#but I'd rather just not know what real silence is like

[icarusredwings]

It gets to the point where they start argueing about this and Wade is so angry and so upset that through grit teeth and hot tears

"Well, no one came to rescue ME!.... and I'll be damned if they ever feel abandoned like that."

And it's a big therapy moment. A massive "oh.... ouch... yeah that makes sense.." moment.

"But baby you dont even give me time to try. I-... I dont know.. how to do this I.. im learning."

And so, still full of anger and paternal rage he bites he starts biting his tounge. Coming and just.. standing there. Sometimes he's glaring simply because this type of crying just dosn't sit well with his Ptsd and immediately wants to put a stop to it and give the child justice. But he waits. He waits and watches as Logan fixes it.

Once the crying stops it kind of deactivates that little soilder inside of him that so desperately wants to keep his kids safe.

"I'm their father-"

"And that didn't fucking stop mine! Now, did it?"

"But Wade, I'm not him. I'll never be him."

"My mother stood there and watched it all without a word Logan. I won't-..." He's choking on his tears. "I- REFUSE.. to be like that."

"I get that, but you have to understand that you are not her. And I am not him. I would never hit them"

"Yeah because if you did I'd fucking kill you! Like actually find a way to kill you. I would put you under, drag your ass to the middle of the fucking ocean, and watch you drown! And when they ask where you wen-"

"Wade... Wade! Stop. Breathe. I know that you're scared and I know.. that.. your brain dosn't want to trust me. That you will never be able to trust anyone 100% with them. Ever... but please. I need you to trust me at least 90. Can you give me 90?" He asks, hands on his shoulder as he can already see his husband dry heaving, tears running down his face as hes already about to slip back into that state of protective violence.

"....you get 5 minutes." He states, walking away before he ends up saying or doing something he will regret.

So he starts getting 5 minutes to fix it.

5 minutes to make it all better.

5 minutes for his actions to prove to Wade that he can be trusted. That he doesn't have to go all winter soilder on his ass the moment he hears one of the kids crying.

"Kids cry wade. Its what they do."

"Youre their father. Youre not supposed to make them cry..."

But now things are better.

Now his head will snap the other way, and watch. Staring in that direction rather if someone is talking to him or not.

"Hush."

"Excus-"

"SHUT UP... one of my babies is crying...." so he stares. Watching as Logan comes to scoop up the little tyke that skinned their knee at the park and give them kisses. The crying still happens because obviously theyre spooked and probably hurt a wee bit, but seeing him fully take care of it switches off that instant rage and he turns back like "what were you saying?"

He just can't silence that scream in his head, telling him that Logan (or someone else) is hurting them, so it needs proof that he isn't (as bad as that sounds)

Hurting his poor little babies.

Esspecially if it IS a baby. Wade would be extremely over possesive over a baby. The older the kid gets (and if they have healing factors or not) the more chilled out Wade gets. At this point he expects Laura or Gabby to say something back so when one of them run off crying without a remark it really throws him back into that "What the fuck did you do!? You have 60 seconds to explain- Go." Mode.

He knows Ellie is a little more sensitive because of her truamas kids making fun of her for not being a mutant at a mutant school, but thats what chuck wanted. He wanted humans AND mutants to succeed in his school. Though sometimes Wades voices convince him that Logan loves Ellie less because shes not his "real daughter" and so they convience wade that logan is mean to her on purpose (this is a very VERY big effect on mental health type of HC)

With their other children, depending on how young, he can't help but have dreams of Logan killing them before their powers even come through or abandon them. Hes terrified of logan just deciding one day that he doesn't want to be their father anymore and just... dipping.

Traumatized🤝Not ideal parents 🤝 Traumatized

I can imagine something happening at the school and the MOMENT Logan hears about something happening instead of going to the kid he instantly has to track down his husband like Eliza Hamilton.

"I gotta go I gotta find Wade."

"Let him know we're on his side?"

"No- He'll consider this a personal slander, I gotta stop a homicide."

"OH-"

Thinking about how protective of his kids Wade would be. Like he does not give a fuck. Logan could be a little bit too harsh and make their child cry, and Wade would unload his gun plus an entire SECOND clip into his gut and then put his foot on his throat, lean in, and be like:

"Don't you EVER talk to my fucking kids like that ever again if you want to stay in this house. You're here because I let you be. I don't need you* I can just as easily replace you** and I sure as hell won't let you treat our children like how we were raised. Do I make myself clear?" And if Logan doesn't agree within a certian amount of time, Wade would just shoot him in the head and walk away.

"....Papa?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"...what happened to daddy?"

"Daddys taking a nap honey. He'll be alright in a couple minutes don't worry baby. Hey are you okay? You know daddy doesn't mean the things he says, right?"

The child nods, wiping tears from their eyes as Wade hugs them and kisses their head. "Daddy wasn't hugged as a kid, that's all. Hey! We should order pizza! Would you like that?"

And they nod softely but are still concerned with the fact that they saw their dad (who by now is sitting up) bleeding out on the floor two seconds ago.

"Oooh, Heeeyyy. Well, mornin' sleepy head! How was your nap. I think you had something to say to you. Don't you, Wolvie?" 😃

"I... uhm... Sorry kiddo.. I- i didnt mean to yell at you like that.."

"Awww! Great! Now we can go to Vinnies as one big happy family! Yaaayy!" 😊

The moral of this story is- Wade Wilson don't play when it comes to his kids.

*lies.

**another lie.

[lastoneout]

you know sometimes I feel very lucky that I got tinnitus so early in my life that I literally don't remember not having it cuz when you spend your whole life thinking something is normal you just learn how to live with it even if objectively it fucking sucks

[hellsitedotcom]

### Genshin Men & How They Kiss ###

Featuring Dainsleif, Il Dottore, Il Capitano, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Al-Haitham.

warnings: shouldn't be anything too spicy/nsfw. Dottore bites people, do with that what you want.

english isn't my native language!

this is going to flop so bad, but I'm bored; bone app the teeth.

DAINSLEIF

He is someone who - in my humble opinion - kisses you with such...devotion, such unwavering and suffocating devotion that it leaves you breathless and stunned even after the 100th kiss.

Dain has his way with words, we all know that, and as mesmerizing as his compliments and confessions can be, so are his kisses; they are like a beautiful, life-changing poem that leaves you aching for more.

He's not too frequent of a kisser, though - I want to think he's somewhat dramatic with his timing for kisses; before depatures, big battles, when you're apart from each other for longer times & greater distances.

Definitely one for goodnight kisses; he's such a gentle lover, I'd say. There's just something about him that makes it hard for me to see him as an aggressive, obsessive, or extremely passionate/intense lover (I hope you know what I mean).

You know those Princess x Knight stories? Where they finally have that first kiss, and it's described like something straight out of a fairytale? That's Dainsleif, basically. Also, definitely someone who kisses your hand/palm.

IL DOTTORE

Oh, he's a freak, alright. My ''aroace Dottore'' headcanons aside, he's...not your ''typical'' guy, I'd say. Well, he's not a romantic, I think we can all agree on that.

Dottore's kisses are most definitely possessive - they aren't there to show love or anything, but to claim - to ''mark his territory'', sorta.

I think he'd see ''kissing'' as an outlet of sorts; I don't necessarily see the ''real'' Dottore as someone who gets frustrated and lets it out on his lover, nor would he be someone to kiss his lover unprovoked, I think. He doesn't necessarily need it.

If we were to talk about a not-so-sociopathic Dottore (alias, a normal human), he wouldn't necessarily strike me as someone who thinks about kissing you much either. He gives me a rather uninterested vibe in that regard; he probably shows his love/devotion in different ways.

Maybe I'm just really biased because of my other headcanon; he just doesn't care about kisses in a romantic sense, that's it. He'll bite you, he'll devour you, but there's nothing more behind it but exerting power...or maybe he just wants to silence you, because your provocations/teasing is getting on his last nerve.

His kisses (I honestly just see him as a biter) are bruising, and the way he holds onto you during that time leaves bruises, too. And, again, not many of these actions stem from love, but possessiveness or to ''make a statement''.

IL CAPITANO

Initially thought was ''Does he even know what a kiss is'', but let's brush past that...anyway, why can I see him somewhere inbetween the likes of Dain & Dottore? lol

He's not much of a kisser, either. Which, uh, soldier and all, I'd say, but then, he is still capable of care and devotion in a way that others never could.

He's devoted in his kisses, and there's a pledge of loyalty behind each kiss, only solidified by their rarity. He swears fealty to you in that way - a firm, classy kiss on the lips; kissing the back of your hand while kneeling in front of you; a lasting kiss on your forehead before he departs.

Again, those kisses are rare and kept secret from the outside, but they exist and they hold such an incredible weight to themselves; they are his greatest show of vulnerability and weakness. Though, he does not view having a lover as a weakness.

As mentioned further above: His kisses are firm, they are lasting. He doesn't just give you quick pecks in passing, no. Each kiss takes its time, and each kiss is there to repeat the message the first one gave ''I swear fealty to you''. They aren't overly passionate, messy, or anything like that.

Definitely not one for many words, and their all pretty cordial and like some devoted rule-abiding knight would talk, lol. Quality Time and Acts of Service are more of his strongsuit.

NEUVILLETTE

I'm a bit torn here, though he certainly is a gentle kisser. On one hand, I want to say it is a ''lack of experience'' in that prospect, that could make him more hesitant and careful. On the other hand, I just feel like regardless of his experience level, he'd be a gentle lover.

He's more frequent in his kisses - he does not mind showing you love, regardless of where you are, though during important meetings (or trials) you'll never find him kissing you; only afterwards, when you've returned to the privacy of his office, he'll drop that mask again.

He'll pour all his emotions into his kisses - including those tragic, painful emotions after certain trials. Yet, his kisses are never hungry or aggressive. They'll still always keep their lightness.

Most of the time, you'll find him kissing your lips or your cheeks. In your sleep, he'll press a kiss to your forehead, and in public he'll often press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

His kisses are the kind to make you giggle, or smile all giddy. They are exciting, in a way. Though rather light and ''brief'', they leave you at a loss every time; like a beautiful dream. Paired with that soft smile of his? They'll have you melting right then and there.

WRIOTHESLEY

I just let out the most concerning ''hehehehe''; anyway, oh boy, I wanna be indulgent here, but I'll try to be as ''realistic'' as possible.

He's...a wildcard, of sorts. Wriothesley can be extremely passionate & hungry when it comes to his lover, but he can also be more classy & gentle about it, depending on different factors.

Now, focus on the more intense parts of Wriothesley. For anyone needing a visual/example; I'm sure there's fics out there where the reader is sparring with Wriothesley. And that's where I get the more intense version of him from.

He's the kind to pin you against a wall and devour your lips, tongue eventually down your throat as he got you at his mercy. He's not holding back with those kisses - he's hungry; hungry for all of you. His kisses aren't necessarily bruising, but they are suffocating; you'll be struggling for air when he is like this.

You'll find him his filled with desire only in private - and often enough there's something needed to trigger this...almost primal?...version of him; yes, this means he'll leave marks, but he'd never intentionally hurt you to get off.

On other occasions, he's more gentle, though that gentleness can sometimes stem from an absence of mind, too. Fleeting kisses on the cheek, barely sparing you a glance as he's too busy with work. His ''apology'' kisses are also the gentle, yet firmer kind. And you'll get them quite frequently, given...everything.

In conclusion, he's definitely capable of being both extremely hungry/intense and being gentle; it really depends on preference, I suppose, but I can absolutely see him being a perfect balance.

AL-HAITHAM

Definitely more on the calmer side; not necessarily ''gentle'' in the way I have described before, but he's not an aggressive/hungry kisser, unless for certain occasions, maybe.

He's so introverted in his voicelines, he's probably the same with a lover; barely any PDA in public, just because he's not a fan of it (you'll maybe get a peck on the cheek or a kiss on the forehead, but just fleeting).

His kisses are...somewhat distant, quite often. He'll kiss you on the lips, but you'll feel like he's not really present while kissing you. He'll also take your hand and kiss it absently whenever you sit beside him while he's studying.

Other times, he's nearly obsessed with kissing you; he'll be kissing you firmly, one kiss lasting minutes before being interrupted by shorter and lighter kisses, and then he'll go back to a firm, passionate kiss. He'll often have you on his lap during those.

Slow, sensual make out sessions. That's what I was looking for, I think. Lots of cuddling, holding you close, tracing his lips over your skin. That's how I see him sometimes.

Can I actually see him be more intense in his kisses? Maybe, but it takes a lot. A lot of pent up frustration, Kaveh getting on his last nerve, some issues with the Akademiya, etc.; and perhaps, if you provoke him on that day, you'll see a more hungry side...Or maybe he just did it to satisfy you for a while, who knows?

Makes me believe that Al-Haitham does not mind being more dominant, more intense, more hungry during make out sessions - he can if it means you'll be happy about it, but he doesn't prefer it, tbh.

[Genshin Women & How They Kiss]

[pomefioredove]

ace with, "I like my bed, but I'd rather be in yours." 😚🤌

HELP ME he's so cringe he'd 100% say something like this

summary: "I like my bed, but I'd rather be in yours" type of post: short fic characters: ace additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, secondhand embarrassment warning, random halloween(??) party for plot reasons, not proofread

Heartslabyul has never turned a guest away from a party.

Ace had become accustomed to it. There's always someone out of place at the table- the purple of a Pomefiore uniform or the green of a Diasomnia, pointed ears or catlike ones, tall, short, students Ace hadn't even seen passing in the halls.

And having a costume unbirthday didn't make recognizing anyone any easier. Why did they agree on this, again?

"What's this one?" he asks, accepting a tart dish from Trey.

The stressed upperclassmen adjusts his glasses. "Raspberry, I think- no, strawberry. I'm losing track,"

"Yeesh," Ace mutters, looking out the window to the grounds. There's more than three times the dorm out there.

"Mondays, amirite?"

Trey just sighs.

Ace carries the dish to one of the many tables set about the gardens.

This one is empty. He looks over his shoulder; Riddle is busy berating another first year for chewing with his mouth open. No one has noticed the fresh tart yet.

He might as well sneak a slice while he still can...

"Ace!"

Sevens. Ace flinches and the slice of tart slips right out of his grip.

Now he's going to have to clean that up, and without anyone noticing, too. Sigh.

"I know it's Halloween, but you shouldn't scare people like that," he says, turning to the source of the noise. "You-"

As soon as he sees you, his thoughts are cut short.

You're just some rando in a corny masquerade getup, but, damn, you're cute.

No way he's never seen you before- no, you've gotta be from another class. He'll have to pester Jack about it later...

"Oh, sorry," you say. The mask you're wearing makes it hard to read your expression, but he assumes you noticed the tart.

Your voice is vaguely familiar, but it's hard to hear with all the background noise, anyway.

Ace puts on his worst best smile. "Nah, it's fine. The vice housewarden is on full-time catering duty. No one will notice. So, you come here often?"

You snort. "Yeah, I guess I do. What's up with you?"

He got a laugh out of you. That's a good sign, right?

Now, time to go in for the kill.

Ace huffs, trying to act nonchalant. "What's up with me? Nothing much, just thinking about how I like my bed, but I'd rather be in yours,"

A long, terrible silence follows.

And then you laugh. And laugh, and laugh. Ace grimaces. It's hard to tell if it's a good laugh or a bad one from your voice alone.

"Hey, what're you two 'doin?" a much smaller voice asks.

Grim is standing between the two of you now, paws on his hips, mouth half-full of cookies from the other table.

"Buzz off, Grim. Can't you see I'm busy?" Ace murmurs.

Then, much to his horror, the mystery student across from him takes off their mask and scoops Grim up like a baby.

He could die right then and there.

"YOU?!"

"Me," you say.

Grim doesn't seem particularly interested in the context, though he is smirking at the dumb look on Ace's face.

"But you- you're-" he stammers, his face almost as red as his hair. "I didn't even- recognize you! How-"

It's hard to get such a reaction out of him, the "lady killer" he is, and he swears he can see a little smugness in your expression.

Ace groans. "You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know,"

You wipe your eyes, sighing merrily. "No, no, don't stop! I want to hear another! Do you want me to put the mask back on?"

"A real jerk!" he repeats, fleeing the scene before he can say something even dumber.

At least Trey will be happy to have another set of hands in the kitchen...

So much for romance. He huffs and takes a tart out of the oven.

Note to self: pick a better line to ask you out with.

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AFAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, afab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, sub [name], use of terms cunny cunt pussy tit breasts, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

< prev. - amab! ver. - next. > [afab] [amab]

[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy cunt.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden breasts.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He tongues at your swollen clit fervently, and you cry out in humiliation when your slick gushes from your slit and onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your pussy, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his cock deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened pearl, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing length and bump into Thoma's chin, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing cunny just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your clit might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the opening of your slit and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of watery clear fluid that squirts from your throbbing cunny.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your wet pussy.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your ass held high and knees spread, your leaking cunt is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods your pussy lips apart to stare down your red, throbbing clit.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy cunny. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your pussy, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your reddened bud. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore little clit, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of syrup leaks from your opening.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your breasts, obessed with how soft the fat of them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your front wall, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the help of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks your pulsing clit, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your leg and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber nips at your soft tit a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy cunt.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your bare lower half as you squirm on his throbbing cock. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your covered knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your cunt throbs, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your pussy to gush.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty clit while rubbing his neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your cunny starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your slit to your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your pussy is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening cunt.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slick pussy squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused little pearl sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty hole.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore pussy, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[overtail]

Late Night Brew - Zuko x Reader 🔞

🔥🛀🏻

Jesus, yall are FREAKS for zuko

Summary: After Iroh opens the Jasmine Dragon, he hires a new worker -- a pretty girl, one around Zuko's age. While Iroh is taking a trip to the market for more supplies after work, desperation unfolds.

Trigger Warning: NSFW, Soft Sex, Cussing, Semi-public Sex, Body Worship, and Zuko acting like an awkward turtle duck.

Micheal, I know ur reading this

...

Zuko didn't like the new waitress.

She didn't do anything in particular to get on his bad side, he just couldn't stand her.

He hated how she looked in her apron, how the skirt she wore rode up a little too high on her thighs.

He hated how her hip popped when she was standing still while taking orders.

He hated all her curves, her moles, and her messy hair; how it all made her so beautiful.

And he especially hated that at night, when he laid in bed in that cold apartment, how he couldn't get her face out of his mind. How the image of her body echoed in his head while he reached his hands into his pants.

He wanted her gone.

"Lee, could you help me with the tables?"

Zuko wiped the counters of the bar, groaning at the sound of her voice. He turned around, only to see her back to him.

He watched as her arm worked on a stained table, trying to get a mark from condensation out.

"Can't you just do it yourself?"

He grumbled, shaking his head and turning back around. It's not like he had much to do -- he just didn't want to work so close to her.

"I've got one table left and my shift ends in two minutes. I'd rather not work unpaid overtime."

He heard her say. Even with Zuko's rude attitude, she still had a soft tone with him; she spoke to him like he was a fussy toddler.

Which he sort of was.

Zuko grumbled a few curses under his breath, grabbing the hand towel he was just using to walk over to one of the tables.

He looked at (Y/N), looking at her thighs and her hips. His face flushing red, turning and brushing back his short black hair.

The table he had to clean wasn't the dirtiest. It had a single cup on it, and a few spills here and there. He wanted to get away as soon as possible, so he could just go home and relax.

Well, his version of relaxing.

He palmed his growing erection through his pants, trying to subside it for at least the remaining two minutes.

"Thank you, Lee."

Zuko heard the smile from her voice, face growing red at her kindness. Even if it wasn't his real name, he felt giddy at the way she said Lee.

All he did was nod, grabbing the cup and wiping off the tea from the table. He marched to the sink in the back room. Zuko grabbed the sponge that sat on the wooden counter, already full with soap. He began to scrub, getting the smell of Jasmine tea out from the cup -- even if it was his favorite.

As he did so, (Y/N)'s soft footsteps were sounded from behind him. He let out an exasperated groan, not wanting to stand next to her.

(Y/N) walked up quiet, placing three cups in the sink. One stayed in her hand, grabbing the other. sponge and pouring some soap in the glass.

There was an awkward silence between the two -- at least on his end.

As she was cleaning, her elbow bumped into his side. He didn't say anything, just kept cleaning the cup. The second time though, it started to bother him. And when the third time hit, he was set off.

"Can you stop doing that?"

He yelled, looking at her with angry eyes. She looked up with her mouth still agape, her eyes meeting with him amber ones.

"Oh, I'm sorry. There's just not much space back here.."

Her face flushed red with embarrassment. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"I already don't want to be back here with you, let alone have to be touched by you."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, eyebrows lifting quickly. She pursed her lips.

"What is your problem Lee? All i've done is try to be friends with you -- and you just treat me like garbage!"

Her voice was raised, and she poked his chest with her thin fingers. She was kind of cute when she was mad; the way her nose scrunched made his stomach flutter.

"Have you considered the fact that i don't want to be friends with the likes of you?"

He bickered, peering his eyes down to her. She gasped slightly, shoulders raising in surprise.

"With the likes of me? What do you mean the likes of me?"

She stepped even closer to him, their chests almost touching.

Zuko scoffed at her words, rolling his eyes.

"I don't associate with peasants."

And his heart stopped.

(Y/N) was from the lower ring of Ba Sing Se. His uncle Iroh had hired her while he watched her get fired from her other job, feeling bad for her.

Zuko didn't mean peasant in that way. He was just thinking like the old Zuko -- the one that hunted the avatar and did anything to regain his honor back. But he was supposed to be Lee now, a traveler, a teenage boy that works in a tea shop, who just happened to be lucky enough to live in a nice apartment.

"Peasant?"

Her words sounded broken. Her voice cracked as she muttered the words, lower than the loud voice she was using before.

"I get you're from the upper ring -- but peasant? Really?"

She shook her head, stepping back. Zuko felt like he was floating away from the lack of closeness from her.

"That's not what i meant."

Zuko said, closing his eyes and sighing.

"It's just -- i have issues."

He never liked admitting he had problems. He was supposed to be Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, prissy and perfect.

"Yeah, you do."

(Y/N) said, looking Zuko up and down. Her eyes winded slightly, cheeks growing even redder than before.

Zuko raised a brow, confused at what she was looking at. He looked down and then realized.

"Wait, it's not what it looks like-"

"Is this.."

She began, looking back up at him.

"..turning you on?"

She said curiously, turning her head.

(Y/N) stepped forward, her hands lying on her hips. She was about the same height as Zuko -- since he was significantly short.

"Is that why you're so mean to me?"

She placed her hand on his chest, causing Zuko to take a deep breath in.

Oh Spirits.

"Because you like me?"

They were too close. Way too close. He was getting harder by the second, not knowing what to do.

So he did the only thing that came to mind.

He reached his hands forward, grabbing her face in his hands. He pulled her forward, placing his chapped lips tenderly on hers. He stayed still for a moment, never having kissed a girl before.

He leaned back awkwardly, still holding her face in his hands.

His index finger brushed a hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

(Y/N) had never been this close to him before. She was able to admire his face entirely as he focused on the strand of hair, looking at his scar and the light freckles that dotted his pale skin. He had bags under his eyes, and she wondered what caused it.

"You're pretty."

She said, grabbing his face with one hand. He flinched lightly, eyes flickering back to her. He wasn't used to such a touch -- not feeling it since he last saw his mother.

Zuko leaned into it, letting her fingers form around the shape of his jaw. His eye lashed flickered as he blinked, and she admired the entirety of him.

"Thanks.. you too."

He said, not knowing how to respond. He didn't ever get compliments.

"You know, you could have just told me that you liked me."

(Y/N) laughed, causing Zuko to look away.

"I don't like you."

He grumbled, looking at the wall above the sink.

She laughed, turning his head with her palm to look at her. She used her other hand to place it on his crotch, grinning wildly,

"What's this then?"

Zuko looked down, feeling a rush of ecstasy flow through his body. He whimpered softly, his eyes closing from it.

"That's enough to tell me you like me."

...

In the next minute, Zuko's lips were on her neck. She was on the counter next to the sink, legs wrapped around Zuko's torso, Her hand was tangled in his short hair, the other gripping the edge of the counter,

Zuko was holding her waist, his right hand gripping the fat of her thigh. He loved being this close, the agility to breath her in making him feel incredibly hot.

"Lee, I love this as much as you do, but we need to start quickly before Mushi gets back."

Zuko groaned against her neck, removing his lips from her soft skin. He was reluctant, but she was right. Regrettably.

"Yeah, right."

He stepped back, beginning to unbuckle the belt that held up his pants. He look up suddenly, face growing hot,

"Could you uhm, close your eyes,,"

He muttered shyly, getting a smile out of (Y/N). She nodded, closing her eyes. Zuko fully took his pants off, now sliding his boxers from his waist. He was practically in pain from all this, and he needed relief soon. He walked closer, close enough that his member hid under the lip of her skirt. She took this as an okay, opening her eyes only to be met with Zuko's amber ones,

She reached down, pulling her underwear to the side, The cold night air hit her exposed parts, making her shiver.

"Okay. I'm ready, Lee."

Zuko placed one hand on the base of him, lining himself up with (Y/N). She scrunched her eyes at the feeling of his tip entering her, toes curling in her sandals, Zuko then grabbed her hips, looking up at her.

Then he bucked his hips forward.

"Shit!"

(Y/N) squealed, squeazing Zuko's tense shoulders. He groaned, one of his eyes closing shut. She felt so good -- better than he could ever have imagined. The nights he spent awake, whimpering her name as his hand rubbed his length up and down, imaging her bent over the tables of the tes shop, in his bed, and even in the back room.

He fully slid in, letting out a mix of illegible words. All that (Y/N) could make out was her name.

He pulled out before pushing back in again. She moaned, throwing her head back. zzuko got a good look at her neck, the hockey's that he had placed only minutes before.

Soon, they were at a regular place. Out, in. Out, in. The room was filled with soft groans, and Zuko could already feel his arrival coming. It was all too much. His eyes were currently chained to her crotch, watching himself slide in and out. He then looked up, making eye contact with (Y/N).

"Lee.."

She said in an airy voice, palm grazing his clenched jaw. That's what did it for him, the sight of her unraveling beneath him. Ropes of white shot out of him, painting the inside of her white. He kept pounding into her, riding out his orgasm.

...

lwk lost my motivation at the end......

[amywritesthings]

Hi love!! Can I ask for some fluff with our man when we are still in bed, waking up and just talking about future? Like Levi's dream of owning a tea shop is so cute

i got you xo

window shopping.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 880 warnings: 18+ mdni, light oral sex (f!receiving), naked laying in bed, overall fluff and banter, set in the flackbacks and universe of silver underground. credit: divider by @saradika-graphics

"Nice to Mint You."

You're met with deep, disappointed silence.

"Jasmine-d to Meet You."

An unimpressed baritone groan rumbles against your cheek.

"...that really the best you got?"

It takes everything in you not to vibrate from your own amusement, knowing damn well that Levi's eyes must be glued to the back of his head from how hard he's rolling them in exasperation.

With pursed lips, you nuzzle your cheek back into the soft bare expanse of his chest. "...nice to... matcha—"

"Enough."

The dam breaks, and you're left bursting into quiet giggles when his strong hand pulls you closer to his body.

Easily you mold closer, gliding a palm along the flex of his abdomen until your arm has returned to its original place. Your fingers tickle the curve of his torso, barely brushing the white sheets below.

To think the two of you once lived a life where you couldn't spend the twilight hours of the day like this: in a proper bed with proper sheets and pillows; left to talk about nothing, nonsense, until the sun came up and you returned to his shadow.

Lieutenant and Captain.

"What?" you feign innocence, lifting your head to observe the miniscule scowl pinching his eyes to a narrow. "Every tea shop on the surface has a punny name."

"Not if they have a bit of damn self respect, they don't," he mumbles, still idly tracing circles into the flesh of your upper arm.

"I'm wounded."

"I'm sure you are." Caught red-handed in a lie; a grin stretches your mouth, causing his eyes to narrow further. "Brat."

"I'd rather be a brat than boring."

"Oh, yeah?" he challenges, voice still an octave lower from just waking up. "Is that what I am to you? Boring?"

"A real snooze."

You lie again, but you're persuaded otherwise when that hand on your arm snakes between flesh to tickle under your armpit. Immediately you jolt, trying to keep your voice down as you protest in panic.

"No! No, I'm kidding, don't, I'm sorry—"

"Shhh."

Levi pushes forward, landing in a position hovering above you. The arm that was once wrapped around your body now rises so his palm can cradle your face.

"So goddamn loud," he reprimands without heat. "You wanna wake up the rest of the shitheads?"

"As if they don't already know," you protest with a sigh, relaxing once you're certain he isn't about to launch an attack.

"They don't."

"Uh-huh."

For a moment, you stare. Focus, on the way his black fringe messily hangs over his stormy eyes. He's grown out his hair whether he'll admit it or not. You often find yourself wondering that it could look like longer.

"I'm losing you," he states, bringing you back to the present with him. "What's on your mind?"

You blink back into your body and really look into his eyes.

When you once dreamed about coming to the surface, you thought a thunderstorm would best these eyes. You've seen over a dozen storms at this point. None have ever compared.

"The fact that you don't wanna name your tea shop something cute."

"Who said I wanted to own one?"

"As if you wouldn't cream yourself at the idea of getting good, quality leaves to put the rest of the Walls to shame." Your brows slide high on your forehead. "Am I wrong?"

A pause settles.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth.

"Tch. It's not gonna have a cute name."

"Then what do you wanna name it?"

Lifting your chin, the tip of your nose grazes his.

"Indulge me."

"Fine. Got one."

"Sure."

His legs slide under the thin sheet to hook around yours. You lift your hips and shift with him to accommodate the press of his body.

For the longest time he stares, studying you, before finally mumbling three words.

"...Humanity's Strongest Brew."

He must sense you're about to howl, because his hand leaps off of your cheek to press full against your mouth. And he's right to do it: you nearly betray your location by laughing outright, head tilted back.

"S'funny to you, huh?" he grunts.

"Mmm!"

Trying to speak, to tell him that you're good, you won't alert the neighboring scouts, you wave a hand in his face. His gaze narrows to slits before eventually letting up.

"I swear, James—"

"No!" you interrupt in a whisper, fighting demons to conceal your giggles. "No, it's amazing. I'm serious."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it, Levi! But — shit, if you thought my puns were bad—"

"I'm done talking," he decides, kissing between your breasts. "Gonna make you pay for laughing."

"Wait!"

He makes a point to crawl down your body, kissing a trail of sloppy kisses at the middle of your ribcage to your belly button.

"I promise you, it's a great name."

He answers by grabbing the edge of the sheet and ripping it over his head, disappearing under the fabric.

"Levi—"

When he hooks your left thigh over his shoulder and dives in to bury his face against your center, you gasp sharply and grab the pillow behind your head. He hums against your clit, satisfied by the silence.

"Not laughing so hard now, huh?"

Before you can answer, he dives back in to devour his breakfast.

[heartofbusan]

Best laid plans of stomach bugs and men.

The chemistry is the point.

Some people underestimate the effort and toll it takes on ones body and schedule to fly 14 hours to visit another person. 14 hours to spend 72 hours together means commitment. It means bro's before ho's and I am frankly HERE FOR IT.

The discourse I am seeing is extremely telling of how fickle people are about their support for jikook. People watch too much scripted reality tv 🙄 bcs they really expected this relationship, this reunion if you will, to play out in multiple angle close ups and medium shots and several wide angle shots with dramatic zooms and heavily directed post-moment recaps with dramatic silences or eye rolls to play up the drama? The lack of moments, the MUNDANITY if you will IS THE POINT. They are so real to me, so life like, so domestic goals!

Being quiet with each other. No uncomfortable silences, but comfortable togetherness.

That's what leads to horny bed fighting, which in my eyes could lead to more if not for the cameras 👀 just me?

When they said unscripted, this is what they meant. When they said unplanned, this is what they referred to. Not directed, not scripted, not fanservice 🙄 to fit a planned narrative. This is how their relationship plays out. I'd go so far as to call it a documentary instead of a reality series. While documentaries have tons of genres within itself, this genre is one where there's a broad range of planned activities, but where the narrative is constructed in post production: editing. Id know, since im an editor. This tells me that they counted on the natural chemistry between 'JeonJi' (SO CUTE) to 'lead the way' instead of a multitude of directed interactions that they (the producers) would have needed to tick a dramatic narrative box.

So what does that lead to? In my professional opinion as a director/editor the first two episodes lacked a dramatic arc. There was little directing going on to force one

the chemistry is the point

The flirting, the lulls in conversation, them being together, seeing them have fun, and reconnecting is the point. Instead of what they're doing or what they're talking about. The episodes, therefore, are kinda boring in the sense of entertainment, but wildly exiting in the sense of what we get to see play out. And it's incredibly nuanced. And nuance often flies over people's heads..again, the crowd that expects to be held by the hand when it comes to drama: reality tv.

It's a huge risk to take as a production. Let's not underestimate that! 'Are You Sure' was so unscripted that they didn’t even have a title until halfway into the second or third day. Again: they were banking on JeonJi to build upon their chaos to lead to a narrative and a title, etc. That is so telling to me. That them being together is the raison d'etre of this show. Jimin 'sacrificing' his time to fly to the US, Jeonkook making space in his busy schedule time to spend time unwinding, JeonJi making good on their need to finally spend time together after the booked and busy year they've had.

Jimin enjoying the hell out of Jungkook having fun.

Because that is who Jimin has always been: his adventurous spirit takes him places because he loves exploring and being in tue moment. He'll willingly travel to have those moments. Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t. He dislikes leaving the comfort of his surroundings because he doesn’t see the pot of gold that being adventurous brings him while he's comfortable in his home. I relate 😩 so much. Just planning trips alone makes me enter a comatose state, so I'd rather not go than sacrifice my rest to plan an adventure. I don't even know I'll get anything out of. That is, until Im actually on that planned trip and having the time of my life! They've always been like that. Jimin had to be the incentive to get Jungkook out on that trip. Take.him.by the hand if you will 😭😭

And then there's the stomach bug. YOU DAMMNED CURSED THING. It threw a HUGE wrench into their plans, and if anyone doesn’t take that into consideration, then you haven't had a stomachbug EVER while still having to face up to your commitments. Park Jimin will NEVER back down from his commitments, his promises *pinky promises* are sacred to him, and this bug took away the catalyst of this duo. Jungkook suddenly had to be the extrovert of the two, and boy, does he struggle in that role. He was to me his usuall baby elf self. So adorable and cute with his nose focused on food and Jimin’s care. But my man loves to rely on Jimin to lead the way in shenanigans and to make any moment entertaining, and you could just tell Jimin wasn't in his feels enough to overcome his lack of energy. Poor baby. Really, he's the best of us because I would have straight up refused to be filmed in that moment. A whole night of diarrhea and still showing up to film the next day?! NO MA'M NOT ME.

If you've read up to this point, I commend you. It was just supposed to be a short rant, but it became an entire essay because I can not with the overly reactionary nature some people show. Drawing entire conclusions based on two hour long episodes. I know, I might be contradicting myself here but extenuating circumstances and all. Jimin wasn’t on his game, and Jungkook was also recovering. When a show is banking on the chemistry between two people to shoulder the brunt of this show and said people are extremely sick, well then what can I tell you?

We need to sit back and enjoy the fact that we are getting such access to them, so unfiltered. Jikook enjoying each other, come rain or shine, in sickness and in health, whatever the mood brings, because that to me is more valuable than DRAMA or NARRATIVE. We'll probably get a bit more of that once they're going to Jeju, and they're both hopefully healthy. We're even getting a new element for them to play off of: Tete shows up! Like a jack in the box, and Jungkook seems to not be having it, lmao...see..unscripted and natural. I love that for them!

Idols are people first, and we need to celebrate that, not demand more.

[dilfdemolisher]

PERSEPHONE - CHAPTER THREE

“Persephone, queen of the underworld. Hades runs Hell, but she’s in charge of punishment.”

Series Summary: A serial killer who works with the police herself has a tumultuous past with Jack Crawford and his new profiler Will Graham. While trying to rebuild what she once broke Hannibal Lecter sticks himself in the middle of the few things she cares about - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, dead bodies, murder that is very female targeted, canon character death, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 9.5k (yes you read that right…I'm sorry)

The sterile walls of the hallway close in around you as you make your way towards the autopsy room. "Agent," a familiar voice calls out behind you.

"I'm not your 'Agent' anymore, Jack," you say, wincing as you turn to face him. You were never officially an agent; Jack only started calling you that when you began sticking your nose into his cases.

"Force of habit," he deflects, his tone unusually soft for him. "I need to talk to you."

You glare at him, hoping he'll get straight to the point. The last thing you want is for Jack to drag you into his office, which always feels like a principal's office—the prelude to a lecture you’d rather avoid.

"I'd like you to resume therapy," he says finally.

Your heart sinks. "No."

"Bloom knows a therapist in Baltimore-"

You cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Are you serious? The last time I took her advice, I ended up tied to a chair and tortured. I'll pass."

"Dr. Lecter is one of the best in his field. She recommended him when I expressed my concerns." He tries to reason. 

Is he serious? "So, you discussed your concerns about me with her first instead of just asking me if I felt I needed help?"

"It's not about what you want. If you’re going to continue working on this case, you need a psychological evaluation."

Frustrated, you turn away and continue down the hallway. This is such bullshit. You don't need therapy. "I'll pass, Jack, but I appreciate your concern," you dismissively yell over your shoulder, not slowing your pace.

The moment you enter the room, everyone's eyes fall on your frame. The three in lab coats momentarily feeze while Will quickly makes eye contact before his gaze shifts to behind you and paces out of the room. 

“Were you honest when you said you two never dated—hell even slept together because this is awkward.” He says in an awful attempt to break the awkward silence.

“Any close relationship that didn’t leave on a positive note can cause tension, not just romantic ones, Price.” You state. 

Beverly clears her throat. “So Will thinks the killer is eating the girls. Elise's liver was removed and then put back in place; the killer did that after he realized she had liver cancer.”

“We also found metal shavings on her body,” Zeller chimes in. 

You sigh. “It’s plausible. It creates a very vivid image of this man. He…cares for these girls in his own twisted way. He’d view their consumption as an act of devotion, most likely a waste if he didn't. It’s a hunter's mentality; if there's anything left of these girls, it’s most likely fragments. Hair stuffed in pillows, bones made into various things—he wouldn't waste. If he is a hunter, he most likely has a dedicated space to this, a shed, probably doesn't live in the city.” You propose.

You’re met with silence for a moment before Beverly speaks once again. “I can’t believe you were never a profiler.” She shakes her head and smiles. 

"Well, I momentarily am of sorts now.” You raise your arms forward and wiggle your fingers.  “Maybe I understand him so well because I am him.” You say it in an unserious tone. 

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Hmm, yeah, I'm real scared.” You didn't even realize how much you missed Bev until now. 

"Well, is that all?” You ask. 

"Yup, that's it.” Brain tells you before grabbing something behind him. “I’ll be off then.” You smile and walk out the door.

2 YEARS EARLIER

Jack’s call came twenty minutes ago, his voice clipped and urgent. “Another one.” That was all he said, but it was enough. It wasn't just another body, not a one-off murder. He made it clear by his simple lack of words that this was connected. 

During the entirety of your drive, your heart couldn't stop beating. The dull vibration filling your ears and pounding your chest overwhelmed you so much that you felt relieved at the red stop lights, giving you a moment to collect your barring's. Jack pulled up at the same time, his grim expression mirroring your own.

As he approached, his words were drowned out by your internal rhythm. But when Jack opened the door into the room, your body finally went quiet, and you finally feel like you’re alive again—living in the present. 

A woman's body lay sprawled on the cheap, stained bed, blood soaking deep into the mattress. Your gaze travelled over her naked form, legs spread wide in a provocative display. Decaying vines twisted around her ankles and the bed frame, their dark, withered tendrils contrasting against her greying skin. It was a brutal, degrading spectacle.

There is a precise incision right above her pelvis, which is mostly one of the reasons why her entire torso is covered in her own blood, except her breasts. They look as if they were deliberately cleaned, the pink hue still lightly remaining on her skin. 

Her mouth is slightly agape; something inside it is forcing her jaw unnaturally wide. Compelled by a mix of horror and professional detachment, your feet move towards her. You hear Jack say something but it becomes mute when you hear your heartbeat pick up again.

Your gloved hand delicately touches her jaw; now, closer, you can see her features. Up close, her traits become clearer. She’s unremarkable—plain, even. A white, brunette woman of heavy European descent with a slim build. It’s odd to think how un-special she may have been in life but now, in death, she's a spectacle.

Gently, you pry her jaw open, revealing a small, fleshy mass inside. You look towards Jack in confusion and ask, “Can I pull it out?” 

Crawford gives a small nod and moves beside you. You give the object a small pull and it doesn't budge. “You hold her jaw; I’ll pull it out.” Jack says while looking at the strangulation marks on her neck. 

You move your hands and the man pulls. You watch him struggle between delicately grasping it and forcefully yanking it. 

You adjust your grip, one hand on her lower teeth and the other on the upper, pulling them apart. Jack pulls a bit harder; you watch as it starts to slide out, and just when you think its going to be stuck once again, Jack gives a final, forceful yank, and the object comes free.

Jack is holding the woman's uterus. 

“What the fuck?” you exclaim. Momentarily forgetting you two weren't the only ones in the room. Someone behind him brings an evidence bag to Jack, where he drops the organ inside the plastic. 

All eyes shift to the incision on her torso. Another forensic tech steps forward with metal forceps, his face pale but determined. He fiddles with the cut, and when he finally pries it open. You hear others gasp but you're still trying to compute the sight of the mess inside. At first, it looks like a jumble of smooth, misplaced intestines—until you recognize the pattern.

Scales. Snakes.

She’s been hollowed out, and her uterus has been replaced with dead serpents.

PRESENT DAY

It’s been days, and still nothing. The most frustrating part of working in a field that is centered around solving crimes is the cruel irony that sometimes you need more evidence to build a profile—to move forward at all. You've heard about Jack narrowing down the search by identifying the specific metal found on Elise's body, but you honestly couldn't care less.

You deluded yourself into believing that taking on this case was a selfless act, but your defenses are crumbling. You’re here for Will to glue together what was once broken. But you’ve never fucked up on this scale before, and you don’t know how to fix it. Your fingers stick together from your messy revival attempts, and the toxic fumes cloud your mind. Why did you think it was a good idea to show up at his house?

A knock at your door—your own door—in Baltimore interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

No one called to warn you of an appearance; your overactive work brain can't shut off even now, envisioning an ax murderer standing outside your home.

How comical.

"Open up, it’s Crawford." Jack’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. Not an ax murderer; that makes more sense considering it’s 10 AM and you live in an apartment building. Unless he’s here for other reasons, maybe he knows and wants to give you a chance to explain yourself before slapping handcuffs around your wrists.

Unsure how to navigate this possible confrontation, you blurt out the stupidest thing: "Why?"

“Because I need to talk to you,” he shouts impatiently. 

With a sigh, you walk to the door and begin to unlock it. “That’s what my number is for. I thought showing up at my workplace was invasive, but this is—” Your words cut off as you opened the door.

“Who are you?” you ask, your eyes shifting to the unfamiliar man standing beside Jack.

"I’m Dr. Lecter. Jack has asked me to assist in this case, similar to you," he says with a polite smile, more out of courtesy than genuine pleasure.

You recognize the name from Bloom. She mentioned him plenty of times, but this isn’t how you envisioned meeting him. It reminds you of when, after the "incident," as she likes to call it, she recommended him to you and offered to call him. You declined.

"Okay." Your glare bounces between the two men. Jack's scowl deepens while the doctor’s eyes remain fixed on you. You're not sure if he’s blinked once since you opened the door.

Jack groans and begins to speak. “I want you to speak to a professional for a psychological evaluation. I already told you this.”

You’re taken aback by his intrusion. “I’m sorry, is this an intervention?” Crawford opens his mouth to speak, but you continue before he can justify himself.

“This is ridiculous. First, you begged me to help you on this case, and now you're doubting my sanity?” 

You focus on maintaining eye contact with Jack, not fully seeing the doctor's face beside him, but through your blurry peripheral vision, it looks like amusement. What an asshole.

“I’m not doubting your sanity; I’m clearing this up for legal reasons.”

It’s bullshit, and you know it. “You know what I think, Jack? I think you’re scared of another fuck-up.” You bite, “You lost Miriam, and then, because of a lack of diligence on your part, you almost lost another one of your worker bees. And you just can’t handle another tragedy like that again.”

Jack opens and closes his mouth, more-so shocked by how cold you were to him than anything. You’ve been pissy before, but nothing like that.

It’s harsh and untrue; what happened to you or Miriam isn’t Jack's fault, but that’s not the point. You wanted to strike him where it hurts most. He confided in you about his guilt during the aftermath of your incident, and using it against him is cruel, but that’s what you’re going for, and it clearly worked.

Your gaze finally directs to Lecter, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I think it’s best you both leave.” 

As you swing your door shut, you see him smile. This time, it’s genuine. His crow's feet become prominent, and his top lip slides up to reveal his pointed canines. You much prefer his disingenuous smile to the one where he looks at you like a pretty little doll who just did a party trick.

2 YEARS EARLIER

The victim, a model named Clare Greene, her once beautiful face beaten until her nose lay flat across her face. Blood pools around her head from her slashed throat, soaking into the plush carpet that her back lies on. In both of her hands rest two magazines; she’s on the front cover of both. 

As you approach the body closer to snap another picture, you notice the defense wounds her wrists bore. “Who found her?” You ask, not to anyone specific; you just let the words come out of your mouth with hopes of an answer. 

“Her fiancé, ma'am. Ethan Kingsley, he was supposed to meet her for breakfast; when she didn’t show up, he came here to check on her.” The officer beside her answers.

You nod, your eyes scanning the room. Broken glass glittered on the floor near the bar; an overturned chair in the corner; the place was covered in blood splatters. 

“Jack!” You shout, hoping to get his attention. 

You hear his footsteps before you see him. “What?” He asks. 

“There's a fine mist of blood over here, most likely a result of her severed artery.” You say while motioning to your neck, “All across the back wall right there. The fatal blow happened here—then she stumbled onto the carpet, where she collapsed, and he started beating her. She was either unconscious or already dead when he started so he did it for the sake of it.” You explain. 

You move closer to her. “The long, linear streaks of blood that fan out from her indicate she was also stabbed before he started beating her. The angle and distribution suggest he was standing above her—not straddling and swinging the weapon in a very vertical downward motion.”

You continue as you lead Jack towards the bar area. “These smaller, less-directed spots are all scattered around this area. I think the first attack was here, but she put her forearms up to block it and ran, leaving the droplets behind as she ran.” You say while mimicking an X with your forearms, “It also matches the shallow defensive wounds right below her elbow; it didn’t go too deep; it seems like a very light slash.” 

Jack nods, quite for a moment. “Okay.” 

Not satisfied with his response, you say, “This is bad, Jack; four murders and no suspects. I’m just-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, ‘“I’m not very confident in my usefulness.” Your head ducks down in your admittance.

“I’m sure many feel that way; there's no point in festering it; that’s not how things get solved.” Jack scolds. 

As much as you’d rather allow Jack’s words to fall deaf on your ears, you know he's right; it’s not about you; it’s about the victims and solving what's been done to prevent more tragedies. “You’re right I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist. I don’t know why I said that.”

Jack says nothing and walks away, leaving you to stew in your own embarrassment over your unwelcome confession. 

PRESENT DAY

The next day, you arrive at your momentary office in the BAU. You can’t shake off the invasive encounter given by Jack. It sits heavily in your mind as you try to focus on the case files in front of you. It feels like your head is so full of tenacity it’ll start leaking out of your ears.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of determined footsteps outside your door. 

The door knobs twist and Beverly speedily walks in before you have time to adjust. Looking a bit more chipper than usual and dropping a stack of papers on your desk.

“Good morning. Any updates?” you ask, masking with a forced smile.

“Just the usual. Lab results, cross-references, the fun stuff,” she replies, giving you a teasing look. “‘Found out the specifics of the metal found on Elise’s body, which narrows things down a bit.” She smiles. 

“What?” you say, picking up and flipping through the papers without really seeing them. "You've got to be shitting me, and Jack didn’t even say anything to me.”

"Well, he mentioned heading off to Baltimore to talk to you but it seemed that never happened.” She cluelessly shrugged. 

Grateful for her being unaware of your awkward encounter with him and Lecter, you ask, “So what happened?”

With a smile, she turns her back and says, “Read it and talk to Jack.”

“Oh fuck you.” You say unserious; she doesn't give another response but you hear her laugh accompanied by your door closing as she leaves the quaint room. 

After reading the file, you make your way towards Jack’s office, curious as to why he didn’t bring this to your attention. As you approach the door to knock, it swings open and bumps into you. “Shit.” You say under your breath, pain blossoming where the door met your toes a moment ago. 

As you back away, Will immediately comes out. You both stand there staring at each other. You see his jaw open to speak before he turns and quickly walks away from you. 

You figure he was going to apologize for the collision, and now all you can think is if the reason he scurried off was because of the obvious stress he was exuding and decided to book it, or if he didn’t deem you worthy of an apology. 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you peek into Jack's partially opened door and say, “I was wondering-” You feel yourself become silenced with the notice of another person in the room, Dr. Lecter.

“Oh.” Is all you can give for an immediate response. The room is quiet, Jack looks annoyed with your uninvited presence, and the man across from him seems to be sizing you up in a clinical fashion. 

They’re both waiting for you to speak, not wanting for this unbearable silence to continue for longer than you do. “My apologies; I didn’t mean to intrude.” You say before closing the door behind you. 

You quickly scurry off, and as you turn into another hallway, you see a familiar figure hunched over a water fountain. You fasten your pace and Will’s eyes open suddenly from the sound of rapid footsteps. He pulls away from the fountain, water dripping off his chin that he wipes off when he brings his forearm to his face. 

Within the few seconds you have before you reach him, you practice what to say and points to make speak that hopefully can de escalate his discomfort. 

“I understand my presence is quite unbearable for you but I’m asking for your assistance in a professional manner. I’m being left out of the loop on plans for Nichols and I would like to be more aware. I don’t feel as if I’ve contributed much and I’d prefer to do better.” You justify your presence to him. Some parts of you feels pathetic, not because of what you are doing but because you know you would never do it for someone else.

“I’m sure I know as much as you do.” 

You want him to say more to you so desperately. You’d rather him yell at you or punch you in the fucking stomach than be so reserved. You suppose it’s best; you quite literally came up here asserting it’s for professional reasons but only wish he’d deconstruct his walls and allow you in. 

God, you’re so entitled. 

With your shoulders slumped, you cordially respond, “I understand. Thank you for your time.” Before walking away. 

As fate would have it, everything unfolded in its twisted, godly way. The call came in for another victim—a woman impaled on a stag head left to be displayed in an empty field. A stark contrast from the meticulous love of the Strike; the dissonance Jacks is unable to see is migraine-inducing. 

Ding

Your phone chimes, and you really think that whatever higher-power there is is determined to rest your patience today. 

The screen, annoyingly bright, stares back at you, displaying a name that’s foreign to your recent call history.

Will

No last name; you know multiple Will’s, but they’re contacts are accompanied by their last name. But not Graham’s; he’s much more deserving than that. 

You feel like you’re hallucinating when you look at the words asking you to see him and where he’s staying. From any other man, this might have been a crude proposition, but not from Will. Sweet, enigmatic Will. 

You’re not sure if this is meant for someone else. He would have had to search through his contacts to find you, given the long period of silence between you. He couldn't even be sure you still had the same number. 

It must be meant for you. This is the opening you’ve been praying for; you’ve never been more thankful for deities you’re not sure if you even believe in. 

Your legs feel like they're moving for you as you stand up, hardly fazed by the morning cold as you walk to where Will’s staying; leaving your dingy motel room just to go to his. 

It feels like mere seconds from receiving the text to standing at his door; time feels so warped in the grip of anticipation.

Your knuckles gently tap the door multiple times to alert him of your presence. Flashbacks invade your brain of how awful your last encounter was, though your presence seems more welcome now. 

The door opens faster than you can blink. Will’s messy hair and lack of pants make you feel like you're intruding, despite his invitation. 

He cranes his neck out to look behind you. “Come inside,” he says, hushed. 

You walk inside, and all you can think of is how “Will” this place is; it’s like he was meant to stay here. But that could also just be you holding him in higher regard than necessary and assuming the world revolves around him. 

That very well could be it. 

As he closes the door, the room becomes cloaked in darkness. “Can I—could I open a curtain?” You ask. 

"Yeah, sure,” he says, waving off. As you open the curtains to see the morning sun, you see a familiar man dressed in a fitted suit walking towards the door. 

You stiffen, your muscles tighten and lock as you feel Will give you a glance, expecting you to know the visitor. 

“Did you invite Doctor Lecter as well?” You ask, just as confused as he is. 

"No, I did not.” He huffs as he opens the door, revealing the man with his fist raised, about to knock against the wood.

“Eager.” The man outside says with a subtle, entertained smirk. “Good Morning Will” 

Walking closer to the door, tilt your head to take a peek. "Morning, Doctor.” You unenthusiastically greet. 

His face momentarily drops, just quick enough to show disappointment, before rearranging his facial movements to show false delight. 

“Good morning to you as well.” He says politely. You can’t bother to verbally respond; this was meant to be a moment for possible reconciliation. Not interruption. 

Will, who’s deep in thought, snaps back into the present and offers the doctor to step inside out of the morning chill. He accepts it happily, seemingly aware that he interrupted something but he doesn't seem to care; if anything, it seems he’s taking enjoyment in it. 

“I came bearing gifts.” He says, raising the glass containers of food he’s holding. “Though my apologies, I didn’t expect you to have a guest.” He apologizes to Will. 

“I don’t eat in the mornings anyway; it makes me nauseous.” You excuse. 

Will gestures towards the small dining area, silently and awkwardly indicating for everyone to sit. You take a spot, sitting on a stiff wooden chair, trying to ignore the piercing gaze of Hannibal.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” Hannibal asks you as he gives Will his prepared meal as they both settle into their seats, with Will beside you and Hannibal parallel to you.

Wills eyes continue avoiding both of yours. "I needed to talk to someone who understood," he responds for you. 

Hannibal, opening his container of food on the table, raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you need to talk about, Will?"

Will hesitates, his fingers nervously fiddling with the fork in his hand. "Cassie Boyle. The case... it’s different this time."

Hannibal leans back, looking intrigued. "Different how?"

“What is the purpose of your visit?” You redirect the conversation. This was meant to be a private conversation and you don't appreciate the way Lecter finds it appropriate to put Will on the spot. 

You watch as his hand tightens the grip around the fork in his palm; he’s mastered the art of his facial control. He really is an incredible attempt at the personification of nonchalant, but he still has his tells. 

“An attempt to befriend a coworker; I’d like to serve the purpose of a mediator, alleviate tension when possible, and give my insight on more grim- work related things.” He answers. 

You know you shouldn’t taunt, but you can’t help it; the temptation is too grand. “What makes one worthy of a visit and what disqualifies another?” 

Hannibal seems pleased by your words, oddly enough. “You are more than qualified; I figured you’d appreciate time. I understand you’re not necessarily fond of me.”

“I’d argue the only person fond of you in this room is yourself.” You bite. Hannibal says nothing in return, nor does Will. They both eat in silence as you fidget with your hands, desperate to be soothed.

Staring at the painted wall in front of you, you watch through your peripheral as Hannibal swallows a bite of food from his fork and opens his mouth to speak to Will. “I would apologize for my analytical ambush the other day, but I know I would be apologizing again.” He says, flicking his head towards you briefly in recognition. “And you’ll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.”

Quickly and harshly Will responds, “Just keep it professional.”

Hannibal responds after taking another bite of his cooking, “Or we could socialize like adults; God forbid we become friendly.”

“Where's Crawford?” You ask as soon as the thought rolls into your head. 

Hannibal’s head stiffly turns to face you. “Deposed in court. The journey will be ours today.” He curtly says. 

Then why did he exclusively come to Will? Why has he seemingly made no plans to properly introduce himself to you?

It’s not that you're jealous; it’s not his attention that you want; it’s just the simple need to be recognized as an equal. You’re good at what you do—great, even. And this isn’t the first time someone has disregarded you for no apparent reason. Well, you think you know why. 

Standing up from your chair, you speak. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be off-”

“Why?” Will immediately asks, mouth full of chewed food. 

“Gotta get ready for the day. Unfortunately, it takes more effort than just a clean shirt and brushed hair for me to be presentable. I’m sure you’d understand that, Doctor.” 

The moment the words come out of your mouth, you realize the accidental insult you've just given. You didn’t even mean to insinuate that he’s someone who must put in extra effort in order to be ready for the day, but by the way his grip tightens on his fork once again and the displeasing curl of his lips, you're sure he took it that way. 

“Jack gave a rental; I can drive you when you're ready?” Will offers, as pleased and equally confused you are for his sudden change of heart on your existence. You are also well aware that Lecter will most likely be hitching a ride to.

“I actually drove here. I thought it would be good for me to have some more time to sort out my thoughts.” You say, walking towards the door. “But thank you; I’ll see you both soon.” You say, as curtly as possible before twisting the handle and making your exit. 

Files, files and more files are all you’ve sorted through since you arrived at your destination, the place where the Shrike most likely works. 

You hear a car pull up next to the dingy little trailer of the office of the work site, the sound vibrant against the noise of ruffling papers and the secretary talking to her boss on the corded phone sitting on her desk. 

The door creaks open, and as you turn around, you’re greeted by the sight of Will walking in through the door held open by Hannibal. 

“I’ve sorted through these four on the left so far,” you say in reference to the seemingly never ending towers of file cabinets. “And those boxes are where I’m throwing shit that if you twist an arm and a leg, you might be able to find something slightly suspicious.” 

Hannibal walks in, closing the door behind him and Will nods. “What about her?” He asks, tilting his head to the side where the secretary sits. 

“Conversation with her boss, I think. One that doesn’t seem to be going very well.” You explain with a tiny humorous smirk. Her head snaps towards you as she glares, unable to verbalize any frustration so she settles for squinted eyes. 

“Do you need direction?” You condescendingly ask. Hannibal, seemingly unfazed by your attitude at this point, does nothing but shake his head and say, “Not yet, no. But I’m sure you’ll give me some.” His smile contradicting his pointed words. 

Moments went by, flipping through papers upon papers. The feeling of being stuck in a never ending loop is finally broken by the secretary's voice directed at the three of you. 

“What did you say your names where?” She asks, standing up. 

Before you or Hannibal could respond, Will does. “Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

With a sigh, the woman answers, “He’s one of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. ‘Plumbers Union requires ‘em whenever members finish a job.” She says, before quickly spinning around and whispering into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” And places the landline back onto the plunger. 

Finished with her phone conversation, Will continues to inquire. "Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?”

“Might have.” She says in her tired, monotone voice. 

“Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chafed, um- plain but pretty. She’d have auburn hair; be about this tall.” He motions a bit below his ear. 

She shrugs in response. “Maybe I don't know. I don’t keep company with these people.”

“What is it about Garrett Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?” Lecter's voice chimes in. 

“He left a phone number, no address.” He answers, his back still facing you both. 

 The doctor questions Will once again, turning to face more towards him, “And therefore he has something to hide?”

Taking a short breath to breathe, Will answers, “The others all left addresses; he also missed work for days at a time.” You can see he’s slowly getting more wound up. His mind is moving and scrambling around different possibilities too fast for him to make sense of, and what he can decipher is nothing short of tasteless. 

"Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?” You chime in an attempt to take a sliver of weight off of Will’s shoulders. 

The dark haired woman rolls her eyes and silently walks toward her desk. She takes a few moments to gather her information, the sounds of a keyboard clicking and shallow- impatient breaths fill the room. 

Grabbing a pen, she scribbles numbers onto the small square of paper before standing up once more to hand it to Will. 

As often as it happens, you feel like you’ll never get used to the way men are consistently served first in this field. It's not Will’s fault of course, and you’re sure it wasn’t intentional on her part. But in a way that makes it worse, how habitual it is to subconsciously ignore you, woman, really anything out of the typical white male mold of an old detective movie. 

You’ll never forget how Jack was so quickly disregarded in one of the first cases you accompanied him with. It was in some southern state where a series of home invasions resulted in multiple murders over a handful of months. On the way to the crime scene, the neighbourhood held lawns of homes that were decorated with not only American flags but Confederate ones as well. You watched the way the local police interacted with Crawford. The kind of people who tolerated him for his help but nothing else—aversion constantly clouded their eyes. 

It's not that you haven't encountered appalling people of that sort before, but it was the moment when it clicked that no matter how remarkable your work is, if Crawford could be so quickly disregarded because prejudice, the man who was truly their saving grace for this case, what chance do you have to truly excel in your field?

“I could start loading the boxes in the trunk; can you unlock it?” You ask, not even bothering to look at the yellow Post-it note containing the address. 

Looking at you with brows furrowed, he digs in his trouser pockets. “It’s manual, you have to unlock it.” He says while handing you the set of cool rigid metal. 

“That's fine.” You say with a smile before heading out the door. Taking a breath of metal-scented air in an attempt to calm your nerves. Things are going okay—well, even.

 Will seems to be no longer sickened by your presence, for whatever reason that may be. You're trying not to think of that, the reasoning for this sudden change of heart, and how you may already know it if it weren't for Lecter's earlier intrusion. 

You're trying not to hold much disdain for him, to put it aside for the time being when there are non-metaphorical lives on the line. But it’s hard when the only thing you now personally know him for is an invasive little bastard. Not much like Bloom had described him to you before, back when you were civil. That's not fair to her, though; she’s civil—you're not. You're much too bitter now for niceties.

Moments pass by while you, Will, Hannibal and the secretary are hauling boxes out of the small office trailer into the back of the rental car. A monotonous and tedious task. One that may not seem to be fit for all though, as the doctor allows a box to stumble in hands, paper falling onto the wet ground. 

Of course, Will’s the one to solve the problem, falling to his knees to scrounge the paper and telling the man not to worry. You watch as he doesn't even give a thank you in return; he just hustles back inside. 

Clearly, the man doesn't have as much decorum inside of him as he presents. 

Though you may not have room to speak, the moment the task was done, you grabbed the address covered note and put it into your car's GPS before telling Will just to follow you. You're sure you're contributing to his stress by being so evasive, but until you can stop being so erratic, your best bet is to stay slippery, not allowing him to get a good enough grasp on who you are before you can conceal it.

The robotic voice from your center console alerts you of the approaching destination. Turning on your turn signal a bit early to alert Will driving behind you of the driveway you are about to pull into.

You can only appreciate the home once you step out of your car. The plain suburbia of the family home becomes clearer once you get closer to the front door. 

You turn to watch Will and Lecter step out of the car, Hannibal surveying the place with an analytical gaze much like your own, while Wills is unique. It’s Wills. 

You're unsure if you should wait for Will and have him be the one to knock at the door. You’re defenceless; you have no gun, no badge, and no reason for someone to open the door for you alone. 

The decision seems to have been made for you when the door opens. Turning to look, you are greeted by the sight of bloodied hair and body weight pushed onto you. Before being granted a moment to collect your thoughts, you feel yourself falling. The sight of a man with a knife turning away is the only distinct thing you can make out as the rest melts into a scene of blurry green and blue before you and the body on top of you hit the ground.

The moment your head hits the concrete, you know you're done for. The sound of your hard skull smacking against the ground reverberates through your spine like an echo. An uncomfortable pounding takes over all your senses as Will runs up to you. The body weight of the woman is pushed off of you. You can hear the vibrations of his voice against your eardrums but nothing more—all unintelligible in your mangled brain. 

You can feel your mind quickly leave its haze as fast as it came to you, your senses returning. You pull yourself up on your forearms to try to slowly raise yourself up. “Go.” Your voice sounds weird coming out of you; it's so loud that it feels like a microphone is hiding in your throat. 

An unfamiliar hand grabs the back of your skull. “I’m here; you can go, Will.” Hannibal's voice firmly says behind you. 

And he does; he quickly stands, pulling out his gun and walks into the house as Lecter pulls you by your armpits to sit properly. “You’re not bleeding.” He states, moving your hair around your head softly to check. 

“Bleeding.” You think. Blood. You can feel blood all over your skin. You know you’re not bleeding, you don’t feel anything leaving you. But you feel everything on you. 

The woman lays beside you, face up towards the dreary sky, as the sound of a quiet pattering of blood collects in a pool below. “God.” You exclaim while attempting to push yourself up from your wobbly arms.

“Slow do-” The accented voice behind you speaks before being cut off by a series of gunshots. You feel each noise in your chest, each one causing your heart to sink further into your stomach. Ignoring the dizziness blooming in your head, you clumsily stand up. Hannibal's hands pointlessly attempt to grip you to help your stability as you quickly stumble into the Hobbs residence. 

The overwhelming smell of iron invades your nostrils—you freeze. Will huddles over a limp body, you from behind as he struggles to place his hands. Jack was right, you're not ready for this. Slumped in the corner lies a man, bullet wounds decorating his chest in rows.

Will killed him.

Your mind plays the sentence over and over again on loop as you feel Dr. Lecter's eyes bore into the back of your skull. He walks over to Will, his posture so straight that it's unnerving. The way his hands steadily grip the young girl's throat to prevent more blood from spurting out mocks your shaky ones. 

Will beside him looks just as shaken up as you do, sitting there frozen, watching as the girl on the floor clings to life. 

“Call in.” Hannibal's voice shakes you from your thoughts. As if on autopilot, your bloody hand messily dials for an ambulance. Your words sound so foreign, entirely not yours, as you explain the scene in front of you, eyes locked on Will as he dissociates from his surroundings. 

It happens so slowly and so fast. A whirl of paramedics running in. Ushering you all to leave, but you can’t. The moment you exit the door, you freeze at the woman's body in front of you.     

She was murdered, died on top of you and was the last bit of warmth she felt before she went cold. You feel sad, A woman's life was brutally stolen from her far too early. You feel sad about the surrounding context of her death, but mostly you feel gross, dirty, sticky, and frustrated that she had to expel her life force all over you. 

You want a shower.  

After getting checked by the waiting paramedic outside, who confirmed a grade 1 concussion. You can't stop thinking about what just happened to Will's head. He just murdered a man to save a life and you know what that can do to someone—it's the exact thing that ruined you. 

You’ve done it again, showing up uninvited again, only this time to his motel room and not his home. But you have to talk to him. 

Some agent you never even got the name of drove you both back to your respected quarters. Neither of you were in a state to drive; you can’t for the next 48 hours and Will... God knows how Will is. 

That's why your visit is needed; it’s not for your peace of mind; it's not an apology; it’s to make sure he's not alone with thoughts and has someone to help clear them. 

After knocking at his door once again, he opens it. “Hi.” Your voice cracks.

“Hi.” Greets back. He sounds…tired.

“I wanna come in.” You tell him there's no point in pleasantries; he’s known why you’re here since the moment you knocked on the door. 

Fortunately, that gets him to crack a small smile and say, “Sure.” 

As you both walk further into his room, he closes the door behind you. The room’s dimly lit, and the curtains drawn tightly to block out the world. You can see the disarray around you—books strewn across the floor, papers piled haphazardly on the desk, and an untouched dinner plate on the nightstand.

“I brought a gift.” You say, sticking your arm out, handing him the bottle.

"Vending machine root beer, you shouldn’t have." He attempts a joke, but the effort is hollow. Everything he says only deepens your concern; he’s so quick to brush off everything that's happened and act as if everything's fine.

“You’re freaking me out, Will,” you awkwardly laugh. “I know your feeling pretty fucked up right now. You don’t have to act unbothered.”  

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, a defensive look quickly absorbing his eyes. “Just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.” The moment the weight of the words he’s thrown at you registers, Will's face drops. His entire guarding demeanour immediately shatters the moment they come out.

"I-I’m sorry." You stutter out in shock of how his attitude is instantaneously flipped by words. "I know what happened was different; I just wanted to check up on you." Your words are met with silence, the two of you just pitifully staring at each other. The room feels colder, the silence is more suffocating.

He breathes out your name so softly that you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know…why I sa-said that.” His hand roughly runs through his hair as he takes a step forward. “I want you to stay.” He states, uncharacteristically bold from him. 

Unsure what to make of his words, you just stand there. Both your minds are reeling—Will’s for a way to apologize and yours to just disappear. 

“I know I didn’t handle myself well.” You say, taking a deep breath, “I’m not saying my actions will be your own; I just wish I had someone to understand what its like to take a human life and not hate it.” 

That's it—the thing you could never admit, not even to yourself. So much time was spent sprilling about why you are the way you are. Trying to convince yourself that this feeling brewing inside you is new, that it had been manually moulded. 

Panicking from your admission, you quickly follow up. “I didn’t mean to project—fuck, I just don’t want you to wallow in the guilt of change like I did. What Hobbs did- who he was—was entirely irredeemable.” 

Another step closer and the gap between you both becomes bridged, and his large hands rest gently on your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He delicately whispers. 

You can’t help it; you fall apart and the dam behind your eyes breaks. The tears cascade down your cheeks faster than you can blink them away as he pulls you into his chest. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, the reminder that he’s real, he’s here, and he’s okay.

“I was so fucking scared when I heard those gunshots,” you whisper into his chest. His grip on you tightens, pushing you further into him. You both stay like that for God knows how long. From how heavily you’ve soaked his T-shirt with your tears and how you feel it around your brow bones and eye sockets, you’d guess it’s been a while. And with a deep sigh, you finally feel him pull away. “Are you okay?” He asks, gently looking you up and down.

“I should be asking you that.” You scoff, “Minor concussion; I’ll be fine in a couple days and a good night's sleep.”

He raises his brows in shock. “Yeah, well, good luck getting that.” You can’t help but laugh at his tone and reaction, as if you just said the most bizarre thing in the world. 

A grin makes his way across his face at the sound of your laugh. “I miss you.” 

You freeze. It’s what he said that took you off-gaurd, just the way he said it. The tone wasn’t sad or nostalgic; it was happy. Present tense too; he didn’t once mourn you and, over time, healed the wounds of a lost friendship. No, they’re still open, and he still misses you.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you never had a moment to grasp the closeness between you too. Looking up, you see him. The individual hairs growing out of his chin, forming his stubble; the small scar on his cheek that he got when he was a child but doesn't remember how; and his eyes. Those blue eyes that hold so much patience, so much care and so much understanding it makes you weak to your knees. You see Will—sweet, complex, deserving Will. 

His hands grip your face more firmly this time, peering into your soul like you just autopsied yours. He's drinking you in your image, like he’s been starved, dehydrated, and famished. You wouldn’t dare pull away and deny him what he wants; you’ll give him anything and if he wants your soul, you’ll bare it to him. 

“The only thing I regret is everything I did to you.” It’s such a heavy admission—one that’s entirely out of left field, and he still doesn’t know the true weight of it. “Please,” The words so delicately come from you. You’re not sure what your pleading for—forgiveness? But for which of your sins? In what context are you begging for repentance?

It doesn't matter what you decide. The only thing that does is how close his lips are to yours and how it’s still not enough. 

“I know.” His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, then more certain. The kiss is a soft exploration, a silent conversation filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourselves to say. You feel his hands trembling slightly against your skin, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying to maintain. 

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. He’s quiet, waiting for the moment for you to turn and run like you do, but it doesn’t come. Instead, your hand finds itself on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls as you pull him in for another kiss. 

Just as eager as you, he deepens the kiss, his hands moving from your cheeks to your waist, desperate to have you as close as he can. You could feel his heart beating against his chest, rhythmically in-sync with your own.

Energy intensifies, with hands greedily grabbing whatever they can, saliva coating each other's lips, feet scrambling across the floor until your back hits the crumpled sheets of the unmade motel bed.   

The thin mattress creaks under your combined weight, but you barely notice—too preoccupied with catching each sound that spills from Will's mouth. His hands explore the curves and slopes of your torso with an urgency so similar to yours. Every touch, every kiss, makes your body buzz with ache, desperate to consume him from the outside-in. 

He breaks away for a moment, his breath ragged, eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

"Yes," you reply without hesitation, your voice as steady as you could be despite the pounding of your heart. "I’m sure."

With that, he captures your lips again, his hands slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his calloused fingertips on your ribs sending shivers within you. You lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside the room fading into oblivion. 

All you can think of is Will. 

Will's hands slipping off your shirt. 

Will’s chest bare against yours as you slip off his. 

Will’s mouth on your neck, nibbling on your collarbone. 

Will looking deliciously vulnerable covered in crimson outside of the Hobbs house. 

The moan that slips out of your mouth as his tongue meets your nipple is involuntary; his wet mouth lays kisses and bites along the fat of your breast as he grips the other. 

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry as he breathes your name out, his voice thick with lust coating his vocal cords like honey. His hands roam lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your hips. His kisses trail down from your sternum to your stomach, getting sloppier as his breath contrasts with the coolness of his spit. 

You gasp as he reaches your underwear, his fingers teasing the fabric. "Will," you whimper, your voice a mixture of need and desperation you’ve never heard from yourself before. 

He peers up at you, his silvery eyes filled with desire—desire for you. "Do you trust me?"

Without a moment of hesitation, you reply, "Yes."

With a smile both wicked and tender, he pulls your underwear down and spreads your legs, revealing you to him. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail, every curve, and every inch. He leans in, his breath hot against your slick center, and then his tongue flicks out, tasting you.

You arch your back, a moan escaping you as he explores you with his mouth. His fingers tease your entrance, rubbing just around it in circles while his tongue dances around your clit. 

You grip the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric. You’d latch your hands onto his head but you're afraid you’d rip his scalp off his head. The sensations are overwhelming, not because of the pleasure coursing through you, but because it’s Will distributing it. 

Will's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and probing, while his fingers continue to tease.

He was devouring you, and you were more than happy to be consumed. 

“Will," you moan, your voice breathy, desperate for more—anything else he’s willing to give. "Please." 

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, then slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. You cry out, your body bucking against his mouth, your hips grinding against his fingers as you feel the prickle of his facial hair on your thighs as you squeeze them tighter around his head. 

“So good,” he whimpers into you, his voice a mixture of need and desperation while he works you closer to your ledge. He does nothing but continue his assault, his tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You can feel the orgasm building in your stomach, the pressure mounting higher and higher as he desperately bucks into the bed for some form of friction.

"Will," you cry out, your voice louder this time, begging him for your release. He’s still so wordless—nothing but the vibrations of moans and grunts coming from him. Instead, he responds by increasing the pace of his fingers, his tongue more aggressive as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. 

You feel your body move for you, sporadically convulsing as your orgasm washes over you as he drinks up release, coating his mouth and fingers. He continues his movements while you come down from your high, his hands prying your thighs open as he fucks his tongue into you, savouring your taste.

You're left panting, your body trembling, and your mind swimming in a foggy haze of pleasure when he finally pulls away from you with an expression of satisfaction. He moves up your body, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. 

You can feel your slick coating his facial hair as he kisses you, rubbing it onto you. It’s a messy and filthy action but fuck does it get you going. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle. 

You can’t help but smile; he’s so fucking perfect. 

A grin coats your face. “Yeah.” He’s gorgeous; the light is low, the cool light of the moon peeking out the sides of the curtains. You can’t see Will in his entirety, but that’s fine. His face so close to yours, his body on top of yours—you don’t need to see him; just feel him. 

He smiles a small-relieved grin. “Good,” he whispers before pulling away. You didn’t realize he removed sweats until you felt the tip of his cock teasing you. A whine escapes from your lips as he rocks his dick back and forth along your pussy, coating himself in your cum. 

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his pace deliberate, giving you time to adjust. Your brain short-circuits from how deeply he’s stretching you out every time he slips himself further inside you. 

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

You feel braindead; you've never been so pilant in your life. “More.” You manage to whisper out, your voice shaky. 

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow. Just the feeling of his cock repeatedly entering you makes your brain feel fuzzy. You can feel every inch of him, the way he fills you, how tightly you’re wrapped around him. 

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. “‘Missed you so fucking much,” he grumbles into your neck.

“M’sorry.” You whimper, “M’sorry, M’sorry.” You say fragmentedly, it took him nothing to fuck you dumb and yet your entire brain is filled with nothing but the repetition of his name. 

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wetness of your bodies, and the occasional moan that escapes from either of your lips—the both of you soaking up the feeling of each other in this moment. 

You can feel the pressure building up again—the familiar prickle in your abdomen. “Please, don’t fucking stop.” Your voice desperately cries out.  

He doesn’t slow down; instead, he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. You can feel him shaking, his body trembling as he nears his climax. Not bothering the silence himself anymore, he becomes just as loud as you, no longer speaking coherent praises, just moans and grunts that slowly raise in pitch with each stroke inside you he makes. 

Nothing but each other’s names spill from your lips in affirmation that you're both here, together. You cry out, your back arching off the bed in a desperate attempt to be closer as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around him, milking him as he spills himself inside you, as he collapses on top of you. You feel his breath against your neck in ragged pants as his cock continues to twitch inside you, the last of his cum filling you up. 

You wrap your arms around him, you're both spent. Bodies slick with cum and sweat, the euphoric high wearing off allowing the reality of how tired you’ve been the last couple to take hold of you. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You breathlessly ask. As sleepy as you are, you have to make an attempt to do what you came for—someone to talk to. 

Head on your chest, you can feel his smile form. “I was liking how little talking we were doing.” 

A laugh puffs from chest at his response, “That works too.” You say, gazing down at him. As if he could feel your stare, he raises his head to look at you, chin resting on your breast. “I’m happy.”

A small laugh now finds its way from his chest at the juvenile remark. As ridiculous as it seems, that is the best way to describe it. It doesn't need complex-flowery language, you're just glad to be in his presence, alive and healthy. You're just happy. 

And he understands, his gaze softens as a sincere smile crawls on his face, “Me too.”

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

ONLY IF YOU SAY YES. - bff!nishimura riki x reader

summary : riki's always wanted to make out with you, or maybe he just wants to makeout with everyone. after becomimg tipsy at a party, you quickly give in to his desires.

a/n : happy 1year to my blog!! to all my viewers&followers, enjoy this quick riki drabble. love you all, mwa mwa. also- didn't mean for this to get so long.

genre : fluff

warnings : making out, a lil blood, whore calling

wordcount : 970

you somehow ended up at one of the typical frat parties of your college. the host, aka jake sim, was lying on the couch with heeseung and sunghoon next to him, drinking their beers.

they notice you and give you a lazy smirk, jake gettong up to greet you. "hey pretty. where's your escort?" you smile at him, sighing.

"no escort tonight. just waiting for riki to meet up with me." he gives you a sloppy nod, pointing to the kitchen. "think i saw him in there with eun-yoo, pretty. not sure if you wanna interrupt them."

you roll your eyes, knowing what he's indicating. "it's fine, thanks jake. see you around." you walk to the kitchen after smiling at the trio, saying your goodbyes to them quickly.

your e/c eyes look around the messy and crowded kitchen, looking for your best friend, only to spot him making out with the said eun-yoo against the fridge.

sighing in annoyance, you grab a drink, pouring some vodka and mixer into a cup and sipping it before walking up to the pair. "hey eun-yoo, riki. busy?" the two of them break apart, slightly panting. riki smirks at you, pulling away from her fully as she just waves at you quietly.

"you made it. thought you got lost again." he hugs you, pulling you in by your waist and letting his hands rest on your hips before pulling away.

"don't be a dickhead. i only got lost once." rolling your eyes, you smack his chest and cross your arms. "are you gonna hangout with me or do you need some more kissing in your system to properly function?" riki groans at you, muttering a goodbye to eun-yoo and dragging you away as you sip your drink.

you two arrive upstairs, most likely in jake's room. "the hell are we doing here? you got games on your phone?" snickering to yourself, you sit down on riki's lap as he sits down on the bed.

"no games on my phone, y/n. just exhausted." he lays his head on your shoulder, watching you swirl your drink around in the red plastic cup. after a moment of silence, you speak up.

"you know you can't just kiss every girl you feel like kissing, right? you're gonna end up hurting someone, or yourself." he sighs, rubbing his face into your neck from behind.

"they know im not looking for anything serious, plus who cares if i kiss every girl i land my eyes on?"you finish your drink and lean against him to relax. "i know i know.. it's just the principal of the whole situation."

riki rolls his eyes, annoyed at your nice personality. "hey.. why don't you wanna makeout with me?" he looks at you, expecting an answer. "cause im your best friend and god knows where your mouth has been. your lips probably have an std from the amount of lips they kissed."

he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close. "you're a real pain in the ass, yk that? im a great kisser- and i know you've never made out with someone before."

he feels you tense up at his words, so he tightens his grip around you. "are you that much of a manwhore that you'd ask your bestfriend to make out with you?" you slightly turn your head to meet his gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

"maybe. is that a yes?" he smirks, tracing patterns with his thumb on your waist. "what would i get out of it? a cold sore? seeing how jake reacts to them, i'd rather not." riki rolls his eyes, scoffing.

"just say yes. it's not that deep, it's just kissing." you sigh dramatically, but agree. "fine, ill make out with you. only cause.. uh.." he snickers, tapping your thighs so you get off his lap. "cat got your tongue? 'ts all in good fun, doll."

you raise your eyebrow at the petname. "doll? which number doll am i?" he smirks, pushing you against the wall. "number 73." playfully pouting, you look up at him. "what a ugly number. id rather be something pretty, like 95."

he rolls his eyes, leaning down to kiss you softly. you kiss him back, placing your hands on his cheeks to tug him closer. his hands find your waist, keeping you close to him. his lips attack yours hungrily, begging for more.

"mm-" you let out a surprised whimper when his teeth bite down on your lip, shutting your eyes closed as you feel blood slightly come out. riki keeps making out with you, licking the blood of your lips, only to shove his tongue into your mouth.

you gotta admit, he is good at making out. no wonder every girl wants to kiss him.

your lips collide again and again until you pull away, needy to breathe. he snickers, finding your lack of oxygen amusing.

"so? how you liking my lips, doll?" ".. do you use lipbalm?" your question catches him off guard, his expression faltering. "sometimes, why? you like it? cherry flavoured."

you tug him closer, a smirk on your face for the first time tonight. "can't tell, let me have a taste again?" he gladly obligates, kissing you passionately and pressing you against the wall.

after spending the next 20 minutes making out, you both decide that's enough. walking back down stairs to the loud party like nothing happened, making sure to cover up the hickeys on your collar bones as you make your way back to jake, heeseung and sunghoon, riki finding his own friends.

jake looks up at you with hooded eyes and a lazy smile, obviously more drunk than when you last saw him an hour ago. "hey pretty. where were you?" sitting yourself down between hee and jake, you smile.

"eating some cherries."

[strangelysamantha]

Could you do a Y/n x Rafe Cameron fluff where they go from friends to dating but they start dating bc of topper was texting y/n to talk rafe that she likes him and all that stuff but topper didn’t know that rafe was on her phone when he sent those messages, and make it super fluffy and stuff!! Please and Thank you!! Btw I love your work!

exposed ❀

rafe cameron x reader.

warnings: none.

words: 740.

summary: rafe sees a text from topper, exposing your little crush on him. at first you try to play it off, but you gain enough confidence to tell rafe about your feelings.

request: yes!!

a/n: this is such a cute idea tysm! thank you for requesting i really appreciate it. love and reblog if you enjoy, possibly a follow if you're feeling generous. im so happy to have an audience to share my stories with. :)

masterlist link

-------------------------------------

rafe cameron was the sexiest guy you had ever met. unfortunately, you were stuck in the friend zone. you never attempted to make a move, too nervous to ruin what you already had. the friendship was nice, and rafe was too difficult to read.

he was currently at your house for a hangout sesh. you two started with watching a movie, eating popcorn, laughing at the cheesy lines. you guys' shared looks, cringing at the poor acting. "would you be down to order some food?" he questions. "i'm down! what would you like?" you open doordash on your phone, quickly handing it to him. "let me see what they have." he scrolled the app, overwhelmed by all the choices. he chose a restaurant, now searching for what meal he wanted to order. he laughs suddenly. and you get nervous. "what?" you question, he points your phone towards you, a text from topper. are you with rafe right now? you need to tell him how you feel.

a red tint lifts to your cheeks, you bite your lip nervously. you are unsure of what to say, so instead you stay silent. topper texts again, come on you know he likes you back it is so obvious. you dramatically grab the phone from rafe, "maybe let's wait to order food, or we can use your phone." you set it behind you, ultimately pissed at topper for exposing your secret so carelessly.

"do you like me?" he's calm and curious, his face completely unreadable and now your stomach is flipping at the thought of telling rafe the truth. "i don't know what topper is talking about, were just friends." you laugh gently, quickly glancing away. when you look back, you see a moment where his guard is down. sadness flashed over him, but he quickly covered it up. "right, why would we ruin what we have?" silence settles between you two, time slowly passes as you stay on the couch, unable to move. "why would topper even think that?" he questions, smiling. he elbows you gently, "i don't know. i think he just feels bad because i haven't had a date in a month." rafe nods, looking away. you think for a moment, and after that moment passed you came to the realization that topper was right. the longer you wait to tell rafe, the more time you give your feelings to fester. it's better to rip the band aid off, cut the plug before anything got too far.

"topper knows that i like you rafe." you straighten yourself out, finding courage to admit everything. "all summer he's been urging me to express how i feel, but i've been too scared." rafe is shocked at your words, his heart starts to race. he stays quiet, letting you continue. "i never thought i'd tell you, because we are great friends. and i'd rather be just a friend, then risk losing you entirely. but i can't hide it anymore. my feelings are real..." you lower your voice, "my attraction to you is real too." you look at rafe, desperate for him to say something, "i really like you too, but i didn't think you could love someone like me." you shake your head, shushing him gently. "don't say that. you deserve so much love rafe." he forms a small smile, you lean in, "would you consider going on a date with me?" he shakes his head and for a moment your heart stops. "i'd rather be your boyfriend." you sigh with relief, "of course rafe." you lean in for a kiss, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist. "i've been dying for this moment." he whispers, close to you. the close proximity to rafe fills you with nerves, his scent strong, and his eyes soft. "me too, so bad." you kiss him again, hungrier this time. desperate for his taste and touch. you pull away, "i should have said something sooner, huh?" he grins. "definitely. but at least you did today." you frown.

"why didn't you make a move first?" your question was endearing to him, he shrugs, "well i didn't know if you actually liked me or not, and i figured if you did like me, you would have said something already." you pull him into a hug, and he snakes his arms around you. "let me take you on a date tomorrow." you grin, "yes please." he looks at you, "it's a date."

[cuntylouis]

"Armand is Alice and Daniel's wife/s and kids aren't real" has become a popular fan theory (even Luke Brandon Field said he liked it!) but i'd be surprised if it was right. I think it's definitely possible that Devil's Minion will be adapted in the show (though probably not exactly like in the books), but i personally think this whole imaginary family thing would be a poor way to handle the storyline for a variety of reasons. I think a twist like that would probably come across convoluted and (as Daniel might say) like something from a telenovela.

We see children's toys in Daniel's house and he's public figure who many people know with an autobiography and everything. Creating decades worth of false memories for Daniel and somehow also maintaining that imaginary life story for decades wouldn't be enough, Armand or whoever did it would also realistically have to have an absurd level of control over the physical world, public records and many other people's minds to sustain an illusion like that. I also frankly think it would be difficult to avoid having some sexist and biphobic undertones to the idea that Daniel's relationships with women were unreal and meaningless and only his relationship with a man matters.

However, the most important reason why i think Daniel's wives and children should be real is that they make him a richer, more nuanced character and are actually central to understanding him and his motives. He has lived a full and complex life that has been influenced and to some extent defined by his encounters with vampires, but those vampires still weren't his whole life. I think it's more interesting to see Daniel's human life and his relationship with Armand and Louis as something connected and overlapping that both affect each other. We actually learn quite a lot about Daniel from what he says about his partners and children.

This scene - as well as how Alice in general is discussed - reminded many people of how Daniel in the books talks about Armand, such as this famous passage:

Parallels between Daniel's relationships with Alice and Armand in the books are obvious but i think they're just that, parallels. Both the sweet little scene where Daniel is talking about Alice's eyebrows and the book scene where he's talking about loving Armand not despite but because he's a monster reflect in different ways who Daniel is as a person; he feels drawn to unconventional and strange and sees beauty where others might not. He ended up in this situation with vampires too because he wanted to interview people who're rejected by the society.

If Daniel already had some sort of relationship with Armand in the past it makes sense that it would be associated with Alice in his mind. There may be an overlap between the timelines of those relationships. A memory of Armand rises when Daniel is reminded of Alice rejecting his marriage proposal, in the books Armand rejected his wish to be turn him into a vampire, which would've been something akin to marriage. I think Alice being real is much more compelling for Armand's character too, with Armand expressing surprising understanding and sympathy toward Daniel's wife rather than just speaking about his own experience through an imaginary woman.

Completely putting aside Devil's Minion and is it a thing in the show or not, i think Daniel's family is particularly important to Louis' and Daniel's relationship. Something that hasn't technically been explicitly said but to me seems obvious is that Louis and Daniel strongly relate to each other as fathers. Many scenes where we see Louis and Daniel show vulnerability in front of each other have something to do with their partners and children. In 1.02 as one of the earliest examples of this Louis replicates the dessert Daniel had with Alice, trying to connect with him and his humanity through it, Daniel shares personal memory and they eat together in companionable silence.

I would argue that Claudia, her memory, and Louis' relationship with her is the heart of the story in these first two seasons. Claudia entering the story in 1.04 marks the shift in the interview and Daniel's approach; he becomes both more combative and more emotionally invested. He has a strong reaction to reading Claudia's diaries, and it's not difficult for any parent to guess that he's also imagining her own daughters in similar circumstances to Claudia.

I think this conversation at the end of the episode (alongside Louis' speech to Daniel in San Francisco and them remembering it in 2.05) is the most important scene between Louis and Daniel. They share the understanding what it feels like to have children and love them so much you don't even have words for it, but still fail them. It's not a coincidence that in the original interview in San Francisco what leads to Louis attacking Daniel is Louis telling the story of Claudia leaving alone and Louis going back to Lestat, and Daniel acting dismissively and clearly not understanding why this is so painful memory to Louis. Daniel was young, stupid and high - and he didn't have children yet. Daniel now wouldn't act like that when hearing this story, and he doesn't in 1.06 when hearing it again. And notably when Louis says that he would now agree to turn Daniel, Daniel says he doesn't want it anymore and specifically mentions his daughters as one of the reasons. Having to watch your children die before you is the most horrifying thing in the world. It's something Louis had to go through and Daniel wishes he never has to, even if vampirism still intrigues him.

Daniel realizes quickly that it all comes down to Louis' feelings of guilt and shame about failing Claudia and his inability to protect her, because he has similar feelings about his own daughters. Louis' story unravels in s1 finale because Daniel recognizes that Louis' more palatable narrative around what happened with Claudia isn't fully true. Daniel carefully read through Claudia's diaries and tried to learn to understand her, and he positions himself as someone who's trying to defend her integrity and reveal the injustice that was done to her. This is again about Daniel's own children as much as it's about Claudia. He knows that he's a bad father, his daughters don't talk to him anymore and it's implied that he neglected them when focusing on other things that interested him more. When Daniel defends Claudia he's on some level trying to rectify his own mistakes and when he calls Louis out he's also voicing his own self-loathing.

Eric Bogosian remarked that the scene in 2.01 where Louis cries and thanks for Daniel for helping him to remember that Claudia could dream is another shift in their dynamic. Daniel looks at Louis with genuine concern, and after that he tones down his usual sarcasm and jabs significantly. Daniel, again, can sympathize with how important this is for Louis. There's a new sincerity and empathy in their interactions. Sometimes the audience forgets that this story is ultimately about Claudia, but Daniel hasn't forgotten it since he first realized it. They're trying to understand together what happened to Louis' child and everything that led to it. I think if Daniel wasn't a father he would've acted differently, and Louis wouldn't have trusted him in the same way either and been able to share his and Claudia's story. I think this shared sorrow, love and guilt they feel as fathers is one of the most crucial parts of their connection.

[ragingbookdragon]

Please please please pleaseeeeeee (please?) hand over a part 2 for the thing you wrote where Simon is a real meanie to us and make us leave his room:(( I’m BEGGING you! 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

You’re such a damn good writer, i can’t get enough of it and the angst UGH, it’s so good!!!!! (I would LOVE if pt 2 could be hurt/comfort tho! I’m a sucker for that (don’t tell anyone))

Rest assured, I'll be writing PT.2, I've been doing it in my head for the past couple days lol. Y'all just gotta wait until I'm not working 5-4:30 all week. I'll get to it when the weekend comes and I know exactly how I want it to play out.

But since you were so kind to beg the Queen, have a few lines I've been toying with.

***

She sits beside him in silence, uses Price's advice, "Simon's like a deer when his defenses are down. Skittish as a newborn. Let him come to you."

And so she does, waits until he shifts ever so slightly into her bicep and admits, "I'm afraid of letting people in because I don't know how much more I can take losing."

"Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and an even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything at a distance, then nothing can hurt him. He likes to think himself incapable of feeling, but don't let his demeanor fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I've ever met.

She purses her lips, thinks for a moment, lets his words hang in the air between them before she looks up at him and says, "I'd rather lose everyone I've come to love than never know what it was like to love them in the first place."

[blackpilljesus]

The rise in popularity of single childfree women should signal that we need to start preparing. I've spoken about this before but want to address a common concern of safety regarding maIe retaliation. At this point some women may think they'll be safer trying to get a maIe but the statistics show otherwise. There's a reason women fought for rights in the first place, we all know that maIes as a collective are horrible beings. If maIes were pleasant to be around & reproduce with, they wouldn't need to force women into it.

Now I dont have all the answers in terms of what to do in the face of maIe retaliation but where to start:

1 - Move in silence. MaIes dont need to know our every move. MaIes have enough power as is, them knowing our strategy on top of that wont help. Hell, play dumb sometimes. This also applies to other women, if they push marriage & kids bs be measured in your response, in the end you know your truth. At the end of the day most of these women are also aware of the danger maIes pose.

2 - Organise. This is tough, extremely tough i can't lie. For one we're scattered all over the world & people in our real lives wouldn't have the committment to this nor believe in deviating from the nuclear structure but it is something needed. Even if it's just online, find or build networks with likeminded women. I say this as a lone wolf but infrastructure & network is needed because the government will make it harder to survive alone so some would need to be able to lean on each other for support even if it's just verbal. Disassociate from maIes as far as you can. Take up learning how to defend yourself. If you're serious about this; be prepared to break the rules at some point because playing nice & by the law wont work. These things are set up by men for men and it wont help us. I'm not saying go out there & purposefuly break the law or put yourself in harms way, just saying prepare. It sounds far out now but the current system cant be counted on, blind eyes are turned when maIes abuse women, women are punished for defending themselves under the system. Even if you dont want to go down the route of community, learn to take care of yourself & hold your own down.

3 - Stop arguing with maIes. This doesnt mean that xys are right, I say this a lot but maIes are fully aware of everything. Arguing with maIes online is a waste of time, time that can go to building for yourself or likeminded women. MaIes denying female oppression is part of the game to keep you wasting your energy on them as opposed to working on yourself. It's to keep you in their hands; doesn't matter whether you're right or not, how many statistics you throw at them, you're still biting their bait.

4 - Stack up on resources & money. If you have resources & money and the priviledge to save then start now. If/when things go downhill it wont be a snap thing but a transition so this window needs to be used to the best of our advantage. Take advantage of the privileges you have now to set yourself for the future because that could very well be gone.

I doubt we'd win tbh but I'd rather die trying than live submitting. I will mention that I know it's scary but we have to think forward. Bear in mind the system has never worked for women, some will say things like "but when women leave maIes get more violent" but there is no safety in the first place. Women are sexually harrassed & assaulted any where at any time with no protection already. Women are constantly told of all the things they should or shouldn't do to avoid maIe violence and it doesnt work anyways, maIes will continue to abuse women & girls. No amount of listening & obeying has helped women because it doesn't matter what the reason for maIe violence is, if they cant find a reason they'll create a reason because their motive is to make women suffer in addition to reproduction & having labour.

Now I know many will speak about the violence of maIe retaliation which I'll address in part 3. This is part 2 of 'the rise in single childfree women' group of posts.

Part 1

[confessionbrain-writings]

Southern Sass - Benny Cross

Pairing: Benny Cross x F!Reader A/N: It's no secret Benny is taking most of my mental space these days. But okay, so this was just a blurb that had entered my brain. Don't know if I turn this into more. But for now: enjoy!🧡

*Ring... ring... ring...*

*Click*

“Yeah?”

“Yeah?”

...

“That’s how you answer the phone?”

“Yeah…”

“Wow, man of many words, I hear.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.. great, yeah-man, I’m calling for Johnny. Is he there?”

“Yeah.”

A few seconds of silence passed and a slow, annoyed feeling crept upon you.

“Okay, great. Can you go get him for me?”

“Mmm.. yeah..”

You rolled your eyes, was this man fucking serious?

“Fraid he’s busy right now.”

“Ugh, he always is. Can you tell him that Franki called?”

“Yeah.”

Annoyance turned into frustration and you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth.

“You know, I really do hope you are a freak in the sheets, because your vocabulary isn’t very rich.”

A chuckle sounded over the line.

“Yeah… maybe y'd like to find out for y'self?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather not be disappointed, you know?"

"For someone who jus' wants t'speak t'Johnny, y'seem intrigued tho."

"Mmm... I think I'll be bored in seconds. Anyway, just tell Johnny I called, okay?"

"Yeah... Dunno... I reckon I could, maybe if I can take y'out for a drink."

A frustrated huff left you.

"I didn't ask for that."

"Well, it's on the house."

"Quite the charmer now, are you?"

"Yeah, that's what the ladies say."

"I'm sure they do, yet here you are, talking to me on the phone. What's your name, Casanova?"

"'s Benny."

"Okay, Benny. Very pleasant conversation this, but if Johnny isn't coming, I'm gonna go."

"Mmm... shame. I actually enjoyed our chat, Franki."

A smile crept upon your face and you shook your head.

"What does it stand for tho?"

"What?"

"Franki. Y'can't tell me that's ya real name."

"What if it is?"

"It isn't."

Pressing your lips together you rolled your eyes, why exactly were you still on the phone with him?

"Well?"

"Okay, Benny, I'm gonna tell you but then I gotta go, otherwise this is going to be expensive—"

"Don't worry, this is on me."

"How thoughtful."

"Yeah... but y'name?"

"Francesca."

He whistled.

"Fancy."

"Yeah..."

"Hey! That's my catch phrase y'stealin'."

"Too bad. Gotta catch me if you can."

*Tuut tuut tuut*

Leave some 🧡 by a comment or reblog, would love to hear what you think and if you like to read more!

A/N 2: read part 2 here

[alyrasturnz]

im so tireddddd of matt being the broken one and y/n being the comforting one

pls create a fic about this “how can you love someone like me” “how can i not love someone like you?” but like y/n is the broken one with a really bad and dark past and really hesitant and js has her walls up

make it a short blurb pls! just the argument and nothing more ty

HOW CAN YOU LOVE SOMEONE LIKE ME?

❐ summary » two souls clash with raw emotion. y/n, weighed down by past scars and self-doubt, questions their worthiness of love. matt sees beyond the flaws, recognizing the true beauty within.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » slight angst but mainly fluff and matt comforting reader

❐ a/n && w/c » hey bae! hope this was short enough and what you wanted • 1.12k

you find yourself in a room where the shadows seem to whisper secrets, the air heavy with the weight of unsaid thoughts. matt moves restlessly, his agitation almost tangible. with a voice that quivers, caught between anger and sorrow, you finally break the silence, "how can you love someone like me?"

he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of disbelief that seems to pierce through your very soul. "how can i not love someone like you?" he retorts, his voice rising slightly with an edge of desperation. "you think you're unworthy, but you don't see what i see. you're everything to me."

"you don't understand," you murmur, shaking your head slowly, as if trying to dislodge the weight of your thoughts. "i'm flawed, broken in ways you can't even begin to fathom."

"everyone is flawed," he counters, taking a deliberate step closer. "but that doesn't make you any less deserving of love. you think your imperfections push me away, but they pull me in even more. they make you real, they make you human."

"i don't want to be a burden," you whisper, your voice trembling as tears well up in your eyes. "i don't want you to look back and regret choosing to be with me."

he reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "i could never regret loving you," he murmurs, his eyes full of earnestness. "you make me better, you challenge me, you make me feel alive. don't you see? loving you isn't a choice; it's a necessity."

you pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield your heart. "but what if i can't give you what you need?" you whisper, your voice fragile. "what if i'm not enough?"

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, a gesture heavy with contemplation. "you are enough, more than enough," he says softly. "love isn't about perfection; it's about acceptance, growth, and understanding. we can face any storm together, as long as we have each other."

"it's not that simple," you argue, your voice cracking as you wrap your arms around yourself even tighter. "there are things about me that you don't know," you continue, your eyes darting away to avoid his gaze, "things that could change everything."

"then tell me," he pleads, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul. "let me in. let me love you, all of you, even the parts you think are unlovable."

you take a deep breath, the weight of your fears pressing down on you like an anchor dragging you down. “i’m scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the vulnerability of your confession.

"i'm scared too," he confesses, his voice softening like a gentle breeze. "but i'd rather face that fear with you than live without you. please, let me love you, every part, even the shadows you hide."

you look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love that radiates from him like a beacon in the dark. it's a love that you feel unworthy of, yet desperately crave. slowly, you nod, allowing yourself to believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, you are deserving of his love.

"you don't know what you're asking," you say, your voice wavering like a fragile leaf in the wind. "loving me means accepting all my scars, my past, my mistakes, and the shadows that linger in my soul."

"i want to know everything," he insists, his grip on your shoulders firm but gentle, like an anchor in a storm. "i want to share your burdens, lighten your load. that's what love is about, isn't it? intertwining our souls, even in the darkest times?"

"but what if you can't handle it?" you challenge, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, like a lighthouse scanning the horizon. "what if my past is too much for you, an abyss too deep to fathom?"

"then we'll face it together," he replies without hesitation, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. he takes a deep breath, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly as if to anchor you both in this moment. "i'm not afraid of your past. i'm more afraid of losing you because you think you're not worthy of love. you're my world, and i'm willing to fight for you."

you feel a tear slip down your cheek, tracing a path of vulnerability, and he wipes it away with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. "i don't deserve you," you whisper, your voice breaking like a fragile porcelain vase, revealing the depths of your insecurities.

"you deserve happiness and love just as much as anyone else," he says softly, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. "and i'm here to give you that, if you'll let me," he continues, his voice a gentle promise, echoing with sincerity and unwavering devotion.

"i don't know if i can," you admit, your heart aching with the weight of your insecurities, like a heavy fog that refuses to lift. "i don't know if i can be what you need," you continue, your voice trembling, each word a fragile confession of your deepest fears.

"you already are," he reassures you, his eyes filled with unwavering love, like a lighthouse guiding you through a storm. "you are everything i need and more. please, don't shut me out. let me prove to you that we can make this work," he implores, his voice a symphony of sincerity and hope, resonating deep within your soul.

you take a deep breath, feeling the walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble like ancient ruins succumbing to time. "okay," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'll try. but you have to promise me something."

"anything," he says, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze a steadfast anchor in the turbulent sea of your emotions.

"promise me that you'll be patient," you say, your voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "promise me that you won't give up on me, even when things get tough," you continue, each word a delicate plea woven with vulnerability and hope.

"i promise," he vows, pulling you into his arms with a tenderness that speaks volumes. "i'll never give up on you," he murmurs, his words a solemn oath, resonating with unwavering commitment.

as you stand there, wrapped in his embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope, like a faint star piercing through the night sky. maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love yourself the way he loves you. and in that moment, you realize that perhaps you are worthy of love after all, like a hidden treasure finally unearthed.

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky47 @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr