#and takes forever to add useful features

[anti-ao3]

if you still donate to ao3 even though:

ao3 censors any support for palestine

they barely improve the website despite surpassing their donation goals every single time

they do not see anything wrong with RPF that sexualizes REAL minors

they excuse racist fanworks, they actually suspend anyone who does not feel comfortable with pedo/incest shippers, or literally anyone who labels themselves antis or anti p/roships

they also don't see anything wrong with ai generated stories that most likely steal from real writers that put their heart and soul into their works

and perhaps a lot more things they do that i might be forgetting

seriously.

if you get mad at marginalized ppl calling out ao3, and you act entitled when your fandom interests are being threatened, then you're a privileged asshole. if you call everyone "puritans" or "stupid kids" for being critical of ao3, you're a privileged asshole. this is not about you. this is about the actual harm ao3 does to real people. your favorite fanfictions should not be your priority. especially if you want to keep supporting palestine or people of color in general, you can't just get mad when they point out the flaws of ao3 and stop supporting them when they're not convenient to you.

[edwardos]

This is awesome to have in Beta, seriously.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | serving yourself less (tiktok trend)

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : serving your formula one boyfriend more than you serve yourself

୨ৎ : genre : comedy - tiktok trend ୨ৎ : word count : 1547

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i got a final exam tmrw and i already know im beyond cooked

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

immediately looks at your plate, then at his, then back at yours.

“that’s it?”

scoops food onto your plate without asking. “you didn’t see me doing that.”

mutters under his breath the whole time: “ridiculous. you think i’m gonna eat all this while you nibble on two leaves?”

makes you sit down while he fixes you a proper plate.

“you’ll thank me later when you’re not starving in two hours.”

yuki tsunoda

jaw drops. full betrayal.

“why is your plate sad? do you hate food?”

takes food off his plate and puts it on yours like he’s rescuing it.

“you need to eat or u will be grumpy. and you know what happens when you're grumpy.”

glares at your plate for the rest of the meal to make sure you don’t sneak food back.

will literally feed you if he has to.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

stares at your plate like you’ve just insulted everything he stands for.

“darling... that’s not a meal. that’s a sad sample.”

immediately puts his fork down. “what’s going on? why are you eating like a bird?”

gives you a speech about nutrients. you don’t even make it five minutes in before he’s switching your plate with his.

“eat. i’ll make us smoothies after. with oats. and peanut butter.”

glares at anyone else at the table who doesn’t say anything.

kimi antonelli

freezes mid-bite and just blinks at your plate.

“...wait, is that all you’re eating?”

awkwardly tries not to panic but can’t stop glancing at your food.

“you want some of mine?” pushes his whole plate toward you like a puppy offering a toy.

you say you’re not hungry and he goes quiet.

five minutes later: “okay but… what if i just gave you half of everything i have?”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

eyebrows instantly scrunch together.

“bébé… where’s the rest?”

literally keeps waiting for you to go back for more.

when you don’t, he starts panicking gently: “is this about something? are you okay? are you mad at me?”

puts things from his plate on yours like it’s no big deal.

whispers “please eat, i hate when you don’t” like you just told him you’re leaving forever.

kisses your temple and goes “merci” when you take a bite.

lewis hamilton

side-eyes your plate with a little smirk.

“you planning to go back for seconds… or is that a cry for help?”

smooth as hell while sliding his fork over to your plate, spearing some of his food, and holding it to your mouth.

“open up, baby. i know you're hungry.”

if you say you’re not, he tilts his head and gives you the look.

“don’t make me get up and fix you a real plate. because i will.”

makes you finish at least half of his meal too, while rubbing your back the whole time.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

stares at your plate. then stares at you.

“what’s that?”

full dramatic gasp. clutches chest. “you’re joking. that’s the appetizer, right? where’s the rest?”

scoots your plate next to his and starts transferring food over like it’s a formula one pit stop.

“you’re not doing this ‘cute portions’ thing again. eat properly or i’ll call your mum.”

makes airplane noises while feeding you a bite just to be annoying.

you try to glare but you’re laughing too hard to stop him.

oscar piastri

doesn’t say anything at first, just silently eyes your plate… then yours again.

“that’s... all?”

furrows his brows slightly. “is something wrong? are you okay?”

super calm but will not let this slide. adds food to your plate like he’s just “helping,” not completely panicking inside.

casually: “you can finish mine too if you want.”

when you finally take a real bite, he visibly relaxes and says, “thank you” like you just took your meds.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

pretends not to notice at first.

then eyes your plate like it's personally disrespecting him.

“you’re kidding. right? that’s not dinner. that’s—snack behavior.”

takes your plate, loads it up himself, and hands it back without a word.

“eat,” he says, deadpan.

if you protest, he hits you with the eyebrow raise and mutters something in Spanish under his breath like “mi vida está loca.”

cuts your food into pieces and says “better” while sipping his wine like the crisis has been handled.

lance stroll

instantly frowns when he sees your plate.

“hey… where’s the rest?”

full concerned rich boy mode: “did the chef mess something up? do you want me to order something else?”

scoots closer and starts offering bites of his meal.

“you want a bite? actually—here, have all of it.”

if you take even a few bites, he goes, “that’s my girl” and kisses your forehead like you just saved his life.

100% sneaks extra dessert onto your plate later. plays innocent when you call him out.

ʚ・williams

alex albon

dramatic gasp. like cartoon-level gasp.

“okay, what is that? no really, explain. is that a bite? a sample? a decoration?”

“i’m calling your mom. i’m calling your best friend. we’re staging an intervention.”

takes your plate and starts adding food while lecturing you.

“you’re hot and smart but your portion control is a war crime.”

kisses your temple like he didn’t just drag you and says, “eat up, pretty girl.”

continues feeding you from his plate like a clingy golden retriever boyfriend.

carlos sainz

freezes when he sees your plate. stares at it. stares at you.

“is that all you’re eating?”

you shrug. he sighs and sets down his fork. full concerned boyfriend mode.

“mi amor, that’s not enough. seriously.”

pushes his plate toward you and waits until you take a bite. then goes soft.

“tienes que comer bien, cariño.” (you have to eat well, darling.)

“te necesito fuerte y feliz, no con hambre.” (i need you strong and happy, not hungry.)

spoons extra food onto your plate every time you’re not looking. smiles like he’s done nothing.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

gasps like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

“wait wait wait. THAT’S your plate? you’re kidding.”

points at it dramatically. “someone get the girl a real meal!”

piles food on your plate himself while mumbling, “she thinks that’s gonna get her through the day? she’s insane. adorable. but insane.”

offers to feed you personally if it means you’ll eat more.

“open up. no, seriously. i’m not letting you leave this table hungry.”

won’t let it go for a week. “remember when you tried to survive on three leaves and half a tomato?”

esteban ocon

doesn’t say anything right away. just side-eyes your plate with increasing concern.

“is that enough? are you sure? you’re sure?”

when you insist it’s fine, he just sighs and very gently starts moving food from his plate to yours like it’s a covert operation.

“just in case you get hungry later,” he says softly.

watches you eat like a hawk. when you finish, he smiles like it’s a personal win.

mutters to himself in French the entire time — something suspiciously close to, “elle va me rendre fou.” (she’s going to drive me crazy.)

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

does a double take. then slowly turns to you.

“so you hate food now? or is this performance art?”

chuckles but immediately adds more food to your plate. “this feels illegal.”

makes jokes the entire meal, “you need a magnifying glass to see that portion.”

but side-eyes you so hard every time you put your fork down.

halfway through, scoots his plate between you both. “just share mine. easier.”

whispers “you’re actually feral for that” in your ear, but kisses your cheek while handing you a bite.

isack hadjar

absolutely scandalized.

“quoi?! that’s not dinner. that’s—what is that!”

full-on offended. places a hand on his heart like you’ve betrayed his entire French culinary heritage.

literally gets up and remakes your plate. “you eat what i give you. this is criminal.”

gives you a “look” every time you try to protest. you know the one.

softens immediately when you take a real bite. “bon. merci, mon cœur.”

kisses your head like a reward and mutters, “don’t scare me like that again.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

immediately dramatic. like, eyebrows raised, jaw dropped, wine glass in hand.

“you trying to break my heart? because that’s what this is.”

pokes at your plate with his fork. “this is… decorative. c’est rien.”

slides his plate next to yours and starts serving you from it.

“eat, mon ange. i need you strong enough to carry this relationship.”

flirts relentlessly until you give in.

“you’ll eat for me, right? be my good girl?”

smirks like he just won the Monaco GP when you take a real bite.

jack doohan

doesn’t say much. just blinks at your plate.

“is that enough?”

you say yes. he nods.

five minutes later he’s quietly refilling your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“i just thought you might want more.”

casually puts a piece of his food on your fork and waits.

won’t push you, but his quiet worry is palpable.

kisses your temple when you finish and mumbles, “thank you,” like you saved his appetite.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

raises an eyebrow. says nothing for a full thirty seconds.

“...that’s it?”

sips his drink, pretending not to care. he cares so deeply it’s physically hurting him.

eventually breaks. sighs and says, “give me your plate.”

doesn’t ask — just starts adding food to it.

“you’ll thank me when you’re not lightheaded later.”

kisses your forehead once and mutters something like, “don’t do that again, yeah?”

gabriel bortoleto

visibly stressed.

“babe? love? angel? why is your plate empty?”

starts rapid-fire listing all the food options: “do you want rice? bread? i can go get something else—”

won’t start eating until you’ve got a full plate.

watches you take every bite like he’s tracking your hydration levels too.

ends the night making you tea and saying “you scared me,” while cuddling you for the next three hours.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[thatlotuscookie]

sung jinwoo x reader (nsfw/spicy hcs)

mdni, nsfw ahead. not proofread / in my solo leveling thirst era. idk what this is tbh. wanted to add kink list but this was getting too long eee jealous/possessive jinwoo headcanons

Stamina? Insane When it comes to sex, Jinwoo is a FORCE to be reckoned with. His stamina in the sack is simply legendary. While most men might flag after a single, intense round, Jinwoo can keep going and going, driven by an insatiable hunger for pleasure- and pleasuring YOU. His cock is a pistoning machine, he fucks you with a raw, animalistic power, each thrust a declaration of ownership. His cock spears deep, hitting spots inside you that make stars burst behind your eyelids. And still, he shows no signs of slowing down, his balls churning out endless loads of hot, sticky cum. The man is built for fucking, plain and simple.

"Mmm, you feel so good... I could fuck you forever," he growls, his voice husky with desire as he pounds into you from behind. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust sending shockwaves of bliss through your trembling body.

Favorite position? Given Jinwoo's dominant nature and powerful build, it's no surprise that his favorite position would be one that allows him to take control and assert his strength. The missionary position, with him on top, seems tailor-made for the man. He loves the feeling of being face-to-face with his you, and to spice it up? He tilts your hips up and presses his palms to splay your thighs wide open. SHEEESH. From this vantage point, Jinwoo can watch the pleasure play across his your features, savoring every gasp and moan. His hands can roam freely, gripping ass cheeks, tracing the lines of your torso, and tangling in your hair as he sets a punishing rhythm. It also puts Jinwoo's impressive endowment on full display, his thick cock plunging in and out of you with ease, his v line and oh lawd the biceps! and pecs

"Look at me, baby," Jinwoo growls, his voice low and commanding as he hammers into you from above. "I want you to see every inch of my cock stretching you open, filling you up until you can't take anymore." His hips snap forward with brutal force, driving his length deeper into your quivering cunt. "This is mine, all mine. Every scream, every tremble, every drop of cum I pump into you belongs to me."

He's OBSESSED with your reactions. For Jinwoo, sex isn't just about satisfying his own desires; it's a game of intense focus, where he zeroes in on every subtle reaction from you. He's acutely attuned to the way your body responds to his touch, the sounds that escape your lips, the flush that spreads across your skin. As he drives into you, Jinwoo watches your face intently, drinking in the sight of pleasure etched into your features. Each gasp, each whimper, each shudder sends a thrill through him, spurring him on to greater heights of passion. He's obsessed with the way your eyes glaze over, the way your back arches off the bed, the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

You're lying beneath Jinwoo, legs splayed wide apart as he pounds into you with unrelenting fervor. Sweat glistens on your skin, and your breasts heave with each ragged breath. Jinwoo's gaze is riveted to your face, drinking in every delicious detail of your expression. "You're so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, his voice rough with lust. "Spread out for me, taking my cock like it was made for you. I could stare at you all day, watching you fall apart on my dick."

Literally a huge tease. In public, This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s gonna whisper the filthiest shit in your ear right when you least expect it. In public? At dinner? While you’re on the phone? Yeah, he gets off on seeing you flustered. And when you're actually in the bedroom, Jinwoo is a master of torture, using his teasing touches to drive his you to the brink of madness before finally granting you release. He delights in building anticipation, his fingers dancing along your skin with maddening slowness, barely grazing your most sensitive areas before pulling away. You find yourself writhing beneath him, desperate for more contact, as Jinwoo toys with you like a cat with a mouse. He teases your nipples with gentle bites and licks, coaxing them into stiff peaks before abandoning them to leave you aching for his return. His mouth trails down your stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue around your belly button in a circular pattern that makes your toes curl.

 Jinwoo kneels between your parted thighs, his hot breath wafting over your slick folds as he leans in to taste you. His tongue darts out, flicking lightly against your clit in a feather-soft caress that leaves you panting for more. But instead of delving deeper, he pulls back, his eyes locked on yours with a wicked gleam.Not yet, baby, he murmurs, his voice husky with promise. I want to hear you beg for it first. With that, Jinwoo resumes his teasing assault, his tongue tracing the outline of your pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat his mouth with your juices. He sucks gently on your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Aftercare KING Following sex with Jinwoo, aftercare becomes an intimate ritual, a chance for him to show tender affection to the person he's just dominated in bed. Despite his rugged exterior, Jinwoo has a soft spot for cuddles and soothing your post-coital tremors. He cradles you close, his strong arms wrapping protectively around your spent form as he presses warm kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and the sensitive skin of your neck. His touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the aggressive passion of earlier. Jinwoo's voice rumbles softly as he whispers reassurances, praising your responsiveness and the pleasure you brought him. He strokes your hair, tracing patterns on your back, and lavishes attention on your sensitive nipples, easing them with his thumbs.

As the aftershocks of your climax slowly subside, Jinwoo gathers you into his embrace, his muscular frame enveloping your smaller one. He holds you tightly, his heart still racing from the intensity of your coupling. "Damn, that was incredible," Jinwoo murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You took everything I gave you and begged for more. I'm impressed, baby." He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so that you rest atop his chest, your ear pressed to his thundering heartbeat. Jinwoo's hands roam your back, stroking and kneading the muscles, working out any remaining tension. "Let me take care of you," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Just relax and let me soothe you."

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these guys would react to having their face held…

Dick smiles out of habit and pushes his face even further into your hands, humming in content.

He loves it when you held him, however that may be, as it was the one thing he looked forward to the most when coming home.

He’s prone to frequent bouts of fatigue with patrols and the like, but it was moments like these where he could truly appreciate your touch and the healing properties they have on him.

‘I could spend forever here in your hands.’ He’d sigh as he allowed himself to relax within your touch.

‘Oh really? Is that so?’ You raised your brows, watching as the features within his face relaxed into a one that showed you just how exhausted Dick looked. You could see the toll his job his job took but you knew that Dick was too devoted, too attached to what he does to ever give it up, no matter how constantly drained and tired it made him.

You respect his decision to keep doing what he was doing but there came times where you’d just wish he would take a breather from it all, even if it was just for a second, you just wanted to take the weight off of Dick’s shoulders and put it aside for a moment while you work the tension out of his aching muscles.

‘Yeah.’ He responded, feeling himself sink further into sleep. Dick loved what he does but some times he resents it for leaving him with little to no time to spend with you, at least not without him falling asleep five minutes within the interaction. Time with you was sparse and all Dick wanted to do was spend as much of it as he could to make up for the fact that he was barely home at all during the day.

He knew that he prioritised being a hero over your relationship too often and he couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it during your relationship. You didn’t deserve to wait up for him every night to make sure he was okay, not while developing heavy eye bags of your own and a lack of a sleeping schedule.

He just hopes that one day you too will realise that you better then what he’s giving you and put yourself first, but you were too selfless to ever do that and he could feel that through the way you trace his features with your fingers with featherlight caresses.

Jason stiffens beneath your touch and goes unresponsive for such a long time that you were worried that you had accidentally crossed a boundary.

So just as you were about to remove your hands from his face, Jason quickly reaches out to grasp your hands and pull them back to cupping his cheeks as he then proceeded to nuzzle his cheek against your palm.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

Your heart broke at his plea but obeyed as you began to stroke his cheeks with either of your thumbs, feeling him gradually relax under your touch until he was practically a puddle in your hands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whimpered, burying his face into your hands so that you didn’t see his tear stricken red face. ‘I don’t deserve this. None of it.’ He adds, cursing himself for being so pathetic but your touch practically broke him in the best way.

In your hands Jason felt as though all his broken prices were being put back together again through love, warmth and patience and that was enough to make him breakdown into tears.

Physical affection is a foreign concern to this poor man, and in due to that Jason is naturally going to be skeptical and on edge the moment the pads of your fingertips explore his jawline, before slowly coming up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m right here Jaybridie.’ You utter softly as you felt his grip on your wrists slack a little. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere because nowhere is more important than staying here with you. Just take your time.’ And stay with him you did.

Damian is another one who’s not use to soft touches and sweet affection.

So he’ll initially be on guard when he saw you coming his way with your hands outstretched to cup his cheeks, but will huff and reluctantly rest his face in your palms, he’s extremely stiff while doing so and looking away from you out of initial embarrassment.

‘Get on with it.’ He’d mutter, acting as though such acts or moments of tenderness and vulnerability were beneath him, when in actuality Damian loved the feeling of you hold his face as though it were porcelain. He loved the fact that despite knowing his upbringing you still treat him with a love, kindness and warmth that he has never been shown before.

To Damian it was clear that you didn’t care if he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. You only cared about him, Damian Wayne and he could feel that care through your touch as he vowed to cut through anything and everything that intended to harm you.

Your touch brings him a sense of calm, serenity and peace that brought him back from the brink a plethora of times, especially in moments when his arrogance and brashness would resurface. Damian was thankful for you being in his life, a true guiding light in his darkest moments, and he couldn’t think of any possible way to thank you for everything you’ve done for him but he’ll surly try.

Bruce feels the tension behind his eyes and in his jaw sooth themselves under your touch.

His eyes would slowly close as he brought his calloused hands up to gently stroke the inside of your wrists. Bruce needs no words to describe how he felt because he feels as though his expressions and the noises of content made it clear how much he appreciated you being here with him.

‘You look tired.’ You commented, tracing the weary lines on his hard face with your eyes as he observed your face and the way it showed most of your innermost emotions whether you were aware of this fact or not.

Bruce knew that you worry and that you worry a lot about him in particular when it came to whether he was sleeping enough, eating enough and keeping himself safe whilst fighting on the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew he was as stubborn as mule when it came to his life choices and that you were only just worried about him because you cared for him, but sometimes he wished you would redirect all this effort towards yourself because he oftentimes didn’t think he was worth of your worry, nor your care.

Bruce felt as though he should be the one taking care of you rather than you taking care of him. It’s not as though he hates it, it’s just you’ve shown him on countless occasions of your care towards him, and on even more occasions you have shown him of your unwavering dedication towards him. Bruce also feels like he should be the one paying you back for all the hard times where you stood by his side, watching him practically work himself to the bone and almost into a comatose if you didn’t step in and deal him away from the computers.

For you’ve proven time and time again that you weren’t so easily swayed into leaving, and that was made more true when he felt comfortable enough telling you that he was Batman and the dangers that would come with knowing such knowledge. You however only shrugged and told him that by his side, you were the safest you’ve ever been or will ever be.

‘More so than usual?’ He asked in a way that it might as well have came out as an indignant huff.

‘And by more so than usual you mean constantly, then yes, yes you are more tired than usual.’ You replied as you ran your thumbs under his eyes and across his eye bags as if to emphasise your point. Bruce only huffs as he watched you take in all of him with nothing but love and affection in your eyes and your touch.

John would most likely bite your hand out of an inherent need to be a teasing little shit.

Will boast about the fact that you just wanted to touch up his stubble. He wasn’t lying but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and instead say; ‘in your dreams John.’

‘Oh I’m sure I am in yours.’ He reply with confidence as he winked, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek as punishment for his cockiness. ‘I hate you.’ You’d say as you push your fingertips through his stubbly beard, enjoying the way it deliciously tickles your skin, almost as though they were little prickly kisses.

‘No you don’t sweetheart, try as you might but you and me both know that for definite that you love me.’ John would state in a matter of fact tone. Once again you hated how right he was, but kept your lips sealed shut as not to give him any more ammunition to tease and contradict you at any given opportunity than you’ve already have.

The air between you is playful and light in comparison to how cynical, sharp witted and sarcastic he usually is on a daily basis. It was a welcomed change as you allowed the blonde to pretend to bite your hand, only allowing for his teeth to barely graze your skin before pulling away with a sly smirk as you scratch at his stubble.

[thesimstree]

12 Must-Download Fix Mods for The Sims 4

Ever had that feeling when small bugs and illogical quirks in The Sims 4 ruin all the fun? Luckily, modders came to the rescue! This collection features small but genius mods that fix annoying flaws and add a bit more common sense (and fun) to the game. No major overhauls – just targeted fixes that make playing way more enjoyable.

1. Change into Everyday when inside by @littlemssam

With this mod, sims automatically switch from winter outfits to everyday clothes when entering a building. For public lots to work, you’ll need to add the special lot trait "Change into Everyday Outfit."

Download ↑

2. NJ's Faster Sink Interactions by NotJemimi

Finally, quick hand-washing and teeth-brushing: this mod cuts animation time down to a minimum. No more standing at the sink forever, hygiene now takes just seconds!

Download ↑

3. Always CAS Full Edit Mode by @sonozakisisterssims4

No more entering cheats every new session. This mod automatically enables two useful cheats: testingcheats true and cas.fulleditmode when the game launches.

Download ↑

4. More Children at Venues by @sims4me

A must-have foundation for all mods that add more kids to public lots. By itself, this mod doesn’t change child spawns, but no morechildrenat series mod will work without it.

Download the base

And install the desired mods from the morechildrenat series:

More Children at Beaches

More Children At Parks

5. Available Lock The Camera directly from Sim by @bloombatter

Now you can lock the camera onto a sim directly through the interaction menu: just click on any familiar sim or NPC and select the corresponding option. The mod also lets you follow pets, foxes, rabbits, and even ghosts, making gameplay way more convenient.

Download ↑

6. Eat Autonomous Only When Hungry by @sonozakisisterssims4

With this mod, sims will only cook and eat when they're actually hungry – no more unnecessary snacking at the slightest hint of hunger. The mod works not just with fridges but all kitchen appliances, so sims will behave much more realistically.

Download ↑

7. No Vending Machine Jams by @bloombatter

Vending machines finally work as they should! This fix completely removes the annoying item jams when making purchases. No more nervously saving before every "Buy" click: your sims and townie NPCs can now use vending machines without worrying about bugs.

Download ↑

8. Cool your Berries by smaviking

Potion berries can now be stored in the fridge – no more endless inventory searches! The mod adds a handy storage option for all berry types (and beyond). During installation, you can choose whether to store only berries, only various fruits and veggies, or any harvestable ingredients.

Download ↑ 

9. Red Auto Sleep by keincoeur

Now sims will only go to sleep when truly exhausted (red energy bar), not at the first sign of drowsiness. Bonus perk: they can take naps, saving your sims when neighbors throw a late-night rager. As they say, "If you can't beat 'em, snooze through 'em!"

Download ↑

10. Vampires Can Growl Too! by SweetSimmer

Vampires can now growl just as fiercely as werewolves! This mod adds three new interactions: a terrifying roar that sends bystanders fleeing in panic, a flirty "Bare Your Neck" with playful effects, and a passionate growl for lovey-dovey couples. Finally, bloodsuckers get the charisma they deserve!

Download ↑

11. 'Here's your table' Restaurant Phrase Mini Fix by @sonozakisisterssims4

Waiters in sims restaurants announce "Food is served" the moment your sims sit down – which is weird. This tiny fix replaces the awkward line with five more natural alternatives. Now restaurant NPCs will behave like actual service staff.

Download ↑

12. Eco Lifestyle Community Lot Fix / Community Space / Community Garden / Market Place/ Maker Space by mitchsimmer 

This mod repairs broken lots from the Eco Lifestyle expansion that stopped working after the July 2024 update. Just install it to revive awesome community spaces like gardens and marketplaces.

Download ↑

🌱 Create your family tree with TheSimsTree

❓ Support 🌸 Our Blog

[lightlyblooming]

What if it wasn't a joke?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: What if Natasha’s teasing wasn’t a joke? 

Words: 2.1k

I tapped my fingers on the glossy wooden table in front of me, following the tempo of the conversation around me. The cacophony of voices flitted through my mind, going in one ear and out the other. 

What was supposed to be a swift debriefing with the rest of the Avengers had stretched into its third hour. I’d lost my patience two and a half hours ago when Tony Stark started talking about possible technological improvements he could add to the Avenger’s headquarters. It had only gone down from there.

I stared down at my leather folder opened on the table, letting out a slightly too-loud sigh when I saw the two sentences of notes I’d managed to put down. Only two sentences of actually useful information. Three hours, two sentences. Three hours for two sentences. 

My fingers curled into a fist. I picked up my pen, if only so that my frustration wouldn’t show. I hovered the pen over the clean piece of paper, but that only caused my anger to grow because there wasn’t anything to write.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I dropped the pen, grateful for the distraction.

I leaned back in my chair and pulled out my phone, ignoring the sidelong glance I got from Steve Rogers. Phones technically weren’t allowed during meetings, but confidential information had stopped being shared hours ago. I doubted it’d matter if I leaked a conversation over what type of flavoured water they wanted in the lounge this month.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I read the notification that lit up the screen. 

Natasha: Busy daydreaming about me?

I raised my eyes to Natasha, my smile growing further when I noticed she had already been watching me. Her blue eyes twinkled with humour, but her features betrayed nothing. Her expression was just as blank, severe, and stoic as it had been for the last few hours.

Natasha only held my eyes for a handful of moments before she turned away, returning her steady attention to the conversation.

I texted back: I’m just thinking about how this meeting could’ve been an email.

Natasha picked up her phone a few moments later. Her expression didn’t change, and I was too far away to notice any other minor changes. I looked back to the nearly blank paper in front of me. 

Every second I spent waiting for her response felt like an eternity. I started to tap my fingers again.

After what felt like forever, my phone buzzed.

Natasha: I wouldn’t have seen you if it was an email.

A second later, she added: And I do enjoy watching you when you’re frustrated.

My eyes shot to her. She merely stared back at me, watching, waiting. I blinked at her, hoping she’d offer any kind of reaction for me to read. Instead, she picked her phone up, her fingers moving across the screen.

I lowered my eyes to the paper and put my phone on the empty sheet. I placed my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. My leg, the traitorous thing, started to bounce. My body tensed with every moment that passed. My breaths grew shallow as I waited for that screen to light up.

What was taking her so long? She had to be writing an essay if it was taking her this long to finish. I couldn’t help but wonder if she liked leaving me waiting.

My heart skipped when the screen lit up, only for it to drop deep into my gut when I read the text.

Natasha: It’s even better when you get flustered and start blushing.

I shut off my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

My head thundered in my chest as heat prickled on my cheeks. I silently cursed myself for playing right into her hand. 

It wasn’t like it was a surprise. She’d joke far too often about how easy it was to throw me off and the enjoyment she got from it wasn’t a secret. She always pushed it and tested it, seeing what measure of responses she could get. One glance. One smile. One whispered word. One step too close. A touch that lingered too long. For fuck’s sake, one sentence that toed the line between friendly banter and flirtatious teasing would leave me dumbed down and unable to speak for hours.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair, hating the way I shook. I focused on my breaths, reread those two stupid sentences written on the paper. I willed the heat to fall from my face. I counted through my breathing. I picked up my pen and clicked it over and over again.

I was a fool for being affected by her. It was nothing. It meant nothing. It was a game to her, just a way to fill time and push away excruciating boredom.

I reminded myself of all those moments Natasha had toyed with me, only to pull away a moment later. 

I remembered the hours we had spent crouched in some dark hole, waiting out a mission, her faint touches oh-so-clear in the pitch black. I recalled the way she had looked at me days later when I had brought it up, her face flush with confusion and eyes so cold it was like looking at a stranger. 

I remembered the first time we’d exchanged personal numbers after becoming part of the Avengers. It had only been a handful of years since we’d worked together in the Red Room, yet she treated me like she’d never seen me before.

I remembered the hours of texting we’d do in those fluid hours of the night when time lost all meaning. Then the absence of contact in the morning, followed by stilted small talk that’d build a chasm between us. 

I glanced over at Natasha. My heart stung when I saw her stoic expression fixed on Wanda Maximoff.

I closed the folder and got to my feet. The rest of the Avengers at the table glared at me, but I ignored them. There was no reason for me to stay. The important parts of the meeting were done. I hadn’t needed to chime in for well over an hour. And I didn’t feel like torturing myself with Natasha’s cold distance for any longer.

⧗

I stirred my half-melted cocktail with the metal straw. The metal clicked against the glass. A chill wind brushed over my skin and rustled my hair, causing goosebumps to prickle along my arms. 

The Avengers compound had long since settled into its peaceful night operations. All the lights had been dimmed, the large mass of day staff had been sent home or to their rooms, the headache-inducing sound of jets coming and going had finally stopped. These small hours of the night were the only time I got any solitude. 

I watched the tarmac from the balcony, taking in the quinjets that had been left out and the skeleton crew that maintained them.

They always had to be ready, waiting, should the sky fall open and the Avengers had to be on the other side of the world in an hour. I always had to be ready to answer the call, be prepared for anything at any moment. I hadn’t even left the compound for a non-Avengers related reason for… months. It was too risky.

I looked down at the cocktail in my hand and braced my arm against the balcony railing. I sighed and pursed my lips at it.

Despite the small amount of alcohol I’d had, I could feel the warmth of drunkenness spreading through my limbs and a delightful buzz that clouded my mind. I was already too far gone to fly, or fight, or do any amount of strategic thinking. Drinking more would only multiply that and make my recovery take longer. If there was an emergency and I got called out--

The door to the balcony softly clicked open and I whipped my head around, muscles going taught. 

The moment I laid my eyes on Natasha, who stood silently in the doorway, I let out a breath and allowed my shoulders to slump. The warm glow of the Avenger’s lounge silhouetted her form and took the sharp edges out of her appearance. 

She almost seemed vulnerable there, in her sweatpants and loose t-shirt. Her hair had been pulled back into a braid. The light caught the loose strands of her hair, making it look like strings of spun gold. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to the smooth plane of her neck. I couldn’t stop the prying thoughts that wondered how it would feel, how it would taste, if she’d just let me get close enough.

I pressed my lips closed and squeezed my eyes. I gave myself a moment to breathe and settle my system before I turned around and fixed my eyes on the cocktail cradled in my hands.

The stupid drink, wiping away every ounce of self-preservation I had.

The door clicked shut and Natasha walked up beside me, bracing her arms on the railing, mirroring my position. A beer bottle hung from her fingers, dangling precariously over the distant ground. Natasha took a swig and from the sound of it, she was quite far into her drink as well. At least I wasn’t the only intoxicated one.

I sipped at my now fully melted cocktail. I winced at the overwhelmingly sweet liquid. Without the ice to break up the taste, it had turned into a cloying mixture of syrup and rum.

“Too hard for you?” Natasha’s voice was low and heavy. 

Her voice tugged at something deep in the pit of my gut. My heart fluttered in my chest and my breaths shuddered. Heat prickled at my cheeks, and I prayed that Natasha thought it was because of the alcohol. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes and knew my prayers had fallen upon deaf ears when I saw the teasing tilt to her lips.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the illusion of sanctity the darkness granted, but the truth came out before I could even consider filtering my words, “A bit.”

Natasha’s ghost of a smile grew into a full-on grin. Her voice dipped into a sultry drawl that raked along my bones, “You should let me buy you a drink some time. I can show you what hard feels like.”

My hand tightened around the glass. I opened my mouth, prepared to spit out one of the million scripted rejections I had tucked in the back of my mind, but stopped short.

I schooled my features and turned towards Natasha. I took in her stance: her relaxed shoulders, fingers that fidgeted with the rim of the beer bottle, her ram-rod straight back, her attentive eyes, her welcoming smile, the way her head tilted just-so. She was expectant, waiting, and… nervous? A furrow ghosted in the space between her brows. Tiny fragments of uncertainty flashed across her face.

I swallowed and stared into her eyes. I tapped my thigh with my free hand. Silence stretched between us. My muscles tensed with every second that crept by.

I was such an idiot. A fool. My hesitation revealed more than I ever wanted Natasha to know. My growing silence stripped me bare and made me more naked than I would’ve been if I had merely removed my clothes. 

“Or--” Natasha’s words were slow, hesitant, searching, “--you can buy me one of those cocktails you always get, we can get drunk, and I can stop calling you a lightweight.”

I pressed my lips together and searched Natasha’s expression. All I found was a gentle vulnerability. There was teasing, yes, but behind all that was an openness I’d never seen in her before. 

What if, this time, it was a genuine offer? What if I said yes? Would she take me to a bar, let me order her a drink, and end the night with more than a painfully professional handshake? Or would she laugh and back off, making me look like a fool for even considering the offer?

My mind was too clouded to make a clear choice. I couldn’t discern anything more from her expression. I couldn’t calculate all the possible responses. 

I let out a shuddering breath and, with the type of courage I could only get from the alcohol coursing through my system, said, “Only if you promise to show me the best places.”

Natasha let out a breath and straightened. All signs of tension smoothed from her face. A light seemed to spark in her eyes, bringing a glowing warmth to her features. 

“Promise,” Natasha said, her voice strung with the softness and truth in her oath. 

[konigslittleliebling]

TAGLIST.

I’M NOT CURRENTLY TAKING REQUESTS FOR THESE CHARACTERS.

LT SIMON RILEY.

SERIES —

SOMETHING ABOUT JULY. [ONGOING] 🍦🕯️🥀

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE. [DISCONTINUED] 🕯️

ONESHOTS —

PLEASE! [REQUEST] 🕯️

NOW YOU’RE JUST SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW. 🥀

DRABBLES —

PATHETIC. [REQUEST] 🕯️

WHO’D YOU LOSE THIS TIME, LOVE? [REQUEST] 🕯️

BRAVE MÄDCHEN. [REQUEST] 🕯️

DADDY’S HOME. [REQUEST] 🍦🕯️

SLUTTY LITTLE TRAMP STAMP. [REQUEST] 🍦

NOT SO TOUGH NOW ARE YA? [REQUEST]

A FACE OF THE PAST. [REQUEST] 🌷

GAVE ME A FRIGHT, LUV. [REQUEST] 🌷

BLURBS —

HACKED OFF. [REQUEST] 🕯️

NEVER LETTIN’ YOU GO AGAIN. [REQUEST] 🕯️‼️

PLACEBO. [REQUEST] 🍦

SO GOOD. [REQUEST] 🕯️

HELPING HAND. [FAN FAVOURITE] 🕯️

RIDING THE RAILS. 🕯️‼️

TABOO. 🕯️

HEADCANONS —

BODY TYPE. 🍦

THOTS —

UNEXPECTED.

DELIRIOUS. 🕯️

IF SIMON RILEY WANTS YOU. 🍦

AU’S —

EMO!GHOST X BIMBO!GF. 🕯️

BOSS!SIMON. [REQUEST] 🍦

SGT JOHNNY MACTAVISH.

ONESHOTS —

NEED YA, BONNY. [REQUEST] 🕯️

DRABBLES —

THE TWO OF US FOREVER. [REQUEST] 🌷

WATCH IT, WEE ONE. [REQUEST] 🍦🕯️

WELCOME HOME. [REQUEST] 🕯️

WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT? [REQUEST] 🍦

HEADCANONS —

BODY TYPE. [REQUEST] 🍦

CPT JOHN PRICE.

DRABBLES —

TAKIN’ ME SO WELL. [REQUEST] 🕯️🌷

THOTS —

DAD BOD THOT. 🕯️

AU’S —

COWBOY!PRICE AESTHETIC.

SGT KYLE GARRICK.

DRABBLES —

RIBBON FOR MY VALENTINE. [REQUEST] 🕯️

TASK FORCE 141.

HEADCANONS —

THE BOYS AND PIERCED-TONGUE!READER. [REQUEST]

AU’S —

THE BOYS AND WITCHY!READER. [REQUEST]

MISC —

MESSAGE COMP #1. #2. #3. #4.

INCORRECT QUOTES #1.

INCORRECT QUOTES #2.

SHITPOST #1.

SHITPOST #2.

KEEGAN P. RUSS.

DRABBLES —

FAUCET. [REQUEST] 🕯️

COLONEL KÖNIG.

many of my könig works aren’t featured in this masterlist since i’ve written so many and can’t find all of them. however, by using my blog’s search function — ‘könig x reader’, or simply just ‘könig’ — should show a lot more könig content that isn’t listed below!

ONESHOTS —

SO WRONG BUT SO RIGHT. [REQUEST] 🍦🕯️‼️

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE. [REQUEST] 🕯️‼️

DRABBLES —

IS THAT BETTER, LIEBLING? 🕯️

ENJOY THE SHOW. [REQUEST] 🕯️

KNOW ME SO WELL. [REQUEST] 🕯️🍦‼️

THE MISSUS. [REQUEST] 🍦‼️

FEEL BETTER, MY LOVE? [REQUEST] 🕯️ ALT VER.

QUIET, KLEIN LIEBE. [REQUEST] 🕯️

SLICE OF CHERRY-FUCKING-HEAVEN. [REQUEST] 🕯️

KNOCKED-UP. [REQUEST] 🕯️

I’VE WAITED SO LONG TO TOUCH YOU LIKE THIS, LIEBLING. [REQUEST] 🕯️

MY TURN. [REQUEST] 🕯️

SHUT UP AND TAKE IT. [REQUEST] 🕯️‼️

OBSESSED. [REQUEST] 🕯️‼️

SUFFICE. [REQUEST] 🕯️

I’LL SHOW YOU WHY I LOVE YOU. [REQUEST] 🕯️‼️

YOU ASKED FOR IT, LIEBE. [REQUEST] 🍦

FEELS LIKE SUGAR IN ME. [REQUEST] [PORN LINK] 🕯️‼️

WARM, WEATHERED. [REQUEST] 🕯️

COOKIES AND ALL THE PINK. [REQUEST] 🌷

PROTECTOR. [REQUEST]

BUBBLE BATH N’ A BIG MAC. [REQUEST] 🌷

BLURBS —

NO NEED FOR AN ALARM. 🕯️

HEADCANONS —

KÖNIG DATING SIMON’S EX. [REQUEST] 🍦🕯️

THOTS —

DAD BOD THOT. 🍦

INEXPERIENCED KÖNIG.🍦

BOXER!KÖNIG DATE ATTIRE ANALYSIS. [SUBMISSION] 🍦

AU’S —

STONER!KÖNIG. 🍦🕯️🌷‼️

CALLGIRL!READER. 🍦🕯️‼️

BOXER!KÖNIG. 🍦🕯️🌷

VIKING!KÖNIG. [REQUEST] 🕯️

GIMP!KÖNIG X DOMINATRIX!WIFE. 🕯️‼️

NIKTO.

ONESHOTS —

BABY MAMA. [REQUEST] 🕯️

ALEXANDER KRUEGER.

HEADCANONS —

MEAN!KRUEGER. [REQUEST] 🕯️🍦

guys i really can’t be bothered to add synopses under each piece of work. it’s too much effort. you shouldn’t expect big things like organisation from me, ok? 😖

do not feed my writing to AI! i do not give permission for my work to be translated, edited, reproduced or redistributed.

[neilsbeloved]

company of four

summary: your world stops the moment clark tells you he’s finally introducing you to his friends, not because you want to stay hidden as his mysterious girlfriend, but because of your distasteful past encounters with his friends. (based on this request!)

pairing: clark kent x fem!popular!reader!

tags: fluff / mentions of past bullying / clark being whipped / hidden relationships / first meetings / uses y/n (like twice)

Clark, who was lying down on his bed with arm stretched behind his head, has been watching you try on a gazillion combinations of tops, pants, and earrings for the past hour.

When he had told you that his friends had been wanting to see this mysterious girlfriend he's been hinting on for weeks, you were quite hesitant to say the least.

Actually—you were very hesitant.

Not only were you one of the most popular students in Smallville High, but you didn't exactly have the cleanest track record when it comes to your relationship with people. Clark and his friends—Chloe and Pete—included.

Now, you're still on your fifth pair of earrings. Your ears all red and itchy already.

"You're meeting my friends, not some editor at a fashion magazine." Clark throws a football up in the air, catching it just in time with you turning around.

"Clark," you say sternly, shooting him a look. "Circle one or triangle?"

He straightens up, muttering a quiet apology before answering: "Circle. Chloe likes circles."

You nod, removing the dangling triangle earring on your left ear before replacing it with the circle one. You grab your hair brush from Clark's cabinet, running it through your hair as you walked to the other side of the room in a rush.

"For the bag—which one do you think Pete'd dig?"

"Are you their girlfriend or mine?" Clark jokes, hoping to see even a small smile on your face. He quiets down when you glare at him once more. "Sorry, the brown one."

You throw Clark the burgundy one, moving your regular items from your everyday bag to the brown one he chose.

Clark stands up from the bed, groaning softly as he stretches his back.

"Look, babe, they've been waiting to meet you for over a month now. I'm more than sure they'll be happy to meet you whether or not you're wearing Chloe's favorite color or you know Pete's favorite comic book." He rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the back as he rocks you side to side.

You sigh, glancing at him over your shoulder. His nose bumping with yours. "Clark, that's before they find out that your girlfriend's one of the people that were bullying them for years."

"Oh please, you never really wanted to be involved with those people. You were just…" Clark purses his lips, trying to think of the best word. "…misguided, okay? You're not anymore, so you could stop worrying about that and just relax, y'know?"

"I had Chloe be removed as the Torch editor for a whole school year," you start, "Pete got injured in his shin because my friends found it funny to trip him while playing basketball," you add again, Clark cringing at the memory.

You exhale defeatedly, pulling away from Clark to sit on the edge of the bed. Massaging your own temples to try and relieve some of the stress.

Clark keeps a determined look. Taking a seat beside you before he places an arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his body immediately making you melt into him.

"I know you've done things you aren't proud of, things you don't even want to remember… but you can't just avoid those you've wronged forever," Clark pulls you close, nuzzling his face in your hair. "Sooner or later you're gonna have to actually speak to those people and say sorry."

"And if they don't accept my apology, what then? Clark, I'm not gonna let you choose between me and your friends." You snap at him.

Clark looks at you with a surprised look, not expecting you to lose your temper. When you notice what just happened, your features soften, mumbling a continuous apology as you looked at your hands on your lap.

He shushes you, taking your hands in his as he intertwines both of your fingers together. "Who said I had to?"

"If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they're not the kind of people you think they are." Clark looks into your eyes with a tenderness you've grown to love about him. "They know how to forgive, and they know how to understand people."

A small smile comes onto your lips as he kisses your forehead, tightening his hold on your hands. "Now stop worrying about my friends and focus on getting ready. I don't think I can last thirty more minutes helping you choose the color lipstick you should wear."

His face shines when he hears a laugh come out of you, willingly letting you go as you stand up to resume getting ready in the corner—close by the window, so you had some natural light whenever you put on make-up—Clark had cleared out just for you.

You smirk at him, teasing and lighthearted, holding out the bullet lipstick you keep in your bag. "Don't worry, Clark, I don't have blue lipstick for you to choose anyway."

The jitters gnaw at you the faster you and Clark arrive at the Talon.

Clark kept his hand in yours, squeezing it every now and then as a sort of comfort. When you see the Talon's signage appear into view, you tense up indefinitely.

"We're here," he announces, parking on the curb faster than you expected. "Ready to meet them?"

You shake your head as an answer but Clark only laughs at you. He exits the car, running over to your side to help you get down from the truck. One of the chivalrous things Clark does that you've gotten used to.

The two of you stand outside the Talon's doors, a considerable amount of distance between the two of you.

Clark calls your name, stopping you right before you can come inside the cafe. "Are we coming in as a couple or as chemistry partners—babe, come closer," Clark pulls you to his side with a scoff.

"Clark." You glare at him, biting back the complaint that tries to surface. "Don't get pushy."

He ignores your warning, shamelessly slipping his hand into yours as he pushes open the doors, immediately getting overwhelmed by the dozens of people inside of the Talon.

Your eyes quickly latch onto two of Clark's friends sitting around a circle table, Chloe and Pete having their own respective beverage as they conversed—or argued—with each other comfortably.

Each step you took felt like a step towards suffocating yourself. Feeling the air inside the Talon barely enough for everyone inside of it.

You clench your jaw, trying your best to keep calm despite the percussions pounding inside of you. Clark kept a smile on his face, unaware of the internal dilemma you're having.

When you finally reach their table, Clark yells out their name. Both Chloe and Pete turning to your direction with a smile, only for it to drop the moment their eyes drop to your interlaced hands.

You gulp. Unable to speak.

Clark opens up with a normal hey, giving them both a side hug before gesturing towards you. The way your name slips off of his mouth making you cringe.

"This is…" Your name rolls off of his tongue in a way that makes you cringe uncharacteristically. "And she's my girlfriend."  Clark turns to you with a smile, wide enough to show everyone his sharp canines.

An uneasy silence settles over the four of you—this time, even Clark isn't safe from it.

This is the worst experience ever you think to yourself as you start brainstorming the quickest way to just fall on the floor unconscious.

By the time you've thought about five ways, you hear someone speak.

"Is this some silly prank? I'm sure I vividly remember you and your group of highschool hotshots doing everything you can to make all of our lives a living hell?" Chloe, being the ever-so upfront member of the trio, says in one breath.

Your jaw drops. Out of all of the things his friends can bring up to you, that one was something you didn't expect.

You try your best to speak up—to apologize for it, but Chloe beats you to it. Again.

"I'm just kidding," she laughs loudly, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as all of you let out the breath you were all unknowingly holding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

You quickly take her hand and shake it, a surprised huff leaving your lips as Pete shakes your hand as well.

Clark looks at the three of you with a proud smile, pulling out a chair for the both of you once the introductions ended.

Before the conversation between the four of you even started, you apologized first. Showing them the raw and genuine side that you had to yourself; apologizing for everything that you and your friends had done to them since grade school.

Clark squeezed your hand from underneath the table, gazing at you affectionately as you began engaging his friends in an all out conversation about something niche.

The moment a Talon staff placed two extra glasses of mocha cappuccinos, another member of Clark’s circle is introduced. This time, someone you’re partially close with already.

“You’re with Clark?” Lana’s voice raises, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Clark cuts in, “Lana, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The brunette looks to Chloe and Pete, both of them looking at you consolingly. You didn’t expect another round of awkward silence to happen but it does, and maybe you should’ve expected this one the moment Clark told you he’s taking you to the Talon.

After some time of you waiting for Lana to speak, she finally does. “It’s good to see Clark finally happy.”

“Oh,” you turn to Clark, slightly growing confused at the entire situation. “I, uhm—“

“She makes me very happy, Lana,” Clark says with a tone of finality, placing an arm on your shoulder. “Hopefully, I make her happy too.”

Lana smiles, nodding as she excuses herself. A loud huff coming from Chloe when she finally notices your earrings—though you know it was only to get rid of the thorny situation.

A compliment left her lips as she stared at it with fascination, the genuineness in her voice making you smile. Pete follows up with a compliment too, this time about your bag—you're practically glowing with happiness.

Clark throws you a look, catching your eye as that smug little smile on his face tells you that he's soaking up every compliment you got thanks to his brilliant choices.

As it turns out, meeting his friends wasn't as scary as you thought it'd be. Or maybe that's only because they aren't what you're used to.

Nevertheless, it made you feel very much at home; sipping coffee at the Talon, your boyfriend's hand in yours, enjoying everyone's company.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[vibragarlic]

[short ID in alt and full ones at bottom]

here take my disabled headcanon babies because i've been feeling Incredibly Self Indulgent lately!! this is most definitely propaganda by the way cough...

i'm not sure if theres some sort of blind/visually impaired design trope where the character Literally Has No Eyes? if there is and that's offensive please please please kindly tell me!!!

i was able to detail more on rouxls' and ralsei's conditions cause i actually have cleft lip/palate myself LOL. other disabled people, if y'all wanna add onto these or give me any criticism, please do! i'm always open to improvement :D (happy face)

full IDs:

[ID: A drawing of a happy Ralsei over a light gray background. This design portrays him with a unilateral cleft lip and palate on his right side. There are various chunks of text surrounding Ralsei, further detailing on his cleft headcanons. One text in the top left corner reads, "unilateral, complete cleft lip and cleft palate (the latter isn't visible; located on roof of mouth)." Another right below it says, "gotten surgery on both (idk how, i just want a little variation on the cleft rep." To the side on the right, another blurb reads, "hyperacusis (sensitive hearing)." The last body of text in the bottom left corner says, "ralsei tried to heal away his jaw pain and constant fucking ear infections but nothing will so he's accepted it." End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of Rouxls Kaard standing idly with his arms raised to shoulder height. He has a Type 5 Tessier cleft going through his right eyelid to the corner of his lip, the underneath of his eyelid showing. He has an incomplete cleft lip on the other side of his face. The text surrounding him reads, "Tessier Cleft Type 5: goes through eyelid to corner of the lip. tessier clefts are very rare irl. not much information online on them :( (frowning face). also gave him a comorbid, incomplete cleft lip." The bottom right corner says, "no surgery cause i can't imagine there being modern medicine in the chapter 1 dark world. has a harder time eating (chewy foods are his worst enemy)." Lastly, the bottom left corner reads, "if you compare his cleft to gaster i will cry a lot." End ID.]

[ID: Drawing of Tenna holding a white cane idly to his side with his other arm tucked behind his back, smiling. The cane reaches above his shoulders, about halfway to his head, and is divided into four sections. The cane has a rolling marshmallow tip. The first text says, "longer cane because more experienced navigating with it (usually they're around shoulder height. depends on user preference)." Then, to the side of his cane, another reads, "folding cane. has 4 sections." For the cane tip, another text says, "rolling marshmallow tip (uses the rolling method for his cane)." In the bottom right corner, it says, "i know for a fact he'd decorate his cane, but i just wanna show how they look on default right now." The 'know' is capitalized for emphasis. Then, lastly, the top right corner reads, "no his tv powers don't make up for his impaired vision or whatever the fuck!!!" End ID.]

[ID: The last drawing features Noelle in her Dark World outfit. She has ptosis and exotropia in her right eye and is waving happily to the screen. The top of the drawing reads, "had to have her eye patched as a child. forever hates the taste of the anti-anxiety medicine they gave her before surgeries." Right after follows capitalized text that reads "(I'm projecting.)" The rest of the paragraph reads, "probably has nightmares over it." Then, farther down below, more text says, "tilts and squints to get a better look at stuff often. uses corrective glasses." Lastly, to the right side of the drawing reads, "unilateral ptosis (droopy eyelid) and strabismus (exotropia. eye faces outward)." End ID.]

[pucksandpower]

Bite Me

Day 25 → Monsterfucking 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content, vampires, and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos lies beside you, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing absent-minded circles on your skin. The room is dim, with only the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows on the walls. You shift slightly, turning your head to meet his gaze — those dark, unfathomable eyes that hold centuries of secrets.

He catches your movement, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re restless,” he murmurs, his voice deep, rich like aged wine. “What’s on your mind, mi amor?”

You hesitate, the words forming but refusing to leave your lips. His eyes search yours, and you can feel him pulling the thoughts from your mind without effort.

You’ve always wondered about it — how he knows you so well, how he can sense the shift in your emotions before you even understand them yourself. It’s not just the years you’ve spent together. It’s him, something innate, something ancient.

“Why haven’t you ever bitten me?” You ask, the question finally slipping out, almost a whisper.

Carlos’ fingers still on your skin. His gaze hardens, though his hold on you remains tender. “Why do you ask this now?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, though your heart betrays you, thudding loudly in your chest. “I’ve just … I’ve been thinking. You’ve told me about what you are, how you became this way, but you’ve never-” You swallow, feeling suddenly exposed under his scrutiny. “You’ve never fed from me.”

He sighs, the sound heavy with a burden only he seems to carry. “It’s not something I take lightly.”

“I know that,” you say quickly. “But … don’t you want to?”

Carlos shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his expression unreadable. “Want to? Amor, of course I want to. There is nothing I want more than to taste you, to have you be a part of me in the most intimate way possible.”

You shiver, both at his words and the way his gaze darkens, almost as if he’s imagining it now. His thumb brushes your lips, his eyes following the movement as if he’s mesmerized.

“But I won’t do it,” he adds, pulling his hand back as if burned by the thought. “I refuse.”

“Why?”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to the window, to the world outside. “Because you don’t understand what it means, what it does. It’s not just a bite, cariño. It’s a claim. A bond. It’s forever. I won’t risk your soul for something so … selfish.”

“Selfish?” You frown, pushing yourself up to mirror him. “Carlos, you’re not selfish. You’ve never asked me for anything. Not even this. But what if I want to?”

His eyes snap back to yours, sharp and intense. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Carlos leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his dark hair. The movement is so human, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not like in the stories. The bite — it’s pleasure, yes, but it’s also pain. It changes you. It connects us in ways you can’t undo. If I bite you … you’ll be bound to me. Forever. There’s no turning back from that.”

“And what if I want that?” You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What if I want forever with you?”

His eyes close, a pained expression crossing his features. “You deserve more than this life, this half-existence. You deserve to live, to grow old, to have children if you want them. You deserve a future that I can never give you.”

“I want you,” you say, voice firm. “I’ve always wanted you. You’re my future, Carlos. You know that.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m not worth that sacrifice.”

“Let me decide that,” you counter. “You always talk about protecting me, about giving me a choice. Well, I’m choosing now. I choose you. I want all of you, not just the parts you think are safe.”

Carlos’ gaze softens, the conflict in his eyes evident. He reaches out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he repeats, but this time, there’s a crack in his voice, a tremor that betrays his resolve.

“Then show me,” you challenge, leaning into his touch. “Show me what it means. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension between you a palpable thing. Carlos’ breath is shallow, his grip on you tightening, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to resist the pull of his own desires.

“I’ve lived so long,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. “Seen so much. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper back. “Don’t lose me. Keep me. Isn’t that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes darkening, the conflict in them warring with the longing you can see. It’s so close, the tension between you a hair’s breadth from snapping. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering just above your skin, his eyes locked on yours.

“Carlos,” you breathe, and it’s both a plea and a surrender.

His hands tighten on your face, and for a moment, you think he’s going to do it, that he’s going to give in to the primal urge you can feel radiating from him. But then, with a low growl, he pulls away, rolling onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm as if the darkness might swallow the desire coursing through him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, the words thick with regret. “I won’t do that to you.”

The rejection stings, even though you understand his reasoning. But it doesn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the longing you feel. You roll onto your side, facing him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart — an oddity in itself, a reminder that he’s not like you, that there’s a gulf between you no matter how close you are.

“Carlos,” you say softly, tracing patterns over his skin, “if you won’t do it, then tell me why. What are you really afraid of?”

His arm falls away from his eyes, and he turns his head to look at you, his expression weary. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of what that bite would do to us.”

“Then let me reassure you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter. “You say that now, but you don’t understand. You wouldn’t be the same after. You might hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

“I could never hate you,” you insist, moving closer, so your body is pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him. “I love you, Carlos. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at you, his eyes softer now, full of a tenderness that melts some of the hardness inside you. “You say that now. But forever is a long time, amor.”

“Not long enough,” you counter, brushing your lips against his, a gentle reassurance. “Not for us.”

Carlos’ fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver. “You’re too good for me.”

“Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

He laughs softly, but it’s a sad sound, full of longing. “I don’t deserve you. Not your love, not your devotion. But I’m a selfish man, and I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

He looks at you, and you see the decision forming in his eyes, the resignation mixed with desire. “If I do this, it’s forever. You’ll be mine, completely, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know. And I’m ready.”

Carlos closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, they’re darker, the brown nearly black. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Do you really want this?” He asks one last time, his breath hot against your skin, his fangs barely grazing the surface.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Yes, Carlos. I want this. I want you.”

His grip tightens, and for a split second, you feel the sharp points of his fangs press against your skin, poised to break through. The world narrows down to this moment, the sound of his breath, the feel of his body against yours, the anticipation so thick you can barely breathe.

But then, just as quickly as the moment comes, it passes. Carlos pulls away with a low growl, rolling off the bed and standing, putting distance between you. “No. I won’t.”

You sit up, confused, hurt. “Carlos-”

He holds up a hand, his back to you. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t condemn you to my life, to this existence. I love you too much to do that.”

You stare at his back, anger and hurt knotting in your chest. The distance he’s put between you feels like a chasm, like something that might never be crossed again. But you refuse to let it end here, to let him make this decision without understanding how much it means to you.

“Carlos, turn around,” you demand, your voice trembling, but resolute.

He doesn’t move. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, one you can’t see, but can feel in the air, thick with unspoken words and untapped emotions.

“Please,” you plead, softer now, trying to reach him. “Look at me.”

Finally, he turns, but the expression on his face is one of torment. His dark eyes are haunted, filled with a deep sorrow that makes your heart ache even more.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice rough, as if every word is a struggle. “This isn’t just a moment of passion, amor. This is your life we’re talking about. Your soul.”

“I do understand,” you insist, pushing yourself off the bed and taking a tentative step toward him. “I’ve thought about this, Carlos. I’ve thought about it so much. And I’ve made my decision. I want this. I want you. All of you.”

He shakes his head, backing away from you, the pain in his eyes cutting deep. “And what happens when you regret it? When you realize that you’ve given up everything — your humanity, your future — for someone like me?”

“I won’t regret it,” you argue, closing the distance between you. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share everything with you, including this.”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, and he turns his head away, as if he can’t bear to look at you. “You’re asking me to damn you, to bind you to a life that isn’t really living.”

“Maybe that’s what you believe,” you say, reaching out to touch his arm, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of his. “But that’s not how I see it. To me, this is living. Being with you is living.”

His eyes snap back to yours, and there’s a flash of something — desperation, need, fear. “You’re asking me to do something I can’t undo. Once I bite you, once I take your blood … there’s no going back.”

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down his arm, finding his hand and squeezing it. “And I’m okay with that. I’m ready.”

Carlos’ hand trembles in yours, and you can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying so hard to protect you — even from yourself.

“Please, Carlos,” you beg, your voice breaking. “Please. Don’t push me away. Don’t make this decision for me.”

He inhales sharply, as if your words have struck him, and for a moment, you think he’s going to deny you again. But then his grip tightens on your hand, and he pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a fierce, possessive embrace.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “But if this is what you truly want … if this is what you need … then I’ll give it to you.”

Your heart skips a beat, relief flooding through you. “It is. It’s what I want. More than anything.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and torment. “There are so many places I could bite you,” he says, his voice low and husky, each word laced with desire. “So many ways I could claim you.”

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, right where your pulse beats furiously beneath the surface. “Here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “The neck is traditional. It’s intimate, close to the heart. But it’s also dangerous. One mistake, and …”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means. The neck is risky, the blood vessels close to the surface, the possibility of draining too much, too fast, always a threat.

“But there are other places,” he continues, his lips moving down to your collarbone, kissing the hollow there. “The collarbone is sensitive, a place where the skin is thin, the blood rich. It’s … pleasurable.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body trembling as he moves lower, his mouth trailing down your arm, stopping at the inside of your elbow. “Here, the veins are close to the surface. It’s a slower process, more drawn out. Some say it’s the most intimate because it’s less about hunger and more about connection.”

His lips graze the inside of your wrist, and you shiver, the sensation almost too much. “The wrist is quick, efficient. It’s what we use when we’re in need, when we’re desperate.”

You’re barely breathing now, your pulse pounding in your ears as he moves lower, down your body, dropping to his knees before you. His hands glide over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your nightgown, exposing your skin inch by inch.

“But there’s one place,” he says, his voice a deep rumble, vibrating through you, “that’s the most pleasurable of all. The femoral artery.”

You gasp as his hands part your thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, his mouth hovering just above the spot he’s describing. “It’s deep, powerful, connected to the core of you. The blood is richest here. It’s where the pleasure is … overwhelming.”

Carlos’ words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense, waiting for your response.

You nod, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes. Yes, Carlos. Please.”

His eyes darken further, a predatory glint flashing in them as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, right where the femoral artery pulses beneath the skin. “Are you sure, amor? Once I do this, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. “I want this. I want you.”

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself, before looking up at you again, his gaze locking with yours. “Then lie back, mi amor. Let me show you what it means to truly be mine.”

Your heart races as you do as he says, lying back on the bed, your legs parted just enough for him to kneel between them. He moves with a grace that belies the intensity in his eyes, the hunger that you can feel rolling off him in waves.

He leans over you, his hands bracing on either side of your hips, his body caging yours in. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his touch. His lips ghost over your thigh, making you shiver, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need, but also with concern.

“I won’t change my mind,” you assure him, your voice steady, despite the wild beating of your heart. “I trust you, Carlos. I want this.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment, before he lowers his head, his lips brushing over the spot on your thigh where the artery pulses. You can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, even now, trying to control the hunger that you know is clawing at him from the inside.

And then, with a soft growl, he gives in. His fangs sink into your flesh, piercing the artery, and a shock of pain lances through you, sharp and sudden. But it’s quickly followed by something else — something warm and deep, a pleasure so intense it takes your breath away.

You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation floods through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that’s almost overwhelming. You can feel him drawing from you, the pull of your blood as it flows into him, as if he’s taking a part of you into himself, claiming you in a way that’s both physical and spiritual.

Carlos’ grip on your thighs tightens, his body pressing closer to yours as he drinks, the growl in his throat deepening, vibrating through your skin. The connection between you sharpens, the bond forming in that moment, and you can feel him — his emotions, his thoughts, the depth of his love for you, the hunger that’s been denied for so long.

It’s too much, and yet not enough. You want more, need more, the sensation building to a crescendo inside you, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a sound of both pain and pleasure, as Carlos drinks deeply, the bond between you solidifying, becoming something unbreakable, eternal.

And just when you think you can’t take any more, when the pleasure is about to tip into something else, something darker, Carlos pulls back, his fangs sliding from your flesh.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve on fire as the sensation of his bite fades, replaced by a different kind of need — one that is more intense, more primal. Carlos’ lips linger on your thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at the small puncture wounds, each touch sending sparks through you. The pain has morphed into pleasure, a deep, pulsing ache that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Slowly, Carlos begins to kiss his way up your leg, his mouth tracing a path of heat along your skin. Each kiss is deliberate, a promise of what’s to come, and you can feel the tension building in your core, tightening with every brush of his lips.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “You’re everything, mi amor. Everything.”

The words send a rush of warmth through you, and you gasp as he presses his mouth against the bundle of nerves that’s already so sensitive, so primed. His tongue flicks over it, teasing, tasting, before he sinks his fang into the delicate skin with a precision that leaves you gasping, your body arching into him as the sharp pain gives way to an overwhelming flood of pleasure.

It’s too much, too intense, and you feel yourself tipping over the edge, a cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests, crashing over you like a wave. Carlos doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at the release, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure, until you’re trembling, boneless beneath him.

As the aftershocks of your release fade, you’re left panting, your heart racing in your chest. Carlos pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips glistening with the remnants of your release. There’s a reverence in the way he looks at you, a kind of awe that makes your heart squeeze.

“I could never have imagined …” His voice is husky, almost reverent as he speaks. “You’re perfect, mi amor. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet, so pure.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of what just happened. But even through the haze, you can sense the change in him — the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch is more possessive, more reverent.

He sits up slightly, one hand still resting on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the marks he’s left on your skin. His other hand rises to his mouth, and you watch, mesmerized, as he bites into his own wrist, his fangs piercing the skin with ease.

The sight is strangely beautiful, the dark blood welling up from the wound, and your breath catches as he holds his wrist out to you, the offer unspoken but clear.

“If you take this,” Carlos says, his voice low and serious, “there’s no going back. Our connection will be permanent, unbreakable. It will be something that words can’t describe, something that transcends everything.”

You stare at his wrist, your mind racing. You’ve come this far, crossed lines you never thought you would. But this — this is different. This is forever. It’s not just about desire or love; it’s about binding your soul to his, about becoming something more than human.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there’s nothing there but certainty, a deep, unwavering conviction that this is right, that this is what he wants — what he needs.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Are you sure?”

His gaze softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender, lingering kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, mi amor. You are everything to me. Without you, there’s nothing. With you … there’s everything.”

His words wrap around your heart, and you know, deep down, that this is what you want too. You’ve always known. There’s no turning back now, no second-guessing. This is the moment where everything changes, where you choose him — forever.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you take hold of his wrist, your fingers brushing over the wound. The blood is warm, almost hot against your skin, and as you bring his wrist to your lips, you can feel the connection between you deepening, solidifying.

Carlos watches you, his gaze intense, as you press your lips to his wrist, the taste of his blood filling your mouth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced — a mix of power and warmth, a connection that thrums through your veins, setting every nerve alight.

As you drink, you can feel the bond forming, something deeper than love, more primal, more eternal. It’s as if your souls are intertwining, becoming one, and you know that this is forever — that no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone again.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Carlos leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“We’re bound now,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and reverence. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

The weight of his words settles over you, but instead of fear or doubt, all you feel is a deep sense of rightness, of belonging. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Te amo,” he says, the words filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you pull him down into a kiss, needing to feel him close, needing to solidify the bond you’ve just created. He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a passion that leaves you dizzy, your body arching into his as the connection between you flares, burning bright and hot.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a way that transcends everything else. It’s more than love, more than desire — it’s a union of souls, something that goes beyond the physical, something that words can’t fully capture.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of him against you, inside you, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. That no matter what comes next, no matter what challenges you face, you’ll always have Carlos by your side.

And that, more than anything, is what makes this moment perfect.

***

The days blur into weeks, then months, each moment with Carlos etching itself into your very being. The bond between you deepens, growing more intense, more consuming with each passing night. It’s as if every fiber of your existence has been rewired, attuned to him and the pleasure he brings — a pleasure that has become intrinsically linked to his bite.

It happens gradually, almost imperceptibly at first. The way your body responds to him shifts, your desires sharpening, focusing on the exquisite pain-pleasure of his fangs sinking into your flesh. It’s as though you’ve been conditioned, your body trained to crave that sensation, to need it in a way that feels as vital as breathing.

Carlos notices it too. He’s always been attuned to your every reaction, but now there’s a deliberateness to his touch, a calculated precision in the way he teases you, pushes you right to the brink and then holds you there, on the edge of that abyss, until you’re practically begging for his bite.

And you do beg. You plead with him, your voice breathless, desperate, as you arch against him, needing that release only he can give. It’s a need that runs deeper than anything you’ve ever felt, a craving that consumes you whole.

Carlos indulges you, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he does, a look of concern that lingers even as he gives you what you so desperately desire. It’s as if he knows the power he holds over you, the way he’s shaping you, molding you into something that’s more his than your own.

And yet, even with that knowledge, he can’t resist you. He’s as much a slave to your connection as you are, caught in the web you’ve spun together, tangled in the threads of desire and love that bind you.

One night, as you lie together in the dark, the world outside forgotten, Carlos’ hand drifts down your body, his touch feather-light, tracing patterns on your skin. The tension is already coiling in your belly, your body responding to him instinctively, anticipating what’s to come.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice a plea as you tilt your head to the side, offering him your throat. It’s become almost ritualistic now, this dance you do together — the way you give yourself to him, the way he takes.

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers brushing over the marks on your neck, the ones that have healed over but are still faintly visible, a reminder of the many times he’s bitten you there. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, tinged with that same concern that’s been growing more frequent lately.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please, Carlos. I need it. I need you.”

The words are raw, stripped of any pretense, and you see the way they affect him, the way his gaze darkens with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that borders on regret.

But he doesn’t deny you. He never does.

His lips ghost over your skin, soft and teasing, before he bites down, his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your throat. The pain is sharp, but it’s immediately followed by that rush of pleasure, that intoxicating mix of agony and ecstasy that only he can bring you.

Your body arches into him, your breath catching in your throat as you cling to him, needing to anchor yourself against the wave of sensation that crashes over you. Carlos’ hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves that’s become so sensitive, so primed for him, and you cry out as he rubs slow, deliberate circles there, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough without his bite, without that sharp, exquisite pain that sends you spiraling into oblivion. And Carlos knows this — he knows you too well by now, knows exactly what you need, what you crave.

He pulls back from your throat, his lips stained with your blood, and you whimper at the loss, at the way your body tightens with unfulfilled need. But then he’s shifting, moving down your body, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one a promise, a prelude to what’s coming.

When he reaches that spot between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate. He presses his mouth against you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that has you gasping, your hips bucking against him as the pleasure builds, sharp and intense.

And then you feel it — the sharp sting of his fang as it nicks that delicate skin, a jolt of pain that sends you careening over the edge, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave, so powerful it leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him.

Carlos doesn’t stop. He laps at your release, his tongue gentle now, soothing, as if he’s trying to ease you down from that high. But there’s a hunger in the way he moves, a desperation that mirrors your own, as if he’s just as consumed by this need as you are.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s still kneeling between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of your release, when you see him bite into his wrist again, the motion almost automatic now, a part of your shared ritual.

But this time, something inside you shifts. As he brings his wrist to your lips, the words spill out before you can stop them, a plea that’s been building inside you for weeks, maybe even longer.

“Carlos … turn me.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and you see the way they affect him, the way his entire body goes still, his gaze locking onto yours with a look of shock, of fear.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, his voice harsh, almost pleading. “Don’t ask me for that.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m serious, Carlos. I want this. I want to be with you, forever.”

His grip on your thighs tightens, and you can see the battle warring within him, the conflict between his desire and his fear. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t know what it means to live like this, to be bound by this curse.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice firm, resolute. “I want you, Carlos. I want everything that comes with you. I’m not afraid.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. “You should be afraid,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should be terrified.”

“But I’m not,” you insist, reaching up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I trust you, Carlos. I know you’ll take care of me. I know you’ll never let me become a monster.”

His eyes search yours, and you can see the pain there, the agony of knowing that you’re asking him to do something that goes against everything he’s ever wanted for you. But you also see the love, the overwhelming depth of it, and you know that he won’t be able to deny you — not when it comes to this.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. “I need this, Carlos. I need you. Please, turn me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. But then, slowly, he nods, his expression one of resignation, of acceptance. “Okay,” he says, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that’s both tender and heartbreaking. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’ll love you forever.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, grounding yourself in the knowledge that this is right, that this is what you both want, what you both need.

And then you feel it — the sharp, burning pain as his fangs sink into your neck, deeper this time, more final. The pain is excruciating, a fire that spreads through your veins, consuming you from the inside out. But even through the agony, you can feel the love, the connection, the bond that’s deepening with every drop of blood he takes.

Your vision begins to blur, the edges darkening as the life slowly drains from you. But there’s no fear, no regret — only a deep, abiding love, a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be, where you’ve always belonged.

As the darkness closes in, you hear Carlos’ voice, soft and broken, the last thing you hold onto as everything fades to black. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sorrow so profound it cuts through the haze, piercing your heart even as it stops beating.

And then there’s nothing.

***

The transition from mortal to vampire is startlingly smooth, almost effortless. Carlos had warned you — countless times — about the challenges, the inevitable struggles that come with your new existence. But those struggles never seem to materialize. Instead, you find yourself reveling in your newfound abilities, your senses heightened, your strength amplified. The world feels different, richer, as if you’ve been given the key to unlock its deepest secrets.

You’ve always been adaptable, but this … this is something else entirely. The hunger that gnawed at you in the first few days is now a familiar, almost comforting presence, easily sated with each hunt. The speed and agility that come so naturally to you feel like an extension of your own will, as if you were always meant to move this way, to live this way.

Carlos watches you closely, his concern never far from the surface, but even he can’t deny how easily you’ve taken to this new life. He’d expected turmoil, conflict — a struggle to reconcile your old self with the creature you’ve become. But instead, he sees you thrive, sees the joy in your eyes each time you embrace your abilities.

What he doesn’t see — what even you hadn’t expected — is how much you enjoy the power dynamics between the two of you. The bond between a maker and their progeny is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a connection so deep, so intimate, it’s almost overwhelming. And with it comes a power that Carlos wields with an authority that both excites and unnerves you.

It’s not something you would have predicted. You’ve always been independent, headstrong, not one to easily submit to anyone’s will. But with Carlos, it’s different. There’s something intoxicating about the way he commands you, the way his voice slips into your mind, into your very soul, compelling you to obey.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy it. But you do. More than you’d care to admit.

Tonight, the tension between you simmers, a palpable energy that crackles in the air as you move through the shadows together. You’d pushed your limits earlier, testing the boundaries of your new life, staying out far later than you should have, pushing Carlos’ patience to its edge.

Now, as the first light of dawn threatens the horizon, you can feel his disapproval like a weight, a dark cloud hanging over you as you step inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the sound far too final, too ominous for your liking.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, a hint of the anger he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as you brush past him, heading for the stairs. “Just hunting,” you say, your tone light, almost flippant. “I lost track of time.”

Carlos is on you in an instant, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “Hunting?” He repeats, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, his gaze piercing. “You nearly got caught by the sunrise. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

You can’t help the small pout that forms on your lips as you turn to face him, your eyes wide, innocent. “I was fine, Carlos. I can take care of myself.”

But he doesn’t let go, his grip firm, unyielding. “That’s not the point, and you know it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You were reckless. You put yourself at risk. And you made me worry.”

The guilt that flickers in your chest is quickly overshadowed by the thrill of his dominance, the way he’s looking at you now — like he could devour you whole, like he might just do it to prove a point.

You press your lips together, trying to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, softening your tone, but there’s still a hint of defiance there, a challenge in the way you look at him.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and you know you’ve pushed him too far. “You need to understand something,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, each word a slow, deliberate threat. “I am your maker. When I tell you to be careful, you will listen. When I tell you to come home, you will come home. And when I command you to obey, you will obey.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but out of something far more primal. The power he holds over you is intoxicating, and you feel it wrap around you like a vice, squeezing, tightening until you can barely breathe.

“Yes, Carlos,” you say, your voice a breathless whisper, your defiance crumbling beneath the weight of his command.

His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the air between you charged with electricity. Then he releases your wrist, but the hold he has on you is far from gone. He steps closer, his body crowding yours, and you find yourself backing up until your back hits the wall, trapping you in place.

“You think this is a game,” he says, his voice soft now, almost tender, but there’s a warning there, a promise of what’s to come. “But it’s not. You need to learn, querida.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You like to push me, don’t you?” He murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet caress. “You like to see how far you can go before I snap.”

A shudder runs through you, and you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, more control. “Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s as dangerous as it is seductive. “Then I suppose I’ll have to show you exactly what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you can react, he’s on you, his mouth crashing down on yours with a force that steals your breath, a kiss that’s more punishment than pleasure. But you crave it, need it, and you kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He doesn’t let up, his lips demanding, his tongue claiming you, dominating you with a skill that leaves you dizzy, disoriented. When he finally pulls back, you’re panting, your heart racing, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way he’s already won this game you’ve been playing.

But Carlos isn’t done. His hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake, until he’s gripping your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough with possessiveness. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as he presses his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall. You can feel his strength, the raw power that he so rarely unleashes on you, and it makes you tremble with anticipation.

“I’m going to punish you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, right over the spot where he first bit you, marking you as his forever. “But you’re going to love every second of it.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. “Carlos …” you begin, but your words trail off as his hand slides up under your dress, his fingers finding the heat between your legs with unerring accuracy.

You gasp, your body arching into his touch, but he’s not gentle, not this time. His fingers are demanding, ruthless, as they tease you, taunt you, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. But even as the pleasure builds, a knot of tension coiling in your belly, you know he won’t let you have it — not yet.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” he commands, his voice low, dangerous. “No matter how badly you want it. Understand?”

You whimper, your body trembling as you try to process his words, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you’re not sure you can hold back. “Carlos … please …”

He tightens his grip on your thigh, his fingers still working you with relentless precision. “Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of your desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, and there’s a dark satisfaction in his voice, a thrill that sends another shiver down your spine. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

His fingers delve deeper, and you’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your mind blanking out everything except the feel of him, the way he’s playing your body like a finely tuned instrument. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach that peak, can’t tip over the edge without his permission.

It’s maddening, frustrating in a way that leaves you teetering on the brink of insanity, and you can feel tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you claw at him, begging for something you know he won’t give you.

“Please,” you sob, your voice raw, broken. “Please, Carlos … I need it …”

Carlos’ wicked smile lingers as he draws out your agony, savoring every moment of your desperate pleas. His fingers continue their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, but never allowing you the release you so desperately crave. It’s a torturous game, one that he’s mastered, and you’re helpless under his control.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and tears blur your vision as you claw at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Carlos, please,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I’ll do anything … please …”

His eyes darken, the satisfaction in them almost predatory as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Anything?” He murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, your mind too clouded by desire to even consider the implications of what you’re agreeing to. “Yes, anything,” you gasp, your voice trembling with desperation. “Just … please …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile as he shifts his hand slightly, changing the angle of his fingers, and you nearly scream at the overwhelming sensation. But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he stops, his hand stilling completely.

“No!” The word tears from your throat in a ragged sob, and you feel the tears spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you shake your head in disbelief. “Carlos, please, don’t …”

He captures your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him. His expression is intense, his gaze locking onto yours with a force that steals your breath. “Listen to me, mi amor,” he says, his voice low, commanding. “I need you to understand something.”

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin keeps you still, his hold unyielding as he continues. “You are mine,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You belong to me, body and soul. And as your maker, it is my responsibility to protect you, to keep you safe.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his words, the gravity of the bond between you. It’s not just about possession, about control — it’s about something deeper, something primal that connects you in a way that goes beyond anything you’ve ever known.

“And you will never put yourself at risk again,” Carlos continues, his voice growing darker, more dangerous with each word. “Do you understand? You will never do anything that could endanger you, or anything that you know I would disapprove of.”

Your heart races as his words sink in, the power of his command wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. There’s no choice here, no room for defiance or rebellion — his will is absolute, and you are powerless against it.

“Yes, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nod slowly. “I understand.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might disobey him. But you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. The thought of going against him, of putting yourself in danger again, is unthinkable, not just because of the consequences, but because you know how much it would hurt him.

Carlos seems satisfied with your answer, his expression softening slightly as he releases your chin. “Good,” he says, his voice low, but no less commanding. “I don’t ever want to have this conversation again.”

You shake your head quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you press yourself closer to him. “We won’t,” you promise, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I swear, Carlos. I’ll be careful. I won’t … I won’t make you worry again.”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without warning, he crushes his lips against yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body trembling under the force of his desire. It’s a kiss that’s both a punishment and a reward, a reminder of the power he holds over you and the depths of his need for you.

Carlos’ hands are everywhere, his touch rough, possessive, as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours until there’s no space left between you. You can feel his control slipping, the leash he’s kept on himself fraying with each passing second, and it only heightens your own need, your own desperate desire to be consumed by him.

He pulls back slightly, his lips trailing down your neck, and you shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin. “You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low, a growl that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “Do you know that? You push me to the edge, and I can’t help but want to take you there with me.”

Your breath hitches as you feel his fangs scrape against your skin, a light, teasing touch that makes you whimper in anticipation. “Carlos …”

His name is a plea, a prayer, and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck. “Tell me what you want, amor,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive. “Beg me for it.”

Your heart races, your body trembling as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please,” you gasp, your voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Carlos … I need it. I need you.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s both cruel and comforting, and you feel his hand slide down to grip your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist. “I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the spot where your pulse races just beneath the surface. “Beg me to bite you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you know he’s testing you, pushing you to the edge of your endurance. But you’re too far gone to care, too desperate for his touch, his bite, to even think about pride or resistance.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you tilt your head back, offering him your throat. “Please, Carlos … bite me. I need it. I need you.”

Carlos growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, igniting a fire deep in your core. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval. “You’ve been so good for me.”

His lips brush against your skin, soft and teasing, before he sinks his fangs into your neck with a sharp, sudden bite. The pain is brief, almost sweet, as it melts into a wave of pleasure that crashes over you, stealing your breath, your thoughts, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the way he consumes you.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overwhelms you, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms. You can feel the pull of his fangs, the way he draws your blood with each slow, deliberate suck, and it’s intoxicating, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

But even as you feel yourself slipping away, lost in the ecstasy of his bite, Carlos is there, grounding you, his hands strong and sure as they hold you close. You can hear his voice, a low, soothing murmur in your ear, though you can’t make out the words — just the sound of it, the way it wraps around you, comforting you even as he drains you.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, just as you feel yourself beginning to fade, Carlos pulls back, his fangs slipping from your neck as he licks the wound closed with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his actions.

You’re left gasping, your body trembling with aftershocks, and you can barely hold yourself up as you cling to him, your mind a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. But Carlos isn’t done with you yet. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

He hovers over you, his eyes dark and unreadable as he studies your face, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re mine,” he says softly, his voice full of possessiveness, but also something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten with emotion. “Always.”

You can only nod, your voice lost in the whirlwind of sensations that still linger in your body. But you don’t need words — he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you cling to him, the way your body responds to his every touch.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s achingly tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. It’s a kiss that seals a promise, a bond that goes beyond the physical, beyond the blood you’ve shared.

But even as he pulls away, his eyes darken with something else, something that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a thrill of excitement through you. “You still haven’t earned your release, querida.”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’re still trembling, still reeling from the pleasure of his bite, but you know better than to think he’s going to let you off easy. Carlos is nothing if not thorough, and when he promises to punish you, he always follows through.

Carlos’ words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation. His body is a solid weight against yours, pinning you to the bed, and every touch, every brush of his skin against yours sends shockwaves of desire through you.

Yet, there’s a new tension in the room now, something more than just the heady mix of pain and pleasure. It’s the awareness that this is a punishment — a lesson, a reminder of the power he holds over you. But even as you dread the torment he might inflict, a part of you craves it, revels in the way he takes control.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Carlos’ voice is a low growl, rich with authority, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest against yours. His hand trails down your side, a teasing touch that makes you shiver. “About how you’re not allowed to tip over the edge until I say so?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and nod slowly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your need. “I remember.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a dangerous smile as he watches your reaction. “Because I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifts his body, moving down your length, and the absence of his weight leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. His hands glide over your skin, tracing patterns that make you gasp, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You try to lift your hips, desperate for some kind of friction, but Carlos’ hands are there, holding you down with a gentle but firm pressure.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts softly, shaking his head. “No moving. You’re going to lie there and take what I give you, understand?”

Your breath catches at the command in his voice, and you bite your lip, nodding. “Yes, Carlos,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darken with approval, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as it roams over your body, taking in every inch of you. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So obedient … so eager to please.”

Carlos’ hands slide lower, over the curve of your hips, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shudder as his fingers brush against the place where you ache for him the most. But just as quickly, he pulls back, leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration.

You let out a small, involuntary whimper, your body trembling with need, and Carlos’ eyes flash with something dark and primal. “Patience, mi amor,” he whispers, his voice a soothing caress. “You’ll get what you want … but only when I’m ready to give it to you.”

The anticipation is excruciating, each passing second a slow torture as Carlos continues to explore your body with languid, deliberate movements. Every brush of his fingers, every kiss he places on your skin, is designed to drive you mad with desire, to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you fall over.

“Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach for him, needing to feel him, to touch him. “Please …”

But he catches your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not in charge here,” he murmurs, his voice dark with intent. “I am. You’ll come when I say you can, and not a second before.”

The power in his words sends a thrill through you, even as you struggle against the restraints he’s placed on you. There’s something intoxicating about surrendering completely to him, about giving up control and letting him take the lead. And as much as it frustrates you, you can’t deny the way your body responds to his dominance, to the way he commands you with just a word, a touch.

Carlos releases your wrists, but the weight of his command keeps you in place, your arms trembling as you resist the urge to reach for him again. He moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, and you can’t help the way your muscles twitch under his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He pauses just above your core, his breath ghosting over your skin, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking contact, but he pulls back again, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So impatient,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. “But I suppose I can’t blame you … after all, I’ve kept you waiting for so long.”

Your breath hitches as he finally dips his head, his mouth descending on you with a deliberate slowness that makes you gasp. The first touch of his tongue is a shock of pleasure that sends a jolt through your body, and you arch off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat.

Carlos hums in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, his tongue working you with a skill that leaves you breathless. He’s relentless, his movements precise, calculated to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

You’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe under his touch, your body straining for release that remains just out of reach. The tension coils tighter and tighter, until you feel like you might shatter from the pressure.

“Carlos … please …” The words are a broken plea, a desperate cry for mercy, and you can hear the raw need in your own voice.

But Carlos is unmoved, his pace steady, unyielding as he pushes you further, dragging out your torment until you’re trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s a fire in them, a hunger that takes your breath away.

“Do you want to come, querida?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaking with desperation. “Please, Carlos … I need to …”

“Then beg for it,” he commands, his gaze locked on yours. “Beg me to let you come.”

The words send a thrill of anticipation through you, and you can feel your resolve crumbling, your pride slipping away in the face of your overwhelming need. “Please, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please … let me come. I can’t … I can’t take it anymore …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a satisfied smile, and he rewards your submission with a quick flick of his tongue that makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “You’ve been so good for me … I think you’ve earned it.”

His words are your undoing, the permission you’ve been craving, and as soon as they leave his lips, you feel the tension snap, the release crashing over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves you gasping for breath. Your vision blurs, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Carlos continues to work you through it, his hands and mouth relentless as he draws out every last drop of pleasure.

It’s too much, too overwhelming, and you find yourself sobbing with the intensity of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. But Carlos is there, grounding you, his touch soothing as he eases you back down, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subside, you collapse against the bed, utterly spent, your body trembling with aftershocks. Carlos lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice soft with affection as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t find the words to respond, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that lingers in your body. But you don’t need to say anything — Carlos can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you relax into his touch.

He shifts, moving to lie beside you, and you immediately curl into him, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Carlos wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

For a long moment, there’s only silence, the two of you lying together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. But even as your body begins to calm, your mind is racing, replaying the events of the night, the way Carlos took control, the way he commanded you.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you belong to him, that he holds this power over you. But it’s also comforting, a reminder that you’re safe, protected, that Carlos will always be there to guide you, to take care of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think to stop them.

Carlos stiffens slightly, and you feel a pang of uncertainty, wondering if you’ve said the wrong thing. But then he’s tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw honesty of his words, takes your breath away, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Carlos …”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, and you can feel the depth of his feelings in that simple touch. It's a kiss that seals a promise, one that transcends words, binding the two of you together in a way that’s eternal, unbreakable.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that speaks volumes — a silent vow that no matter what comes, you’ll face it together. “Forever,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, and you know he means it in every sense.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. “Forever,” you echo, feeling the word settle into your very soul.

In his arms, you feel complete, whole in a way you never imagined possible. And as the night wraps around you like a blanket, you let yourself drift, knowing that with Carlos by your side, eternity doesn’t seem nearly long enough.

[hotwritergf]

I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best. 🌤️

"You know, when we first met, I never figured you for this much of a cuddler." You murmured into his hair, the scent of his coconut hair products filling your nostrils and you sigh in the smell of home. Spencer was the embodiment of home for you. Be it the coffee cup that was practically super-glued into his hand, the bookshelf full of fantasy novels that he'd read to you in the early days of your relationship or the way his fingers fit over your curves and slot in place like puzzle pieces. He made you feel right, he made you feel at home.

"I'm typically not. But you're so warm, and soft." Spencer whispers, nestling his face further into your sternum. "And when I lay here, like this, I can see your freckles." He chuckles, tracing his index finger over the melanin constellations that are scattered across your nose and cheeks. "Plus your eyes are so pretty up close." He adds, rubbing his thumb lovingly over your cheek. You take a deep breath and smile as you exhale; a smile pinning the corners of your lips up.

"You don't have to say that, you know?" You whisper into his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Spencer frowns; a look of disappointment flooding over him as you make your insecurities known discreetly. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes." Spencer mimics taking his eyes out of his head and locking them in place on your face. Playfully making sound effects as he acts. "But don't you worry little-lady. I can love you enough for the both of us. I'd do anything to wake up to that face every day. Even if you do snore and dribble onto the pillow." He lets out a squeaky giggle, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip as if he was mopping up saliva. "What did I ever do to deserve you, Spencer Reid? My very own genius." You offer him a smile in return, your acrylic nails trailing up his wrist softly as he giggles under the much-too-light, ticklish touch; pulling his arm away from the sensations.

Spence wriggles in his seat; sitting up against the headboard, frantically tapping the bedside table to find his glasses. Once he does, he tips them onto his nose, his pupils dilate under the sight of you as his eyes meet yours with an eye-wide grin. "We're gonna be late. Gotta get up now sweetheart." He speaks in-between yawns, stretching his arms in the air and clicking his head from left to right. You groan, still a victim of the sandman. Climbing over his lap and slotting yourself over his legs, you glance up at him. Leaning your face only millimeters from his, admiring all of his features. His slight wrinkles by his eyes that you can only see when he's laughing harder than usual, his dimples that make each smile so much more personal. You wish you could climb right into that dimple crevice and live there forever under the heat of his smile. Resting your foreheads together, your eyelashes flutter on tops of his cheeks, giving him a delicate butterfly kiss. His lips smooth and delicate as they push into your own, each open mouth embrace ricocheting against your body both physically and mentally. Kissing Spencer feels like your being is traveling to a higher place, like you're evolving into another being; dancing in front the gates of heaven.

You tap on his shoulders; lifting your weight from his thighs. "No rest for the wicked." You smirk as he whines at the loss of your touch, rolling his eyes. Spencer stands at the side of the bed, offering his hand to help you up and draping his dressing gown over you. He leans over, his height still dominating you before he plants a peck on the tip of your nose. You're not sure what sunshine feels like in a person, but the human humidity that washes over you when Spencer touches you is as close to sunlight as you have ever known.

[wokeupinmars]

Agree to Disagree

Summary: Peter doesn’t believe you when you tell him you would've had a crush on him if you had known him in high school.

Warnings: None, this is just fluff featuring Husband!Peter and a Brooklyn Nine-Nine quote :)

TASM!Peter Parker Masterlist

Half-packed boxes surround you as you sit on the floor, a beaming smile plastered on your face as you go through a stack of photographs. Your husband leans against the doorway watching you, “Good to know that neither of us did much packing.”

You turn your attention from the pictures to Peter, “Got distracted by old stuff too?” He steps further into the room and takes a seat beside you, “Big time. Found my old DS and spent the past thirty minutes playing Mario Kart, you?”

You turn a photo around to show him, captured within the glossy film is a younger version of yourselves, sitting at what appears to be May’s kitchen table, Peter’s elbow propped up on the table with his chin resting in his hand, grinning as you excitedly talk about something. “I wonder what I was talking about here,” you say, turning it back to you.

He tilts his head to the side, giving the picture another, before taking the rest of the stack out of your hands and starts looking through them himself, “Hand gestures and the passion in your eyes tells me it’s about why Amy and Laurie were perfect together and how Jo and Laurie were platonic soulmates .”

You perked up at the mention, “They were platonic soul-” Peter cuts you off, “Why do we have a picture of MJ and Harry making out?” Your eyes scan the photo in confusion, but you quickly light up, realizing why the photo was in your possession, “Oh! It’s from the night we met, look, you can see us in the background.”

“You mean the night you fell madly in love with me after we all played Monopoly and you threw the thimble at my head because I bought Illinois Avenue and refused to sell to you?”

“Peter.” Your voice was stern despite the playful look in your eye. He lets out a huff, “The night you flirted with me for twenty seconds, and I became obsessed with you forever.”

A giggle leaves your lips at his words, “That’s more like it. MJ showed me, and I asked for a copy; it’s technically the first photo of us together, even if we weren’t dating yet. I wanted to remember it.”

“Aww, you like me,” he teases and scoots over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He glances down at the picture, analyzing the background, and sure enough, there you two were sitting on the couch, his arm draped around the back of it, laughing as you whispered something in his ear. “Most days…oh my goodness! Look at this baby,” you say, spotting a picture of Peter from high school, “You’re so cute and dorky…or well, extra. God, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He scoffs at your statement, “Yeah right…I was so nerdy and awkward back then, high school you would have never given high school me the time of day.”

“Peter, my love, I need you to shut up, that’s future my husband you’re talking about.” You furrow your brows at him.

He shook his head and persisted, determined to make his point, “I’m serious. There’s no way you would have liked me then, I was this lame and insecure guy who had no idea how to talk to girls.”

“Okay? So was everyone else. I know I didn’t know you then, but I feel like you’re selling yourself short here. I mean, look at you.” You push the picture in his face, “Look at this cutie. He’s super smart and pretty and even if he’s unaware of it, charming. I would've been head over heels for this guy if we met back then. I’d also like to add that we’ve ran into several people who explicitly told you they had a crush on you back then.”

His lips twitched up slightly, “That’s really nice of you to say, Honey. But we didn’t meet back then, you met and fell for MJ’s hot friend with bleached hair in college.”

“Wrong. I was under the impression you were a dickhead before we met. I will be the first to admit that you were, in fact, a hot blonde, and I did begin to warm up to you after Monopoly was over, but I didn’t fall for you until you started rambling about string theory. I had never seen someone light up the way you did, and the way you talked…you explained everything in a way that never made me feel stupid. Plus, you got so flustered and started stammering over your words after I wiped salsa from the corner of your mouth and that-”

“-was embarrassing.” He concludes.

You shake your head, “It was adorable, you were so blushy.”

“That feels like an appropriate reaction when you nerd out in front of the pretty girl you've been trying to impress all night with salsa on your face, but you’ve made your point.” He pauses for a second, then continues, “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

You reach your hands out to cup his face and look into his eyes, “I was impressed, I love you and that big beautiful brain of yours. All it took was one conversation with you for me to know I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you, and I was right. It was true then, and it’s true now, and I’m certain high school me would have felt the same.” You give him a chaste kiss when you finish speaking.

Peter smiles into your kiss and then murmurs something against your lips, “God, it’s like you have a crush on me or something.”

[defectivevillain]

cooking up a storm

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

reader's pronouns are he/him and he's written to be gay; otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: You start a new job as a cameraman for the show Kitchen Nightmares, featuring award-winning chef Hannibal Lecter. Every day brings something new—often something disgusting, uncomfortable, or otherwise baffling. But, hey, that’s what you signed up for. Hotels and bars, on the other hand… You didn’t expect to add those to the list.

word count: 7.7k | ao3 version

warnings: cursing, suggestive humor & themes, partial nudity from an unnamed character, alcohol consumption.

notes: this is an absolute beast of a fic, just because i wrote it in narrative/script hybrid format. so it's a LOT to scroll through. you've been warned!

I was watching Kitchen Nightmares/Hotel Hell/Bar Rescue as I wrote this. I took inspiration from them, but I’m not writing about any of the real people. Hence why this is a Hannibal fic.

enjoy!

Kitchen Nightmares is infamous for… well… kitchen nightmares. As foolish as it may sound, some of the restaurants on the show are completely and utterly disgusting. Health violations, animals like rats and raccoons running through the restaurants, fruit flies in drinks, raw chicken stuck together in a greying sludge… The list goes on. None of it is appetizing. Watching the show religiously would probably give a person enough reason to swear off restaurants forever. 

Why you apply to be a cameraman for the show, you’re not exactly sure. You did want more action and adventure—your previous jobs had been too monotonous and boring for your liking. But going from a simple advertisement agency to filming Kitchen Nightmares… It’s a full 180. Still, you know you’re good at what you do—so you go through the interview process with confidence. You get through the first phone interview, and then a digital interview. Your final interview has you entering the studio and filming some promotional material. The supervisor assures you that you’d be out filming at restaurants more often, but he wanted to get a sense of your abilities. And apparently, all of your demo footage wasn’t enough. 

It’s stressful, but when you receive the call a few days later informing you that you’ve gotten the job, you’re ecstatic. It’s a well-paying job; not to mention, you’re sure there’s never a boring day. Combined with good benefits and generous vacation time, you’re convinced you’ve made the right decision. 

Your first few days aren’t very eventful—namely because you’re confined to the studio, where virtually no filming occurs. The show is always on the road, as Chef Hannibal Lecter visits restaurants across the nation. Producers comb through submission tapes and choose what restaurants he’ll visit. Then, Lecter will stop by to inspect things and get a sense of what he’s working with. After that comes extensive training, menu refinement, and sometimes even interior design and renovations. Safe to say, Lecter has his hands full. While it may seem like the work on the show is easy and smooth, you recognize that he’s a lot more involved than people may think. 

You haven’t met him just yet, but you’re sure you will once you’re on the road. You don’t expect to be bustling through the studio one day, only to nearly crash into the man himself. You reel back a bit, righting your balance. 

“Sorry,” you say quickly. That wasn’t necessarily the first impression you were hoping for. But oh well. There are rarely any other people in the studio, so you don’t necessarily blame yourself for nearly colliding with him. Lecter doesn’t seem too bothered about it either, instead waving off your apology with a kind smile. 

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he hums. “Hannibal Lecter. Pleasure.” 

You extend a hand for a handshake; he returns the gesture and places a free hand on your shoulder, before leaning in and kissing you on each cheek. When he pulls back, you’re flabbergasted. It takes you a moment to remember to introduce yourself in return. You’re a bit flustered. But, then again, you’re probably reading into it. The guy’s Lithuanian and frequently in Europe, so that was just a European greeting. Right? 

Fortunately, you’re spared from any further embarrassment by the production assistant, who grabs you and starts briefing you on the next restaurant the crew is going to visit. As you walk away, you feel like Lecter is watching you—but when you turn around, he’s engrossed in conversation with someone else. 

INTERIOR – Confessional. 

A short individual interview with you. On a banner near the bottom of the screen, your name and role (“camera crew”) are displayed in white font. You’re seen pinching the bridge of your nose, shaking your head in disbelief before looking at the camera.

You I’ve never smelled something so foul in my entire life. Some of us were wearing face masks when we were filming.

The camera then cuts to a behind-the-scenes shot of another cameraman, who can be seen nearly gagging as he places a hand over his mouth.

You (sighing) Yeah… Not fun. 

Twitter

judasjudahahas who’s the hot camera guy on Kitchen Nightmares???? And can we see more of him??? Asking for a friend. #KitchenNightmares

→ upsidedownapple: yesss omg his confessionals were so funny

→ gratattata: we stan him fr

INTERIOR – Chef Lecter’s car. Mid-day, rainy weather. Hannibal sits in the driver’s seat; you’re seated in the passenger’s seat, behind the camera as you film his reaction to this restaurant’s “Soup of the Day.” It was served to him through the drive-thru, which isn’t exactly promising. 

Hannibal holds a styrofoam cup in his hand, and he glances down at it with a mildly disgusted expression. 

Chef Lecter (sarcastically) Wonderful. Smell this. 

You (quickly) No thanks. That’s your job, not mine.

Chef Lecter (laughs) Fair enough.

A beat of silence.

Chef Lecter But look, at the very least. (tilts the cup down)

The camera zooms in on the soup served in a styrofoam cup; the texture is chunky and there are weird orange bits in it. 

You Ew. 

Chef Lecter This looks like one of those McDonald’s desserts. 

You A McFlurry?

Chef Lecter Yes. That. 

You (restrained laughter)  Pffft. You didn’t even know the name of it? 

Chef Lecter That’s not my job. 

You Right, fixing mediocre mom-and-pop restaurants is your job. 

Silence. Hannibal’s lips quirk at the edges, close to smiling. Then he shakes his head to refocus. 

Chef Lecter (grimacing at the camera)  Here goes. 

You’re quiet as you film him. Hannibal dips the spoon into the mixture, picks some up and looks at it. Chunks fall from the spoon and back into the cup. You shudder.

You’re watching Hannibal expectantly. He’s entirely silent, his face almost completely devoid of emotion. You’re not sure how long you sit there in complete silence. Hannibal just isn’t saying anything. 

Chef Lecter (diplomatically) …Well then. 

You  (bursting into laughter) I’m so sorry— hold on— 

The screen goes dark as you place the camera in your lap. For a few moments, all that can be heard is your laughter. Then you regain your composure and pick the camera back up again, pointing it at Hannibal. 

Chef Lecter (smirking slightly) Ready now? 

You (still fighting off laughter) Yes. Go ahead. 

Hannibal repeats the same actions as before, dipping a spoon into the mixture before bringing it to his lips. 

Chef Lecter (contemplative) Hm. Cold. 

You (sputtering) I’m sorry— That was—!

A few more moments of laughter. Then, you take a slow breath. 

Chef Lecter (fighting off a smile)  You’d better straighten up soon. I don’t think my body will tolerate much more of this soup. 

You  (pulling it together)  You’re right, my bad. Okay, last time. Go ahead. 

Chef Lecter tastes the soup, pulls a face. He describes the abhorrent flavor profile and cold temperature; you watch on silently. Eventually, it’s clear you’ve gotten the shot. 

Chef Lecter Finally. I’m starting to think you did that on purpose. 

You (with faux-innocence)  Me? Never. 

INT. – Confessional.  A voice from off screen speaks: So, you were the one to find that hidden freezer in the preliminary inspection. 

You (shuddering) Unfortunately. 

The camera cuts to black-and-white footage of a door hidden behind piles of boxes. From behind the camera in the flashback, you reach and open the door. The camera shakes a bit as you evidently grasp what you’re seeing. 

You Chef Lecter wasn’t pleased to see that. But I don’t really blame him. I mean, that’s gotta be several health violations. And a secret freezer? Their walk-in freezer was huge and it wasn’t even full. Very suspicious.

INT. – Jack’s Pub. It’s a rowdy dinner service, with waiters and guests bustling around the far too small space. 

You’re filming some B-roll when you’re suddenly jostled by a passing guest. You’re thrown off balance for a second before you manage to steady yourself. 

Chef Lecter (turning to look directly at you) Are you all right?

You (blinking) Yeah, I’m good.  

Chef Lecter (looking at the tight space around you) Ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

You (jokingly) Maybe us crew members need camouflage or something. Like those National Geographic photographers.

The chef laughs. You’re surprised by the gesture—you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him express such amusement before. 

Chef Lecter Yes, that would be beneficial. It is somewhat akin to photographing wildlife, isn’t it?

You (scoffing, before lowering your voice) Yeah. But without, y’know, the dignity and respect. These places are dumps, so even the best shots look completely shitty.

Chef Lecter (lips quirking at the edges)  True. But you’re making me look good. 

You That isn’t exactly difficult to do. 

You don’t realize the gravity of what you’ve said until you see Hannibal’s eyebrows climb up his face. You immediately look away, trying to pretend as if you hadn’t said anything. 

EXTERIOR – Dumort Hotel. A gaudy hotel with bright pink walls and pastel yellow shingles looms over you. This is one of the first few episodes of Hannibal’s new show, Hotel Hell. After four successful seasons of Kitchen Nightmares, the network is deciding to expand and give him another program. 

You pay a disbelieving glance at Hannibal as you stand in front of the garish hotel. 

You  You’re really a masochist, huh? Was all the food poisoning and filth not enough for you? 

Hannibal  (huffs in amusement) I suppose it wasn’t. Now we’re adding crumbling wallpaper and burnished antiques to the mix. 

Hannibal heads up the steps and you follow after him, filming the whole way. When you reach the front doors, there’s a comically large door knocker that he pointedly ignores. He holds the door open for you and you murmur a word of gratitude quietly, before stepping into the space. 

The lobby is just as much of an eyesore as the exterior of the building. There’s a complete mess of colors: each as bright and dizzying as the last. There are furry armchairs and leather sofas scattered around the space. You zoom in on the cushions, which are tattered and look stained. 

The owner of the hotel, Maxine, steps out from behind the desk. To your surprise, Hannibal doesn’t kiss her on the cheek—instead opting for a more formal handshake. This only reminds you of your first meeting. You take a deep breath and focus on the conversation as you’re filming. 

Maxine Chef Lecter, I’m so thrilled to see you! 

Hannibal  Oh, please, call me Hannibal.  

Maxine Very well, Hannibal. I just know that you’ll enjoy your stay here. 

Hannibal I’m sure I will. 

The smile on his face is ever so slightly sarcastic, as if he knows just how much of a nightmare this place is going to be. Maxine doesn’t seem to notice this, instead looking at the camera. 

Maxine (curiously) And who’s this? 

You’re hiding your face behind your camera at this point. But she doesn’t relent, and eventually you’re forced to show yourself. 

You (awkwardly) Oh. Um… hi.

Maxine Hello! Enchanted to meet you, darling. 

She holds her hand out pointedly. 

You (hesitantly kissing the top of her hand)  …Nice to meet you too. 

That’s strange. She didn’t do anything like that with Hannibal. You frown, hiding the gesture behind your camera as you continue filming. 

Maxine Now, shall I lead you to your room, Hannibal?

Hannibal Please. 

His tone is almost imperceptibly clipped, as if he’s slightly frustrated. 

INT. – Confessional. Hannibal recalls his first impressions of the Dumort Hotel lobby. 

Tell us about the lobby. 

Hannibal There was a veritable mess of colors. Way too much neon. And I believe the chandelier in the center was broken, which is a safety hazard. 

And the owner, Maxine, seemed quite…

Hannibal (tersely) Friendly. 

Overly friendly, some might say. 

Hannibal I would agree. If that was her attempt at buttering us up before we explored the hotel… Well, it didn’t exactly work in her favor. 

EXTERIOR – Dumort Hotel hot tub. 

You’re standing on the deck, where an above-ground hot tub rests innocuously. Hannibal left briefly to change. Upon his return, you quickly tilt the camera down.

Hannibal (curious) What are you doing? 

You Just figured you wouldn’t want to be shirtless on national television. 

Hannibal  Ah. That is… a good point.

You (stammering)  Not like you have anything to be ashamed of! I just mean— 

Hannibal  (with a fond huff)  I understand. I appreciate the gesture. 

You (attempting to recover your dignity)  Good. 

It’s quiet as Hannibal steps over to the hot tub. You still have your camera pointed down. He eventually crouches and manages to step in. 

You Ready? 

Hannibal Sure. Care to join me?

You (shaking your head) No thanks. I don’t even like regular hot tubs. Let alone… whatever that is.

Hannibal  A shame. 

You You’re not supposed to be talking to me, you know. 

Hannibal Oh? 

You I mean, the viewers aren’t supposed to know I exist. 

Hannibal  You filmed some confessionals for Kitchen Nightmares, no?

You You know what I mean. 

Hannibal (teasing) And what am I supposed to do by myself, hm? This hot tub is depressing enough; this situation is completely undignified. 

You lock eyes with him over your camera and roll your eyes. 

INT. – Your room at Dumort Hotel, later that night. 

You open the door and are immediately hit with a nauseating wave of stench. It’s thick enough to give you a headache right away. For a moment, you’re just frozen in the doorway in shock and horror. This is where you’re supposed to sleep for the night…?

Then you sigh and pull out your camera, turning it on. 

You (briefly turning the camera to yourself, before showing the room)  So… this is where I’m supposed to stay. And it smells like death. But, hey, at least we’ll get some good footage. Right? Haha… 

You explore the room in search for the source of the smell. Eventually you find it: it’s the mattress. You almost don’t want to look. The last thing you want to find is an animal or fungus and mold. You pull the mattress back in what feels like slow motion. 

…There’s nothing. You frown and put the mattress back down, only to feel something hit your arm. You look down in confusion, finding a drop of water running down your forearm. You pan the camera up slowly, unable to hide a choked gasp as you see the hole in the roof above. Zooming in on it reveals a consistent flow of liquid.

You (to the camera)  It’s supposed to rain tonight too. Great. 

You pause the camera and watch the ceiling for a moment, before confirming that it’s still leaking. Damn it. You’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep. There is a sofa a ways down the hall… You could just sleep there.

You’re sitting on the sofa for no more than a few minutes when Hannibal exits his room and heads down the hall, pausing when he sees you.  

Hannibal  What are you doing out here? 

You Um… nothing important. 

Hannibal  (astutely) What is it?

You  (sighing defeatedly)  My room had a hole in the roof. And it’s raining, of course. 

Hannibal (with a sympathetic smile)  Of course. 

Hannibal …I’d be happy to share my room with you. 

You (politely) No, it’s fine— 

Hannibal  I insist. Can’t have you getting sick—it’s drafty out here. 

Hannibal’s soon helping you to your feet and guiding you with a hand on your shoulder, leaving you no choice but to share his room with him. 

INT. – Hannibal’s hotel room. Early the next morning. You’re wearing a simple shirt and sweatpants; Hannibal is wearing a cardigan and slacks. His version of a casual outfit, you suppose. 

Hannibal (looking at the camera)  So we were roused— 

You  (interjecting, briefly panning the camera down to the floor)  Wait, wait, wait. You should probably just say “I”.

Hannibal  Why?

You Otherwise, y’know. We shared a room, people will think… 

Hannibal I don’t mind. 

You (surprised) Oh. Okay. Then… start over, I guess. 

Hannibal  (staring at the camera once more)  We were roused this morning by an ear-piercing shriek, which proved to be a rooster outside… 

Twitter

Trending Hotel Hell Related tags: #HotelHell, #HotelGayHell, #ChefLecter

spaghettihands what am i watching and why do i love it SO MUCH #HotelHell

imeankingggg Production is WILD for keeping the whole Maxine/Camera Guy interaction in the show #HotelGayHell

→ grrrrr8ate: RIGHT????? 

→ fuygieri: hannibal seemed lowkey jealous

→ greenhamneggs: LOWKEY??? Bitch he was so snippy with maxine after

→ ooglyboogly: trueeee

drhouseapologist that shit was so gay. They stayed there OVERNIGHT. TOGETHER. IN THE SAME ROOM??????????? #HotelGayHell

→ bananananana: lIKRRRRR i’m in shamblessss

→ crystalmegs: and judging from the clip he filmed, the camera guy had his own room!!! I think his was the one with the hole in the ceiling 😭

→ grianbriffin: ^i just know that mildew smelled so rank 

→ yagamilightoh: YES BECAUSE HANNIBAL SAID “we were roused” 

→ yugylimaf: WAS THERE ONLY ONE BED????????

→ thespudhutmanager: LORDDD the people need to knowwwwww pleaseeeeeeEEE

yopapa anyone else think it’s funny that hannibal dresses so nicely to go to these absolutely awful hotels and restaurants

→ user39751: yes lolllll

→ toucanscram: he’s so charming that i think people forget he’s there to tear them apart

→ tropicannotdothis: **help them. supposedly. hahaha. 

INT. – Sylvie’s Bar and Grill. Noon.

What was a relatively peaceful lunch hour is quickly interrupted by the sound of loud music. Dancers draped in gaudy, revealing golden fabric weave their way through the tables. Everyone is immensely uncomfortable. The display is entirely unnecessary and inappropriate—there are children eating at the restaurant.

You’ve had plenty of memorable moments throughout the seasons you’ve been filming, but this one easily takes the cake. It doesn’t help that one of the dancers locks eyes with you (or the camera, you’re not sure) and advances on you, to the point where you’re backing away from her. Her hand grazes your arm and you can’t scramble back nearly quick enough for your liking. In your attempt to escape, you bump into someone behind you. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder makes you flinch. Fear races through you.

Chef Lecter (reassuringly)  It’s just me. 

His hand slips from your shoulder. You’re barely paying attention to the shots you’re getting, at this point—too wound up from what just happened. There’s a displeased expression on the chef’s face. He clears his throat pointedly. 

Chef Lecter (firmly) Please do not touch my crew. 

The air falls silent. The music is paused. The entire restaurant seems to be holding its breath. The diners are uncomfortable, and the dancers are still. Eventually, they retreat and return to service. 

You (turning to Hannibal) Thanks.  

Hannibal Of course. Are you all right? 

You Um… yeah, thanks. 

Hannibal (imploringly) Take a breather, please. I can’t imagine we’ll need any more footage of… that.  

He looks disgusted, annoyed. Repulsed, even. It takes you a moment to comprehend his offer, but once you do, you nod jerkily and head out the side door of the restaurant. You pause your camera and take a deep breath. Within a few minutes, you’re composed enough to return to the restaurant. Seeing Hannibal berate them in that sophisticated diction of his is all you need to feel better. 

YouTube

kitchendreamsfan1

chef lecter simping for the camera guy for six minutes gay 

featuring some moments from hotel hell!! if you haven’t watched it, then you should. episode 5 at Dumort Hotel has a shit ton of gay moments between these two. mwhahahha… 

Comments: 

diefrownhate: you are a SAINT

→ broombroommm: a POPE

→ keonlennedy: a BISHOP

→ poppyistired: pope is better but alright…

→ keonlennedy: shut up i don’t know christian mythology leave me alone

→ poppyistired: christian mythology? i’m stealing that lolol

saphael4L: lecter putting his hand on the camera guy’s shoulder at 3:04 !!!!!!! and the fucking look on his fucking face!!!!

dokidokidookie: do you think they’ve explored each other’s bodies

→ charizander: do you think you could log off for me

→ dokidokidookie: never

→ charizander: ok well i’ve done my civic duty idc anymore

INTERIOR – Colby’s Restaurant. Morning. 

Chef Hannibal Lecter has a reputation for being cool, calm, and collected. He never lashes out at people, never even reacts to their insults. And most people, they’re able to recognize that—and respect it. But there will always be morons. 

This particular owner, Colby Smith, is a piece of fucking work. He’s been a complete and utter asshole to his staff, his customers, the crew, and even Hannibal himself from the very beginning. And while Chef Lecter has a commendable amount of patience, it isn’t limitless. 

Colby is going on another tirade, hurling insults left and right. He’s cursing so much that practically every other word will have to be censored. And the target of his ire? Hannibal. That’s right. Hannibal Lecter, the angel who gives people second and third chances when they don’t deserve them. 

All it had taken was a simple question from Hannibal for Colby to go ballistic. Suddenly he’s spouting off about being emasculated, manipulated, used for profit, forced to play a role, painted as the villain. He goes on and on and on. 

Hannibal is… uncharacteristically silent. Usually, he attempts to reason with people. Today, he is silent and nearly frozen in the face of this owner’s criticisms. And even as you keep filming, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s genuinely upsetting him. 

“Cut!” the director yells. 

Hannibal is tense. His shoulders are drawn tight. His posture is perfect as always, but it almost looks rigid now. He hasn’t budged since the cameras stopped rolling. 

You’re moving before you can think better of it. 

You  Audio’s a bit spotty. Hannibal, mic check, come on.

The audio’s fine. You just needed an excuse to get him away. And you get the feeling he wouldn’t want to be asked after in front of the entire crew. So you lead him through the restaurant and to the alleyway outside. 

You (considering him for a moment)  Are you okay?

Hannibal  (without hesitation)  Of course.

You don’t believe him. 

You  Just take a few minutes. 

You can’t help but sneak concerned glances at him. Hannibal is quiet, much too quiet. The blank expression on his face would fool most, but you’ve been working with him long enough to recognize when it’s a facade. 

Hannibal is still silent. You feel compelled to speak, to reassure him somehow.

You You always want to help people. You see the best in them. And I’ve always respected that about you.

More silence. 

You (gaining more confidence)  But you need to know when to draw the line.

Hannibal is looking at you now. 

You You don’t owe these people anything. They’re fucking dicks. And if they can’t accept your help, then they sure as hell don’t deserve it.

There’s a pause. Neither of you try to fill the silence. You study Hannibal. There’s a harsher pull to his lips now. His mask is cracking, slowly but surely. 

You (slowly) You can’t help everyone. I know it sucks, but it’s the truth. 

Hannibal  (exhaling in a measured breath)  You’re right. 

You  (jokingly)  And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s no shortage of bad restaurants in this country. 

Hannibal (a hint of a tired smile rising on his lips) I am beginning to realize that, yes. 

Twitter

Trending Kitchen Nightmares Related Tags: #ChefLecter, #CameraGuy

wildonesare oh the camera people were SO SHADY for filming that convo between hannibal and the camera guy… not that i’m not grateful, ofc 😏 #KitchenNightmares

→ torturedpoetrydept: IKR

→ phineasferbfanfic: they made that shit as dramatic as possible

→ boo_briangriffin_boo: right??? no video, just audio?? and the subtitles were crazy too. “loaded silence” ????  like, helloooo??

grapesouda did we really just find the one restaurant that even hannibal lecter couldn’t save? #KitchenNightmares

→fourthpowerpuffgirl: lord i think we did

→ nerfornuthin: the owner seemed like such a fucking dick, hope he rots <3 

→ fourthpowerpuffgirl: supposedly he’s in prison now, so… i think he probably is rotting

→ nerfornuthin: …oh! oh! i didn’t know that LOLLLL

→ fourthpowerpuffgirl: ahaha you’re good, dw abt it. i think it was pretty recent. 

thatsnotbullying the camera guy was so sweet i’m sobbing

→ kissmya33: hannibal probably appreciated it so much

 

asstutes I HAVE A THEORY THAT THE RUSTLING CLOTHES AT THE END OF THE CONVO WAS HANNIBAL & THE CAMERA GUY HUGGING #KitchenNightmares

→ potatoh_: GENIUSSSS

INT. – Jack Crawford’s car. Jack Crawford, the host of Bar Rescue, has invited Hannibal and you as guests for the episode. He’s visiting a bar in Virginia called Sadie’s. 

Hannibal and you enter the car. You’re nervous, your chest practically stewing in unease as you hop into the backseat. Maybe you can just sit here quietly, and everyone will forget you exist. 

Jack Crawford Welcome, you two.

Hannibal We’re delighted to be joining you.

Jack Crawford Chef Lecter, you’re an expert on food. And you’re— (he turns to glance back at you)

You (quickly) I’m not an expert on anything. 

Jack Crawford That’s not what I was going to say. 

Hannibal (chidingly)  Don’t sell yourself short, dear. Besides, if there’s one thing these people are lacking, it’s common sense—something you have in spades.

Jack Crawford Very good. There we go. 

A few beats of silence. 

Now, before we get started, I have to ask: are you two close?

You decide to wait for Hannibal to answer. 

Hannibal We’re good friends, yes.

You blink in surprise. Truthfully, you thought the same—but you didn’t want to make any assumptions. Plus, Hannibal isn’t exactly the type to make friends. You’re happy to hear he sees you as a good friend, though. The two of you have been working together for a few years now, after all. 

Jack Crawford Excellent. Just asking for the fans. (he winks at the camera)

Twitter 

Trending Bar Rescue Related tags: #ChefLecter, #JackKnows

mikuhatsunemikukuuuu LMFAO Jack wasn’t slick 🤣 “asking for the fans” yeah right… #JackKnows

→ corporatepridemonth: i mean he was brave enough to ask to their faces so

→ byebyebyeeee: right???? he said what we were all thinking. the voice of the people. 

→ waitin4u: sry… what is it we’re all thinking

→ user9191: that hannibal and the camera guy are dating!

→ waitin4u: ohhhh! well duh 

→ user9191: lmfao exactly 

boomboompowww the camera guy was so self-deprecating 😭😭 which, i mean, mood. but also SIR YOU DESERVE TO BE IN THAT CAR 😭😭 

→ therealjoeyjoe: yeah he’s probably more familiar with crazy people than hannibal and jack. just because of his crew job on the shows. 

→ tyyoufish: i just know he has some wild stories…

→ witharakemom: and then hannibal noticing he’s being quiet and encouraging him to talk after😭😭 

→ comeonbeverly: omfg i didn’t even notice that until now!!!!!

INT. – Jack Crawford’s car. Some time has passed since you both first entered. The three of you watched the bar through the hidden cameras for a while. 

Jack Crawford (determined)  Now, I have a bit of a special assignment for you two. You’re going to join me for recon. We’ll go in and pose as customers. Are you ready? 

You Ready as I’ll ever be.

Hannibal nods in evident agreement. 

Jack Crawford Good. Let’s go.

The three of you exit the car and enter the restaurant. You’re seated at a table, Jack Crawford next to you and Hannibal across from you. 

You It’s weird being on the other side of this. 

Waitress Hi, folks. What can I get started for ya?

Hannibal Do you have a drink menu?

Waitress No.

Jack Crawford Alright. He’ll get a Manhattan and I’ll get an old-fashioned. And he’ll have—

Oh, and she’s walking away already. 

(laughs disbelievingly, staring after the waitress before shaking his head)

You It’s okay; I’m fine with water, actually. 

Jack Crawford Your liver thanks you. 

You laugh. 

Jack Crawford And apologies, Chef Lecter, for ordering without asking you first. I’m sure you’d prefer wine, but judging from the look of this place…

Hannibal (nodding) They don’t have it. 

Jack Crawford Exactly. Now, let’s take a look at the menu. I’m going to defer to Chef Lecter here for some of the specifics. 

Hannibal (humming) This is a strange menu for a bar. These items aren’t exactly… affordable to the standard bar patron. 

Jack Crawford I agree. $30 for a burger is highway robbery. But we’ll be ordering it, of course. When our waitress remembers to come back.

Five minutes pass… then ten… then fifteen. 

Jack Crawford I suspect she’s forgotten about us. Not great service.

Hannibal No. And I believe I see the bartender sneaking drinks over there. 

Jack Crawford Great. Just great. 

The waitress returns after around twenty-five minutes, which Crawford times on his watch. 

Jack Crawford (greeting her) Ah, so you do remember us. Where are our drinks?

Waitress (motioning back to the bartender) He’s making them.

Jack Crawford Well, in the meantime, we’d like to order some food. Let’s do… the nachos, the bison burger—medium, please—the mozzarella sticks, and the pepperoni pizza.

Waitress Got it.  (walks away)

Jack Crawford I tried to simulate the dining experience with that one. Sometimes, we have recon order the whole menu. I have a feeling we won’t need to do that here.

Hannibal I suspect you’re right. 

The bar is, safe to say, a complete and utter mess. Most of the staff is drinking and messing around. Some aren’t even behind the bar. And the owner, as Jack points out, is taking shots and flirting with the customers. One bartender passes by another, calling her a “messy bitch” and “whore.”

You  I can say I’ve had some similar experience. My first job was working for a fast food place—I did headset for the drive-thru. Minimum wage, close quarters, busy lunch and dinner hours, rude customers… I get it. But that’s no excuse to be talking to coworkers like that. 

Hanniba I agree.

Jack Crawford I’ve noticed these things often happen because of a lack of management. The owner or manager doesn’t have any credibility, so the employees get comfortable. They do whatever they want because they can get away with it. And the blame lies with both parties there: the owner and the employee. 

You Also, I don’t think people realize that having a bar means having a business. It’s not a playground or a hang out space for your friends. So many of these people just buy a bar because they think it’ll be fun. Free drinks! But it sinks them every time. 

Hannibal and Jack are both quiet.

You (self-consciously) What?

Hannibal (sincerely) I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

Jack Crawford (nodding in agreement) Yes, that’s what this often boils down to, isn’t it? These owners never consider the practical parts of running a business: food and drink costs, labor costs. They don’t enforce any kind of standards; they let their staff get away with whatever the hell they want. And then they wonder why they’re failing. 

You I don’t envy you, Jack. 

Jack Crawford (diplomatically) Oh, I’m sure you two can relate. You’ve seen hotel and restaurant owners of the exact same breed. 

Hannibal Yes, we have. 

You Hannibal definitely has the harder job. I just have to film it. 

Hannibal (politely) We’ve both had our moments. You’ve been nearly stampeded by chefs before, if I recall correctly. 

You Oh, yeah, that’s true.

The waitress returns with the drinks. 

Jack Crawford (muttering) Right on time. 

Hannibal frowns down at his drink. Jack does too. 

You I’m not an alcohol expert, but… that doesn’t look right.

Hannibal (takes a sip, pulling a face for a fraction of a second) That’s revolting. 

Jack Crawford (takes a sip of his drink) Disgusting. This doesn’t taste anything like an old-fashioned. 

You How long do you think the food will take? I’m guessing… thirty more minutes.

Jack Crawford At least.

As expected, the food doesn’t arrive for forty minutes. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing: the bison burger is dripping with grease, the nachos are a giant clump, and the pepperoni pizza has sauce on top of the cheese. Maybe the mozzarella sticks are safe? You hesitantly poke at one with a fork. 

Hannibal Don’t eat that, sweetheart. 

You blink, surprised to find his hand on your wrist as he prevents you from putting your fork into the mozzarella stick. 

You Okay, I won’t. But I’m curious to see what it looks like on the inside. 

Hannibal’s hand slips away; you cut through the mozzarella stick with the side of your fork. The inside is a liquidy mess. You put a hand over your mouth in disgust before thanking Hannibal. He nods and smiles ever so slightly in return. 

Jack Crawford This is so disgusting. And look at these nachos.

Jack grabs a chip from the nachos and they emerge in one giant clump. 

Jack Crawford Chef Lecter, have you ever seen someone fuck up nachos this badly?

Hannibal Never. 

You That looks like it could be a decoration for the wall.

Jack Crawford (huffing as he holds it to the brick wall)  It does. 

You On that note, what kind of bar just has empty walls? This place is depressing. 

Jack Crawford I’ve seen alleys with more interior design. 

You Me too. 

Hannibal cuts into the burger with a fork and knife. His sleeves are getting closer to the juice dripping from the burger. You’re reaching out to push his sleeves up before you can stop yourself. 

Those stains would be a nightmare to get out. 

Hannibal (appreciatively)  Thank you. 

He pushes the sliced burger apart with the knife. The inside of the burger has no pink. 

Hannibal  This is well-done. 

You It looks past that. Like charcoal. 

Jack Crawford Here. 

Jack reaches out and removes the patty from the burger. Then he knocks it against the table. There’s a dull thunking sound, as if the burger is completely solid. 

You Oh, gross. 

Jack hits it against the table a bit harder and crumbs come off in chunks. 

Hannibal  The pizza dough looks raw. None of these dishes are successful. 

Jack Crawford I want to meet the chef who served these. Let’s go to the kitchen, shall we?

The three of you get up from your seats. You follow behind Jack and Hannibal, briefly pausing at the host stand. 

You Their computers aren’t even on. If they have a POS system they’re paying for… 

Hannibal Then they’re certainly not using it.

You (surprised he was listening) Right. 

You linger before the kitchen. Truthfully, you don’t feel like you should be here. The show usually has guest experts. But you’re not really an expert at anything, save for filming. 

Actually… that gives you an idea.

I’m going to grab some B-roll. Make myself useful.

Hannibal (frowning) You are always useful. 

You You know what I mean. 

You turn on the handheld camera you brought with you, before turning to Hannibal.

You You go tear their kitchen apart, and I’ll find a moldy toilet or something.

Hannibal (huffing a laugh) Sounds like a plan. 

INT. – Sadie’s. 

Hannibal and Jack are exploring the kitchen now. Jack looks disgusted, and even Hannibal looks mildly revulsed. 

Jack (pointing to a bin kept off to the side)  What the hell is that?

Hannibal  Looks like… raw chicken. 

Jack  Of course. Of course. Right next to the cooked chicken, in the same fucking freezer.

Hannibal A health inspector would have an aneurysm here. 

Jack That they would. 

The two of them investigate the filthy fryer and dirty grill with scrutiny. Jack inspects it for a few moments before seeming to come to a realization, glancing around the room. 

Jack Wait. Where’s your boyfriend?

Hannibal (without hesitation) He’s getting B-roll. 

INT. — Confessional.

Jack I had a feeling the two of them were dating. Lecter seemed moments away from climbing into the backseat to sit with the camera guy earlier. And he called him sweetheart earlier, too. Not very subtle, that one. 

They’re not dating. 

Jack They’re not? (sighs heavily)

Twitter

Trending Bar Rescue Related tags: #ChefLecter, #CameraGuy

bornbloodynbroken SWEETHEART???)?? BOYFRIEND???!??!? #BarRescue

melaniemartinezismygod #CameraGuy coming back to the kitchen confused 😭😭 mf knew he missed something important 😭😭😭

1kyokokirigiristan Swear on my life, #ChefLecter literally relaxed when the camera guy came back. 

→ demonicinfluence: I SAW THAT TOO 

generalgrievousrepairtech what do you mean he called him sweetheart. and then stopped the camera guy from eating that vile shit. the camera guy rolled up Hannibal’s sleeves for him. Jack just sat there amused. what do you mean this show isn’t for the gays??? #ChefLecter #CameraGuy #KitchenNightmares

→ swimmerladdy: there’s drama, drinks, and homoeroticism. that’s all i need. 

→ sportsgirl179: same tbh

thezoruark the way Jack was so surprised to hear they aren’t dating. willing to bet my life that there are more moments between #ChefLecter and #CameraGuy that got cut

→ hellokittyluvr: i need the full unedited version and i need it right NOW. raw footage. I don’t even CARE. 

kingkeonhee what the fuck is with my tl. why is everyone talking about this cooking guy and bar show. do i need to watch it orrrr….. #BarRescue

→ seokjinnie132: you don’t need to watch it, you can just be uneducated and uncultured.

→ kingkeonhee: oof, my pride… 

→ seokjinnie132: ahhahaa. kidding. jokes aside, the show is already chaotic and entertaining enough on its own. add two oblivious gay men and you have yourself a masterpiece. 

→ kingkeonhee: oh purrrrr i’ll check it out then

→ polywhirlygig: keep us posted. i expect an essay of book report length. 

→ kingkeonhee: don’t test me, because i will absolutely do that. 

→ polywhirlygig: wait actually just watch it on call with me, i need to see everythingggg

→ kingkeonhee: BET running to discord rn

INT. – Jack Crawford’s car. A few months after your first time on the show. 

Jack (looking at the camera near the dashboard) Now, our special guests for the episode are making a return appearance. These two were very popular with fans. I’d almost be insulted, if they weren’t my friends. At least, I think we’re all friends now.

Hannibal  Good evening, Jack. 

You Hey.

Jack  Hello, you two. I was just saying that we’re all friends now. Or I hope so, at least. 

You Yeah, we are. There are some things you go through that are just so horrible that you become friends after. Trauma-bonding. 

Hannibal  (amused)  Yes, we’re friends. It’s good to see you, Jack. 

Jack  You too, Hannibal. (looks to you in the backseat) And you, of course. 

You both will be pleased to know that I’ve hired two other people for recon tonight. 

Hannibal  That is a relief. 

Jack  They’re entering the bar now, as we can see on the screen here. On the left there is Alana Bloom, a practicing psychiatrist and good friend of mine. On the right is Freddie Lounds, a journalist. They’re heading in… Let’s see how they’re treated. 

Hannibal  Pardon me, Jack. 

Hannibal gets out of the car. Then, to your disbelief, he enters the backseat and sits next to you. At your confused look, he explains. 

I couldn’t see. 

You (skeptical) Right… So you moved further away from the screen. 

Silence. 

You If you wanted to sit with me, you could’ve just said that. 

Hannibal  (shameless) I wanted to sit with you. 

You (surprised)  Oh. 

Jack Enough flirting, you two. Take a look at this. The bartender is on the wrong side of the bar. 

You (leaning forward and considering the screen for several moments)  That one server’s busting her ass just to keep the place alive. 

Hannibal Right. And the bartenders aren’t even serving drinks. 

Jack  Oh, and now one’s offering “boob shots”.

You (covering your eyes) Oh no… No… 

Jack  I can see this is happening the opposite effect. 

You (muttering in disbelief) I’m too gay for this.

Hannibal’s eyes snap to yours. He looks incredibly amused. A few moments pass. 

Hannibal  (patting your knee briefly) You can look now. 

You (removing your hands from your face).  That’s crazy! That’s illegal. She could have the cops called on her for indecent exposure!

Hannibal  (sincere) You’re correct. This isn’t—or, at least, shouldn’t be—a strip club. 

Jack She would also lose her liquor license.

You Not to mention… that’s just inappropriate. 

Jack No wonder the place is filled with men—that’s what’s bringing them in!

The three of you are stuck in shocked silence for several minutes. Jack is the one to break through it. 

Jack And checking back with our recon agents… we can see they’re uncomfortable. Understandably. They’ve been sitting there for fifteen minutes. They still haven’t gotten their drinks. And here comes Paul, the owner. 

The three of you are quiet as you stare down at the screen for several minutes. 

Jack He’s drunk and he’s flirting with them. Not the best first impression. 

You Not at all. 

Hannibal  They look visibly uncomfortable. 

Jack  He’s practically sitting in their laps, at this point. And he’s married. Flirting right in front of his wife, who is the bartender. Completely ridiculous. 

You Let’s get them out of there. 

Jack  I’m with you. Let’s go. 

The three of you exit the car. 

Hannibal and you manage to get the owner away from Alana and Freddie. They seem relieved, to say the least. Jack has since stepped into the back, and you can hear him yelling at the owner from out here. Good. The guy deserves it. 

Then Alana, the psychiatrist, places a hand on Hannibal’s forearm and leads him to a nearby corner. They converse privately for a moment. Your eyebrows climb up your temple as you see how she’s practically draped herself over him. Freddie’s voice draws your attention. 

“That drink was nasty,” she scoffs. 

“I bet,” you grimace in sympathy, taking a look down at it. You’re not much of a drinker, but you can still tell what makes a good one. Fruit flies don’t make a good drink, that’s for damn sure.  

Hannibal comes back soon enough. Alana and Freddie exchange a look; Jack returns from the kitchen and leads them out of the bar, apologizing profusely for the situation he unknowingly put them into. 

Hannibal and you are left standing together now. “Hey,” you greet him. “Looks like you have an admirer, huh?” you joke, referring to the interaction you witnessed between Alana and him just now. 

“I was going to say the same to you,” Hannibal says, nodding at Freddie, who is being led out by Jack. 

You huff and ignore the remark, trying to ignore the strange tightness in your chest. “So, did she ask you out?” you continue. You know you need to stop talking, but you can’t quite get yourself to just shut up. “To a cleaner bar, maybe?” 

Hannibal exhales in amusement. “She did,” he admits. 

“And?” you prompt him. Why are you pushing this? You don’t think you even want to know the answer, you don’t want to be thinking about Hannibal sitting close to someone at a bar— 

“And I denied her,” he answers. 

“Aw,” you say, managing to smile sympathetically. Secretly, you’re relieved—even though you shouldn’t be. “Why? She seemed nice. She’s a friend of Jack’s, right?”

“I wasn’t interested,” Hannibal says with a brief shake of his head. His hands are in his pockets now. He seems completely at ease, despite the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a very dingy, dimly-lit bar. “And I have plans.” 

“Plans?” you repeat. “Look at you.” 

There’s a strange expression on Hannibal’s face. He almost looks… smug? You soon realize why. “You almost seem jealous,” he notes. 

“Jealous?” you echo. Fuck. “Me? Aha… No… definitely not. At all. Totally. I’m completely fine over here. Totally… good. Great, even.” 

You’re not sure how much longer you would’ve kept rambling if Hannibal hadn’t leaned in to kiss you. You’re immediately reminded of your first meeting, and how his hand found your shoulder as he got closer. Then, there was some room for interpretation. You had only just met. 

There’s no room for interpretation now. There’s nothing platonic about this gesture—he’s holding you tenderly, smoothly entering your space before swiftly breaking away. “You are ridiculous,” Hannibal says with a smile. 

“Oh,” you blink. Suddenly everything starts to make sense: all of the behavior you had just perceived to be friendly. “...Ohhh.” You smile. 

“Yes,” Hannibal responds with a knowing look. A fond one. 

“Okay, we’re going to redo that somewhere less filthy,” you assert. 

Hannibal is fully smiling now. You’ve never seen him look so expressive. His eyes are gleaming. “Yes, we are,” he promises. He reaches out and clasps your hand. 

The two of you don’t seem to break apart quickly enough, as Jack storms into the restaurant once more. He stops in front of you, seeming moments away from going on an angry tirade about the owner before he sees your hand in Hannibal’s. “Finally,” he says dismissively. “I thought you’d never get it together.” 

“Yes, thank you, Jack,” Hannibal replies in amusement. 

“Glad something good came out of tonight,” Jack says with a shake of his head. “Because the owner’s bat-shit crazy. I’m going to have my work cut out for me.” 

“You definitely will,” you acquiesce. “Have fun with that.” You smirk teasingly. 

“You’re lucky the fans love you,” Jack sighs, sensing that you’re leaving. 

You just smile. “Bye, Jack.”

“See you two,” he nods. “Hopefully in a slightly cleaner establishment next time.” 

“One can dream,” Hannibal responds. You all laugh before Jack heads into the kitchen again, leaving Hannibal and you standing outside the bar hand-in-hand. Hannibal glances over at you and smiles; you squeeze his hand. The two of you head out to the parking lot, the night air a welcome change from the stuffy and warm air of the bar. 

“You remember when we first met?” you ask. Your hand still clasps his. A cool breeze runs through the air and it’s refreshing. You feel safe here, comfortable enough to be vulnerable for a moment. You glance at Hannibal, awaiting his answer. 

“Of course I do,” he answers. 

“Were you messing with me?” you question. “With the kiss on the cheek thing, I mean.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Hannibal recalls. A smirk dances on his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Seriously?” you nearly exclaim. “You had me second-guessing myself for months.” Years, even. But he doesn’t need to know that. 

Hannibal laughs. “Apologies,” he says, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. His free hand moves to glide across your cheek, settling just near your jaw. “I just couldn’t help myself.” There’s an unmistakable fondness in his eyes. He’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world. 

“And you say I’m ridiculous,” you remember to say. You can’t bring yourself to be cross with Hannibal for long, because he’s soon pulling you into another kiss and taking your mind off of that embarrassing encounter.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

i found Bar Rescue on youtube yesterday and i haven't been the same since.

anyways, thanks for reading! <3 PLS LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG TO FORMAT

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan @faggotboulevard @hottskull @moarar

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii, sorry to bother!! but if ur requests are open could you do something w the reader having a nightmare and the batboys having to comfort them? Kinda like the opposite of ur other post please, TYSM!!

Another request that i write while half asleep, I tried to think of something for Dick but I might’ve used the last of my brain juice tbh, today at work was defiantly…something to say the least.

Jason

‘You’re okay, you’re okay sweetheart I’m right here, nothings going to get you.’ Jason would reassure you as he held you tightly in his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest as close as he could.

‘It felt too real Jason.’ You cried into his neck, clinging onto him as though if you’d let him go he’d disappear, you recently had a nightmare of Jason leaving you and you were too helpless to stop him from doing so that you woke up in a fit of tears, clinging onto him in desperation.

‘I know sweetheart, I know but you know that I’d never do anything like that, ever,’ Jason started as he pressed a couple of kisses to your forehead to sooth you, ‘you’re unfortunately stuck with me chipmunk.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being with Jason for the rest of your life.

‘Sounds like heaven.’ You sighed, kissing his neck as he chuckles.

‘You sure you won’t get bored of little old me?’ He asks teasingly but his eyes looked at you as though to ask if you were being genuine about being with him. He wouldn’t mind being with you forever for that was his own personal slice of heaven in of itself.

‘I’m very sure I wouldn’t because you always make every day worthwhile.’ You tell him as you nuzzled your head further his neck and intertwine your legs with his own, trying to get closer to him as your physically could.

‘Good because that’s how I feel about waking up to you every morning sweetheart.’ Jason said suddenly serious as he rubs his thumb against your side softly. ‘That me in your dream? Isn’t me because why would I run away for the one person who has ever made me feel truly…alive…the one person who didn’t treat me as though I was on the cusp of snapping.’ He then moves his head so it could rest against your own and pressing a small kiss to your nose. ‘You’re all the more reason for me to keep doing what I do if I am to ever get that forever with you sweetheart.’ He adds in a low whisper as soon enough you were both fast asleep, cuddled closely to one another as though terrified to first apart from one another, akin to that of a pair of otters going downstream.

Damian

‘Those nightmares won’t get to you anymore my treasure.’ Damian said as he held your hand firmly in his own, squeezing it periodically while giving you the space to control your breathing and focus on the reality in front of you, rather than the fantasy your mind took when you slept. ‘They cannot affect the reality of which we live in.’ He adds on.

‘It still felt all too real to be a dream.’ You tell him after having only gave him very vague responses to his questions about what it was that you saw in your dream, or rather nightmare was the more fitting word.

Damian sighed as he guided your hands to hold his face and keeping them there by having his hands cover your own, his thumbs caressing your writs as his emerald eyes looked deep into yours. ‘What about this?’ He asks.

‘What about this?’ You replied, confused.

‘If what you say is true, then does this feel too much of dream to be real?’ Damian said as a silence befell you both as your eyes flickered across his face, taking in every one of his features that you adored so much and found yourself slowly being to relax.

‘No,’ you began, thumbs stroking his cheeks, as the nightmare seemed to get further and further away from you the more you focused on the man right in front of you who’s presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and comforted, ‘it feels…right.’ You finished as you felt the last of your nerves calm down.

‘Then this is what we’ll do from now one when one of us had nightmares.’ Damian said as he allowed your fingertips to map out the expanse of his face with featherlight touches that left him wanting to melt into your hands. ‘Reminds each other of what’s real and what’s not.’ He adds as you cuddled into his side, head resting against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as it lulls you back into a peaceful slumber with Damian watching over you.

[sometimeslwish]

BURNING IN DESIRE (You Belong With To Me)

MY VERY FIRST CALEB FIC, BABYYYY, LET'SSSS FUCKING GOOOOOOO. Guys, this is sitting at 3.4k words, I've never written this much before in my life. ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜@comatosebunny09 thank you so much for encouraging me as I wrote, and for the small help with the tags. I don't think I would've finished it without your encouragement.

Tags: Caleb x you, Caleb x f!reader, reader is mc, slightly dub-con (if you squint? Idk, feel free to correct me about that tag in the comments), bold mc, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, switchy switch? this was self indulgent as fuuck, degradation (whore, slut) and also praise, Caleb being a meanie by edging you once, possessiveness, petnames (pipsqueak, princess, baby) light choking (both m! and f!receiving)

I'd recommend listening to the following songs:

Bones – Wens | You – Greta Isaac | Anywhere you want – BB Cooper | PRETTY PLEASE & RUNRUNRUN – Dutch Melrose | BURNING IN DESIRE – Chris Grey

You don't bother putting any clothes on before leaving your room. 

Caleb is the only thing in your mind as you make your way through his place. He's been the only thing in your mind in these past few weeks, and you're starting to fray at the edges, wanting more and more each time you meet. You can tell he does too, he's been doing a shity job at hiding it and it's making it harder for you to pretend like you don't want him. Like you're not as crazy and dependant on him as he's crazy and overprotective of you.

The lights are off when you get in his room, with only the moonlight coming through the windows as you slip into his bed. His arms wrap around you the moment you settle beside him, years of habits driving him in autopilot. The fabric of his clothes rub against your body and they almost pull a moan from you, it forces you to bite your lip to stay quiet. There are whispers in your bones, chatter in your veins, and all of it pertains to the man holding you in his arms.

"Nightmare?" His voice is hoarse, deeper from the sleep and you revel in the way it travels deep into your core. You simply hum in response, burying your face in his neck before nodding. Gods he smelled so good, it was really a wonder how you managed to not jump his bones sooner. 

All the times playing girlfriend so other girls would stay back, when he would hug your waist and pull you closer, his voice close to your ear, always a turn of your head away from kissing him. Or when he'd simply carry you when you were being too stubborn, using his evol to pull you towards him before holding you in his arms. Letting go each time was harder than the last; you wanted to swaddle yourself in his scent, burrow under his skin and hide there forever, where no one else could reach but him. But it was alright now, you were going to get what you wanted no matter what. 

It doesn't take him long to register your lack of clothes– or lack of a shirt and bra, from his perspective. His hand sweeps down your back and stops at your waist before coming back up. You feel him tense up and you can't help the small smirk that takes over your lips. He calls your name as he sits up, "Are you–" you grumble softly before leaving your hiding spot and leaving his warmth. You sit up with him, blanket sliding down your body as you use an arm to keep yourself up. The moonlight behind you outlines your body and it makes you look like a dream, an enchantress. 

"It's okay," you whisper, staring into his eyes. His expression looks troubled, like he doesn't know whether to be elated or not, restraint written all over his features as he stares into your eyes. It's okay, really, and you'll help him see that. 

"You can look," you brush his hair away from his eyes, before caressing his cheek, a subtle way of making sure he won't look away from you. "You can touch too" You add, before taking one of his hands and nuzzling your face into his palm. His breath hitches when you kiss it, but he makes no other move. Your insides twist with impatience, and you have to hold yourself back from clenching your thighs as the pool of desire turns deeper. 

"Want me to guide you?" You move his hand down, stopping at your neck for a few seconds. You tilt your head to expose it, shivering at the warmth and the texture of the callouses in his hand. 

"You can leave marks here, bites too," you smile, breathless as you push his hand against your collarbone. His eyes follow the path you're drawing on your body and he gulps. 

Finally, finally you have him where you want him, where you need him. You're going to enjoy every second of it. 

You move his hand lower, and you make him cup your breast, "You can play with my tits," there's a slight twitch to his fingers and you grin, another wall down. 

"Grab my waist and squeeze to keep me in place," you go lower, pressing his hand to emulate a firmer grip. He's more responsive then, hand a little lighter and fingers less stiff. He shifts closer and you move his hand lower.

"You can mark me up anywhere, really, I wouldn't mind" you lean towards him and pull his arm, you stop looking at his face to look at your legs as you make him caress your thigh. His hands are so big that they make yours look smaller. As you stare at the goosebumps his fingers left in their wake, the fire in your bones burns brighter. You've wondered many times how his fingers would feel inside, how far they would reach, and tonight you'll get to feel it.

"Pipsqueak–" whatever he was going to say gets lost in the night as you move his hand between your legs, making him cup your mound. You can feel yourself dripping, wetter than you've ever been, and that only fuels the fire even more.

You look back at his eyes as you push two of his fingers between your folds and into your clit. You don't hold back your moan then, grinding your hips on his hand. It feels so good, better than you imagined, and you make sure to tell him so. There's a pained look on his face, and it makes you smile. 

Break for me, baby, I'll patch you back up.

His breathing is heavy, strained, it stutters to a stop when you guide his fingers to your entrance. You're forced to open your legs, bending a knee to accommodate and allow better access. 

"Can't you feel how wet I am for you? How much I want it?" It's a little hard to push his fingers inside, considering the position he's in, but the sweet feeling of his fingers being inside you makes up for it. You hold his hand there as you move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, and it feels a little humiliating to do everything yourself while he's quiet, but you're too gone to care. If anything, it makes the hunger worse, he's letting you use him. His hand is completely still, fingers straightened as he watches you. 

You bite your lip and raise a hand, you trail a soft caress from his chest to his neck, where you pull him closer to you. He's pliant in your hands, following your every lead as you make him look at you. When he looks into your eyes, you can see more cracks forming; you can see the lust, the love, the devotion. His beautiful purple eyes turning darker.

"I need it, Caleb, need you." You rub your nose against his before kissing the corner of his mouth, softly biting his bottom lip after "Don't you wanna make me yours?" 

That's all it takes for him to finally break. 

His fingers curl inside you the moment his lips are on yours, and you moan against his mouth. A high pitched sound that he greedily swallows down as he pushes you into the mattress. It takes no time for the kiss to deepen, for him to leave bites and marks on your neck as he fingers you, leaving you scrambling and gasping for air. 

"This what you want?" The pace he sets is relentless, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you nod, biting your lip as you squirm under him, legs open for him to settle between. "Answer me."

"Yes! Fuck, pleease, yes!" Your hands go to his hair, and you feel him chuckle against your collarbone before biting the skin there. You whimper when he tongues every indent left by his teeth, and shiver at the predatory look on his eyes. His fingers take no time finding the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

"Look at you, so eager for me," you whimper when he licks one of your nipples, his free hand stimulating the other. He nibbles softly on it before suckling, timing his movements with each time his fingers pressed into you. He groans before switching to the other one, leaving a trail of saliva and bite marks as he went. There's the sound of squelching and you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed about anything at all, not even bothering to hide your desperation.

"Caleb," you moan, arching into his touch, "feels so good, please don't stop, please." 

"How am I supposed to say no when you call out for me like that?" He murmurs, but there's something hidden in his voice, you'd be able to pay more attention to it if he wasn’t trying to finger you senseless. He shushes you, kissing you gently, the contrast making you warm inside. He whispers sweet encouragement to you as you near the edge, makes you believe he won't stop, only to leave you gasping for air when he pulls away completely. 

"Why?" You whine, chasing after him only to be weighed down by his evol. You whine again, feeling completely betrayed and empty, your pussy clenching around nothing. In this current predicament, you're not even allowed to reach the edge by yourself, since your hands are pinned to the bed. You can't even stay mad, it's hot, it turns you on and you've never wanted him so badly in your life. 

"You're so mean," He doesn't answer, ignores the pitiful look you give him and simply makes you stare as he undresses like he has all the time in the world. You sigh, all the real estate skin you could be touching and marking right now and he's being a big fucking meanie. Your mouth goes dry when his boxers are finally off. You knew it was big, you'd felt it against your thigh and caught glimpses of it before, it still didn't stop the delighted chill that went through your body.

You look up when you hear him snicker, frowning as he grabs your ankle and pulls you towards him "You're so desperate, it's adorable," there's a mocking edge to his voice, and you're surprised with how it makes you flush. It's embarrassing, but at the same time so hot. The conflicting emotions swirl inside of you, mixing into an addicting concoction that throws you into a haze.

"Nu-uh, look at me, princess." He grabs your chin with his free hand, "Keep your pretty eyes on me, 'kay?"

"Okay," he kisses you as a reward, keeps it from getting deeper in a way that makes you want for more.

"Atta girl, you're a fast learner," he praises and the hand that held your ankle trails up your leg, touch reverent and light, making you shiver with goosebumps. He spreads your legs open and taps his cock against you clit, groaning softly before grinding against your folds. His hips move slowly as he teases you, the head of his cock catching against the bundle of nerves. His hands roam your body, the same way as before, and you can't help seeking his hands with yours as you arch into his touch. Your eyes close, and he must be feeling generous because he says nothing about it.

"So beautiful," you hear him whisper, one of his hands trails upwards and stops at your neck for a brief second, lightly squeezing your pulse points before carrying on. You open your eyes when he caresses you cheek, his are already staring at you, and the look of utter devotion and wonder in them squeezes your heart. You hold his wrist when you nuzzle his palm, and you lick at his thumb when it caresses your bottom lip, all while staring into his eyes. The look in his eyes turns dark, and it makes you bolder, more greedy. You part your mouth and suck his thumb, your tongue swirls around the pad of it as if it was the tip of his cock.

"Who knew you could be such a slut," you moan at his harsh words and grind harder against his cock. You're close, awfully close, it's the fastest you've ever gotten to the edge.

"Oh, you like that? Like being called a whore?" He chuckles, pulling his hand away and using his thumb to draw teasing circles on your clit. "You're so filthy, baby" he tuts. You wrap your legs around his waist and yank him foward. It happens so fast that he loses his balance, and just like that, he slips inside and you come from the stretch alone, moaning his name as your orgasm wrecks its way through your body like an earthquake.

"You– shit, you're squeezing so tight. Did you just come, baby? Just from that?" You moan and nod, grinding yourself into overstimulation on his cock. You pull him closer and hiss at the feeling of the cold metal of his dog tags on your chest, but you ignore it in favor of kissing him. He's forced to prop an elbow beside your head so he doesn't crush you with his weight –not that you'd mind anyways, you've imagined him restraining you or putting you in a mating press so many times now that you can't even keep track.

"Sneaky little minx," he bites at your jaw and you pull him closer, wanting the warmth of his skin against yours. He hoists you up and crawls into bed with you in his arms, and you squeal when the angle and movement shoves him even deeper inside, "So needy, coming from just my cock."

He lays you down gently, using one of his pillows to put under your lower back. Your giggle turns into a moan when he gives an experimental thrust and your back arches off the bed. His movements start gentle, making sure you're completely used to his cock before he hooks your knees on his elbows and holds you in a mating press while fucking you. It's a harsh pace, and you can barely keep your eyes straight as he continues to burry himself inside of you, hitting all the good spots.

"Mhm, 'm such a- ah, whore, aren't I?" You bite your lip as you smile, clinging to his biceps and digging your nails into his skin. The pain makes him groan and, being as ceroed in on his cock as you are, you feel him twitch, "Just a little cock hungry slut." Your smile is crooked, with edges where they shouldn't be and dazed eyes that barely focus.

You grab at his necklace, hold the dog tags between your fingers and pull. It's his turn to shiver as he pays attention to the look in your eyes. It’s hungry, just as dark as his, if not more "But only for yours," you raise the same hand to hold his neck, tags held against his adam apple. You don't squeeze, but you do press at his pulse with your thumb. You feel him twitch inside you and your grin turns sharper. Your arms wrap around his shoulders like a snake on a hawk, and he's got no other option but to adapt to the position while fucking you. It's so much better and so much worse, he can feel your pert nipples against his chest, your moans and gasps closer and clearer.

"You'll give it to me, right baby? I need it." You bite his earlobe, and his thrusts get harsher, like he's trying to render you quiet and mindless. Or maybe he wants to see what else you'd say in this pleasure driven state. Whatever the case, it only makes you more ravenous and that, makes him more ravenous in turn. Like you're two beasts, feeding of each other in a never ending loop of pleasure and madness.

"S-shit, yeah, baby, it's all yours to keep" your nails scratch at his back as he keeps up with the relentless pace, and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop," you commanded, glaring at him as best you could while he pounded into you. Praise and encouragement slipped from your tongue as he kept the pace, all amidst broken moans and gasps.

He felt so good inside you, looked so good on top of you, his moans sounded so fucking hot, you wanted– no, needed to keep him, probably even more than he wanted to keep you.

"Mine," you whispered, moving a hand to his head and tangling your fingers into the strands before pulling to expose his neck. You bit into his skin, licking the teeth marks and sucking marks along his neck as a silent apology, "all fucking mine, right Caleb?"

"Fuck, yes, princess. 'M all yours."

That's all you could think of, a never ending string of "mine, mine, mine" over and over, paired with each of his thrusts. It rose along with your pleasure, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"So fucking deep," you gasped, "So fucking good," your moans got louder, the pitch higher and in response, he moved faster. All of his focus was on you, he could tell you were close, your tell tale signs already memorized from when he'd fingered you. It drives him mad, drives him into grinding deeper, into letting go of one of your legs to circle your clit with his thumb, looking down to where your bodies connect and groaning as he sees his cock disappear inside of you.

"You're fucking perfect, pipsqueak, you know that?" He noses your neck, and revels in the way you instantly tilt your head to grant him access, "Perfect pussy, taking so fucking well and squeezing me so tight. You'll come for me, right pretty girl? Cream all over my cock?"

"If I do, you'll cum inside, right? Fill me up with your cum?" You were close, you were so fucking close and so was he. He'd almost cum just from you asking, but he wanted you there first, needed to feel you clamp down on him.

"Yeah, baby, I'll fill you up." That was all you needed to come, nails digging into his back and your body shaking under him as you had the hardest orgasm of your life. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back and head swirling with thoughts of Caleb. He's doesn't take long to follow you into the high, with a gasp of your name as he burries himself deep in you and grinds as he cums. You moan at the warm feeling, your fingers easing on his back. You scratch softly at his nape and he lets go of your leg. You wrap them around his waist to keep him there, and he switches to supporting his weight so he doesn't crush you as both of you gasp for breath.

You're on your way to fall asleep when he rises and pulls out, staring as his cum oozes and drips out of your pussy. You don't get a warning before two of his fingers are fucking it back into you.

"Caleb" you drawl out the last syllable, pouting as you watch him. He hums and looks back at you, with a smile that pretends to be innocent but is nothing like. You huff, roll your eyes and pull him into a kiss. It's slow and sensual, both of you taking the time you want without the desperation from earlier tainting the kiss. He makes you cum again like that, and then cleans both of you up before changing the bed sheets and kissing you goodnight.

When you wake up, it's to gentle caresses and kisses, all from Caleb. He's lying beside you, shirtless, with a soft smile and a fond look.

"Caleb," you call out, just because you can and you want to, before grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. You nuzzle into his neck before kissing the skin, all the way up to his jaw, ending the trail with a kiss on his mouth. You shiver when his arm wraps around your waist, enjoying the warmth of his skin against yours, and you bite his lip before soothing the sting with a lick.

"Good morning," There's the smell of food in the air and your hips and lower back hurt, but you don't pay any mind to it.

You have everything you need now.