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kurogane2512 · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 day 4

Hypnotizing Ecstasy

Threesome, food play with....

Fem! reader (Chief). Also contains blindfolding and overstimulation.

W.C: 8k+ (yes, this is why it took so long and I planned to have it as the last part of Kinktober but here it is)~

Some context for the story and how I got the idea for it, pls read before proceeding:

This takes place at the banquet in the Cabernet event with Chief attending it with Chameleon as companion. Since the event showed Sinners other than Hecate and Hella being used (finally) I thought of scenarios with other Sinners in it and as the event progressed, I felt Chameleon could be really useful. This is like a rewriting of the event with some changes and the smut.

Also note this Chameleon is 100% compliance so she's quite affectionate and rather obedient (if you know her performance in serving team at 100% then you know what I mean), but don't worry she still has her signature traits. Okay, that's the main points to keep in mind. Enjoy~

The sun blazed over your head as you set foot in the luxurious banquet. Held at Ogyvia Villa, it was an insatiable fiesta for the rich and powerful to indulge in their most trivial desires. On delicacies and wealth, they fattened themselves, unconcerned with the darkness knowingly ignored. You had seen it all and were bitter knowing that society's pigs lived untroubled.

Half of DisCity burned beyond thrill and guarded walls. In a scene like this, it was all too convenient to forget. Your vision was filled with people of the highest magnificence, but in the midst of it all, they weren't dressed as magnificently as their status conveyed.

After all, this was a place to let loose. The elite of DisCity congregated to live away the night free and easy, but your purpose here was different. A red-haired princess had summoned you, and you would endure a demon- or two- to fetch her lost treasures.

"Quite a passionate gathering you have brought me to, Chief~"

Your companion, Chameleon, the best psychologist in DisCity and a self-proclaimed psychopath commented from behind. You turned around to face your companion and were immediately caught by surprise.

"Hm, what's wrong? Have I rendered you speechless from my appearance, Chief?~"

Chameleon spoke with a smirk, watching how your gaze trailed all over her body. There she stood wearing a swimsuit, the appropriate attire for the gathering. But you weren't sure if it was an appropriate attire for your heart. Her nipples were covered with thin layers of non-padded black fabric and the white straps supporting them extended from hoops and crossed at her neck.

You admired her carelessness when taking risks, they looked as though they were about to snap and her breasts break free. The lower had thin, black straps leading up from her underwear, tied at her sides and the black fabric was again small and revealing. It was accented with diagonal strips of white and left nothing to your imagination, instead handing plenty for your eyes to devour.

In an intentionally failed attempt to cover, she wrapped a transparent sarong cloth around her waist that draped till her right knee. Her dark blonde hair shone against the sunlight and lightly waved with the breeze along with her signature red lipstick completing her already perfect look.

"Chief? My dear Chief?~" Chameleon continuously called out until you finally snapped out of your trance and cleared your throat before averting your gaze, causing her to chuckle.

"I didn't even use my powers and you were already hypnotised. Your expression is so easy to read, I don't even need to ask how I look~"

"A-Ahem, sorry. I have just never seen you this way, I was a bit shocked...."

"Hehe~ Shocked isn't the correct term. You know that too, don't you, my dear Chief?~"

You blushed more and turned around without replying. She chuckled then walked up to you and suddenly wrapped her arms around your torso, her fingers grazing over your exposed belly.

"You don't look bad yourself, Chief~" her hushed voiced brushed past you ear, sending shivers down your skin.

"In fact, I'd say I was the one shocked seeing you wear something so revealing in public."

"....We were instructed to fit in perfectly and this is the most suitable swimsuit the bureau could get."

Chameleon smiled to herself and pecked your cheek before walking to your side and holding your hand.

"Shall we go, Chief? I believe we have a client to attend to~"

You nodded with a smile and walked into the main area, only to be surrounded by a plethora of high-headed people dancing and partying to their heart's content. You thought it would be a formal gathering of elegance but there was nothing elegant about your surroundings, except perhaps the woman beside you who managed to look that way even in something rather skimpy.

You were bombarded by a summery cacophony of colorful swimsuits, pool toys, splashing pool water and the sweet scent of watermelon and mango. You feel embarrassed wearing the revealing swimsuit hence pull your buttonless shirt together to cover as much as possible while heading forward.

"Now then, about our client, do you happen to know her, Chameleon?"

"Hmm...as much as I'm uninterested in the culinary world, I do know the 'princess' of the Francs indeed. If you live in Eastside long enough then you are bound to know of these families one way or the other."

"I understand...."

"So, your purpose for bringing me here was to use me, my dear Chief?~"

"That...don't put it that way."

Chameleon chuckled, "I will know your true intention without you saying a word, only if you allow me to~"

"Chameleon....please, I just—"

"Shh~" Chameleon's index finger brushed your lips, effectiviely shushing you as she leaned closer to your face, "Don't fret so much, Chief. I will help as you want, as long as you compensate me right~"

"Of course, I will."

Chameleon smiled then stepped back and took a look around the venue when a waiter approached you both to welcome you and hand you a manual about the party, you went through the manual and had a basic understanding of the venue but were still clueless of your client's whereabouts and how to complete the mission.

"What's the plan, Chief? Do we have to mingle around and gather information on our client or would you prefer to meet our client rightaway?"

"Meet our client rightaway? What do you mean?"

Chameleon gently held your chin and moved your face to the right and your eyes catch the figure of a redhead approaching from not far away. The crowd quieted down for a moment, then erupted like wine being poured into a sizzling steak pan. The people surged forward and surrounded the woman, trying to chat with her from all sides.

"Hm~ Asking us to fit in perfectly when she stands out herself, hehe~" Chameleon chuckled in a low voice while your eyes were fixated on the woman in front who was practically a celebrity at this point, Cabernet Franc.

"Why....why would she want the MBCC to retrieve her treasures when she could have this place turned upside down by ordering these people for it. I'm sure there are countless people in line hoping to gain favors with her."

"Well, as someone with mastery on human behavior and emotions, I can present you 2 hypothesis for that. First one is stated in the question itself; she may not want to attract unnecessary attention into her private matters and why would she willingly give someone a chance over her?"

"....And the second?"

"The second....these 'treasures' that we have to find may not be any normal treasures. It derives from the first hypothesis, they may be something valuable and personal that she'd rather hire an inconspicuous agency like ours."

"I see....that makes sense."

Suddenly, Cabernet looked at you from the distance as if she overheard your conversation. She then smiled and gave a faint, barely noticeable nod before someone approached her and started talking. The crowd was dazzled by her presence and missed no chance to get her attention, some performed outlandish actions like jumping in the pool from great heights and making a big splash.

"This is ridiculous, we can't even talk to her this way...." you pondered when suddenly some people approached you and attempted to shove you into the pool under the guise of having fun. You tried your best to refute and even looked at Chameleon hoping for some help but she simply watched in amusement, clearly enjoying you become so flustered.

"The hell- aah!" your wrist was pulled and you fell into the depths of the pool. You were drained of air instantly as ice-cold water overwhelmed your senses, you wanted to swim to the surface but couldn't move your limbs at all as if someone had restrained them. You heard a strange voice in your ear but were in no mood to care about what it, the force under your feet seemed to be conscious as it dragged you down.

"Don't worry, Chief, you will be fine." it was Chameleon's voice in your head, you were sure of it. But it wasn't her who spoke earlier, clearly something else was happening too. Before you knew it, your lips were gently parted and something cold and sweet flowed from the tip of your tongue down your throat, calming your restless emotions.

You forcefully opened your eyes and found yourself resting on someone's lap. Crimson, faintly grape-scented hair brushed against the tip of your nose as you gaze up and find a pair of silvery, violet-tinted eyes gazing at you with concern.

"Are you alright? Do you feel a bit better?" the woman asked with a faint smile and you quickly sat up to realize it was her, the center of attention just moments ago.

"Ms Cabernet...."

"Mhm, you had a heat stroke and fainted. But don't worry, you are fine now."

You squinted your eyes when suddenly a pair of arms was wrapped around your neck followed by Chameleon embracing you tightly.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?!~" She buried her face in your neck and was shouting desperately. She was acting, you knew she was acting. But damn, she was good at it.

"Y-Yes, don't worry, Chameleon...." you patted her back and she released the hug then helped you stand up while the crowd watched you three with envious looks, whispering various things amongst themselves. You noticed Cabernet's dress was slightly soaked and with how you were lying on her lap, you concluded she helped in saving you.

"Chameleon, what happened earlier?" you communicated with Chameleon through your shackles by invoking her power while maintaing a relaxed look on your face.

"She helped drag you out of the pool and laid you on her lap. How lucky you are, Chief~"

"Don't joke, Chameleon. You know there's something in the pool, right?"

"Mhm, and I also have a lead on what might happen here. But give me more time, I can get some information out of a few people here if you let me use my powers."

"Fine...but keep it down and only one at a time, and don't go too far from me."

"Hehe, as you wish, my Chief~"

You then turned your attention towards Cabernet who was silently gazing at you both the whole time, "Thank you for saving me, Ms Cabernet."

"You are welcome. The lady beside you also helped a lot, she was quite worried for her Chief. You two seem quite close as well~"

You froze for a moment but realized this wasn't so surprising; of course, if she could have the MBCC work for her then naturally she'd know who you are.

"R-Right....Then, Ms Cabernet, since you already know us then can we—"

Before you could finish, Cabernet pulled you to make you sit beside her, her breasts pressing against your forearm.

"Accompany me for the rest of the party. With you by my side, I can avoid unnecessary interactions and focus on enjoying the party~"

You swallow thickly then she opened the manual and pointed to the dinner banquet, you quickly realize what she means and nod at her and respond loudly in a manner similar to the other guests.

"Y-Yes! I'd be honored! You saved me, I'll stay by your side for sure!"

"Hehe, good girl~" Cabernet chuckled softly then lowered her head and moved closed enough for you to smell the faint fragrance of tropical fruit on her body, "Happy working with you, MBCC Chief and her Sinner~"

You almost blush feeling her so close to you but your thoughts were interrupted, "Enjoying yourself there, Chief?~"

It was Chameleon speaking in your head. You turned to the side and noticed her sit beside you as well, your other arm getting buried between her breasts as she leaned close to you. You realized you were squeezed between two beautiful and reputed women from Eastside, one of whom was the star of this party. Naturally, you attracted quite a number of envious glares from the people around, causing everyone to scatter away and leave you in peace.

"Then, Ms Cabernet, can you tell us what exactly are these treasures you have lost?"

"Umm....food ingredients."

"Food ingredients? What kind of ingredients?"

"Mm...my ingredients may not be particularly noteworthy to other people. If I tell them, they might be surprised by my choise. But to me, they are treasures."

Cabernet looked down at the ground, seemingly a bit sad.

"You have no reason to feel that way, Ms Cabernet. You may feel the need to bury your true thoughts in your heart but there are people who understand you. A top gourmet can also enjoy so-called common food and regard it as a treasure. You are not wrong in thinking that way at all."

Chameleon spoke to her in a formal yet comfortable tone, her professionalism as a psychologist was evident as she understood Cabernet's emotional state too well.

"And if you feel pent-up stress about it then there are a number of ways to relieve it~" Chameleon gave a rather sly smile and you immediately understood her implications.

"A-Ahem, no need for that. We will support Ms Cabernet in using common ingredients but...your methods won't be necessary, Chameleon."

Chameleon smirked, "You break my heart, Chief. You know I just want to help~"

You laughed nervously making Cabernet let out a chuckle as well, "Thank you.... I must say, the MBCC is quite an interesting bunch~"

You became slightly tense at the situation, this client was strange and her intention to draw away attention using you wasn't working at all.

"The dinner banquet is the most important part of this party, there may be information about the treasures there. Before that, we should do our best to collect as much information as possible."

You instructed to both of them when suddenly a man appeared behind Chameleon, "If it isn't Ms Chameleon! I haven't seen you in so long!"

Chameleon recognized the voice immediately and stood up to turn to greet the man with a gentle smile and exchange pleasantries.

"He's an old patient, I remember he's in the food and beverage industry. I can indulge him for a while and get a few things out." you heard Chameleon speak in your head and agreed.

"Be careful, call me immediately if something happens. He looks a bit....wild."

"Hehe~ Never thought I'd have someone worry for me.... But don't worry, my Chief, I can protect myself~"

Chameleon winked at you as you watched her walk away then sighed and turned to the front again and were surprised seeing Cabernet so close to you, looking at you with curiosity.

"M-Ms Cabernet? Is something the matter?"

"Mm, I was just wondering if there's some special connection between you two. You seem to understand each other without speaking a single word."

"Oh! Haha, something like that, I suppose?" you nervously scratch your temple and avert your gaze from her.

"My, how interesting. You just made this party a whole lot fun for me~"

You smiled at her but couldn't stop thinking about Chameleon, worrying how she was doing.

"Aww, Chief~ You are missing me already? Would you like to have a peek at this side?~" as if on cue, Chameleon spoke in your mind again and you could hear faint whimpers of a man soon after.

"C-Chameleon! Don't do that—!"

"Relax, Chief~ I'm not hurting him; rather, he's feeling quite ecstatic currently and is letting me in on all his thoughts. I'll be back soon~"

You sighed to yourself when suddenly Cabernet closed up on you as if checking you closely, "Are you sure you are alright? Is the heat unbearable?"

Her fruity scent filled your senses and your eyes were drawn to her dark crimson lips, "No, I'm fine, thank you. Sorry for making you worry."

Cabernet smiled then suddenly a muscular man walked up to you and handed 2 cups of ice cream, stating how delicious and refreshing it was. You were going to ask him to give you another cup for Chameleon but he dashed off into the crowd in an instant, winking at you before going. You were suspicious and had a hard time taking a bite and eventually decided to save it for Chameleon then noticed Cabernet wasn't eating either.

"Do you not want to eat it, Ms Cabernet?"

"Hm? Well....how is the taste, Chief?"

"A-Ah! I was thinking of saving this for Chameleon...."

"Save what for me now, Chief?~" Chameleon sneaked up behind you and spoke before eyeing the ice cream in your hand and giving a small smile.

"Chameleon, are you okay? Was everything fine?" you asked out of genuine concern which made Chameleon slightly surprised then she chuckled and suddenly straddled your lap sideways, making you blush profusely and surprising Cabernet as well.

"Would you like to know what I did, Chief?~" she brushed her finger across your lip before picking up a spoonful of the ice cream and bringing it to your mouth.

"C-Chameleon, not in front of her...." you said out of embarrassment and glanced at Cabernet who was looking at you both with an amused look.

"Aww, becoming shy in public now, Chief? You weren't like this whenever I did it in your office~" Oh, she was enjoying this so much. Cabernet's eyes perked up at her statement before smirking and shifting closer to you.

"Hm? You seem to have an interesting relationship with your Sinners, Chief of MBCC~"

"N-No! I'm sorry! This is just—!" you couldn't explain yourself in any way, and the 2 women soon broke out in laughter together. You were being toyed by both of them, and they were enjoying every minute of it.

"I have some information, Chief. But how about you eat this first, unless you want me to feed it to you differently?~" Chameleon's voice spoke in your head in the midst of the laughter and you nodded then took a bite from the ice cream in her hand.

"Not bad....it almost tastes like the sea with traces of lemon and sea salt."

"Not a bad description, Chief. Seems that even the ice cream here is made from exquisite ingredients." Cabernet said.

Just then, the jingling of bells was heard and everyone turned to see where it came from. A maid came out and informed the soup was ready and everyone came out of the pool to rush towards the restaurant, making quite a commotion around you.

"What did you find out, Chameleon?" you talked to Chameleon in her head.

"There is some kind of legendary mermaid meat being kept here, planned to be served as the main course to the princess beside you."

"Do you think that's the treasure she's looking for?"

"It's hard to say, I couldn't find out what kind of meat it really is. But I reckon I can if I get in touch with the head chef here."

"Okay then, let's head in with Cabernet."

"Shall we go? It's disrespectful to the chef to be late for the meal." Cabernet spoke almost immediately and held onto your arm, giving a sly glance to Chameleon who understood her intention too well and didn't hold back from holding your other arm now. You were practically dragged by the 2 women inside and soon sat on the table with Cabernet having the centremost seat.

Everyone began drinking the soup and waited for Cabernet's judgement, she took a whiff followed by a small sip and let out a gentle smile followed by a simple compliment that earned cheers and praises. You took a sip yourself when suddenly heard a familiar voice behind you, it was the head chef of this banquet. You glanced at Chameleon and she understood you, having the same thoughts as you.

"I know, you heard her voice in the pool earlier."

"What should we do? It's a bad idea to hypnotize her here. We should wait."

"I thank everyone for their kind words but it seems this guest isn't liking the soup? May I know your suggestions if you feel it isn't up to the mark?" the head chef who introduced her as McGrath spoke to you, making you nervous and you haphazardly proceeded to drink the soup but Cabernet stopped you.

"She had a bit too many grapes earlier, I told her she'll ruin her appetite for dinner. She's not trying to avoid it on purpose."

"Sorry..."

"No matter. Save more appetite when the main course is served, I hope you can give me an answer then. You too, Ms Cabernet." McGrath said.

"Mm, I'm sure you'll surprise me."

"Of course, Ms Cabernet! I worked so hard precisely for this moment. All I desire is your precious and invaluable approval! That's why the most exciting part of this party will be the dinner banquet. I prepared it specially for Ms Cabernet!" McGrath announced in an active and hyped tone to everyone, earning a buzz of excitement.

McGrath then went to announce about the ingredients used for this dinner and as Chameleon had found out, she indeed acquired some kind of legendary ingredients which caused Cabernet's smile to fade away. You stringed together her words and the happenings around you and things started making sense. But you couldn't act in any manner as her next announcement caused everyone to rush about the restaurant in a flurry.

"Limited seats on a first come first served basis? This is crazy....why invite so many people and disrespect them this way?"

"It's how the world of the rich operates, Chief." Chameleon said from beside you and Cabernet hummed in agreement, making you sigh. You waited for the commotion to calm down a bit and make space for you three, you were in no hurry as Cabernet would guarantee you seats. You eventually came up to the elevator after some time and the doors opened again, causing the remaining guests to barge in leaving space just enough for you three.

Well, they definitely considered it a reward to be able to share an elevator with Cabernet. You and Chameleon followed her closely behind then were practically torn away from her by the other guests in the cramped space. Chameleon was pressed up against the wall in one corner and you couldn't help but be squeezed in front of her, your face lying near her neck and you held onto her waist for support.

"S-Sorry, Chameleon. I'll try to move away a little." you spoke to her in your mind and attempted to move about but there was no space to even turn. Chameleon instead held your head and pulled you closer making your face lie on her soft breasts while her hands gently patted your head.

"Just relax, Chief. I'm here to assist you, after all~"

You blushed and eased into her a little, feeling hypnotised by her sweet scent and angelic voice. Cabernet looked at you from the corner of her eye and wished she was standing closer but the elevator soon reached its destination and the door was opened, finally giving you space to breathe. You come out together with Cabernet and look around the floor, finding it rather eery and uncomfortable.

The announcement system came on again and McGrath announced that one must meet certain standards to be eligible for which everyone has to pass different challenges. You should be honorable enough to be worthy of dining with Cabernet, but how do you define honorable? You didn't have a good feeling about this, nor did the crowd as an uproar was erupted and some started shouting angrily.

"Ms Cabernet, this is turning dangerous. If this risks my Sinner's safety then I'm afraid I'll have to abort the mission."

Chameleon almost became wide-eyed at your declaration before smiling and gently holding your hand, "Chief, look at me."

You gritted your teeth and turned to face her then she softly cupped your face, "Nothing will happen to me. I trust you with my life and you should trust me with completing this mission together."

You didn't know when Chameleon became this way, was it your late-night chats with her or sharing similar hobbies that slowly made her so trusting of you. This self-proclaimed psychopath was hard to change, even impossible, but here she was trusting you and wanting you to trust her. You brought her to this mission not only because she could be useful, but also because you wanted to take her to a fun filled gathering and spend some time outside the prison.

"....Fine, then stay close to me. Don't do anything without my permission."

"Hehe~ As you say, Chief~"

You sighed then turned to Cabernet to get some information about McGrath and her nature. Cabernet recalled that she had failed to get her approval some time ago then suddenly invited her to this banquet a month ago, the timing matched with her losing her ingredients.

"So, you suspect the ingredients to be with her?"

"Yes, I pretty much guessed she had my treasures. I was worried that something might happen to them so I pulled some strings to get a seasoned professional to help me....which is you, dear Chief. But I didn't expect things to come to this, she has become crazy and even harming innocent people. I know I have caused you trouble...."

You gazed into her eyes deeply and sensed she wasn't being fully honest, but you had other more concerning matters to take care of hence listened to her for now.

"No point in pondering over it, we did accept the mission so we'll see it till the end."

See it till the end as you said....you didn't expect the sacrifices you'd have to make along the way in this hellish game where people were eaten alive by some monster. You had reached the end where only you and Cabernet remained, yes only you two. The scene in front of you was horrifying, the chef was crazy and doing everything to please Cabernet solely.

"This is my surprise gift to you, Ms Cabernet! To give you the best dining experience, I will ensure that you are neither lonely nor pestered! You will approve of me, right?!" McGrath announced.

You clenched your fists in anger, remembering what happened to Chameleon before you reached this point.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"What should we do...We are trapped. One of us will have to!" your heart was racing in your chest, many of the guests had turned into corruptors as they failed the test and were consumed by Mania. You were trapped in a room with monsters outside, to pass you had to defeat them and protect Cabernet and Chameleon along the way.

"Chameleon! Can you try and control the monster? It is still alive!" you shouted and Chameleon nodded before attempting to focus her powers strongly on the Corruptor in front, holding it back for some time. You looked around the room and found a kitchen knife in a drawer then stabbed the confused monster in the chest, the blade clanks against a silver key that drops out and Chameleon releases the control on the monster who lunges at you.

You try to dodge but are too close to it when suddenly you feel a rush of power in your limbs and are forcefully pulled back like a puppet, thumping against the wall in pain. You groan and open your eyes to see Chameleon in front of you, smiling at you in relief while the monster lunged at her. You gasp and try to get up but cannot feel your limbs at all, as if someone took away your control on your body. It was Chameleon, she was doing this intentionally.

"No! Chameleon!"

Suddenly, Cabernet picked up her cane and swung at the monster's legs causing it to falter for a brief moment giving Chameleon enough time to pick up the knife and stab it into the monster again, finally killing it with the guest still alive.

"It's okay, Chief....I didn't tell you this before but I figured out everything a while ago. I peered into McGrath and Cabernet's minds....you can do this, I know. I know you will come back for me, until then..." Chameleon's voice echoed in your head while you watched her fall to the ground while gazing at you with a smile.

"Why didn't you tell me if you knew?!"

"Because....have you forgotten who I am? A psychopath that thrives on schadenfreude; of course, I wanted to see you suffer. How fun it was, watching you rack your brain and give your all for this hellish game, hehe~"

It had to be a lie; you couldn't believe her. Her actions contradicted her words as you watched her fall powerless, you finally gained strength in your limbs again and ran up to her to hold her in your arms. She smiled and caressed your face then you felt her placing something in your hand, they key to unlock the door.

"Go, my Chief. The last clue I can give you is.... our client is a Sinner."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"Sinner.... the princess of the Franc Family is a Sinner, and this whole banquet was for her. But she wasn't the one who made this game, but she was clearly taking advantage of it." you thought when McGrath suddenly revealed herself in the empty room. She was annoyed that you made it this far with Cabernet, she has been wanting to eliminate you all this time because you don't deserve to be beside Cabernet.

"You stand in a place of arrogance and use my name to evaluate others....Hmph, who gave you that right?" Cabernet spoke as she elegantly walked up to McGrath. "Who are you to judge anyone else?"

"But... I did this for you... to give you the purest, kindest and noblest souls in the world worthy of your taste!" McGrath retorted.

"For me? Haha...." Cabernet laughed softly then motioned you to come next to her. "The honorable souls you seek are not something judged by your superficial and self-righteous criteria."

And in a moment of impatience, McGrath eliminated Cabernet on her own making you the final winner. But what awaited you as the victor was not what you were promised yet it wasn't surprising either, thanks to Chameleon's hint earlier. Cabernet was indeed a Sinner, and while she didn't plan any of this, she truly enjoyed and feasted upon the souls she found appetizing. Among them, your soul was the one she wanted the most and waited for it all this time.

"My ingredients are back...and my feast is ready~" Cabernet mused in ecstasy, running her fingers through your hair in languish movements. You were lying on the dinner table in front of her, all served up for her.

"Cabernet! What....what are you doing?!"

Cabernet smirked and leaned down near your head, taking a whiff of your scent and sighing in pleasure. "I like you so much....so much so that I want to gobble you down in one bit....I held back so much until now...."

She leaned over and kissed your head, "Ahh... how delicious you are!"

She lifted your head, letting you see the rows of transparent boxes under the light. "Chameleon?! Why is she here?!"

"An interesting companion you brought along.... Claims to enjoy toying with others, especially you, but didn't hold back in sacrificing herself for you when it was time.... Just like her name, she changes her colors to blend according to the situation and hide her true self, the self that secretly cares for you beyond what she knows herself.... A unique flavor, something worth savoring~"

"....I'm the one you want most, right? Then let her go and have me!" you said desperately and Cabernet stares at you in surprise before turning gleeful and lunging at you feverishly, pinning you on the table.

"Yes! Yes! Exactly! This is what I want! You are the most delicious! After overcoming all hardships of the game, your soul is brighter, tastier and more attractive than ever! Aaah! Seeing you with her made me so eager to touch you and taste you!~"

She held you by your wrists and you could feel her soft skin and warm touch, you tried to snatch your hand away but she only pressed on tighter.

"Don't be afraid... I'll enjoy you slowly and take care of you. I'm just going to take one bite, think of it as a kiss. Just a kiss...."

Cabernet leaned down and lightly touched her lips on your cheek, it was a feather like touch that you barely felt yet your body was drained, like your soul was being sucked out. The next second, a crystal-clear grape was in Cabernet's mouth and she bit it gently, the rich juice flowed down the corner of her mouth....

"I...I need to restrain and detain you...."

Cabernet smirked, "Go ahead, Chief. Let's see if the growth of your power can catch up with the expansion of my desires. When that time comes, I'll willingly be at your mercy and follow you to the ends of the Earth~"

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

It had been 2 weeks since Cabernet's arrest and interrogation, you discovered all her secrets and the treasures she was talking about. Coincidentally, she reminded you of Chameleon slightly when you had met her as well. The two of them had uncanny similarities but significant differences.

"Chief, Sinner Chameleon wants to meet you after work." Nightingale informed you in your office and you told her to accept Chameleon's call. It was already 6 pm and you were approaching your limit for the day hence packed up your things and went to Chameleon's cell at around 6:30 pm.

"Good work to you, Chief~" Chameleon mused as she allowed you inside her cell which was unusually darkened.

"What is it? I think it's rather early for our chat..."

"Hehe~ Well, I wanted to have a longer chat today hence called you earlier. I hope you don't mind?~"

"Not really.... Hah~ I'm actually glad you called me because I was getting tired from all the paperwork." you sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. "Why don't you switch on the other lights? Are they not working? I'll have them repaired by tomorrow if that's the case."

Chameleon simply grinned and didn't reply, you stared at her in confusion when you suddenly heard clinking of heels from the other corner of the cell along with the tapping of a cane.

"My~ Do you prefer to keep the lights on under the sheets?~" it was Cabernet.

"Cabernet? What are you doing here....?" you cautiously said and stood up, realizing you didn't detect her through your shackles, it was Chameleon's doing. You didn't expect to see the two of them together after the incident at the banquet, you thought Chameleon would hold a grudge against her for turning her into food but it seemed they both had become friends instead.

"I'm here to have my meal, of course~" Cabernet replied in a joyful tone, making you confused then look at Chameleon who walked to your side and put her arms around your neck.

"I thought we could have additional company for our chat tonight~" Chameleon said while gazing into your eyes and Cabernet walked up to your other side now.

"What? When did the two of you decide this?"

"Hmm? Well, we have been in touch with each other since the banquet. I have been helping her deal with her urges using my hypnotherapy, and we eventually opened up to each other about some personal matters....like my relationship with you." Chameleon said while twirling your hair in her fingers.

Your eyes widened and you slowly pieced together the situation then Cabernet spoke, "You know how much I want your soul, Chief. But I also want you in another way.... and Ms Chameleon here told me she can give me what she wants~"

Ah, this was really happening, wasn't it? You had no way out. They both had improved and held themselves back since their respective arrests but naturally, their desires still remained.

"You'll satisfy us, won't you, our good-hearted Chief?~" they spoke in unison and you accepted the outcome with a nod of your head. Well, you still had to compensate Chameleon for her help in the mission and Cabernet had to be rewarded for keeping her appetite in check. Yes, that's what you were going to do.

Cabernet was the first to act as she leaned in and licked your right ear, sending a chill down your spine.

"Mm~ Just to prepare myself, hehe~"

"A-Are we going to do it here....?"

"Oh, do you have a better suggestion, Chief?" Cabernet asked, still continuing to lick your ear lobe. You glanced at Chameleon and she already understood your intention with a smirk.

"....My room has a bigger bed than the cells, still not as big but it should be sufficient."

Cabernet also smirked now and gently bit your ear lobe, "An excellent suggestion, Chief. Lead the way. Oh, and would it be alright to order a few delicacies? You know I have been having some cravings recently~"

"....Alright, what do you want?"

Cabernet had a list prepared of what she wanted but refused to tell you as it was to be a surprise so you let her hand it over to one of the guards while you took both of them to your room. You expected them to be all over you as soon as you'd enter but they were surprisingly patient, casually sitting on the bed and chatting a bit while you took a quick shower and changed into comfortable clothes.

"Am I really going to do this? With both of them at the same time? This is going to be a bad idea, isn't it? But they are quite...." you pondered under the shower then felt your face heat up imagining their beautiful bodies in front of you, "Stop! This isn't right! I need to be cautious with them, they both aren't just ordinary people....!"

You took a few deep breaths then finally came out of the shower dressed in a loose nightwear but were taken by surprise as you stepped outside the bathroom. The room was dimly lit with some candles and the 2 women were seated on your bed still fully dressed up in their usual attire. You had no idea how they had the time to prepare all this while you were in the shower, but it made you more nervous now seeing all the elaborate setup they were going for.

"Have a seat, Chief~" Cabernet said and patted the space between her and Chameleon. You walked up to the bed and sat between them as instructed then Chameleon moved behind you and asked you to climb up more. You did as told and were fully seated on the bed now with Chameleon behind you, holding you in her arms and Cabernet in front straddling your lap.

"Are you nervous, Chief? You are experienced in this so there's no need to feel that way~" Chameleon whispered in your ear from behind, her soft voice flowing in your ear almost making you entranced.

"I...I have never done it with two people at once." you confessed out of embarrassment, making them even more eager to do this. Cabernet slid her hands from your chest down to your belly before leaning near your neck and breathing in deeply.

"You are so delectable, Chief.... Aahh~ The urge to gobble you in one bite or the one to eat you bit by bit....which one should I give in to?~"

"Now now~ Let's take it slow and watch her break in our arms, I'm sure you'd prefer that a lot more~" Chameleon said while placing gentle kisses on your neck.

"Hey! There won't be any eating or soul sucking! Don't force me to use the shackles on you both!" you shouted in a pathetically desperate way, making them chuckle together.

"Don't worry, Chief, we'll keep our promise. Tonight is to satisfy our lusts together; my appetite will be satiated plenty by this until you offer your soul to me~" Cabernet said and kissed the other side of your neck now.

Their movements synced yet evoked different feelings in you; Cabernet was more into licking your skin and taking in your scent while Chameleon wanted to mark you with her bites and lipstick.

"Your neck is so delectable....I can hardly hold back from taking a bite~" Cabernet moaned and continued to lick.

Chameleon then tilted your head back and kissed your lips deeply, your tongue intertwining with hers as you moaned into each other. Cabernet took this opportunity to make a long lick from your nape to your jaw then sucking on your throat, a muffled moan leaving your mouth as you kissed Chameleon.

"Mm~ Delicious....but let's add in some flavor~" said Cabernet and reached out to the side table to grab a bottle of honey. Chameleon finally released the long and chaste kiss; you breathed quickly in her embrace then Cabernet was already back and poured a drizzle of honey on your neck while licking her lips, gazing at how it trickled down your skin.

"Thank you for the meal~" Cabernet said before diving in your neck and licking up the honey like a starved kitten, your body trembled at her ministrations feeling her warm tongue move up and down your neck while still being aware of Chameleon behind you who was unusually silent the whole time but in reality, she was quite enjoying watching you this way.

Cabernet suddenly bit hard at your neck making you arch up and clench the bedsheet with a stifled moan. She then looked at Chameleon and indicated something to her which was followed by Chameleon putting a blindfold over your eyes, stripping you off your vision.

"Let's play a little game, Chief~" Chameleon whispered and you could only nod and follow along. She then crawled in front of you as well making you lean on the headboard and they straddled each of your legs, smirking to themselves watching your messy state. Cabernet suddenly held your wrists and raised your arms and you soon felt something vine-like slither around your wrists and bind them together. You were confused now, what were they planning?

"You must be hungry after working so much. How about this- we will feed you some things one by one and you have to guess who fed you. If you get all of them right then you win otherwise....hehe~" Chameleon said.

You bit your lower lip and agreed to the tempting game. You understood how they were going to feed you and you were confident you'd win. Soon enough, you felt your chin being held and parted your lips for the incoming feast. A soft and familiar sensation was placed on your lips followed by a sweet taste and texture filling your tongue, a half strawberry was placed in your mouth.

"....Chameleon." you replied and they both smiled and congratulated you. This was easy, you had kissed Chameleon many times that you lost count, the taste and feeling of her lips was engraved in your mind. The next sensation you felt was new to you, an intoxicating wine-like scent accompanied by a rich flavor. Yet the food placed in your mouth was again a half strawberry but you were sure it wasn't Chameleon this time.

"Cabernet."

"My~ Well done, Chief. Now you know how both of us taste, the next rounds should be more interesting~" Cabernet said with a chuckle.

You knew you wouldn't win if this carried for too long but you were too aroused to back away now. The next sensation wasn't a food but a drink rather, another sweet and wine-like flavor trickled down your tongue while one of them kissed you deeply.

"Cabernet again...."

"Hehe~ Correct!"

"What happens if I win?"

"Why of course, there's a reward~" Cabernet said.

"....And what if I lose?"

"A punishment, naturally~" Chameleon said.

Ah, your destiny was in your hands as always. The game continued and the next feeling wasn't something sweet but rather cool and refreshing with a hint of spice. This confused you as the shape of their lips wasn't significantly different but their kissing techniques were, yet this one wasn't so different than the one before but also didn't feel familiar. Your mind was jumbled now, the pressure of knowing there's a reward and punishment clouded your judgment but you decided to trust your instincts.

"Chameleon...."

"Ah, I didn't think you'd guess that~" Chameleon chuckled.

"Did you eat something else before feeding me?"

"Mhm, correct. As expected of my exceptional Chief~"

Cabernet chuckled with her and you guessed it was her turn next but were still cautious. The next feeling on your lips was a familiar texture, it was a grape. You bit onto it from your side causing you to brush against the feeder's lips but it was very light, you barely felt anything. You expected her to come in again as you ate the end in your mouth but none of them moved and patiently waited for you to answer.

"Wait, I have to guess just from that? How is this fair...."

"Oh, come on, Chief. We know you can~" Cabernet said.

You swallowed thickly and pondered for some time, extremely unsure of the answer.

"C-Cabernet....?" you said nervously and there was silence from them both but they grinned at each other before finally speaking.

"Correct answer, Chief~"

You almost breathed a sigh of relief then heard the ruffling of clothes and your ears heated up in anticipation. The blindfold was finally removed and the sight in front of you left you breathless. Both of them had discarded their clothes and now sat in their bra and panties in front of you. Your eyes trailed over their exquisite features as if they were a lavish feast served for you.

"Time for your reward, Chief~" Chameleon mused and they both crawled closer to you then the vines holding your wrists was removed and they held each of your hand and brought it towards their abdomen. You blushed profusely at their intention but both of them were completely sure of this.

"We have been waiting for so long, Chief~" Cabernet said in a lusty voice and slipped your hand past her underwear, your fingers touched her clit followed by her already soaked cunt. Chameleon wasn't much better either, she was already rearing for you to be inside her. They rested their heads on your shoulders and kissed both of your cheeks while grinding on your palms. You rubbed their clits with your thumbs first, earning low yet pleasant sighs from them near your ears.

"C-Chief~ Mhm...~" Cabernet moaned.

"G-Go in...aaah~" Chameleon sighed.

You wasted no more time and finally inserted one finger inside each of them, their backs arching together feeling your finger part their walls and prod deeply. Cabernet held onto you much tighter and impatiently kissed you while waving her hips back and forth, clearly needy for more. Chameleon was more composed but you knew it was a facade, you had to continue a bit more to see her true self. You felt their juices coat your fingers and soon inserted a second one, catching them off guard but they moaned in ecstasy nonetheless.

"Oh! This is....! Delightful! More! Give me more of this feeling, Chief!~" Cabernet was whimpering now, desperately rutting her hips on your fingers. It was a sight to behold, seeing the elegant and noble heiress of the Francs break apart this way and become so needy in your arms. You angled your fingers deeper in her and touched her sweet spot which made her moan loudly and fall on you, holding your shoulders for dear life.

"Mhm~ Chief! More....yes.... right there!~ Aaaaaahn!~" Cabernet was first to release, a raspy moan echoing in the room as she arched back then fell on your shoulder, breathing heavily from her orgasm. You then focused your attention on Chameleon who was desperately trying to hold back her voice, you knew she was like this but it still surprised you seeing her this way.

"Let go, Chameleon. I have got you." you spoke in a gentle tone and assured her, finally making her let down her walls and fall in your arms. You thrusted you fingers at her deep spot earning a surprised gasp from her but she was soon rutting herself on your palm to seek her release. She too leaned on your shoulder now and kissed you deeply as you fingered her before burying her face in your neck and cumming with a whimper.

The two women laid panting in your embrace, heavy breaths flowing past your nape and your fingers drenched in their slick. Then suddenly Cabernet unbuttoned your shirt in a hurry, as if some kind of desperate need possessed her.

"More! More! Give me more, Chief!~"

Chameleon also joined in and they practically tore away your shirt and threw it faraway before Cabernet lunged at you and pinned you down. Her lips made kisses all over your face while Chameleon was busy unbuckling your pants and underwear. Cabernet's hands roamed on your body languidly, as if noting every feature, as if checking the goods before she consumed them. You soon felt numerous bites and marks placed on your belly and thighs by the 2 women, practically marking you as their possession.

"I can't wait anymore, Chief. I need you~" Cabernet said feverishly and dived between your legs to eat you out, your head shot back in surprise feeling her tongue lap up your folds like a thirsty kitten.

"W-Wait! Not so fast— ngh!~" you whimpered and attempted to hold Cabernet's head to push her away but Chameleon stopped your hand and winked at you, "Let her have her meal, Chief. It's rude to interrupt when someone's eating~"

You clenched the bedsheets again when suddenly Chameleon crawled up to your face and turned around to face Cabernet before putting her legs on either side of your head and sitting down. Her wet core was placed on your lips and you quickly began licking up her folds followed by inserting your tongue inside. Chameleon moaned loudly now, discarding all that held her back earlier. Her hips grinded on your tongue feverishly, chasing her own release again.

Cabernet also fastened her movements now; her tongue reached deep inside you and prodded your sweet spot while she sucked out your juices. You could barely control yourself now, trying to focus on pleasuring Chameleon while also holding back from Cabernet's movements. Your mind was overwhelmed and fuzzy from pleasure.

"Mmm~ Cum for me, Chief~ Let me taste you, I have waited so long!~" Cabernet moaned as she replaced her tongue with her fingers and you truly couldn't hold back now.

Feeling your walls clench on her fingers, Cabernet attached her mouth to your core again and you finally released all over her. She drank up every last drop as if it was the last meal she'd ever have, which honestly might be case now. Nothing could satisfy her appetite now; she needed your body and soul for everything. On the other hand, Chameleon also came soon after as your moan vibrated inside her, her juices covering your face as she breathed out before finally sitting beside you.

"You know, Chief? Earlier, you guessed the last one wrong. It wasn't her who fed you the grape." Chameleon's voice flowed in your head, making you surprised.

"Then why did you...?"

"Hehe~ I just felt you deserve to be rewarded for all your hard work. I can punish you anytime I want, right?~"

"Aaah~ What an exquisite taste! This is all I want! Chief.... Chief.... Be mine and let me have you for every meal!~" Cabernet chanted in a crazed manner as she crawled up your body and kissed you deeply again.

"Oh, you are not going to have my toy so easily!~" Chameleon spoke and straddled you as well before pushing Cabernet away and kissing you roughly. They both fought for your taste and lips, kissing you one by one until either were satisfied but you were too overwhelmed now.

"Wait! Wait! Let me breathe!" you desperately shouted and your shackles activated subconsciously. A burning and piercing sensation ran through both of them and they gasped in pain before you finally sat up and hugged them tightly.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to! Does it hurt?! I'm so sorry both of you!" you trembled and desperately apologized to them for using the shackles unintentionally. Chameleon peered into your mind and knew you didn't mean it; you could still barely control them even now. She conveyed the same thought to Cabernet and they both smiled gently then embraced you back.

"We know, Chief. Don't worry about it." Chameleon said in a soft voice, trying to soothe you.

"Mhm, it wasn't that painful. Rather, it was quite pleasurable if I'm being honest~" Cabernet added.

"Oh, hehe~ You have no idea how these shackles can be used for pleasure when she does it intentionally~" Chameleon said, making Cabernet curious.

"Oh my~ Now that's interesting, we should try that someday, Chief~"

They both laughed lightly and you smiled to yourself. You didn't understand them well, but you did know they trusted you. Now you wanted to show them your affection. The night carried on, Chameleon brought out the strap-on in your cupboard for you to wear. Both of them were sprawled out on your bed with you on top of Cabernet, her milky legs hanging over your shoulders as you pounded into her with the strap. At the same time, your hand was buried deep in Chameleon's hole and ruthlessly thrusted in and out.

"Aah~ Y/n.... Y/n! Yes! Faster!~" Cabernet moaned, she had started using your name instead some time ago as you continued. Truthfully, you became more flustered whenever anyone spoke your name but hearing these 2 women say it was a completely different experience.

"Close~ Mhm! Y/n~" Chameleon gasped and thrusted your fingers deeply, finally making her cum. At the same time, you drilled into Cabernet faster and she released as well at the same time. Their moans synced like music to your ears, a bewitching sight to see them both fucked out under you this way. But you weren't done. The next moment, you flipped Chameleon on her stomach and she stood up on all fours automatically, as if knowing your thoughts well.

"Come in, Y/n. Be inside me!~"

A newfound enthusiasm surged through you and you hilted the strap deeply inside her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as you started thrusting right away. You held onto her hips, fingers digging in her skin and squeezing the flesh. Her own hips were thrusting back into you now, a delicious rhythm forming of your thrusts. Soon after, Cabernet sat up and hugged you from the side before kissing you desperately.

"Focus on me, Y/n~" Chameleon's voice suddenly echoed in your head and you glanced at her to see her looking at you from the corner of her eye, you could swear she was smirking. Cabernet released the kiss and you finally fastened your thrusts, pounding into Chameleon's sopping and needy cunt. It was almost animalistic, the bed creaking from your movements. You buried into her deeply when she finally came, squirting her juices on the sheets. You pulled out of her and laid back to rest but saw Cabernet straddling your lap now and pushing the cock inside herself.

"We aren't done yet, Chief~" Cabernet mused while grinding on the strap.

"That's right~" Chameleon also said and crawled to your side.

You were sure you'd end up continuing until morning this way, both of them had impeccable stamina and desire, and they were expecting you to keep up. You'll satisfy them, right?~

#path to nowhere #kuro's kinktober #ptn x reader #chameleon #cabernet #ptn chameleon #ptn cabernet #chameleon x reader #cabernet x reader #ptn smut

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consultingskeletondetective · 2 months ago

Text

Virginal, chapter 5

Your relationship with Michael (if you could even call it that) had fallen into a strange little rhythm. He came for you, and you submitted like a good little victim. You'd never angered the shape enough by your non-compliance that he'd wanted to punish you for it.

Until now.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, non con, female reader, stalking, choking, spanking, squirting, forced orgasms

You needed a drink, and a nice distraction wouldn’t have gone amiss either, so when your co-worker Katie suggested you both go out for a bevvy after work you agreed before she’d even finished her sentence.

She chuckled but her expression creased a little as she stopped behind the bar to regard you.

“You okay, princess?” She asked kindly. “You seem a bit distracted today.”

You sighed a little as you pushed the cocktail you were meant to be bussing around the bar and leant against it, slouching forward. You knew you couldn’t tell her what was going on, but even if you could, you weren’t entirely sure you’d even want to tell her, or what the hell you’d even say. Instead, you ran your hand through your hair and didn’t look up.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just,” you blew out your cheeks as you struggled to get your words out. “A…friend of mine had a…a pretty close call with…with…Michael Myers.”

“No shit!” Katie exclaimed quietly, aware of the customers around them, her eyes bugging as she lowered herself down to your height on the other side of the bar. “Are they okay? Did they tell the police? Girl, I can’t sleep because of that psycho.”

“She’s fine.” She fucking isn’t. “It was just a bit of a shock, I guess. It put me on edge, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise!” Katie looked horrified. “He’s a monster! I’ve heard he’s killed like, what, 30 people since he escaped? They were saying on the news this morning that no one can figure out why he’s staying here and not going back to his hometown like the last time. You’d reckon if that were really the case then they’d have caught him by now.”

You were silent. You didn’t know if you were the reason he was staying, but then you also didn’t not know. Your stomach was in knots.

“All the more reason for that drink.” Katie smiled kindly. “Get your mind off that animal.”

“Yeah,” you managed a small, genuine smile. “That sounds amazing.”

You both hit the bar after your shift, still in your work clothes, and it was dark outside by the time you left. You’d only had a couple, but enough that you were feeling merry, maybe even happy, almost completely forgetting the waking nightmare you were living in.

You and Katie shared a cab back to yours and you hugged her goodnight before stepping out into the cool night air of your street, your front door in view. You heard her giving the cabbie directions to her house and then the car and its headlights disappeared around the corner and left you back in the darkness of the evening.

You slotted your key into the front door and pushed it open, already feeling your bed calling you, and you fumbled blindly next to the door until you found the lightswitch and turned it on, illuminating your living room.

Michael was stood in the corner of the room. He was staring, or seemingly so, at the front door. He stood as stiff as a board, his hands clenched by his sides. It was the only indication of his anger at all because he didn’t react when he saw you.

You stilled, your hand still on the door handle and you contemplated running back out into the street and screaming for help. You already knew that at this time of evening that the street was dead and he’d be across the room and your neck would be snapped in a second.

“What do you want, Michael?” You asked cooly, like you didn’t know. You assumed it was the alcohol giving you dutch courage, but there was still an unmistakable tremor to your voice when you spoke.

He didn’t answer you, because of course he didn’t, and for the first time you felt anger joining the fear shooting up your spine.

He took a measured step across the room, under the main light, and it was only then that you really noticed that his boiler suit was splattered with blood, the material of it sticking to his body in places, there was even a streak of gore on the cheek of his pale mask.

Your eyes widened and you hurried into the room and closed the door before taking a shaky step towards him, as if you’d accepted somewhere inside you that if you were the only one who got hurt, then that was okay.

“What did you do?” You asked the silence. Michael’s fists were still clenched, even though he was quiet and still as always, you could feel the waves of fury rolling off of him like it was tangible. Like flames of anger were licking across the room and burning you.

“How long have you been here?” You didn’t know why you even asked, it was just a force of habit at this point, you supposed. You were shrinking by the door, he was…different tonight. Mad. Maybe it was the blood, it reminded you of how dangerous he was, or maybe it was the way he was breathing, maybe it was the way he wasn’t moving - he’d have been all over you by now, but this time he wasn’t, like whatever was wrong was somehow your fault.

“Wait, are you mad at me for being out?” You asked incredulously. He didn’t move. You laughed maniacally at the absurdity of it. You definitely had dutch courage tonight. “Don’t stand there and stare at me all pissed off like I’ve missed fucking date night. I have a life outside of you!” You were fully shouting now, spurned on by his lack of response. “I’m not just going to be readily available whenever you want something to stick your cock into!”

Michael strode across the room faster than you’d ever seen him move until he was towering over you. His blood-stained fist curled around your throat, cutting off your air so you couldn’t even scream as he lifted you into the air until you were nearly two feet off of the carpet. Pain shot through your neck and your fingernails scraped at Michael’s large hand instinctively but he was solid and immovable, he just watched you silently as you scrabbled for air and kicked your legs out uselessly to collide painfully with his.

Your whole body felt like it was caught in flames as the blood rushed to your toes and you felt yourself going hazy.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped out weakly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please put me down.”

After an apparent moment of deliberation, Michael opened his fist and you fell to the ground and collided heavily with the floor. You landed on your spine but the pain dulled behind you as your hands scrambled protectively to your throat. You knew you’d have deep bruises there tomorrow. You looked up at him as your eyes swam with tears.

Fear bubbled inside you when you saw the blade in his grip, crusted with the same blood that was on his boiler suit.

You darted to your feet but then his heavy boot was on your sternum and you were hurtling back, your spine hitting the carpet again and this time it knocked the air out of you.

You coughed in pain, your eyes bleary with tears, as Michael lowered himself to his knees in front of you. He leant over your small body, utterly dwarfing you, until his masked nose was rubbing against yours and a bizarre streak of heat shot through you.

The sharp edge of his kitchen knife pressed cruelly against your throat and you honestly didn’t know if it diminished or added to your arousal. Either one was the wrong answer. You waited for the inevitable push down and the flash of pain as your flesh was rendered apart and blood spilled down onto your carpet.

Your eyes met the eyes of his mask and you felt strangely calm, maybe a little sad, as if silently telling him goodbye.

After a few more measured, bloated moments, filled with nothing but your twin breathing, the knife left your neck and scattered across the carpet as Michael discarded it without a second thought and his gore-thickened hands pushed your legs up and out of the way.

You gasped as your cheeks burned bright, only just realising how wet you were now your thighs were in his hands.

“Fuck…” You gasped, your heart hammering from adrenaline and arousal as Michael tore your trousers down your legs and discarded the ruined fabric behind him and then he was wrenching your legs apart, holding you down by the backs of your knees until your thigh muscles were straining painfully, your core utterly vulnerable to his murderous rage. Your thighs glistened with your own slick.

You rasped out his name and he reared back to sit back on his ankles before his gargantuan hands scraped up your thigh and you whimpered. The harsh slap of skin on wet skin as he struck the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh echoed around the room and you yelped, your body twisting off of the carpet in response. His other hand kept you pinned as he slapped your other thigh, leaving a raised and red welt on your sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Michael," you gasped as the searing pain shot through your thighs and right to your core and dollops of arousal dribbled from your traitorous little hole and a whine fell unaided from your lips. It was like he was spanking you as some sort of punishment for disobeying him tonight.

Michael looked down at you as he raised his hand again and you jolted on instinct as a heavy spank landed directly on your exposed and dripping cunt.

Your whole body arched and an inhuman screech left your mouth as your clit trembled under the violent abuse of Michael’s punishing strike.

“I’m sorry-” You gasped out. “Please-”

He surged forward with a burst of speed that scared you before he was wrapping his fingers around your throat and then he was holding you to the ground. His silent fury was unmistakable. You will be sorry.

You’d never seen him like this before. He was angry, angry with you. He had no hesitation in his movements as his hand left your neck and he sat back and yanked his zip down with a harsh growl of metal teeth and then he was pulling himself out.

Oh shit. His cock was hard in a way you’d never seen before, it was red and angry like his mood, swollen and dripping, the colour of blood. He throbbed in his own grip.

He lurched forward and wrapped his fingers around your thighs, dragging you across the carpet until it scraped painfully over your ass before hauling you against him. He threw your legs around his broad hips, his hand disappeared between your bodies for a moment and then you were groaning when you felt his engorged head breaching your weeping hole.

Michael surged forward, bending you in half until you were whimpering in shocked pain from the abuse to your thighs and your stomach and Michael was shoving his long cock all the way inside you. You felt the pain of his brutal thrust and his cock throbbing inside you as your cunt fluttered and clenched uselessly around his whole length. It burned so good, stretching you wide and deep and tears fell from your eyes from pure intense feeling alone.

Michael’s hands found your wrists and gripped them tightly, holding you firm to the carpet and it hurt, it hurt so bad that you couldn’t think, but then he was rearing his hips back and slipping his cock from your tight heat before shoving himself back in again with the same ferocity as before, pounding solid against your sweet spot immediately.

Your eyes rolled. His thrusts were brutally hard and the slam of his hips against your hips ignited a pain deep in your bones. Your entire body jolted upwards and your skin rippled as he fucked you with enough force that you’d be shoved across the carpet if his hands weren’t pinning your wrists immobile against it.

You were delirious with it, with the fucking pressure of his cock against your walls with solid and unforgiving and aggressive pleasure.

You felt like an animal, being disciplined with cock. You were being shown exactly what you were for and forced to submit so he didn’t cause you injury while he was deep inside you. You were his, not yours, his.

Your mouth was open but no words came out. Your eyes were hazy and he swam in front of you. The heat of his body mixed with your cunt clenching on his cock inside of you as your thighs quivered and your hips bucked up and a soft, strained whimper fell helplessly from your mouth.

A full-bodied sob left your mouth as you squirted hard around Michael’s cock. The feeling of your release being expelled was fucking incredible and it felt like it went on for days. He slipped from you, pushed out from the iron-tightness of your coming walls, his cock jamming against your folds and you whined, delirious eyes searching blindly as your cunt clenched, trying to find him.

“No, no, no, Michael, please, fuck, fuck m-”

An almost hoarse exhale of breath left Michael’s mouth and it was the loudest he’d ever been with you as one hand left your wrist. It was deeply bruised but that wasn’t the only reason you didn’t move as you watched him grip his wet cock - the squelch of his fist on it deliriously sexy - as he slipped himself down and entered you again.

You groaned and your head tipped back as he pushed back inside you, his cock rock solid and hot, and then he was leaning over you again, his fingers finding your wrist but it was clumsy as he fucked back into you. Instead, his palm fell flat against yours, your fingers rested against each other as he dwarfed your hand. He didn’t even need to use any energy to pin you down, he was heavy enough to do it.

Michael’s mask rested against your forehead as his cock pulsed against your sweet spot, and every thrust in brought an obscene squelch with how wet you were. You groaned and whimpered as his thrusts sped up again between your legs, somehow even harder than before, and then his hand was leaving your hand and wrapping around your neck. Your eyes locked onto the eyes of his mask and you gasped weakly as your legs wrapped painfully hard around his broad waist and you squirted again with a groan, hearing the splash of it. He didn’t let you push him out this time, instead he held your throat tighter, his body flush against yours as he fucked you through it. He ploughed you with enough force that it hurt, rubbing your vulnerable and spent sweet spot until you were shivering and jolting against it. He came to a halt as you clenched on him, rough breathing escaping his mask as his cock throbbed inside you and you felt the warm gush of Michael’s release in your damn womb.

Your whole body trembled on the carpet, trapped under Michael’s scorching weight. He seemed to stay on top of you for a long time, his hand lax on your throat and there was something about it that was sort of - nice. He was holding his own weight somehow, so that you could feel every inch of him pressed against you but he wasn’t crushing you like you knew he could very easily.

You felt a wave of emotion that brought tears to your eyes, upset that you’d upset him tonight, you didn’t want to do it again, you just wanted him close like this forever. Your brain quickly rejected the thought as you instinctively remembered yourself. You were fuck-drunk, and maybe even actual-drunk, and you were overhot and sluggish from coming so hard. You tried to compare it to some other time in your life but you couldn’t. You’d never come that hard before, simple as.

Soon enough, Michael was sitting back, his cock slipping from your wet hole with a slather of liquid, both yours and his, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He was soft. It was the first time you’d seen him like that, but somehow the flop of his spent cock sent waves of arousal through you. The swollen and limp shaft hanging heavily between his legs was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. You’re so fucked, you reminded yourself routinely.

“Michael.” Your voice was a rasp, and his mask tilted up as if he were listening to you. You had nothing to say.

Instead, his hands found your thighs and pressed them back apart. His fingers ran through your folds, gathering your spend on them before he was bringing his hand up to his mask as if to inspect it. You blushed harder. Michael’s fingers disappeared under his mask for a long moment and when he retracted them, they were cleaned with his own spit.

Before you even had time to process whatever the fuck you’d just seen, he was trailing his fingers between your legs again and finding your wet heat before sinking inside you. It was easy, with how blown wide you were, for him to sink up to the knuckle with his index and middle, but when he flexed them, your whole body jolted as his calloused fingertips brushed against your swollen and used sweet spot.

“Ah!” You gasped as the spirals of oversensitive pleasure coursed through you. Michael’s hand squeezed over the red welt glistening on your thigh as his fingers sped up, thumb swiping memorably over your trembling clit as he pistoned in you in a less than gentle way.

Your cunt clenched uselessly as pleasure churned violently inside you and shivers hit the nape of your neck as you neared your crest. You wailed as you squirted liquid spend into Michael’s open palm, he didn’t stop, fucking you through it as spurt after spurt of you landed on him and you couldn’t help yourself, throwing your head back and moaning in a way that would put a porn star to shame.

Michael pulled his fingers from you and your cunt quivered from overuse, your cheeks hot, your whole body trembling. Forget stars, you were seeing the gates of heaven.

You just about managed to crane your neck up with what little strength you had in time to see Michael wrapping his slick-soaked hand around his own cock as it thickened up in his grip again. Your eyes widened. He wasn’t human, you knew that already, but it still surprised you.

He curled his hand around your hip as he pushed himself up higher on his knees and ran his head through your folds, smearing his own white come onto you like a mark. You groaned at the sight and the heat and even managed a tired smile.

“I don’t think I can go again.” You said honestly. “I think you broke me.”

Michael’s head cocked but he didn’t look up at you as he sunk his cock back inside you and somehow he felt even bigger than before, it felt like air was being punched out of your gut as your back arched against the carpet. You were wet and stretched enough that he slid home with relative ease, but you were so hyper-sensitive that you could feel every vein of him, every inch of hot cock as he pushed up in you. You looked down, your brain nearly offlining with pleasure and horror as your theory was confirmed, there it was, a bulge in your stomach where his cockhead sat.

You were mesmerised by it, him inside you, a part of you, or was it the other way around? You blamed your fuck-drunk brain as your hand snaked lazily down and pressed against it.

Michael jolted up and your eyes flicked to him, widening as he gripped your ass as if in response and rolled you down onto his cock. Your hands fell to the floor and you groaned as your sore sweet spot pressed hard against his thick length, every one of your outward breaths was a lengthy and desperate gasp as he fucked you for the second time that evening. It wasn’t as ferocious as before, like he wasn’t dashing for the finish line this time, rather he was enjoying himself. You assumed that meant you were forgiven.

“Oh, fuck, please be gentle,” you begged. “I’m so sensitive…”

His fingernails gripped your thighs as he fucked into you with measured strokes and your shoulders shook as your drawn out pleasure was nearly painful, your cunt clenching uselessly. You didn’t know how long it went on for, but it felt like forever, like a never-ending sweet torture.

Michael’s grip on your thighs tightened and you recognised the cruel action, the warning infliction of pain when you’d angered him. You frowned in your post-orgasmic haze, wondering what you’d done, or what you weren’t doing -

His hips sped up between your legs and you gasped, your head shooting up as your thighs quaked at the unexpected change to hard and fast and unrelenting and -

Fuuuuuuck, your brain scrambled and you choked on your own spit as you gushed around him. He slipped free from you willingly and watched your spray gush out messily and you winced and blushed and then he leant up, his cock still stiff and bobbing, wet and ignored, as his fingers went back inside your cunt. You damn-near sat up on his hand, impaling yourself and gasping as you scratched at his wrist uselessly.

“No, no, no, no more, Michael, I can’t -”

Michael was already three fingers deep inside you, hammering up against you roughly, squelching with every flex of his murderous, strong fingers and you sobbed loudly as his thumb pressed back on your sensitive clit and pain shot through your thighs and you quivered and pulsed and a few weak spurts dribbled down his wrist.

His breathing sounded ragged as he let his fingers slip from you, watching the pitiful squirts of your pussy as you collapsed back and your chest heaved, utterly spent with how much you’d come, and how hard. Was Michael a demon or a god? Or both? You didn’t know. You were so zoned out that you didn’t realise that he’d just pleasured you, if only for the curiosity of watching you come all over him.

Michael seemed to decide that his good deed was done for the night, however, as he speared you open on his aching cock and you dribbled down onto your own neck, fucked out and useless. Your hand found his wrist and gripped, anchoring yourself as he fucked into you. This cruel fuck was nothing to do with you, you were just a wet vice-grip around his cock, your body a masturbatory aid as he rammed into you. That didn’t stop your cunt clenching on him though, it didn’t stop the obscene spikes of overstimulated pleasure drowning you and you had no idea if you were coming, none at all, but you didn’t have anything left to give, you didn’t even clench particularly hard, and Michael slipped out again.

You waited for him to thrust back in but he didn’t, instead he sat up, taking his wet cock in his fist and you watched delirously as he pumped himself in his huge red fist, one hand gripping your knee painfully, and then he was pulsing in his hand and his hot spray was coating your stomach like he was marking you, giving you his come in a bizarre imitation of taking yours.

You felt his hot spend on your stomach and your hand came down to wipe it around, coating your stomach in him. A traitorous and horrible part of your brain wanted to bring it to your mouth and taste him, like you were desperate for it, but you couldn’t. He was still a murderer, an abomination, you still hated him.

Michael was watching you spread him all over your body like you were trying to wear him and you promptly stopped, letting your hand fall limply to your side.

Michael started to tuck himself back into his ruined boiler suit and you became more aware of yourself, you knew he’d broken in somehow, you knew his knife was lying around here somewhere. What he planned to do with it, you didn’t know.

You turned your head to search for it and a sickly wave washed over you. The world span for a moment until your exhausted body gave up, and the carpet beneath your head suddenly became the comfiest thing in the world.

…

It was pitch black when you woke up, so much so that you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. You let the events of your evening wash over you with mixed emotions before wondering briefly if you’d fallen asleep or simply passed out, before deciding that you honestly didn’t know.

You laid there in the dark for a long time, the thrill of waking up alive every time was becoming less intense but it still played on your mind. You knew you were fucked when you considered your monsterous lover not murdering you as a small convenience to your life.

Tonight had been different though, hadn’t it? You couldn’t put your finger on exactly why and you were too tired to even try.

Finally, exhausted, you pushed yourself up and frowned when you felt spongey resistance beneath your sore palms.

Following a hunch that couldn’t possibly be true, you let your sense-memory guide your hand and, sure enough, you found your bedside lamp in the gloom. It bathed your bedroom in a mellow light.

Your bed was soft beneath you, and, as usual, Michael was gone.

#virginal #skeleton_detective #michael myers #halloween #michael myers x reader #Fanfiction #pls read the tags #dark fic #multi chapter

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aliusfrater · 29 days ago

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sam's early seasons anger is his response to the trauma obtained within the (non)family unit that is john-dean-sam, but most importantly, it's his response to the abuse john had inflicted upon both himself and dean, and it's very often on behalf of dean, who in his own codependent dynamic with john as a parentified child, non-pathologised john's abusive actions and was unable to form any kind of significant pushback against john's abuse. john's abuse is grief and emotion projected outwards onto dean, a child, the son, who gains the unjust responsibility of having to manage his father's emotions. sam refuses to be like dean and cater himself to john largely because he, through his Othering and detachment within his family and hunting, is able to view john's actions as what it is—abuse. he acknowledges this in over and over season one both with reference to the fact that what happened to them was 'not normal' and with specific reference of why john's actions are abuse—"you were just pissed you couldn't control me anymore!" he expresses his refusal to fold into the same mould that dean has through anger, first through character-typical malicious compliance, in which he asks questions he knows he is entitled to (and generally believes in arming oneself with information, due to both the chronic lack of information john and dean had provided him with as a child (3.08)) but knows john will view as disrespect (due to the fact that it strays from the codependent role that dean has folded himself into on john's behalf; he does what he's told and asks no questions, though is generally awarded more information due to his parentification) and then through argumentative behaviour. both john and dean frame john and sam's arguments as sam's fault but this is the most encapsulating abusive aspect of it—john's (the parent) response to sam (the son) is not sam's responsibility.

i don't think his revenge is encapsulated by his anger; his revenge comes from their familial idealistic response to grief, and anger is a part of grief, rather than the other way around. instead of processing this grief, it's channeled into revenge. it's a foundation of hunting for a lot of hunters, which is both a literal and metaphorical representation of the cycle of abuse (and when it isn't hunting, it's represented in blood (re: men of letters)). his conflict with lilith isn't wholly about his revenge for dean's death, especially after dean is resurrected. i think it's more so related to my interpretation of sam's character conflict for that season being that of rejecting what the codependent dynamic of his and dean's relationship¹ had become by season three in favour of his own independence; his conflict with lilith and how ruby plays into this conflict began with revenge then became the nucleus of his rebellion against dean (which does include anger²). he acknowledges this directly in season five—"dean, one of the reasons i went off with ruby... was to get away from you. [...] it made me feel strong. like i wasn't your kid brother."—but it doesn't help that both ruby and the angels were actively encouraging this conflict between sam and lilith largely because of the fact that it 1) re: ruby—represented a course of agency for sam outside of dean and presented an opportunity for her own manipulation of sam (she filled in a dean-like role in the sense that she catered to everything sam wanted the actual dean to be doing for him—namely the acceptance of his monstrosity—while presenting him with a facade of independence), and 2) re: ruby and the angels—provided them with a pawn to break the final seal by dressing up the idea of lilith as free of negative consequence through the omission of information (according to both the angels and ruby, lilith was the one who had to complete breaking of the final seal. to sam, killing lilith was morally righteous).

²i do think that sam has a general undercurrent, simmering, and oftentimes outward yet compartmentalised anger that he utilises within his own agency outside of his relationship with john then dean. however, i do think that the very core of it is more related to his Othering, monstrosity, and the loss of control that he feels when his environment responds to his monstrosities. sam admits to this as well—4.16, "well, get angry." / 5.11, "most of the time, i can hide it, but... i am angry. i'm mad at everything. i used to be mad at you and dad, then lilith, now it's lucifer, and i make excuses. i blame ruby or the demon blood, but it's not their fault. it's not them. it's me. it's inside me. i'm mad… all the time... and i don't know why."—and something that really intrigues me about the latter admission is the event preceding it: he's tied to a bed (much like the conditions of the panic room) and his anger is victim blamed with explicit reference to his monstrosity. "you are far too angry to be out there in the real world," is a very pointed and crazy ass line on the 'we kill monsters who fall out of line and into our line of sight' show directly after the season in which he perceivably became the 'them' within the 'us vs them' metaphorical equation. the people that sam bring up are also representations of either his Othering, a loss of control, or his explicit monstrosity. his anger began with his father's abuse and continued long after his death when he passed control of sam's life over to dean who, through his inability to properly handle the past responsibility of parentification, perpetuated it into this request made by john which clashed with dean's existing ideas of monstrosity; sam's existence outside of the existing dichotomy of hunting prompted the stretching of this dichotomy to fit sam (dean’s season two conflict re: sam) rather than the destruction and rewriting of the dichotomy itself and in that way, sam still ended up othered within his existence as a threat to the upturning of their familial hunting beliefs. ruby and lilith (as well as azazel) represent the pretence of control just as much as they represent his unknowing grappling for control (addiction) as well as his monstrosity due to how he employed his monstrosity within his conflicts with them while lucifer represents an entire loss or both perceived or preconceived control—both the idea of sam's monstrosity in an inherent sense, as well as sam's complete lack of control are cemented with lucifer's existence just as much as the preparation (azazel's plans, and it does intrigue me that azazel isn't listed here) leading up to it.

it's foundational to my interpretation of sam that he believes that his monstrosity predated his explicit narrative monstrosity due to the abuse—neglect and isolation most importantly—he experienced as a child and the resulting guilt complex that he's left with, which he then encapsulates within the revelation of his unwilling/unknowing ingestion of demon blood as a baby and i think that with every complex-reinforcing factor that introduces itself into his life, he weaponises/quite simply falls back on his response (anger) to the most original grooming, abuse, and explicit example of a loss of control and Othering in his life—the john-dean-sam dynamic, with an explicit emphasis on john (kind of in a similar way to my idea of dean's reaction to a loss of relationship control, which is to begin recreating the same dynamic). a lot of it comes down to the fact that while he is angry on behalf of himself at these structures—familial, patriarchal, hunting, cycles (of abuse, grief)—he exists within but are both othered and controlled by, the general narrative and sam-dean relationship dynamic pushback against his response to this aspect of his character being that of both adding his response to reasons for/blatant instances of his othering as well as using his response to facilitate the realigning of his non-position within these structures, creates a self-deprecating loop of guilt and results in an anger at himself that echoes exactly the way that these structures demand that his identity be compartmentalised through. basically, it spells either ‘there is something inherently illicit about me. i need information/forgiveness/change (in that order)' or the usage of both this feeling as well as his perceived monstrosity/aspect that he is othered as a result of as agency as seen in season four, five, six, and season eight, is extended onto dean in season eleven, then jack in seasons thirteen through fifteen.

ultimately, these structures' facilitation of sam's non-role involves the depletion of sam's anger and results in his later-seasons characterision that is best (but not wholly) encapsulated within 7.17, "get pissed!" / "i'm too tired," especially when the circumstances of sam's response—in regards to the fact that dean has resouled sam despite his (5.22 and soulless!sam's) explicit doubled lack of consent against it, and while creating the issue that is sam's psychosis, has restored sam/sammy's rightful narrative place within his non-role—not only serve as a perfect example for the abuse dynamics of his and dean's relationship and how it facilitates sam's non-role within said relationship as well as the structures that this relationship is encapsulated by, it also serves as a perfect example for exactly how sam's anger worked, what its purpose was, as well as exactly how and why its depletion facilities his complete assimilation into these structures' atmospheres of abuse. the Whole topic of sam's later-seasons lack of anger (or anger when utilised) is an entirely different post, though.

¹specifically relating to 1) identity and monstrosities relating compartmentalised through the ‘us vs them’ dichotomy of hunting and how it manifests into a relationship dynamic where sam is dean's little brother, sammy, put on a pedestal of innocence because his innocence became dean's responsibility within his parentification and any indication of sam's monstrosity, as something evil encroaching upon Sammy, is therefore viewed a personal failing despite the unequivocal place it holds within sam’s being, 2) and 3).

#i'm at that point in being hyperfixated where i need to put ideas that are basic to my interpretation of a character in text Somewhere #before it becomes so vital that it's also more subconscious than anything #this was written in response to a post chii was asked to respond to a couple weeks ago but i stopped caring about that post #took out of a part of what i was saying and made this #long post #sam winchester #se referat

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pomefioredove · 2 months ago

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since my little dorm post has been getting a lot of notes(?!) I wanna explain why I feel I'd get sentenced I mean sorted into diasomnia ^^

the thing about twst dorms is that while there are superficial traits (ignihyde students being introverted, savanaclaw students being athletic, etc), those are more like stereotypes, and are not why you would be sorted into one of those dorms

the dark mirror reads your soul, not your hobbies. it's not a quotev quiz that'll ask you what your favorite color is. it's about you as a person: your values, beliefs, dreams, wants and needs, etc

like, epel felmier is a rough 'n tumble rural boy who swears and picks fights. but he belongs in pomefiore, because pomefiore isn't actually about looking pretty and doing fancy things, it's based on the fairest queen's tenacity. no, epel isn't proper or polite, but that's not what the dorm is about. he's a goal-oriented, determined, hard-working young man who embodies the spirit of persistence. that is why he's in pomefiore, and not savanaclaw or what have you

so when talking about diasomnia, I am never saying "oh, I think I'd be a really powerful mage" because that's not what the dorm is. that's just a stereotype. etc etc

(I feel like what we actually know about diasomnia itself is quite limited. at least compared to the other dorms. the thoughts I have of it could be completely non-canonical, but I have thoughts, nonetheless. so)

I said somewhere on this blog that I put a lot of value on things like politeness and civility and respect, and that I consider myself a polite person. I was raised to mind my manners and put aside my personal feelings for the sake of formality. I have never started a fight in my life, but I do get very upset when I feel as if I'm being disrespected. my family observes a lot of old traditions that are rather outdated

ex:

if you are invited to something but don't attend, you still send a gift

if you are invited to something, you invite the host to your future events

you always say thank you after receiving a gift

if you don't have anything nice to say, then you can complain about it at home. but you never, ever insult a host to their face. it's so uncouth and terrible it's like a deadly sin to me

things like that. lots of rules about hierarchy and respect. doing something disrespectful or impolite (especially without an apology) is enough to create schisms in my family. we hold grudges here

when I think of the thorn fairy's "nobility", this is the sort of thing that comes to mind. the high emphasis on the hierarchy of respect, on civility and graciousness. the value of tradition, and doing things the old-fashioned way (and the dislike, or fear, of change seems to be a common theme in diasomnia)

you could surely look at the things I just said and say, "well, you would also fit in at pomefiore" because, sure, I would! I can do the rules, I can respect the housewardens, but I lack the tenacity and the want to be something that makes the dorm what it is. diasomnia may have some similarities, but its reluctance to embrace change is what makes it so different

I, as a person, do not have dreams. most of my life has been spent just trying to get by whilst at the level of this hierarchy I was born into. I couldn't be in pomefiore because, unlike epel, I don't have big goals to work towards. I feel more comfortable being a follower than a leader, and I have a tendency of structuring my life around the lives of others rather than my hopes and dreams. I do not live boldly

and it doesn't bother me. I've found that there are benefits to staying in the shadows, and I'm comfortable with my socially nocturnal life

that is why I'm diasomnia, and not pomefiore

my favorite fairytale, which is not sleeping beauty, is very much about social structure. it's about a heroine's malicious compliance to that structure and how she manages to turn it in her favor

ironically, it also is about a spinning wheel

#I've given it some thought and this is the least I could come up with #if only I knew everyone in the notes of that uquiz post personally. I could tell you exactly why you fit where you do. I think

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doumadono · 1 year ago

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(Sinful Sunday)

Sekido having reader as a maid au in his own mansion so he haves fun with her whenever he wants. When he sees a guest flirt with reader he so enraged when the guest leaves he whips reader and claims her as his own and then he demand she no longer wear any underwear around him whenever they are alone

Warnings: non/con elements, fem!Reader, Sekido lives in a mansion

SINFUL SUNDAY

In the opulent halls of Sekido's mansion, you found yourself in the unique position of serving as his maid. The lavish setting was a stark contrast to the modesty of your uniform, but you navigated the opulence with grace. Days were spent attending to the needs of the grand estate, ensuring every corner sparkled with pristine cleanliness. Little did you know that your routine was about to take an unexpected turn.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the mansion, a distinguished guest arrived. Sekido, known for his stoicism, greeted them with a reserved nod. The air was thick with an unspoken tension as the guest's eyes lingered on you. Your every move seemed to captivate them, and Sekido, though normally composed, felt a pang of unease.

As the night unfolded, the guest's flirtatious remarks became more pronounced. You, bound by the duties of your position, maintained a professional demeanor, but the tension was palpable.

Sekido, observing from a distance, felt an unfamiliar emotion bubbling within him — an unsettling mixture of anger and possessiveness.

The guest's advances became increasingly brazen, each word a provocation that fueled the growing fire within Sekido. He watched, jaw clenched, as the line between propriety and audacity blurred. It wasn't long before he could no longer contain his simmering rage.

Finally, unable to bear witness any longer, Sekido stepped forward, his voice sharp and cutting like a blade. "That's enough," he declared, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that could melt steel. "Leave now or I'll end your pathetic life."

The guest, taken aback by the sudden eruption of Sekido's wrath, excused themselves, leaving a trail of unease in their wake.

Alone in the aftermath, Sekido turned to you, his usual composure shattered. "You are mine," he declared, his tone possessive and raw as he walked closer to you. The anger in his eyes was replaced by a vulnerability that betrayed the depth of his emotions. "No one else's."

Before you could summon any resistance, the sensation of your clothing being forcefully torn enveloped you, and you found yourself hastily thrown onto the nearest couch. The immediate aftermath was the intense heat and unyielding pressure of Sekido's firm cock entering your most intimate space. Your own body, initially unprepared and tense, required Sekido to withdraw and engage in a purposeful rhythm to gradually navigate his way within. Your surrender was swift, your compliance apparent, creating an ideal scenario for him, knowing well that your adaptability would lead to swift comprehension and acquiescence.

The commanding shaft persistently sought entry, its forceful attempts at penetration your cunny not yet reaching completion but ceaselessly endeavoring to do so. The amalgamation of unexpected astonishment and unfiltered discomfort melded, overpowering nearly every other sensory experience. Your entire focus became consumed by the singular thought of his powerful dick pushing into you, eclipsing all else in your awareness. Despite his fully clothed state, the only exception being his hakama pants draped at his ankles, the intensity of the encounter heightened, leaving you entranced by the relentless pursuit of connection.

In a physical sense, he exuded a commanding and imposing presence, his silhouette casting a towering shadow over you. Your pussy tensed around him, a struggle for control that seemed almost beyond your grasp. His dominance was all-encompassing, every action executed with meticulous precision, as if he had orchestrated this encounter before, anticipating your every move and thought well in advance. It was a display of mastery that left you feeling entirely at his mercy, as if he had an innate understanding of you that surpassed even your own awareness.

"If you're good…" he grunted as he thrust, "and let me have what I want, everything will be fine. I don't have to hurt you if you just do as I say. I'll break you in."

With an additional grunt, he ultimately bottomed out in you. The friction ignited a searing sensation along the walls of your startled intimacy, stretching you wide with a perceived girth that seemed almost unbelievable. The awareness of his heavy balls against your ass only intensified the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Terrified and still too stunned to speak, you whimpered.

Sekido's hand slapped you hard on the ass, and he commanded, "Now, just do as I say and everything will be fine. Milk me. Come on, squeeze me with that tight, sweet little cunt. I want to feel you working hard under me."

You wriggled uncomfortably, the struggle to maintain concentration evident as your mind clouded with apprehension; the understanding that crossing Sekido was ill-advised lingered heavily. In that moment, the paramount concern became his satisfaction, eclipsing all else. A peculiar facet of your psyche, a shadowy inclination, found a perverse liking in the punishment he meted out, adding a complex layer to the dichotomy of emotions coursing through you.

Another smack rattled your face this time, leaving a sting. He grunted. "You be good like I told you to."

Nodding, you bore down, trying to relax your muscles.

"There you go," Sekido said in an almost soothing voice, "that's it."

He proceeded to discipline you with a successive barrage of thrusts, each one more forceful than the last, easily overwhelming your feeble attempts to resist. A scream involuntarily escaped your lips. His dick, seemingly swelling and hardening within you, administered a punishing roughness that intensified the ordeal. The intricate dance between pleasure and pain ensued — every clench around him brought waves of pleasure, only to be swiftly replaced by a jolt of pain as you relaxed.

"Good girl," Sekido grunted, leaning further to drill you deeper, "You do that some more, just be quiet now, that's it. That's it, pathetic weakling."

The thrusts somehow became deeper, more earnest, and both his hands roughly tilted your hips up towards him, opening your legs as wide as they would go.

His hand remained steadfast, skillfully directing his dick in and occasionally introducing a finger or two to join in the rhythmic stroking within your drenched cunny. This deliberate manipulation elicited frantic little cries from you, your body writhing in a helpless manner, legs splayed beneath him in a submissive display.

"You can scream all you want to now, woman, nobody can hear you out here."

His cock was now nudging against your cervix, driving you insane with fear and pleasure. At first you did scream, half pain - half pleasure, as fingers and cock swirled into you, probing and retreating.

Then, almost miraculously, Sekido tensed for a final time, and in a merciful culmination, he explosively released his seed within your abused pussy. His warm cum flowed deliciously deep, whether welcomed or not. The auditory backdrop revealed his exhales, not in the sighs of a lover reveling in pleasure, but rather in the quiet satisfaction akin to a man indulging in a secret, illicit pleasure. As he withdrew, muttered words escaped his lips, "If you dare to don underwear in my presence again, I'll make sure the consequences are even more severe for you, feeble one. Keep that in mind, woman."

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ashensgrotto · 1 year ago

Text

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 1)

Characters: AzulAshengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 (You are Here) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author's Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui 's annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don't write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will had links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Cruel and cold like winds on the seas

Will you ever return to me

Hear my voice sing with the tide

My love will never die

Over waves and deep in the blue

I will give up my heart for you

***

If someone were to tell you that you’d eventually be pulled into the wrong end of the sea by, not one but three, unknown sea creatures - you’d probably laugh your head off, thinking they’ve lost their mind.

But how wrong you’d be.

When you had initially applied to work at Twisted Wonders - an emporium of oddities that were collected and studied by the greatest minds in existence - you thought you’d be taking an everyday desk job; answering phone calls, scheduling tours, directing visitors… that sort of thing.

Never in your right mind would you believe that you would be working alongside the Dire Crowley - director and owner of Twisted Wonders. Mr. Crowley was an acclaimed renowned genius with an air that was both mysterious and alluring. He was approximately 170 cm in height (five feet, seven inches) and wore rich tailored clothing made of silks and leather with gold embroidery and jewels embedded into the vest and belt; of course, he upped his strange allure by consistently wearing a heavy leather overcoat that hung to his frame, decorated in black feathers - real or faux, no one was sure, a top hat that perched on his head, and a mask of black that reminded you of a crow - his arched nose hidden under the long rim of the mask that poked out like a beak.

“Here’s the deal, (Y/N),” Mr. Crowley spoke, reclining back in his desk chair as a pair of golden eyes peered out from behind the mask, “We’ve recently acquired three creatures that need to be observed. My team, however, has been unsuccessful at getting remotely close to studying them. They seem to think that an outsider might have a higher success rate at being able to approach them more than any of us will due to their knowing who we are.”

“So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“I want you to observe them,” Mr. Crowley spoke, pushing a contract towards you, “You will work with my group of scientists for about three months as well as the three creatures. You are to notate anything and everything you see the trio doing - how they eat, sleep, react with each other, and so forth - and document everything for our records, no matter how insignificant it is. If you prove your worth and competence within those three months, you will be moved to another position within the facility of your choosing.”

“And that’s it? That’s all I need to do?”

“That’s it.”

‘Seems pretty easy for a payment of twenty dollars an hour…’ you thought as you looked down at the contract before, “And this is my… compliance, right?”

“That would be correct, as well as a safety and confidentiality agreement,” Mr. Crowley answered, offering a pen in your direction.

You took the instrument and wrote your name across the bottom of the page on the dotted line.

“Alright,” Dire Crowley took the contract and stood, pressing a buzzer on his desk, “with everything in order, I’ll have Grimsley take you to meet Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein - the overseers of our aquatic project.”

“I’m sorry, did you say aquatic?” your eyes widened in surprise.

“Dear me, did I forget to mention that part?” Mr. Crowley tapped his chin, his glowing eyes looking up toward the ceiling before returning to rest on your features, “Our newest arrivals are of the oceanic nature - I’ve never met or seen them myself, however Professor Crewel and Professor Trein will be able to go over the basics with you and introduce you to the trio in question.”

“As long as they don’ forget the good stuff!” a snarky voice spoke from behind.

You turned in your chair toward the door to see the man who must’ve been Grimsley.

He was about 163 cm in height with pale skin and dark gray hair with tufts of flame blue poking out in random directions. His eyes also were flame blue and held mischief in their depths that matched the smirk on his face as a set of sharp teeth peered out from behind thin lips. He wore a suit of black with a vest that matched his hair, a black and white-striped tie, and a white dress shirt. Leather loafers padded softly against the carpeted flooring of Crowley's office as he held out a black leather gloved hand in greeting.

"Grimsley Overblot," the man smiled like a Cheshire cat, "I'm Mr. Crowley's henchman and errand runner here at Twisted Wonders."

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you answer, taking Grimsley's hand with a shake, "pleasure to meet you."

“Grimsley, go ahead and take (Y/N) to see the good professors,” Dire Crowley spoke, a satisfied smile on his features, “I’m sure the two are more than ecstatic to meet her.”

***

As it turns out, both men were ecstatic to meet you - though Professor Trein was a bit more reserved about it versus his partner.

Trein's appearance matched his personality - his posture indicated a "no nonsense" aura as did his unchanging features. His lips would quirk into a small smile before they would fall to a straight line as his dark eyes settled on your uneasy form, as if he enjoyed watching you squirm like a germ under the microscope. He was dressed as any scientist would; a heavy white lab coat that fell to his knees hung around his frame that covered a white dress shirt and charcoal-colored dress pants and loafers. His hair was gray with streaks of white and wrinkles covered every inch of his face and neck. He also wore a set of white pristine gloves and had a cravat around his neck with a singular emerald gem that held the cloth together.

As for his partner, Professor Crewel was a bit more… eccentric. Crewel had a sort of energy about him that reminded you of a young dog - not a puppy, but not an adult either. He was always cocking a smile that bore teeth, chuckling when he patted the top of your head as he called you "puppy." His clothing matched his laidback ideals too - a heavy black and white fur coat with a red silk lining covered the charcoal gray dress shirt and pants. His vest was black on one side, white on the other, and wore a red tie that matched the gloves on his hands.

“So,” Crewel spoke after introductions, pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket and lighting the object, “any questions before we get you set up?”

“I guess my big question is what exactly will I be working with?” you ask.

“We believe the trio to be mers, but they’re not your typical ones,” Trein explained with a sniff as his features twisted at the smell of Crewel’s smoke, “All three of them have the upper bodies of men, but lower halfs of sea creatures. Two of the three half the lower half of what we believe to be that of a moray eel and the third the lower half of an octopus. The twins are typically more curious of the three, though they can be aggressive. Several of our closest colleagues were attacked by the duo after accidentally disturbing them - their bites have left scars and one of our colleagues actually lost their leg from their attack.”

“... and you don’t think I will?” you had to question, the comment coming out high-pitched.

“Well, moray eels - specifically - will attack only if they have been disturbed,” Crewel answered nonchalantly, “We believe there are similarities between the animals and the mers, which is why we are gathering as much information as we can. We want to know what the similarities and differences are between moray eels and the twins.”

“Okay, but I still don’t see how I won’t get attacked by those two. And what about the third?”

“You won’t be attacked as long as you stay still and don’t make any sudden movements,” Trein answered, “Once they get used to you, you’ll know.”

“As for the third,” Crewel answered, “he’s a cecaelia - half man, half octopus.”

You blink, “Don’t moray eels eat octopi?”

“Typically, yes,” Trein answered, “which is strange, in this case. The trio were originally found off the coast in the Coral Sea - living in harmony with each other. When we brought them here, the moray mers have consistently been surrounding the grotto that is in the enclosure - the cecaelia hiding within and rarely comes out. We think that the cecaelia may have raised the morays, but we’re not completely sure.”

“And it’s been a devil of a time trying to get a glimpse of him too,” Crewel shook his head, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“You mean you haven’t seen him? Not once?”

“I saw him when he was first brought into the enclosure,” Trein sighed, “however, it was dark and I couldn’t see him very well - the eels could be seen because of the bioluminescence that exists within their bodies, allowing us to see their figures.”

“Speaking of which, come,” Crewel rested a hand to the small of your back, “let’s get you acquainted with our aquatic trio, hm?”

Crewel and Trein led you to the opposite end of their laboratory where a large glass wall stood with a set of double doors that led to what appeared to be the edge of a massive pool. Once inside, the smell of fish and humidity tickled your nose as the sound of lapping of water reverberated in the slightly dimmed room; the only light being illuminated from the pool itself. The gray walls stretched high, the ceiling covered by long triangular beams that permitted the echoes of voices and lapping water in the room. One the far left was a coat rack and a small freezer with a large fan blowing the heated air around the room.

“When you come in - which will be about six-thirty each morning, you’ll hang your coat on the rack and put your lunch in the freezer before feeding your charges,” Crewel explained, walking over to the freezer and lifting the lid, “We always restock the food the night before, so you don’t have to worry about not having anything in here for the day. There will be nine buckets total in the freezer - three for the morning, three for noon, three for dinner - so make sure you dump all three buckets in the water, but don’t toss the actual bucket into the water.”

“What’s in them?” you ask, wrinkling your nose at the mixture within the buckets.

“A collection of shellfish - shrimp, crab, clam, lobster - and assorted fish are what they primarily eat,” Crewel answered as he closed the lid to the freezer, “We’ve tried feeding the moray twins octopi - but they refuse to touch it and often threw it at the feeders when they came in. Also, feel free to wear something comfortable. The water temperature varies from 45℉ to as low as 39℉ so we have to offset that with the atmosphere in our enclosure here at approximately 77℉ to 85℉ - never mind that one of the twins likes to splash newcomers right off the bat.”

“So, shorts are ok?”

“Shorts would be preferred, so yes,” Crewel nodded.

“But not too short - lower thigh length to knee length is acceptable,” Trein chided, “you are also permitted to wear sandals within the enclosure as well as a t-shirt or tank top due to the humidity. However, if you do choose sandals and tank tops - please bring a spare pair of tennis shoes to wear on the way in and on the way out as closed toed and heels are required within the labs and main building as well as something to keep your shoulders covered; this is a place of employment, not enjoyment.”

When you nod, Trein continued.

“After you feed them their breakfast, take a seat and use the notebooks over here to document any findings,” Trein walks to the opposite end of the enclosure, opening a locker filled with office supplies, “Take whatever you think you might need for the day and have a seat at the edge of the pool and begin your observations. It might take a few days before one of the twins actually approaches you, but once they do, you should be able to start the observations with no problems. During your first few days, remember to stay still - morays attack when startled or provoked, which we don’t want to happen. You’ll let them come to you and, hopefully once you get acquainted, you’ll be able to do your observations with no trouble at all.”

“Alright.”

“Your shift will be twelve hours total,” Trein also explained, “you will be expected to eat lunch with the trio and feed them their supper before you leave for the night at six pm and place any of your notes back in the locker here for Crewel or I to collect at the end of the day. When you leave, make sure the door is locked. Typically, we will be here until eight, so we often check the door on our way out - but just so you are aware, the door does get stuck on occasion; you may need to knock on the door a few times and one of us or our staff will get you out.”

You nod again.

“Alright, are there any questions?” Crewel asked.

“No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Very well,” Trein smiles, “We’ll see you tomorrow at six sharp - no later.”

“Thank you very much for this opportunity,” you bow your head to both of them before shaking each of their offered hands as the two escorted you out of the enclosure - none of you aware of the two sets of heterochromia eyes that watched your figure from below the water’s surface.

***

One week passes slowly as you go through the motions as the Twisted Wonders aquatic observer.

Every morning, you arrive at quarter to six and greet Crewel and Trein at their laboratory doors. After they unlock and head into their own offices, you make your way to the enclosure and place your bag on the coat rack and the brown paper bag that contains your lunch in the freezer before hauling out the three of the nine gallon-sized buckets one at a time and dump the contents into the water, watching a little bit to see if anything will appear to snatch up a meal as the fish disappear into the murky depths of the pool. After watching the last piece of morsel disappear into the depths, you turn toward the locker, grabbing notebooks, pens and anything else you think you need and take a seat at the edge of the pool.

As the hours pass by, you jot notes down about anything you see - which is nothing.

7:30am: Ripples of water, no sign of the creatures

10:30am: Still no sign of the creatures

12:30pm: Fed mers, no sign of breaking the surface yet - maybe they know I am waiting for them and want nothing to do with me?

2:30pm: Still no sign

4:30pm: I heard a splash, but saw nothing. Maybe they’re nervous?

6:00pm: Fed the mers their supper - Hoping to get a sign of them before I leave today.

Day after day after day, the notes were the same: No sign. No sign. No sign.

By the end of the first week, you were beginning to wonder if you actually would ever see the creatures or if they even existed - or even, heaven forbid, if you were a test subject yourself for believing that there were mers that lived in the enclosure.

When Saturday morning came, you trudged into the enclosure with a heavy sigh and slowly began to begin the day’s events. Everything you did now seemed slower as the hope of seeing something otherworldly began to diminish like smoke. You pulled the first bucket of food out of the freezer and brought it to the edge of the pool, dumping the contents in before standing to return the bucket to the side of the freezer when something slimy and light hit the back of your head. Your hand instinctively reached up and brushed the hair behind your head, feeling traces of water and slime. You looked down to see what hit you, finding the bottom half of an unidentifiable colored fish laying behind you.

Your eyes shifted to look out into the pool - but no movement or any indication that something had thrown the half of the fish at you could be seen.

‘Maybe I’m just imagining things,’ you thought as a sigh escaped your lips, picking up the fish and dropping it into the second bucket before it was dumped over the edge of the pool as well.

As you turned your back to grab the last bucket, again something smacked against the back of your head, a clicking sound following shortly afterwards.

‘Ok,’ you thought, a slight smirk appearing on your features as you picked up the large hunk of lobster from the ground, ‘whoever or whatever you are, I’m assuming you want to play. Well, let’s play.’

You grab the last bucket and dump the contents into the water and kneel at the edge - watching like a cat watches a mouse before pouncing. A few moments pass before you feel your back begin to strain, forcing you to stand. As you do, a whole king prawn nearly smacks you in the face as another round of clicking echoes in the enclosure. You whip your face toward the pool, just in time to see two sets of eyes watching you.

Silence defends the enclosure as the three of you stare in silence at one another.

Your heart races as you realize that the creatures staring at you must be the twins.

You can’t see them completely - their entire bodies are hidden under the water while the tops of their heads and their eyes are the only thing being seen from your position at the edge of the pool as they regard you from a few meters away - but you can see that they are nearly mirrors of each other.

They both have skin the color of seaweed with short hair to match - a longer piece the color of deep sea teal arching in the front of their faces. Instead of human ears, they have fins - likely hiding the gills they use to breathe underwater behind them. The one on your left appears to be more cautious than their twin on the right - their eyes are sharp, their right colored brown and left colored gold, and watching every movement you make as if calculating whether to attack you or not. The one on your right appeared to have more of a droopy expression on their face, their lower eyelids dropping into a bored expression, but their gaze is still sharp. Like their twin, their eyes are different colors - the left colored brown and the right colored gold instead.

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to do exactly.

Moray eels attack if provoked, you recalled Crewel saying, so you didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case they read it wrong and attempt anything. However, it seems that the decision is quickly made when the one on your right slowly approaches the edge of the pool. You stay as still as possible as they approach, their eyes locked on yours as if in a trance.

When they reach the edge, you can see the length of his body in the murky depths. His skin is a darker seaweed teal with little stripe patterns on his cheekbones and arms - with likely more on his lower body hidden deeper in the depths. Large fins poke out from his lower arms, giving him and his brother the ability to glide through the water quickly. You couldn’t see his tail, but if you had to guess - you thought he could be approximately six feet in length or longer.

Then, salted sea water covers your entire body, causing you to sputter at the surprise at getting splashed as the moray mer peeled in laughter. His brother follows up with three sharp clicks before the duo disappear under the water, leaving you to wonder what in the world just happened.

#twisted wonderland #twstファンアート #azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere #yandere jade leech #yandere jade x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #twst wonderland #twst jade #twst floyd #twst azul #fanfic

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saintsenara · 5 months ago

Note

what are ur thoughts on all the young dudes man i gotta know

i've never read it, and i can't really see any situation in which i will. not only am i wolfstar-ambivalent, i'm also wizards-knowing-loads-about-muggle-pop-culture-ambivalent - so i'm very much not the target audience.

[although i'm not "what's going on in the 1970s"-ambivalent by any means, so there's that.]

but i suspect anyone who reads this blog regularly knew that - and so i also suspect [even though i wouldn't dare to assume this of you and your intentions in asking this, anon] that it might be presumed that i'm going to pop off about several of the phenomena all the young dudes has set into motion...

and sure, the contemporary marauders subfandom is not a space i'm interested in spending any time in - which is why i don't - but i think it's nonetheless worth saying something in defence of it.

all the young dudes deserves more credit than i think it gets in the fandom more widely - especially in those bits of the fandom which are more interested in canon compliance and canon coherence - for being a genuine pop-culture phenomenon. all corners of the fandom have benefitted from this - i guarantee that huge numbers of people who have returned to the harry potter fandom since 2020 have done so because they've read it [or, at the very least, heard of it], and i also guarantee that many of those people have gone on to make a home for themselves in spaces which seem to have very little in common with the marauders subfandom [such as canon-compliant jily or pro-snape spaces]. many of the things it does - especially the integration of muggle pop-culture into its worldbuilding - have clearly influenced how plenty of authors approach their own work, even if that work is otherwise removed from it in vibe. and its aesthetic is all over the non-fic aspects of fandom too - every "canon-compliant" moodboard or edit or playlist i've ever seen would fit well into the atyd universe. i think it doesn't hurt to acknowledge its influence - it doesn't mean that an author can't disagree with its approach.

[or: my view on all the young dudes is very similar to my view on taylor swift. i've never listened to a single one of her albums, i'm not sure i could name more than about five of her songs - and i don't think the five i can name are any good, i sometimes see flashes of the inter-swiftie discourse and it's like reading a text in a language i can only half speak - but i would be a fool to dismiss her broader pop-culture influence, including on musicians i do follow more closely, or the fact that the fandom which surrounds her is both sincerely interesting, not least from an anthropological perspective, and something in which people i like and respect participate.]

i also don't think the divisions between the marauders subfandom and other spaces are as clear-cut as is often made out. and i think that all the young dudes often gets used as a stick with which to beat this point - particularly because people in the marauders subfandom are frequently accused of not having read the books, and elevating atyd's interpretation of characters [especially sirius and remus] and events over the seven-book series.

that the subfandom elevates fanon and headcanon over canon is a legitimate point. but i think we should all get a fucking grip and recognise that this can disinterest us - or even annoy us - and still not be something any of us should think is that deep.

after all, like anyone, i've encountered people in fandom who write unrecognisable versions of characters, are completely resistant to the idea that their interpretation isn't correct, and believe that it's evidence of deep-seated prejudice to pair their faves with different people... and every single one is someone who believes that their approach is meticulously canon-compliant.

or - as the old adage goes - "people who live in glass subfandoms shouldn't throw stones at roadman remus".

#asks answered

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inevitably-johnlocked · 26 days ago

Note

lord steph the 3st! my highness!

may thee bestow upon us a pamphlet of works that ney a soul hath asked for thus far?

*kisses your hand*

LOVELY YOU'RE PERFECT. I genuinely didn't have anything ready for this weekend, and this ask is great so I can copy-paste one of my other lists 💜🖤

Check out today's list; it's a continuation of another list that I posted earlier this year that had too many fics on it so I had to pull this section out to make a part 2. If anyone has a fic to add, please do! Enjoy!!!

INTROSPECTION / CHARACTER STUDIES Pt 2 (MFLs / WiPs)

See also: Introspection / Character Studies

MARKED FOR LATER

Know Him Better by methylviolet10b (T, 450 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Holmes || 221B Ficlets, Introspection) – Holmes and Watson each reflect on how the other is viewed.

Hyperballad by PlantsAreNeat (G, 893 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Feels, Drugs, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock has bought cocaine after his doubts and fears about his and John's new relationship prey on his mind. Not exactly a danger night, but not not one either.

i can hear it in your voice while you're speaking (you can't be treated) by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 2,500 w., 1 Ch., Post T6T, Depression, Hurt/No Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Relapsing / Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Missing Scene, Introspection, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction. Part 1 of the wires series

lionheart by dreamweavernyx (G, 4,851 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Study, Friendship) – Some days, Molly finds her eyes straying to that drawer in her desk, the one holding a slim piece of wood and the memories of a life she's left behind.

wires Series by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 5,000+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post T6T / TLD, Angst, Hurt / No Comfort, Loneliness, Mind Palace, Survivor Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Drug Addiction / Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Sherlock POV, Missing Scenes, Introspection, Psychological Trauma, Abusive Relationships, Grey Mary, Withdrawal, Depression, Self-Esteem Issues) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction. (stories currently in series completed)

The Gun Drawer (Ch10) by CarmillaCarmine (M, 5,985 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal John, Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Introspection) – A dive into John’s chaotic mind as he reminisces on the first 18 months after Sherlock’s fall. Part 10 of the The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson series

Breathe by LoloLolly (T, 8,517 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix-It, Grief, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Mary is Not Nice, Feelings Realization, Character Study, Blood Mention, Vomit Mention) – In which Sherlock's death is announced a bit... prematurely in HLV. Things spiral from there.

50 Ways to Feed Your Lover Series by bbcatemysoul (M, 10,509+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || S3 Divergence / Non Compliance, Light Dom/Sub, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Time, Angst, Introspection, Fluff, Masturbation, Developing Relationship, Feeding Kink, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort) – Sherlock discovers that he deeply appreciates the lengths John will go to in order to keep him fed. (stories currently in series completed)

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (T, 13,120 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas-Carol Inspired || Post S3/Post-TLD / TFP Doesn't Exist, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Magical Realism) – It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

Just Sherlock by Ranowa (T, 13,720 w., 1 Ch. || Post TFP, Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Character Study, Repressed Memories, Implied Mystrade) – Post-TFP, John and Mycroft have a much-needed discussion about a struggling Sherlock.

I Heard You Series by Gregorovitch (T, 22,313 w. across 6 works || Unseen Moments, Introspection, Alternating POV, Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Declarations of Love, Conversations, Angst, Grief/Mourning) – All those times when Sherlock and John could have found each other in various episodes...

Nothing Gold Series by Raina_at (E, 27,901+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Friends to Lovers, Grief, Mentions of PTSD, Introspection, Domestic Fluff, Blow Job, Relationship Discussions, Developing Relationship, Bisexuality) – What do you do when you can't go back? Do you hold on? Or do you let go? (stories currently in series completed)

Red Number Day by PipMer (M, 39,325 w., 7 Ch. || Magical Realism AU || Friends to Lovers, Light Humour, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sow Burn, Angst, Light Fluff, Character Study, First Kiss/Time) – In a world where everybody has a set deathday, Sherlock Holmes is the only person who can see them. As with most talents, it's both a blessing and a curse. Because Death is a fixed point. Indelible, unchangeable, inevitable. It can't be altered, cheated or delayed.

A Thing With Peas by khorazir (M, 39,357 w., 3 Ch. || Post-S3/Post-TLD/TFP Doesn't Exist, Fluff and Angst, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Parentlock, First Kiss) – Sherlock does the laundry. John cooks a thing with peas. They talk. Finally.

Mind the Gap by orphan_account (E, 45,089 w., 6 Ch. || Victor Trevor, Dubious Consent, POV First Person Sherlock, Character Development, Friendship, Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Introspection, Parent Death, Vulnerable Sherlock, Doctor John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse, Domestic Abuse) – An introspective journey through the life and relationships of Sherlock Holmes. "I can hear the bones hum beneath pale and freckled skin, this sack that holds my form together. Bits and pieces that start at the bottom and end at the top, hiding the blood, muscle, fat. Cells, knit together, constantly in motion. They'll live and die, and replicate, until total equilibrium is met."

All These Things That I've Done by Ewebie (E, 55,913 w., 15 Ch. || Pre-ASiP, John-Centric, Angst, John’s Past, Doctor John, Soldier John, Jolto, Deaths, John’s Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Character Study/Meta Fic) – How Everything is always John Watson's fault. A study of John Watson's life before Sherlock Holmes.

The Cold Song Series by Eldritchhorrors (E, 72,586+ w. across 7 works || Series WiP || BDSM Themes, Psychological Drama, Music/Violin, Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Anal, Character Studies) – This is how broken people fall in love...

noise complaint by simplyclockwork (E, 85,324 w., 28 Ch. || Younger Characters AU / Alternate First Meeting || Uncertain Sherlock, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Night Clubs, Case Fic, Fluff, Humour, Past Substance Abuse, Gay Club, Mild Angst, Introspection, Family Issues, Meddling Mycroft Controlling Mycroft, Bed Sharing, Family Angst, Acceptance, Falling in Love, Queerness, Community) – One loud upstairs neighbour and three days of non-stop party music lead Sherlock to an unexpected meeting.

The Good Morrow Series by greywash (E, 216,513 +w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Horny John, Smut, Feelings, Negotiations, Christmas/Advent, Sherlock is a Mess, Relationships, Addiction Issues, PTSD, Therapy, Injury, Aging, Loneliness, Marriage, Family, Friendship, POV Second Person, Travel, Character Studies, Imagined Sex, Love, Multiple Pairings) – A post-S2 series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything and plausibility is stretched unto breaking. Also: fucking. (stories currently in series completed)

NUTRISCO ET EXTINGUO by Zoffoli (M, 327,772 w., 53 Ch. || Alternating Second Person POV, Post-TRF, Character Study, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Mystery) – "You haven't said what you wanted to say." Well yes, some things take you by surprise, and you're not quite prepared for them. Like when your best friend jumps off a building in front of you.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

You're more than what happened to you (Over teatime) by writing5ever (T, 4,377+ w., 4/5 Ch. || WiP || Character Study, Tea, Developing Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drug Use, Four and One) – Four Times John and Sherlock talk about feelings over tea. And One time where they don't have to. - OR - a character study on Sherlock Holmes done through a plotless storyline.

A Piece of Eight Series by by KtwoNtwo (T, 30,562+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || One Piece Space AU || Character Study, Space Pirates) – Mankind has spread out through the galaxy on ships with solar sails and jump drives. Here be tales about a particular sector of the galaxy where the Commonwealth of New Britannia is adjacent to a gravitational anomaly commonly referred to as the Red Line. Avast all ye spacers, batten down the hatches and prepare for interesting weather; its a space AU crossover between One Piece and Sherlock.

The Edge of the Sea by weeesi (E, 46,455+ w., 14/? Ch. || WiP || Pre/Post-TRF, POV John, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Pining John, Jealous John, Victor Trevor, Grief/Mourning, John's Trust Issues, Closeted John, Character Study, Panic Attacks) – Sherlock is dead. The next week passes in a blur. Mycroft invites John not to come to the funeral if he’d like, except for the fact that Mrs Hudson needs an escort and he’d really rather get through it than wonder forever what it would have been. He goes, and sits, and contains, and pours a cup of scalding-hot coffee down his throat which he hopes will burn down the tumble of nerves and anger and the type of sick-sadness he can’t examine too closely and the other feelings he won’t even acknowledge. He misses not missing him all the same. John spends the next two years alone. Sherlock doesn't.

Shatter Me by Loveismyrevolution (E, 183,191+ w., 22/26 Ch. || WiP || Sherlock Dances, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Introspection, Mutual Pining, UST, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Implied Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions) – This is a story about two men trying to find their way back into the comfort of their companionship. No easy task in the aftermath of the events of Reichenbach, a wedding and a shot through the heart. They are facing a very rocky road ahead with a lot of introspection, misunderstandings, angst and pining. They each try to cope in their own particular way. Eventually, they'll find a way to communicate and learn about the true nature of their feelings.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #character study fics #introspection fics #my fic recs #fics to read

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defectivevillain · 11 months ago

Text

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after.

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy.

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder.

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence.

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt… Neither is even close to a semblance of normality.

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain.

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work.

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air.

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable.

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown.

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them.

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily.

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest.

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer’s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police.

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track.

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty.

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn.

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.”

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear.

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more.

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it.

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him.

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable.

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first.

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property.

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face.

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response.

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him.

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight.

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod.

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation.

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation.

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets.

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.”

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.”

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb.

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown.

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene.

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket.

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you.

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes.

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable.

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him.

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely.

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something.

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack.

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache.

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull.

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside.

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life.

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be.

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water.

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic.

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

#Hannibal Lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #transmasc reader #male reader #gn reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal x male reader #gotta cover all the bases

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