. He peeled back the fabric and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing once before leaning in and sucking on the pert nipple.

His tail twitched in bold satisfaction as you started to whine out his name, begging him to go deeper.

"Yeah? You want that soldier?" His voice rumbled against your nipple, feeling you clench around his shaft as he spoke.

"Y-yes! Please, please just a little more." Obeying, he snapped his hips harder against the plushness of your thighs, the knot pushing and budging against your tight hole. You hissed at the sudden realization of the circular muscle swollen around the bottom of his shaft, but you didn't try to stop him.

Would it fit? No, it had to fit. You will fit him. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you in until you were flushed against his waist. His mouth left your chest, moving towards muscle in between your neck and shoulder. Gorou wasn't going to leave you unmarked, the whole goddamn camp was going to know who he knocked his pups into. It would serve some good to the island, Orobaxi would be pleased to have new followers right?

"Gonna fuck — hah — gonna fuck you up, breed you full of cum. You're my mate, mine." He growled into your ear before he bit down into your flesh. At the same time, he forced his knot into you and clawed the plushness of your hips.

Your pussy stretched and gripped around the enlarged knot, trying to accommodate the sudden thickness. He could barely see your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came, your walls spasming and milking his cock for his hot cum. Wanton moans were the only noise you were able to make as he continued to fuck deeply into you, his tongue licking at the inflicted mark.

The same pressure in his lower stomach that he felt in the tub overrode his system and he pushed his dick in a little more, feeling the tip hit against a barrier. White stars blinded his vision immediately, his body shivering and shaking as he came hard into your womb. He took in heavy breaths, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

The burning was gone, he could finally feel the air in his room as it cooled down both of your bodies. It was gone but he wasn't done yet, no, he was far from it. Now that he had finally had a taste, he wasn't going to let you leave, not when he had bound himself to you. Figuratively and literally.

His pupils were blown out with pleasure, the blue color barely making its presence known as he began to kiss up your neck. You were barely there, eyes heavy with sleep but still groaning as he began to move once more, walls too sensitive to handle anymore. That's okay, he would breed you in your sleep if he had to.

" 'm gonna put more pups into you." His words slurred as he lazily thrusted, his knot pulling and pushing into a particular nerve bundle. You could only whine in agreement, completely engrossed and fucked out on his cock as you quivered from the stimulation.

Gorou will take real good care of you. What was he thinking before? A general always will need his soldier, what a fool he was for trying to believe that he never wanted you. A rope can only be tightened so much before it inevitably snaps. You belonged here in his home, warming his bed so he could take you whenever he returned from the battlefield. He picked his head up from your neck, kissing you deeply once more.

You were truly a heaven-sent blessing, weren't you? As fate may have it, he had hope that Orobaxi and Her Excellency would bless the both of you with a beautiful litter.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hello polter! What do you think about the new cuphead dlc? I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for Chef Saltbaker, but i was very wrong. Could we please have some headcanons sometime?

A/N: Man you could really tell how far behind I am on some of these requests– man, I didn’t even know how long I’ve been in this rut until now. Especially since the DLC came out 2 years ago. Even as I am typing out this little note, I can’t help but grimace and feel awful for only now getting to this (シ〒﹏〒))シ

Now, I wasn’t sure if this was referring to just general headcanons or x reader ones, so I decided to go for the former for the time being!

General Chef Saltbaker Hcs:

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Even before his scheme to finally bake the Wondertart came to light, the residents of Inkwell Isle Four sensed something was… off about Chef Saltbaker. The way his  jolly smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes; how he’d often lash out at random intervals before suddenly slipping his cheerful mask on; the numerous backhanded remarks he’d dole out to customers— and god forbid he becomes passive aggressive. 

Point is, he wasn’t really a friendly fellow to begin with– and everyone was able to catch on relatively quickly. However, there was a tense, silent agreement between the other Island denizens and Chef Saltbaker: they stay out of his business, and he’ll play nice. And with gourmet treats to sweeten the pot, it’s enough to make most people look the other way. 

He kept his life incredibly private prior to his rehabilitation. Chef Saltbaker wasn’t originally from the fourth Isle, having quietly set up his bakery to little fanfare. The man hardly ever left the building, either. During the late hours of the night, long after closing hours, a few onlookers even caught him opening the door that led to the basement of the bakery; leading to a few crazed conspiracies and theories of what exactly he did down there.

Granted, considering how Saltbaker had a lab down there, they weren’t wrong. But he also just had a nook that he lived in. Rent could be expensive in the city blocks of the Isle. He’d rather spend most of his budget towards ingredients, so living within the bakery was just naturally the better option. 

Honestly, baking the Wondertart was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. A struggling career in the culinary arts, years of being taken advantage of by restaurant owners– who dangled the empty promise of a promotion if he just was more passionate, constant stress over meeting rent, funding the bakery, and himself, rude customers; it could go on forever. After continuous disappointment and admittedly isolating himself, it was easy to see why he went a little, ah, mad. 

Saltbaker’s gotten a lot better though! Albeit, there’s still remnants of that bitter, passive aggressive (hell, even just normal aggressive) personality lurking underneath his much more positive self. Now that he has gained the trust and friendship of the Isle denizens– finally gaining a sense of belonging and community he didn’t know he was missing– he’s calmed down significantly. 

Complete and utter neat freak about his kitchen. Organizes all ingredients and spices alphabetically and dedicates separate drawers to each cooking utensil. Not to mention that at the end of each shift, he’ll make sure that the kitchen is absolutely spotless. He does not care if it’ll take him an extra hour; if everything is not in order like he left it, he’ll go mad. 

After doing community service, Saltbaker mostly just uses his laboratory to experiment with different flavors and batters for his deserts. Some of his concoctions range from mere enhancements to common flavors like strawberry to exotic flavors like dragon fruit or lychee. He’s open to new flavors!

While his large, pot-bellied frame may not look it, Chef Saltbaker is incredibly fast. When you’re working a one-man show and have a line of customers waiting for their orders, it’s completely necessary for him. Granted, a lot of the people who come in are usually complete sweethearts and are willing to wait. Nevertheless, the man’s practically a blur as he’s speeding from station to station, kneading dough one second and then preparing a batch of frosting the next. If he finds himself needing extra help, he’ll usually use magic or conjure up a salt clone. 

Though the latter doesn’t happen all too often since said clones tend to make his desserts much saltier than he would like.

Food gore makes him irrevocably angry and stressed out. Why on earth would you show him this? Saltbaker already hated wasting food, but downright ugly food or disgusting looking combos will genuinely mess him up for the rest of the day. Same thing with those images of people gripping their food too tightly. The first time Cuphead did it to an eclair in the bakery, it took every muscle of self restraint for Saltbaker to not jump over that counter and clobber a child to death. 

Speaking of, don’t ever suggest to add breadbowls to the menu in front of him. He took pride in baking that loaf of bread and you want him to massacre it?! How very dare you. He doesn’t care if it’s a popular trend, he’ll sooner slap the person who asked than waste a crumb of that bread. 

Incredibly strong, but that’s a given. The man kneads dough by hand all day and usually carries in crates and heavy bags full of groceries into the bakery. Could pick up around five grown men with ease. 

Ms. Chalice usually pops in to get extra cookies, and will often offer to help out where she can in the kitchen. She and Chef Saltbaker were kind of awkward around each other for a bit– given the whole “Hey I lied to you and your friends and tried to steal their soul” bit. However, after some time, they’re comfortable around each other to the point where you’d usually overhear their banter while they work. 

“Oh, come now, Saltbaker! You can’t put a price to our friendship!”

“Yes I can, dear. Fifty dollars.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from June :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Bring Your Hunger by HigherMagic

Word Count: 22748 Summary: Having two Alphas is practically unheard of. Having three is damn near impossible. Having three like Hannibal, Duncan, and Nigel? All of them not only content to share, but genuinely enjoying each other's company? Well, Will doesn't believe in fate so much as luck, and he's more than willing to admit he's the luckiest Omega in the world.

Show, Don't Tell by StratsWrites, whiskeyandspite

Word Count: 3680 Summary: “The bedroom,” Hannibal murmured. “Do you have the patience to get there?” In answer, Hannibal gripped the backs of Will’s thighs and hoisted him up, settling him onto the kitchen island. After the fall... Will makes Hannibal wait. Just... to see what he would do.

I will read anything where Will purposefully drives Hannibal out of his mind.

to lie in wait for blood by its_the_ratdawg

Word Count: 1907 Summary: They had been sharing a bed since their first night on the run, ever since Will had climbed into bed next to Hannibal and curled around his broken body. In nearly a year that had passed since then, they’d always slept together unless they were enduring the climax of a particularly nasty fight. It had only happened three times. Tonight had nearly been the fourth. Hannibal laid there feeling as awake as he had ever been. Even with a fire built in the wood stove, the bed seemed cold with Will tucked stubbornly against the far side of the mattress, stoic as the cross on the wall above the bed. The pale moonlight streaming in through the window only made the illusion more severe. Just as Hannibal was considering drugging himself to sleep, Will shifted and his breath hitched. Hannibal waited for the rhythm of his breath to resume the slow, sleeping pace he was used to. He nearly jumped when instead he felt Will reach for him, his hand finding Hannibal’s waist. Wordlessly Will pulled Hannibal against him the way a bear might drag its prey to it with a single paw.

Somnophilia is really my thing and I loved this.

Batter My Heart by amarriageoftrueminds

Word Count: 2351 Summary: Hannibal/Will, Hannibal tricks Will into talking dirty. Will has trouble switching off. Hannibal doesn’t mind, and encourages Will to continue their conversations about serial killers while they’re having sex. About one serial killer in particular.

Fuck me, this was so hot.

Blaze by HotMolasses

Word Count: 3008 Summary: The thought slipped from his mind as a warm tingle spread across his skin. Will inhaled again, deeply, and the scent was so good, so very, very good. A soft moan even escaped his lips before he realized what he was scenting, though it wasn’t until he heard the feral, bestial growl in front of him that his brain finally made the full connection, and his eyes flew open in terror. Rut. Hannibal had indeed lost his control. Will’s eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s and he saw them dilating. Will’s throat grew dry and his heart leapt with fear. The Chesapeake Ripper was in rut, and it was because of him.

This author could write anything and I'd eat it up.

A Rising Tide by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 3255 Summary: Sleepy, nostalgic talks in a bedroom the same colour as the ocean. Hannibal reflects on how close he feels to Will. Will wouldn't mind getting even closer. OR: Cuddles, unnecessarily florid banter, and graphic morning sex.

Oh I love this author so fucking much.

no amount of crying i can do for you by abbmyg

Word Count: 3763 Summary: Will is driving from Quantico to Hannibal's house in the middle of a blizzard. He never makes it home.

Umm, I'm tearing up thinking about this fic. It hurt. A lot.

i bet on losing dogs (you're my baby) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 2822 Summary: now, all hannibal has is winston

This made me sob. It hurt.

The most dangerous injuries don't leave scars by CulterVenatorius

Word Count: 909 Summary: When Hannibal hadn’t told Will about the encephalitis, thus preventing immediate treatment, he’d been more than aware of the possible outcomes. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that Will might change him and that one day, he might come to regret his decisions.

Ow ow ow ow OW.

Love Letters by Thiefbird

Word Count: 2039 Summary: After Will's funeral, Molly finds a box filled with relics from his past, and confronts the truth of her husband's history with Dr Lecter

WHUMP. This one hurt. In a good way.

Wrong by HotMolasses

Word Count: 4257 Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

Another damn good reread.

Quid Pro Quo (Just friends helping friends) by QueerCannibal

Word Count: 4840 Summary: Will Graham isn't exactly going to therapy, and Hannibal Lecter isn't exactly his psychiatrist, which is probably why when their conversations turn to unorthodox topics neither of them are entirely guilty about it. Will Graham is stressed, and Hannibal Lecter--as Will's friend--wants nothing more than to help.

ACE HANNIBAL AND TRANS WILL. We love the representation.

a slick delicate sound by destroyedspectacularly

Word Count: 4345 Summary: Hannibal catches Will with one of his students (Matthew Brown) in his office, and takes the opportunity the stupid boy left behind, and finds out some fun new things about one Will Graham in the process. -- “Were you hoping he’d cross the line on his own? Do all the work for you?” “Well, he’s a good student. I know he’d love to do all the work,” Will shut his eyes in shame before he even finished his sentence, “That—that was inappropriate—should we go? I think we should go—”

I LOVE WHEN THEY FUCK IN WILL'S OFFICE ON HIS DESK.

The Porcelain Fawn by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 4976 Summary: Will falls asleep while visiting Hannibal one evening, and the good doctor carries his guest to bed, unable to resist watching him sleep. But when Will starts having one of his lusty nightmares, Hannibal can't hold his passionate obsession back any longer...

Oh noooo, not Will have a nightmare that turns into a sex dream that turns into actual sex!

Whiskey for One by CarnivalMirai

Word Count: 5364 Summary: Will is bribed by Beverly into driving her to a college party. When he loses his way to the bathroom, he bumps into the host’s father. And oh, is he beautiful. Or: Will fucks his classmate’s father

BEST FRIEND BEV. This probably would have gotten five stars regardless, but the ending was really the cherry on top.

Home and Dry by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 4329 Summary: Um, so, people on tumblr wanted Hannigram phone sex, dick pics, and Hannibal talking dirty, and this is what happened. Will's stuck in a car with Jack and Alana, and Hannibal starts sending him massively inappropriate texts. Tada!

Fuck me sideways, this was perfect.

You'll Go Blind by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 3650 Summary: Hannibal comes home to find Will masturbating in his bed, and it's time for them to finally follow through on the promise of all the texts they've been sending one another. I guess it could be read as a stand-alone, but it would help to read Home and Dry, first.

THE BUILD UP FROM PART ONE (above) MADE THIS SO GOOD.

howl by multifandom_fic_writer

Word Count: 7386 Summary: Prompt: When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is worthy of being their mate. Will Graham has never found anyone to be worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will wants to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

This was just stupid hot. Okay. That's all.

Dead Men and Sinners by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 4890 Summary: He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: himself glowing where he stands, blood-red and divine- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his. Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is searing hot against the blood cooling on Will’s skin, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist. "Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, smearing blood between their mouths, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath." A trespasser makes the mistake of attempting to blackmail Will and Hannibal, which is the last decision he makes. Hannibal shows Will just how pleased he is by his savage protectiveness. Pure filth written for Bottom Hannibal Day

God why is post murder sex so hot?

an ocean in my soul where the waters do not curve by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 11540 Summary: n/a

This was fucking gorgeous and beautiful and sad and hopeful and. Wow.

bite down into me by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 21307 Summary: When Will is diagnosed with encephalitis and has to come cold turkey off his hormonal suppressants, Hannibal does everything within his power to ensure Will's comfort throughout the recovery process. But despite all Hannibal's careful planning, Will is never quite what he expects, and they quickly find themselves entangled in all manner of ways.

FUCK. This was so fucking good.

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 5138 Summary: Will lets out a gasp, which is decidedly the worst thing he could do because Hannibal is on him in a second, pulling him close, tucking him against his chest, and rubbing his hands up and down Will’s body through the mountain of blankets. Will lets him do this, realizing now that Hannibal isn’t here in the present with him, but somewhere colder and less kind where there was blood in the snow and a devastating loss to come. _________________ Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

This hit all the right emotional notes for me. There's something so sweet about Hannibal being vulnerable with Will, wow. And Will knowing exactly how to react.

The Armor of Patroclus by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8754 Summary: “You stay with me now, Will.” Hannibal urges, placing him back down so that he can continue compressions. He whispers please with each pump of his hands against Will’s chest and breathes life and love back into Will’s lungs. “You stay with me. You can do that, I know you can.” Hannibal pushes and pushes and begs and goes lightheaded with the lack of air, but he cannot stop because Will still won’t wake up. _________________ Hannibal finds himself on the beach and nearly loses Will along the way.

The angst here was perfect. Utterly perfect. Sometimes you just need some good good angst, you know?

Always In My Mind by swaggnation

Word Count: 19133 Summary: They had, in fact, not died together. And Will was ready to make it everyone’s (Hannibal’s) problem. Or, Three times Will tries to kill himself, and one time Hannibal answers for his sins.

OUCH OUCH OUCH but also this was so sweet and good and mmmmmmmf.

kalos kagathos by zipegs

Word Count: 8176 Summary: Will has always had issues with penetration, but with Hannibal, he discovers he wants to try. Thankfully, Hannibal’s cock is just the right size.

Oh! This had some really great trope inversion and that made it such a nice breath of fresh air.

Elysium by sourweather

Word Count: 2955 Summary: Hannibal finds Will dissociating in the shower. Again. Luckily, he has a creative technique for bringing him back to earth.

I need more showerhead orgasms!! Wish I had Hanni whispering in my ear like he was whispering in Will's. Fuck.

The Law of Meat by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 85396 Summary: Hannibal wakes alone in a hospital bed, barely able to move, and even less able to accept what Tattlecrime tells him - Will did not survive the fall.

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL. Chapter 8 was absolutely gorgeous and so well done and so necessary for Will's character development wow.

[ransprang]

Illumi sex pollen for kinktober plz

Kinktober 2023

Illumi: sex pollen

Illumi found himself hidden beneath the earth's surface on Zevil Island as one of the contestants in a brutal and secretive Hunter Exam. The island was notorious for its treacherous terrain, deadly creatures, and the constant threat of betrayal from fellow participants.

He had been resting for who knows how long after he collected the other badge he needed. His slumber was disturbed by loud groaning and someone rolling around outside his hole. Digging himself out to peek and take a glance at the menace, he sees you, another contestant. He saw your face was flushed red and almost in pain, but there were no signs of injuries as you stayed rolled up in a fetal position.

Feeling someone stare at you, you open your eyes. The sight of a strange man staring back at you from just a few feet away scared you making you get up from your fetal position. You barely knew this man yet for someone reason your body was screaming for his help. "H-hey I'm y/n. I've got all the badges I need so p-please don't hurt me. I got into a scuffle with some pharmacist contestant and he injected something into me. And now I really don't feel good."

Illumi stares at you blankly before he starts to dig himself into his hole. "H-HEY! Wait please." You felt so pathetic asking a random man for help, but you need to. "I need help. I may die before the round ends." Illumi usually doesn't care, but he figured if you don't stop making noises he can't get any sleep. Or worse someone may come to this spot and find him. That would be a nuisance.

He gets out of his hole completely and walks towards you, "Where are you in pain?" he asks with his head slightly cocked. You feel like nothing under his gaze. So insignificant. Yet, it's kinda pleasing to you. "M-my body is burning up."

You shut your eyes and hold onto your stomach as another wave of heat washes over you. "Hmm", he walks towards you and puts a hand upto your forehead. You realized it the. You were craving for his touch. Just anyone's touch. That pharmacist must've injected an aphrodisiac into you.

"f-fuck" you whimper. Illumi sees your thighs quiver and your eyes shut from a simple touch. He too realizes what you have been exposed to. Feeling a bit bored on this island he decides to use this situation as a little time pass.

Illumi drags his fingers slowly hand from your forehead down your chin, neck then reaches your chest. He pushes you back making your back hit a tree. You squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. One of his hands is on the tree caging you in, the other trails along your thigh, feeling along the softness of your skin. Feeling his skin along your thigh made you shiver with arousal. You trembled and exhale shakily as he gripped the fat of your thigh, his hand trailing along the soft skin of your inner thigh and teasing you with his fingers.

His fingers easily access your panties under your skirt and he pulls your panties to the side. You let out a gasp as you felt a finger prod at your clit. You whine out shakily as you felt him plunge his digits into your cunt, a shaky breath leaving you as you felt his fingertips kiss your g-spot. "Needy little thing aren't you." Illumi makes a passing comment while his eyes stay fixated on your face.

You moan loudly under his gaze. His long, slender fingers that rut into you, hitting your g-spot. "Y-yes it feels so good. I need to cum please. Please please." you say in desperation as you burn up. Illumi brings his other hand to pick up one of your legs and get it to wrap around his waist. He pulls up your skirt allowing him full view of your dripping pussy.

He uses this freed hand to play with your clit while the other continues to go inside you fast and hard. You cry out, eyes screwed closed, hips shoving forward. Finally as your moans grow louder with the build up in your stomach, you cum hard on his fingers. He lightly supports you as you are weak from the pollen. After coming down from your high you thank him. He keeps quiet, but something in his eyes suggests that he enjoyed watching you get off on his fingers.

Your pollen, admin sar

[aphfanficwriters]

Monthly Members' Fics — Aug 2024

A Snake With Blue Eyes by Tentaculiferous (America/England, Canada/England, America & Canda) While Arthur is thrilled that the King of Spades has been discovered, the King himself takes less joy in being found. Alfred was happy with his life as a commoner. Maybe he hadn't had fancy clothes or even his own bedroom, but he'd had freedom. He could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, live the kind of life he wanted. Now he's supposed to waste his days sitting on a throne being the Queen's good little boytoy. Fuck that.

Strange Magic by Tentaculiferous (America/Canada/England) With the threat from the Kingdom of Clubs looming, the King, Queen, and Ace of Spades resort to an old magic ritual to save their people. But the price for their kingdom's safety may turn out to be more than Amelia and Matthew are willing to pay. (Or, Amelia, Matthew, and Rose fuck for the good of the kingdom.)

Trick Cards by Tentaculiferous (America/England, Canada/England) After a heated disagreement between King Alfred and Queen Arthur, the queen decides to end things once and for all. But Arthur isn't the only one in the castle with a trick up his sleeve, and he may be the one playing the fool in the end.

Synchronicity by proosh (France/Prussia) Francis' pre-rut rolls around and it triggers something awful and unknown within Gilbert.

The Hidden Spade — Chapter 1: The Princess and the Prologue by Actually_a_horse (America/England) When Alfred finds he has the mark of the Queen of Spades, he knows he will be forced into royalty and the feminine role of Queen—dresses and all. There is no way Alfred can allow himself to be found out, not when his freedom and identity are on the line. The universe seems to have other plans for him, however. Can Alfred keep his secret? Or is fate too strong to allow a Queen to not take her throne? (UKUS, rating may change with future chapters)

acuerdo by southerngothics (South Italy/Spain) It’s still new to him; four months is an eternity for humans, perhaps, but perspective has shortened and condensed time into a coiled thing, folding over on itself until the entire stretch of it is thin as parchment. Four months is the blink of an eye. And the fighting has not stopped since he set foot upon that little island kingdom; he hasn’t had time to truly process it all. That Romano is his now. That they are together. That every morning he will wake up and Romano will be here, and that every night Romano will be asleep in this bed. It still seems like the far-fetched dream Pedro had cooked up in hushed tones, away from the menacing glares of el Papa. Spain is convinced, somehow, that if he blinks, reality will throw its punch and he’ll be back in Palermo, crushed under that damned France’s boot. In 1282, King Peter III of Aragon is crowned King of Sicily.

s'unifier by southerngothics (America/Canada) This does nothing, it seems, to deter Canada. Instead, he only burrows his head into America’s chest and snuggles closer, and it’s almost too nostalgic for him, dragging up memories that are still fresh, haphazardly stitched-up wounds. The colonial days are hemorrhaging within him and for a moment it’s hard to think clearly, sunny days mixing with gunpowder in a disorienting flat circle of history. He wonders if it gets easier or harder as time goes on. In the early 1850s, multiple American annexation movements take root in Canada.

Teach My Heart to Bend Instead of Breaking by Tentaculiferous (Canada/England) Matthew Williams is an unusual student, a diamond shining brightly amid a sea of clods. That’s how Arthur Kirkland, his history professor sees him. Arthur’s only intention in taking Matthew under his wing is to nurture a rare talent, but it’s possible to become too close to a student. Already on thin ice with his wife and the university due to his prickly personality, getting entangled with Matthew might be what finally deals the deathblow to his marriage—and worse, his career.

Felidae by Mossy_man (Russia/Turkey) Ivan gets cat ears and pussy. Sadik gets two cocks. That's it, that's the plot.

(Prussian) Dad Baby by ChibiDashie (Austria, Germany, Prussia, OC) Based on and inspired by the Bluey Episode "Dad Baby" While Prussia was helping clean Mary's bedroom, Mary finds a mysterious object stored in her closet that came from her own mother and father. Even as Prussia demonstrated how this object worked, this gave Mary an idea to play a silly game! Hilarity and shenanigans ensue between Mary and Prussia during this funny game. aka Prussia learns how it feels to be pregnant and suffer

[mychlapci]

TFA anon here again making a part 2 of the rutting Dinobots and Prowl lol.

While Swoop and Snarl are having their sloppy seconds with Prowl and double fucking his pussy, Grimlock decides to focus on his port (or just his asshole lol but I’ll call it a port). So when Prowl is overwhelmed and overstimulated from two fat spikes demolishing his valve, he gets an additional surprise from when Grimlock pushes the head of his spike into his port. Since it was very tight (and had a bit of prep since all Grimlock did was tongue fuck him a bit) Grimlock could only fit it like almost half way before he had to stop but that was fine because either way Grimlock was enjoying it. For Prowl, it hurt considering the little to no prep, but it worked in his favor since he loved pain when it came to sex.

So now three spikes were pounding into him. One in his port, and the other two in his valve. I like the idea of both Swoop’s and Snarl’s knots popping into his forge and stretching it far beyond what Prowl thought was possible, stretching it so wide Prowl thought his valve would be broken by the time they were done with him.

When all three were completely spent, they slipped out of his valve and began to lick the transfluid out of his widely gaping holes as Prowl came again around their tongues. He barely had any strength left to move. The Dinobots all take him to their nest so they could all curl up against each other and fall sleep. Prowl ends up staying the night there.

Prowl wakes up the next morning panicking because he was supposed to be back yesterday. He firmly tells the Dinobots not to tell anyone what happened yesterday and leaves.

Anyways, after Prowl gets back to the base that morning, everything goes surprisingly smoothly as somehow the other didn’t notice he was gone for such a long time and aside from some grilling on where he had been, they sort of let it slide (maybe they assumed he lost track ‘meditating’ and he will let them think that) and for the first couple of days everything is fine… (sort of. Prowl may or may not have grown an addiction to Dinobot spike)

Prowl tells nobody about his pregnancy and his trips to the Dinobot island remain secret. By this point the Dinobots have accepted Prowl as their mate and are now fiercely protective of him, especially since he is carrying their sparklings. Of course, Prowl cannot hide this secret forever, but for now, he enjoys taking spike after spike to fill his needy forge for his sparklings and the love showered all over him as his new lovers take care of him.

Eventually, his pregnant belly becomes noticeable (not like he could have hidden it from the start. He has a very lithe body after all) and is immediately grilled on who the sire is and how that even happened in the first place.

The whole conversation was awkward and embarrassing. Ratchet just looked so done with everything when Prowl was finished and Optimus looked horrified. Bumblebee calls him “Dino tamer” and Prowl sort of wants to drop dead whenever he calls him that. Bulkhead (surprisingly) just asks him what it was like and Prowl obliges and tells him in more detail than was needed.

When the sparklings are born, the Dinobots + Ratchet are helping him through it and by the end of it, he is cradling four dinobot sparklings in his arms.

(Should I make Bulkhead get fucked by them and they have a fivesome? No clue)

Holy shit dude they’re breaking his little holes. Prowl’s gonna be all Hole by the end of this. Three fat spikes is a lot. 

I love the thought that Prowl literally doesn’t tell anyone about his pregnancy and the only reason they even find out is because he starts growing his baby-bump. I mean, at what point does it stop being rude to ask him about it? There was definitely a period of time during which he was walking around with a very clear beginning of a baby-bump and no one said anything because it was too awkward. I mean, Bumblebee probably said something, but not about pregnancy. That would probably be weird. 

mhmmm Bulkhead showing interest in what it felt like to be the dinobots' mate, that's juicy. He keeps subtly asking about details, inquiring on how it felt, until Prowl finally agrees to take him to the island and show him… Three rutting, doting dinobots are very difficult to satisfy with one bot alone, after all <3

[skysquid22]

How about Daigo for the character ask?

My favorite my buddy :)

First Impression: Let’s see uh. Some kid, because I played Y0 years ago. Didn’t know who he was other than a brat. I think in Y2 my perception was already colored by my brother talking about Daigo so already became the moody emo dude trying his best before I started watching cutscenes.

Impression Now: I’m definitely in the Daigo defender camp down to the nitty and gritty. He makes the best of the consistently shit hand he gets dealt with over and over again and manages to have things still turn out alright. He’s a great leader and gone through more hardships than the untrained eye would see. A theme I love a lot and keep writing about is of the struggle to do good. Daigo is an easy outlet to write that.

Favorite Moment: Cheating with an answer of two but they parallel each other so… the scene of Kiryu fighting Daigo at the start of Y2 and Daigo getting mad and snapping at Kiryu in IW. His rightful anger but from two different positions and both highlight how important said anger is to his character. Gets him into trouble sure and has to keep a careful lid on it as we can see with the way he handles diplomacy (working towards the best option for everyone)—but it also gets him out of his other main trait. Depression rut. The epic highs and lows of his character. Love the dichotomy.

Idea For A Story: Too many to count… would like to write something focusing on Daigo and Majima’s friendship. Or something with all of the Jimas just living in the fishing village. Or finish my unfinished Minedai kid fic which utilizes his POV. Or my Dead Souls fic. Or—

Unpopular Opinion: I think despite Yayoi’s traditional manner (and her not getting mentioned after Y2), she has a good relationship with Daigo. I’m not saying it’s traditionally close or there aren’t issues and gaps where they don’t talk to each other, but they love each other deeply and will do anything to protect the other.

Favorite Relationship: Romantically—with Mine. I think Daigo asking Mine in RGGO to go somewhere with him to “move his body” while in the hotel district is just so funny to me. In seriousness, they compliment each other so well and bring out the best in the other. Daigo can see the danger and self destruction in Mine and Mine can see the strength and power in Daigo to be a true leader and a good person. Platonically—relationships with mothers always draw me in. Daigo and Yayoi don’t get a lot of time to paint an idea of their relationship well but with what little is there and with RGGO, I think it is clear that Yayoi cares for him deeply and him the same for her. Hey wait I’m repeating myself. The interesting aspect is that based on their personalities they seem likely to clash which may be true I’m sure, and that blend of love with a struggle to understand each other….. oohhgggh it’s so addictive to my brain.

Favorite Headcanon: Blame this pick on me writing a whole fic that heavily involved it. But Daigo has an aunt—Yayoi’s older sister—but no other blood family besides those two left. Never grew up with grandparents. My other favorite headcanon is making him a foodie. He has a line or two in RGGO about wanting to try out a new restaurant and IW says his favorite item (as in what you can give him on Dondoko Island) is skipjack tuna. So likes eating food and his favorite food is otoro methinks.

[centrally-unplanned]

Something I struggle a bit with a sort of disconnect with the current leaders of "professional-quality anime discourse". We live in the sakuga era, where groups like Sakugabooru & Full Frontal Moe are doing really stellar work on peering behind the curtain at the realities of anime productions. They aim to give you the "animators look" at how it all happens, what people are thinking, what studio conditions are, the works. They command the heights from a respect standpoint in my opinion right now, and sort of "drive" analytical discourse.

But they aren't really what I find interesting. I love and need a ton of their work, but in the end the sakuga era is the animator's era; it centers anime-as-art, the people who create, their techniques, etc. That isn't actually my thing! I care about cultural history & casual history, "otaku studies", and consumers of media always outnumber producers of media a hundred to one. They of course exist symbiotically with each other, but the creators side is only ever going to be a part of that. And its not the load-bearing part of questions around why this or that media product succeeded, what it meant to audiences, how it reflects people's relationship with individual media & wider identity norms, etc.

And ironically I think the "peak" of this discourse in western spaces is coinciding with its decline in relevance in Japanese spaces. This is a whole other topic but in earlier eras the telos of technological progress, its intensity and directionality, created a parallel momentum in cultural identity - "new, better anime" seemed always around the corner and people responded to that via identity formation around the momentum. But now, even though technical improvements occur, from an audience perspective the telos is gone. Audiences would actually get a bit wrapped up in things like the digital revolution back then - now its more like trivia, it doesn't shape as much.

There is of course people out there who touch on the cultural & historical topics, I'm no island or anything. But its very diffuse, and other sections of the discourse space are struggling. Great YouTubers exist but imo overall this is not a great time for AniTube, the intensification & legibility of financial success has not inspired that kind of work. Obviously the blogosphere is bleeding heavily. Academic works have gems in there but media studies as a discipline is shackled with awful theoretical concepts and compositional norms, its like pulling teeth with their output every time. And also are generally interested in western fandoms as befitting western academics (and while I do use Japanese academic papers sometimes, the legibility barrier is...its tough).

Beyond just "feeling alone" its an issue because right now I am quite demotivated on this area; I feel in-between ideas, with any potential project seeming dim in its payoff. The default source of inspiration normally is the works of others! Every time I get politics-burned at some point someone else puts out a really good analysis, or even just a good question. Proposing good questions is underrated, its the fuel that powers research. Not to mention "shit keeps happening", you know? Fukuyama may hold an iron grip on the ruleset still but within his bounds the game keeps on playing, which results in flurries of activity that are inspiring. I really lack that for media discourse stuff right now. I can't remember the last time I read a work that I loved. Liked, yes, sure. But you don't get out of ruts with a like.

80% of this is explained by "I am going through a depression episode" lol don't worry I'm not an idiot. But hey, what is Tumblr for if not to rant...

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2024, Part III (The Lists)

Winged Wheel

Dusted’s writers picked two for the mid-year exchange, but any of them could easily reel off a dozen or more other favorites.  Find out what else they liked in this collection of lists. 

If you haven’t read Part I or Part II yet, check them out. 

Christian Carey

Arooj Aftab —  Night Reign (Verve)

Richard Baker —  The Tyranny of Fun (NMC)

Kyle Bruckman —  Of Rivers (New Focus)

Madi Diaz —  Weird Feeling (Anti)

Julia Holter —  Something in the Room She Moves (Domino)

Hurray for the Riff Raff —  The Past is Still Alive (Nonesuch)

Vijay Iyer, Linda May Han Oh, Tyshawn Sorey —  Compassion (ECM)

Kali Malone —  All Life Long (Ideologic Organ)

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion —  Rectangles and Circumstance (Nonesuch)

Ches Smith —  Laugh Ash (Pyroclastic)

Waxahatchee —  Tigers Blood (Anti)

Tim Clarke

DIIV — Frog In Boiling Water (Fantasy)

Loma — How Will I Live Without A Body? (Sub Pop)

Jessica Pratt — Here in the Pitch (City Slang)

Jon Mckiel — Hex (You’ve Changed)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Corridor — Mimi (Sub Pop)

English Teacher — This Could Be Texas (Island)

Helado Negro — Phasor (4AD)

Ty Segall — Three Bells (Drag City)

The Smile — Wall of Eyes (XL)

Andrew Forell

Arab Strap — I’m totally fine with it 👍 don’t give a fuck anymore 👍 (Rock Action)

Camera Obscura — Look to the East, Look to the West (Merge)

Daryl Groetsch — Above the Shore (self-released)

Drahla — angeltape (Captured Tracks)

Geotic — The Anchorite (Basement’s Basement)

Iceboy Violet, Nueen — You Said You’d Hold my Hand Through the Fire (Hyperdub)

Kim Gordon — The Collective (Matador)

Mick Harvey — Five Ways to Say Goodbye (Mute)

Sandwell District — Where Next? (Point of Departure)

Umbrellas — Fairweather Friend (Slumberland)

Yosa Peit — Gutbuster (Fire)

Reissues:

Brion Gysin — Junk (WEWANTSOUNDS)

These Immortal Souls — Get Lost (Don’t Lie!) Mute

Bryon Hayes

Rosali – Bite Down (Merge)

Winged Wheel – Big Hotel (12xU)

Gastr Del Sol – We Have Dozens of Titles (Drag City)

Beings – There is a Garden (No Quarter)

Ambarchi Berthling Werliin – Dusted II (Drag City)

Sunburned Hand of the Man – Nimbus (Three Lobed)

Water Damage – In E (12xU)

Dun-Dun Band – Pita Parka Pt. 1: Xam Egdub (Ansible Editions)

Gerycz Powers Rolin – Activator (12xU)

Magic Tuber String Band – Needlefall (Thrill Jockey)

Alex Johnson

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

RE Seraphin —  Fool’s Mate (Take A Turn/Safe Suburban Home)

Uranium Club —  Infants Under the Bulb (Static Shock)

The Spatulas —  Beehive Mind (Post Present Medium)

Yohei —  Echo You Know (Perpetual Doom)

Pardoner —  Paranoid in Hell (Convulse)

NYSSA —  Shake Me Where I’m Foolish (Six Shooter)

Nowhere Flower —  Ruts the Place (Radical Documents)

Sheer Mag —  Playing Favorites (Third Man)

Cindy Lee —  Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

Oren Ambachi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werlin —  Ghosted II (Drag City)

Winged Wheel —  Big Hotel (12XU)

Jennifer Kelly

Rosali—Bite Down (Merge)

Mdou Moctar—Funeral for Justice (Matador)

Mary Timony—Untame the Tiger (Merge)

Myriam Gendron—Mayday (Thrill Jockey)

Lupa Citto—S-T (12XU)

James Elkington & Nathan Salsburg—All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Rail Band—S-T (Mississippi)

Winged Wheel—Big Hotel (12XU)

Six Organs of Admittance—Time is Glass (Drag City)

Split System—Vol. 2 (Goner)

Ian Mathers

The Body & Dis Fig — Orchards of a Futile Heaven (Thrill Jockey)

Broadcast — Spell Blanket: Collected Demos 2006-2009 (Warp)

Cassandra Jenkins — My Light, My Destroyer (Dead Oceans)

Chelsea Wolfe — She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She (Loma Vista)

Jessica Moss — For UNRWA (Self released)

Laura Masotto — The Spirit of Things (7K!)

loscil // lawrence english — Chroma (Self released)

Myriam Gendron — Mayday (Feeding Tube/Thrill Jockey)

Polar Inertia — Environment Control (Northern Electronics)

Whitelands — Night-bound Eyes Are Blind to the Day (Sonic Cathedral)

Jim Marks

Ben Allison, Steve Cardenas, and Ted Nash — Tell the Birds I Said Hello: The Music of Herbie Nichols (Sonic Camera)

Mary Halvorson — Cloudward (Nonesuch)

Demian Cabaud — Arbol Adentro (Porta Jazz)

Fabiano do Nascimento and Sam Gendel — The Room (Real World)

Francesco Sensi — In Abstracto (WoW)

James Brandon Lewis Quartet — Transfiguration (Intakt)

James Elkington and Nathan Salsburg — All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Juan Pablo Alcazar — Otro Quatuor Pour La Fin Du Temps (Porta Jazz)

Michele di Toro, Yuri Goloubev, and Hans Mathisen — Trinomics (Calogola)

Tony Moreno Trio — Ballads Volume 1 (Sunnyside)

Patrick Masterson

Cindy Lee — Diamond Jubilee (Realistik)

Chief Keef — Almighty So 2 (43B)

Marika Hackman — Big Sigh (Chrysalis)

Water Damage — In E (12XU)

Oneida — Expensive Air (Joyful Noise)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Burial — “Dreamfear / Boy Sent From Above" (XL)

Gouge Away — Deep Sage (Deathwish Inc.)

Blues Ambush — Blues Ambush (Radical Documents)

Tei Shi — Valerie (self-released)

Armand Hammer — BLK LBL (self-released)

Donato Dozzy — Magda (Spazio Disponibile)

Bill Meyer

 أحمد  [Ahmed] —Wood Blues (Astral Spirits)

 أحمد  [Ahmed]—Giant Beauty (Fönstret)

Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet—Four Guitars Live (Palilalia) 

Itasca—Imitation of War (Paradise of Bachelors) 

Lisa Ullen, Heirloom (Fönstret)

Lumpeks—Polonez (Umlaut) 

Matthew Shipp Trio, New Directions in Jazz Piano Trio (ESP-Disk’)

Olivia Block—The Mountains Pass (Black Truffle)

Oren Ambarchi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werliin—Ghosted II (Drag City)

Rafael Toral—Spectral Evolution (Moikai) 

The Handover—The Handover (Sublime Frequencies) 

Tomeka Reid Quartet—3x3 (Cuneiform) 

Jonathan Shaw

Bad Breeding—Contempt (Iron Lung)

Fuera de Sektor—Juegos Prohibidos (La Vida Es un Mus)

Cindy Lee—Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

SUMAC—The Healer (Thrill Jockey)

Thou—Umbilical (Sacred Bones)

VR Sex—“Hard Copy” (Dais)