#but the dots? you may notice they are connected

[bredforloyalty]

watched some of the always sunny dub because you know me i like to uuhhh dub it up all over the place you know how i get. and first impression was it sucks major ass, second impression it could be worse but something about it was really fucking with me and i figured it out: the guy that does dennis is the same guy who did dean

[bunnyb34r]

I've been trying so hard to not micromanage and to let go and let other people cook their way even though it's not MY way. I try to not let my OCD take over, I try to temper it. I fucking TRY.

And every goddamn time I have to jump in so we dont FUCKING GET FOOD POISONING! WHY DID YOU JUST GRAB RAW MEAT AND SEASON IT WITH THE SAME HAND?!

And then I get bitched at for being a fucking bitch and making THEM feel bad for "insulting" them while they cook. Bitch I'm trying to not get us sick, guess I'll go fuck myself then

[fandoms-x-reader]

Feeling Sheepish

Requested By: @deludedprime

Summary: You were a sheep for your exchange year in the Devildom (Season 1) but during your time in the human world, the spell wore off. When Solomon brings you back to the Devildom (Season 2), everyone has a different reaction to your new body. The Seven Demon Brothers & Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto, and Thirteen Word Count: 3,737 Characters are written in chronological order instead of the normal order! Based on Lesson 21-1 & 21-2

Being a sheep in the Devildom wasn’t as bad as it may seem at first glance.

There’s no denying that safety was an issue. After all, you were small and somewhat defenseless if a demon tried to attack you.

But, you didn’t need to use nearly as many resources to take care of yourself. And, on top of that, it was easy to make friends when you looked so adorable and approachable.

Being a sheep also took away the social construct of beauty. There was no way anyone could judge the way you dressed or did your hair because you were simply a sheep.

So, while there was a bit of an adjustment period at first, by the end of your exchange year in the Devildom, you had grown accustomed to being a small creature.

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and before you knew it, it was time for you to leave the Devildom.

You were heartbroken to leave your friends - but, you weren’t even sure if they could see the tears you were shedding as a sheep.

And then with a blink of an eye, you were teleported back to the human world and that was the end of it.

Luckily, the spell wore off pretty quickly when you returned to the human world and you had your normal body back.

And whether or not that was what you wanted, you knew it was probably for the best. After all, what considerations were held for you as a sheep in the Devildom, certainly wouldn’t be held in the human world.

You could be shaved bald for your wool or get put on a farm. Or worse. There were some places where sheep was a common cuisine.

Becoming a human once again required yet another adjustment period. You had to relearn how to walk on two feet instead of four. You had to make sure you were dressed properly and that your hair was neat.

Not to mention the fact that you were starving. As a sheep, you ate such small portions. Now, you felt like you had to make up for lost time. 

Everyone from the Devildom continued to stay in contact with you, of course. But, all they could hear was your voice. They couldn’t see you.

So they were none the wiser when it came to your sudden transformation. They were completely in the dark. 

At least that was the case until one day, Solomon showed up to see you.

Solomon was planning a trip back to the Devildom and he was planning on taking you.

Truth be told, he missed it down there. The memories that he experienced were full of fun and endearing moments. And, he wanted to make some more.

You were typically at the center of those memories, and as such, he couldn’t imagine returning to the Devildom without you.

The two of you had stayed in touch, sending messages here and there and even calling when the time allowed it.

But, it was nothing like before - which is why Solomon decided to surprise you by showing up in person.

He used a tracking spell to find your location and continued to text you to keep up the ruse.

His eyes scanned the area for your little sheep form and he got a bit worried when he couldn’t find you. He was positive he had done the tracking spell right.

That’s when he noticed someone walking and texting - on a D.D.D.

It wasn’t like those were popular in the human world. You could only get them from the Devildom - which meant…

The realization dawned on Solomon that the spell that turned you into a sheep would have worn off by now, and he connected the dots.

He took a brief couple of moments to take in your new appearance. He felt privileged to be the first one to see you in your human form.

Then he approached you and he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips when you looked into his eyes with soft familiarity in yours.

Solomon would love to whisk you away and spend the day with you. To have some alone time with you before the others stole every second of your time.

But - he was on a mission. He came to you for a reason. 

A reason that he didn’t give you much time to ponder over before teleporting the two of you back to the Devildom.

Back to your friends.

Lucifer was stunned when he watched two humans fall through the portal that had opened up in the middle of the assembly room.

He recognized Solomon right away. He wore a smile as he landed on his feet gracefully.

The one Lucifer didn’t recognize was the human who had crash-landed on top of Satan.

From his position, Lucifer could see that they were attractive, but why had Solomon brought them there?

“Whoops. Sorry, about that Y/N. I really should’ve warned you to be careful where you land,” Solomon stated and it all became clear to Lucifer.

You were the human that had stolen all of their hearts. You were the one they had been pining over and longing for since the moment you left the Devildom.

And now you were in your true form.

And your true form seemed to have an even greater effect on the eldest.

“Y/N…?! Solomon…!” were the only two words that came out of Lucifer’s mouth as he was still trying to process everything.

He was trying to hold it together. He was doing what he could to not show any weakness.

He wanted to remain as calm and composed as he normally was, but his eyes refused to listen as they were continuously drawn to you, taking in every inch of your appearance.

And when you finally smiled at him, he knew it was over for him.

“AAAAAH!! Wha…wha…WHA?! Is this really…are you really really…REALLY?!”

Levi was so overwhelmed by the situation that he wasn’t able to form real words.

He felt like his brain was racing at a hundred words a second.

He had just got his friend back - his true friend.

And he was so excited to see you again.

Except it wasn’t the you he had gotten to know over the past year.

Now, you were back in your human body and despite him mostly being excited, he couldn’t help but be intimidated.

Like Lucifer, Levi did his best to not trail his eyes over your new body and when he caught himself doing so, his cheeks turned a bright pink and he mentally scolded himself.

Levi could barely manage to not freak out in your presence when you were a sheep. How was he supposed to do that now that you were a human?

And not just any human, but an attractive one!

Levi’s overthinking could have given him a panic attack on the spot if it weren’t for the fact that he was in front of everyone else.

He just needed to keep reminding himself that you were the same person he had come to know and love.

Maybe then he would still be able to hang out with you despite the fact that your new form made his heart race and made his palms sweaty.

“Y/N, it’s YOU! It’s REALLY YOU!”

Asmo’s excitement showed more than his other brothers’ as they all processed your new form in their own way.

Asmo, for one, was soo ecstatic about the new change in your appearance.

Could you blame him? He was the Avatar of Lust and you just showed up in a new body.

When you were a sheep, you had a personality that could charm anyone, anywhere.

And now you had a body that could do the same. 

Asmo’s eyes had a special glint in them as his questions filled his mind.

How smooth was your skin?

Were your lips as soft as they appeared?

Did your hair feel as healthy as it looked?

Asmo got even more excited as he realized now he would be able to do all of the beauty treatments with you and see them in full effect.

There was only so much you could do as a sheep. After all, wool was a lot different from skin.

If he’s caught staring at your new body, Asmo will be shameless about it.

It’s not like he doesn’t have a good reason to stare.

He just couldn’t wait for the student council meeting to be over so they could all take you back to the House of Lamentation.

Asmo wanted every single one of his questions answered, and he couldn’t do that in the middle of the Assembly Hall.

Well…he could, but Lucifer would probably be mad.

Mammon went through a full mood swing. 

At first, he was confused because a random human just dropped into the middle of their meeting. 

But when Solomon said your name, everything changed for Mammon.

He hadn’t stopped blushing since he realized that the random human was - his human.

Mammon had a hard time trying not to admit his feelings for you when you were a sheep.

But now - now you were a human.

A human that he could hug, kiss, and cuddle if you let him.

He told his mind to stop thinking such thoughts but it would respond by flooding his brain with even more thoughts and images.

He wore a smile the more he looked at you. He had missed you so much.

But, in his true, tsundere fashion, he couldn’t let you catch onto how much he missed you.

“Wait, wh…huh?!...I knew you missed me and all, but THIS is just crazy!”

Mammon thought he did a good job of remaining composed.

He believed he did a good job of hiding the fact that you being there - in this form - was making his head spin and making him weak in the knees.

But when the two of you locked eyes, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep his charade up for much longer.

You were his weakness as a sheep, now you were his kryptonite.

“Y/N…”

Satan was trying to analyze the situation. 

You fell on top of him when you came out of the portal and he was completely blindsided by the contact.

So he was trying to still gather his bearings while his brothers spoke.

When he finally did manage to get back to his feet, Satan asked, “Do you want to tell me why you just appeared out of thin air and landed on my head?”

But as Satan faced you to ask that question, he took in your appearance and a small blush coated his cheeks.

Suddenly, he was happy that you landed on him. Thankful even.

He had noticed that when you landed on him, you were definitely bigger than a little sheep.

But he didn’t expect this.

He couldn’t imagine if you would have landed on one of his other brothers, especially Lucifer.

The thought alone threatened to spark his wrath.

Satan let his eyes trail down you, studying your new body as if it were a new piece of information he was learning.

And he had never been so excited to learn.

This was a subject he would happily study in depth if you allowed him to.

For now, Satan settled on helping you to your feet, your hand feeling much softer and warmer than the hoof that he was used to feeling.

And as you stood close to him, his heart skipped a beat.

He knew that everyone was going to be in deep trouble now that you had gotten your true form back.

“How about that! Y/N, it’s really you!!”

Diavolo had a boyish grin on his face as he spoke to you. He had missed you just as much as the brothers had, whether he showed it as much as they did or not.

He knew that the spell that turned you into a sheep must have worn off by now.

But, still, it was a surprise to see you in your human body.

He had to admit - you were quite the head-turner.

A twinge of fear set into Diavolo as he questioned how you ended up in the Devildom again.

“Wait, you didn’t perform some sort of unsavory ritual to cast your soul down here, did you?! You better not have!”

When you shook your head no, Diavolo let out a breath of relief, knowing that you were okay.

“I can’t believe you’re actually back here with us again!” he added, his smile returning.

Diavolo could see how good you were for his kingdom.

He could see the way you changed things for the better, and he could see how negative things were without you.

Your presence brought a light to their lives that he had been missing.

And that light shone even brighter in your real body. 

Diavolo would be lying if he said he didn’t find you attractive. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been sneaking glances this entire time.

But he had to keep his composure in front of everyone.

When the two of you were alone though - and he would make sure that you had some alone time - that’s when he would let his true feelings show.

“Yes. This really is quite the happy surprise. It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

Barbatos was as professional as ever, but you could see his eyes sparkling just a bit more than usual and his smile reaching just a little further.

Like Diavolo, Barbatos knew that the spell would have worn off by now.

But, it wasn’t something that was talked about. 

It wasn’t a typical topic of conversation and because of that, it was easy to forget that the next time any of them would see you, you wouldn’t be a sheep.

Barbatos was pleasantly surprised.

He had seen your human form once before - the details of which he won’t disclose.

But, seeing you in your human body after he had gotten to know you was completely different.

It elevated his opinion of you and made him believe you really were the most attractive creature he had met.

No other human, demon, or angel had made his heart race the way you did.

Barbatos had taken a backseat during your first year in the Devildom.

He allowed you to make connections with the others first.

But, now, he was excited for his turn.

There were a lot more things he could teach you and bond with you over now that you had your human body back and he was going to take advantage of each of those things.

Belphie had been doing his best to not fall asleep in the student council meeting.

The last time he did, Lucifer caught and punished him with a whole lot of work and Belphie did not want a repeat of that.

So, he was thankful when the portal opened up, providing a necessary distraction from the boring events that were taking place.

When he saw Solomon fall through the portal, Belphie perked up a bit, curious as to what the mysterious sorcerer had planned this time.

He noticed another human had fallen on top of his older brother and bit back a chuckle at the scene.

When Solomon stated your name, Belphie’s blood ran cold as he began to process the shock.

Was that really you…in that body?!

Belphie had a hundred things to say and to ask. But, he couldn’t get a word in between everyone else, so he quietly took in everything about you.

Your voice was the same and you acted the same. It really was you. 

Belphie couldn’t help but wonder if it would be more fun to cuddle you now.

He would miss the softness of your wool, but would you be warmer now? Or more comfortable to lay on top of?

Belphie was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed you being bombarded with questions of why you were there and he finally decided to speak up.

“Listen, I am curious to know why you’re here. But before we get into that, are you going to be staying for a while? Because if so, you’ll be staying at the House of Lamentation, right? Oh, but wait…I bet your room’s covered in dust…”

“No problem, Y/N can just sleep in our room.”

Like Belphie, Beel had remained silent until then. 

He had been happily munching on a snack, paying the bare minimum of attention to Diavolo during the meeting as he ate.

But he hadn’t been able to take another bite since you and Solomon fell through the portal. 

Was that what you looked like on a normal basis? Why didn’t you tell him?

He knew that you were a human that had been placed under a sheep transformation spell, but his imagination never could have come up with the beauty you exuded.

You were on a different level than others and he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. 

He noticed his other brothers were having the same trouble looking away, and Beel suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy.

You were in your own body now and part of him wished he was the only one who was able to see it.

Well…it was okay if Belphie saw you like this too.

But, the others were looking at you with a look of lust in their eyes and Beel wanted to sweep you into his arms and keep you from them.

Which is why he jumped at the opportunity to offer his and Belphie’s room to you. 

He couldn’t imagine you staying with one of his other brothers after seeing the look in their eyes.

Surely, something would happen if you did and Beel wanted to burn that imagery out of his mind.

Simeon had been in contact with the others in the Devildom and when he found out that you had returned, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out.

The demons weren’t the only ones who missed seeing you and talking to you.

He felt like he was missing out even more when they told him that you were back in your human form.

Simeon could only imagine what you looked like. What your hair color was, whether you were tall or short, and what kind of clothes you liked to wear?

That possibilities were driving Simeon crazy and before he knew it, he was finding some way to bring you to the Celestial Realm so that he could see you.

He was beyond happy and excited when you agreed to go, and he paced nervously by the gates as he waited for your arrival.

When the gates finally did open, revealing you and Solomon, Simeon felt his breath leave his body.

He always joked about you being an angel based on the things you did, but now you looked like one.

Simeon could write an entire book on how ethereal and stunning you were.

He did his best to remind himself that he was an angel and shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts that the demons surely had.

But - you were the first human he had ever met that elicited those ideas from him.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had with you - but he knew that he had to make the most of it.

One of the benefits of being a bit more uncultured and younger than everyone else was that someone’s form didn’t have the same implications for him.

LUKE

Luke had heard from Simeon that you were in your human body, but he didn’t think too much of it.

It didn’t matter if you were a human, a sheep, or anything else. You were still the friend that he came to know and love and want to protect.

Luke had been so excited to show you around the Celestial Realm that he didn’t waste a moment on taking in your new appearance.

Raphael had caught a glimpse of you while you were in the Celestial Realm.

In fact, you would have believed he didn’t notice if it hadn’t been for the fact that you were now bigger than him and did things that you couldn’t do as a sheep.

RAPHAEL

He knew that Simeon and Luke had been excited to see you, so he didn’t dare take your time like they did.

But he saw you chasing after Luke and it made him stop in his tracks as he couldn’t help but stare at you.

He may not have understood your appeal as a sheep. But, seeing you now, he could understand why exactly you had everyone wrapped around your finger.

Mephisto was a bit slow to realize who you were.

And if he wasn’t careful he was sure that someday he may find himself in the same position as the others.

MEPHISTO

He had seen you walking around the Devildom with the others and couldn’t help but wonder who you were and why Diavolo and the others were so close to you.

He had to admit that you were rather attractive, but surely your looks couldn’t be the only reason they were drawn to you.

It wasn’t until one of them said your name while walking by Mephisto that all of the dots connected in his head.

And he wore a small blush as he realized the one he had been admiring from afar was none other than the human exchange student.

The news didn’t deter him though. Instead, it enticed him.

Your new body enticed him.

Thirteen was the last to find out about your new form.

He would have to make himself more useful to Diavolo so that he could find a way to grow closer to you.

THIRTEEN

Like Luke, your body didn’t really make much of a difference to her. After all, she was mostly interested in looking at your soul, and that didn’t change whether you were sheep or human.

But, seeing you for the first time still surprised her. You didn’t look anything like she would have expected - in a good way.

Surely, you would be more useful in helping her make traps in this form.

And she had to admit you were pleasing to look at…

Maybe this was a good thing?

[imwetforyourmom]

want ‘em inside you?

summary: y/n couldnt help but compliment the way her boyfriends hands looked.

warnings: publicity, fingering, swearing

I actually have a replica of this on wp but extremely badly written

~

y/ns eyes were trained on matts hands, currently laying flat on the table infront of her.

she studied each prominent thing, including veins, wrinkles and the tiniest of dots all over.

she couldnt help but fantasize about how they would feel hugging her, how the butterflies would escape in her stomach when holding onto her hips, the softness of his palms connecting with hers when interlacing their fingers together, the warmth she would feel when they were placed onto her thighs, squeezing and rubbing, how lust would overtake her thoughts and senses when they wrapped around her throat.

she bit her lip and sunk into the seat behind her, thinking about all the ways matt could please her with his hands both intentionally and unintentionally.

matt glanced to his side, having to look behind himself for a moment to see his girlfriend slouched into the cushion of the booth, her lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushed and her eyes staring at him — his hands specifically.

“y/n?” he mumbled, leaning back some to get her attention.

y/n shut her eyes for a moment, ridding the sexual thoughts of matt, before opening her eyes again and looking into his eyes.

“hm?” she hummed, her words dry and quiet. “what’re you thinking about?” he asked, his words quiet aswell, in caution to not draw attention the the pair, as they were currently at a dinner with friends.

she swallowed and looked at both his left and right eye, before replying smallyly “your hands.”

“what about them?” he brought his hands up off his lap and scanned them, his eyes scanning the lengthy and slim structure of his fingers. looking to see what she was staring at.

“i- I like them” she muttered, feeling embarrassment flood through her, whats not embarrassing about staring at your boyfriends hands thinking such sexual thoughts about what he could do to her?

“yeah?” he teased, his eyes narrowing slightly, he glanced around the table, seeing everyone else in their own conversations, paying absolutely no attention to the two.

he looked back at her and whispered into her ear “want ‘em inside you?” he spoke so calmly and plainly, as if he hadnt just offered to do such sexual acts in public.

y/n felt her heartbeat increase in speed throughout her entire body, her cheeks going hot and the spot between her legs aching to be touched.

what simple words had such a strong affect on someone.

she bit harder into her lip, before subtly nodding her head. staring into matts eyes she parted her lips and took in a deep breath.

“please” she mumbled, keeping her voice very, very quiet. breaking the eye contact every so often to glance around the table, ensuring no one would notice them.

it may not look dirty or anything to anyone, really it looked like a couple innocently talking about something quietly. but y/n was truly just paranoid.

matt smirked and looked away, his hand slowly crept onto her thigh, his cold fingertips sending goosebumps all over y/ns body. her soft and warm skin comforting the cold and rough pads of matts fingertips.

he hummed as he wrapped his hand around her thigh entirely, his four fingers on her inner thigh whilst his thumb rested on the outside of her thigh, gently rubbing small circles, in a way of starting off slowly or beginning at an easy pace.

his hand kept their grip on her leg, squeezing gently every once in a while, but progressively the squeezing became harder and more often.

eventually, y/n huffed, beginning to go impatient. all she wanted in the world — as of right now was her boyfriends fingers, of course she had them.. but she wanted them inside of her, in particular.

there was no doubt she was already so very grateful for the simple touch on her thigh, as it was making the butterflies in her stomach flutter more and more, soon enough there were only butterflies in her stomach.

she breathed out smallyly, feeling matts fingertips creep into her panties.

each time his fingertips moved even closer to where she ached she bit her lip, preparing herself to make no noise and to draw absolutely no attention the the two.

matt looked away and began conversation with his brother, chris, whom sat next to him.

whilst having such an innocent conversation with his brother, he was not doing such innocent things to his girlfriend, such as rubbing small tight circles on her clit.

y/n dug her teeth harder into her bottom lip, finding it harder to keep quiet and still in her seat.

matt moved his finger down her clit to her entrance, slightly dipping a digit, going slow in order to prepare and let some pressure off her shoulders of staying quiet.

he slowly pushed his finger further in he kept pushing in slowly, agonizingly slow until he was knuckle deep inside his girlfriend.

he pulled his finger almost all the way out, until pushing right back in, but at a faster pace rather than his previous pace.

he continued pumping in and out of her, his finger gradually going faster until he heard slight wet sounds, reminding him he needed to go a bit slower so no one heard such sounds.

y/n took in a deep breath before stopping her breathing fully, in some way to relax and calm her nerves.

her eyes widened, her lips parted and her eyebrows furrowed at the suddenness of another finger inside her, both matts ring and middle finger pumping inside her.

y/n closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath.

she leaned forwards, leaning her elbow onto the table and placing her chin on her palm, she lowered her mouth into the side of it and dug her teeth into the skin.

she closed her eyes for a moment as a small and tiny grunt exited her mouth, it wasn’t very loud as her mouth was stuffed with the side of her hand, ultimately muffling her sounds.

“y/n”

she snapped her eyes back open when she heard her name, she looked to see where the voice had come from, her eyes landing on the culprit, the girl sitting next to her, but on the side of the booth, where as y/n and matt were sitting inside the booth, where the curve was.

“yes?” she moved her mouth away from her hand, but rested her chin on her hand.

“when do you think ill be able to come over next? I havent seen you in so long…” the girl, kirara, rambled on and on. her words going through y/ns ear and right out the other.

y/n was way too focused on the way matts fingers felt inside her, the knot in her stomach tightening.

she mumbled a “mhm” “yeah” etc every so often, absolutely none of kiraras words registering in y/ns head.

all she could think about was the pleasure she was experiencing, the feeling of matts long and slim digits sliding in and out of her so easily, but the pleasure so overwhelming.

her walls clenched around his fingers and her thighs began shaking, in which both letting matt know she was very, very close.

he smirked to himself, playing it off as a little grin from his brothers joke. knowing his joke was no way near funny, he was smirking from how easily y/n was crumbling into his fingers.

his fingers held such power over her and he couldnt help but take advantage of it, knowing his simple fingers could do such things to y/n.

he could only pump his fingers into her a few more times until she came around his fingers.

she breathed out heavily, feeling relief of no pressure in her stomach and no more pressure of thinking someone would see.

he pulled out, so so fucking slow, just to make sure y/n felt every single inch of his fingers leaving her.

he grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped his middle and ring finger off. despite how much he wanted to lick her release off. he couldnt do it here even if he had wanted to.

he lightly tucked the napkin underneath y/ns thighs, cleaning up her mess.

he put the napkin by his leg, before moving his once slick fingers now dry, on her thigh, gently rubbing his thumb on the outside of her thigh.

1462 words.

tags

@luverboychris @luvsturns @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @leah-loves-lilies

[yawnderu]

MDNI. p in v penetration, hardcore sex, choking, wrestling, punching, biting, nosebleed, scratching, creampie. Keegan calls anyone younger than him ''kid''.

“Give up, kid.” Your body thrashes underneath him, trying to get out of the rough headlock he put you in. Your closed fist slams against his leg multiple times, only making him apply more pressure, not letting you go even when your nails dig deeper and deeper into his skin.

“Fuck you... cunt.” You barely manage to mutter through gritted teeth, black dots appearing in your vision the harder he chokes you. He keeps your neck pressed against his bicep and forearm, flexing the muscle, sickly getting off on the way your loud gasps and whines ring around the training room.

The pressure in your face grows stronger by the second, loud gasps leaving your lips once he finally lets go, pushing your smaller body out of the way.

“If you're struggling that much, this isn't the place for you.” He spits out, clearly wanting a reaction out of you— and a reaction he gets the moment your elbow connects to his face, putting as much force as you can in hurting him, even if you have to play dirty.

Keegan's rough, calloused hand goes up to his nose the moment he feels warmth leaking down and the familiar taste of iron filling his mouth. He lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head softly and not even bothering to wipe down the blood staining his pale skin, letting it pool around his wife beater.

For anyone else, he'd look oddly unbothered by it, simply looking down at the floor and maybe even regretting being an asshole. For you? You know it's the calm before the storm, annoyance silently boiling inside him, slowly reaching its breaking point.

He licks his blood-stained lips before looking down at you, lifeless blue eyes simply staring for a few seconds, letting the silence linger simply to make you nervous.

Stubbornness and something else brew inside you the moment your eyes drift down, noticing the way his pants are tightening up, the outline of his thick cock showing more by the second. It's a subtle glance before your eyes meet his, yet by the annoying smirk on his lips, you can tell he knows.

You're stuck in a staring competition, refusing to give him the pleasure of letting him intimidate you the same way he does to everyone else. Keegan's stare may seem cold, yet you can see fire dancing in his baby-blue eyes, slowly coming to a breaking point. His lips crash against yours seconds later, rough hands opening your legs wide enough for his burly body to fit between them, his clothed hard cock rubbing against your pussy.

“Fuck you.” You repeat, pure venom in your tone despite the way your lips immediately go back to his. Keegan's tongue wraps around yours as his hand goes down to the hem of his pants, pulling out his cock with ease and laying it down on your stomach.

“Fuck me?” He whispers, letting out a dry chuckle at your vigorous nod. You don't need to look down to realize just how big Keegan's cock is, feeling the weight and warmth of it spreading all over your stomach, not protesting even when he rips your shorts and panties off of you, leaving them hanging on your ankle.

“Yeah... fuck you.” The way you're as stubborn as a mule even when he can see your exposed, sopping cunt almost makes him laugh, yet he doesn't need to be told twice. His leaking tip rubs against your folds, your slick and his precum mixing for a few seconds before he lines himself up, entering your needy cunt with a hard thrust. Your moans and gasps are silenced by his lips, barely even giving you time to get used to his meaty cock before he's slamming into you, shoving himself as deep as possible.

The disagreements you had in the past are slowly being pulled out of your brain with each hard thrust, silently surrendering as your velvety walls clench around him, the lewd sounds of muffled moans and your wet cunt being roughly fucked form a symphony, bouncing off the walls of the empty training room.

“This what you needed? To be fucked stupid by a big cock?” Keegan's sarcastic tone leaves you breathless, another whiny moan leaving your lips when his hips slam faster against yours, his meaty thighs ramming against your ass. His hands grip your waist tightly as he hammers into your needy cunt, short nails digging into your flesh with an intensity born of his own desires.

“Fuck— I'm sorry, kid.” His pathetic excuse of an apology is clearly fake, leaving you confused until you feel his teeth sinking into your shoulder, muffling the deep moans leaving his lips the moment he can feel his muscles tightening up, moving faster and harder inside you. You let out a pained groan, nails sinking deep into his muscular back, dragging them down in an attempt at dealing with the overwhelming sensation of his fat cock hitting your cervix over and over.

Keegan is about to pull out before your legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer and closer until he lets out a deep grunt, hips stuttering as his cock throbs, shooting endless ropes of thick cum right into your needy, tight walls, making sure to shove himself as deep as possible while your cunt instinctively milks him dry.

His heavy body collapses over yours, trembling with the aftermath of your intense encounter. His heart races in his chest as he basks into the sensation of having empty balls and a warm body underneath him— despite the way your palm is connecting with his ribs harshly.

“Get off of me.” Your protests go ignored, letting out a loud sigh when you hear snores right against your ear.

[dollfaceirene]

"but it's not here yet :("

What if i told you that your imagination (a.k.a your 4D) dominant thoughts = your reality and should be your source of validation, not the 3D.

Now i understand that you've been used to the 3D being your whole life, heck, we were told that circumstances were out of our control. I understand how changing your belief of the 3D being your main source of validation to your thoughts can be odd and confusing.

But now that you know about the law of assumption, you now know that your 4D dominant thoughts = materialises your 3D, not the other way so absolutely nothing can stop you from getting what you want (because how can anything take away what's already yours?)

Now lets talk about persisting, what is persisting you may ask?

Persisting: continue in an opinion or course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition (stolen from the google definition)

The act of persisting, in terms of manifestation, is staying true to your desires and acknowledging/affirming that you have whatever you want.

So let's connect all the dots from this post. Since the 4D is your source of validation (not your 3D) and you should persist & stay consistent to whatever your manifesting, why are you seeking validation from your 3D?

It can be hard to stop seeking validation & evidence of your desires from your 3D so think of it this way, (the classic mirror anaology by riyaama on desired reality cherry amino)

Clothes = your desires/thoughts Mirror = 3D (a.k.a a reflection) You changing your clothes = 4D

Whatever you change your outfit to, your outfit will always be reflected NO MATTER WHAT. Notice how it's not your reflection influencing you to chose your outfit. The mirror didn't decide it, it was YOU who decided it and it was reflected in the mirror.

The 3D practically conforms to you like an obedient child, you are in control, it was neverrr the 3D.

Okay so this is the end of the post and what i want you to get from this post is that you are always in control and you should start seeking validation from your 4D.

Finding it hard? Here's some tips

⋆ work on your self concept

⋆ affirm on you seeking validation from your 4D (e.g. affirming you only seek validation from your inner reality)

⋆ keep persisting! remind yourself it's all worth it and that if other people can manifest whatever, than so can you. You are not an anomaly

⋆ you will still be manifesting regardless so wouldn't you rather persist in thoughts that will actually benefit you and manifest your desire?

stay limitless yall! xoxo, irene

[reidsworld]

Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend. 

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm. 

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[occamstfs]

New Meaning to Hazing

Here's a scent triggered nerd to frat bro TF, usual mandatory group project stuff. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

It was not shaping up to be Henry’s day. His lab partner Alexander invited him over to his place so they may work on their report together. He was beyond shocked to learn that his partner, one of the few people on campus he could really call a friend, seemed to live in a frat house. Walking past the less than manicured lawn, complete with circles of dead grass where kegs sat out too long with litter from a recent party still hiding at the edges, Henry couldn’t help but feel his friend would never deign to live in such grotesque bro-squalor.

He checks the address sent once more before moving to knock on the stark white door to the manor, unaware of the curtains shifting as he is watched by whomever awaits him inside. He raises an arm to rap on the door before it is thrust open by one of the brothers. The large man is shirtless and sweaty, presumably fresh off a work-out which Henry is vainly trying to avoid noticing. Inside the foyer of the house is only just neater than the lawn, the trash at least overflowing front the trash cans rather than scattering the floor. 

Henry forces an awkward smile and begins backing away before he is ushered in by the sweaty man, “Hey bro, did ya need sumthin?” Gears turn in the man’s head as he tries to recall why some twerp would be coming to visit the house this morning. Henry sees the man’s mind grind to a halt and thinks about taking the opportunity to flee like the prey he is. He hesitates and the lapse passes, the oaf shouting out into the house. “Anyone expectin’ an, uh, nerd? This mornin’?” Henry hears a cacophony of barely conscious men groaning nos from rooms down the hall, breaking through them though is an almost familiar voice, “oh wait yeah, think I’ve got some project shit with him, can you send him over here?”

The troll of a man that has ushered Henry in beams and throws an arm around him, continuing to lead him through the threshold, “Huhuh! Why didn’t ya just yer here to see Lex lil bro! C’mon, he’s right this way.” Henry has no way to surreptitiously escape now that he’s been pulled inside the wholly unpleasant estate. Passing open rooms Henry could see a few men sleeping away the day and judging by the pervasive odor in the air there are at least a dozen or so more hiding from his view, if not his nose. He struggles not to visibly recoil at the musk lest he provoke his apparent guide through this bro-y hellscape.

Arriving in the living room he finds piles of dirty laundry on top of stained couches almost as expected at this point. More shocking than that is the large man lying in between them watching porn in the middle of this shared living space. His modesty barely covered by a pillow, the man looks up with eyes glazed over and stubble dotting his jaw. Despite the well sculpted body and jungle of pit hair exposed, almost as a challenge to the nerd interrupting him. Henry feels some foggy connection with this man who should fill him with only disgust. Trying not to too closely inspect the man mid-masturbation Henry can’t help but notice that he looks like some juiced up and dulled down version of his lab partner, Alexander.

His eyes widen as the frat bro smirks and scratches at one of his pits, smelling his hand before speaking up, “Hey dweeb, are you gonna just stand there and watch me jack it or can you get my fucking homework over with already.” His right hand returns under the pillow and Henry is taken aback, now recognizing the voice as his friend’s, only an octave deeper and dripping with derision at his once-friend. Henry clears his throat to apologize and shifts his eyes away from the man, wondering if he should enquire about his obviously changed state. 

He had never seen his lab partner shirtless before so perhaps he’s been hiding this impressive build the whole time. But, no it’s impossible. He’s at least a foot taller. Henry cannot reconcile how sharp his stubbled jaw is, the lazy lust filling his glazed over eyes, or the dull crawl of his deeper raspier voice. “I’m sorry for um, interrupting Alexan-” His lab partner twitches before Henry finishes the name. Immediately looking away from the porn and to Henry, “It’s fucking Lex dude. And did you not hear me? Get to work or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” Henry sees veins pump larger on his arms as Lex gets worked up. Trying to make himself small and agreeable, Henry backs away.

Lex smirks as he sees the nerd shrink into himself, the pillow bouncing higher as he feels his power, his masculinity, affirmed. Though completely driven by his balls, an idea squirms its way to the front of his mind. This little dork just wandered into his turf. Fucker’s gonna learn to respect his frat real quick. Henry sees darkness infuse Alex’s eyes as a deeper hunger grows within him. Barely masking the hunger filling his voice, Lex speaks up, “you know what bro, I’m sorry about this, just a little pent up. You know how it gets I bet,” he pulls his hand free from his crotch and gestures towards Henry, flicking his pre at the nerd.

Henry scoffs as this is quite the line too far, his face burns with embarrassment, no, with rage as he starts to feel anger far greater than he could muster before at this jerk whose supposed to be his friend! Seeing this brings genuine delight to his partner who laughs out a clearly fake apology, “Huhuh, sorry bro. Why don’t you head up to my room and get started. Here’s a change of clothes if you want it dude”

Lex grabs a shirt from the pile sniffing it and recoiling before shrugging and throwing it anyway. Were he thinking Henry certainly would have noticed his using the same cum covered hand to hurl the shirt. But something about his rising rage has heightened his awareness to the haze of the frat house, musk distracting him in a manner that is distinctly not disgust as he is pelted with the shirt and coated in some mysterious liquid.

Henry scoffs in indignation and departs for the room, leaving the shirt behind as he begins to unbutton his own stained top. “Up the stairs. Third door on your right, Bro.” Driven not by the scholarly initiative that brought him to this horrid place he obeys the man’s instructions rather than simply fleeing outright in what may be his last chance at salvation. Henry wanders up the stairs without a thought spent on anything but trying to understand the peculiar feeling rising within him at the wretched stink.

Arriving at the door Henry enters and slams it behind him, unsure if he wants time to work on this project by himself or for that cum-for-brains oaf to follow him up shortly. He clicks the lock on the door, either way not wanting to be caught unprepared by the monster storming in as he disrobes his stained shirt. Henry jumps as he sees a figure move in the room only to find the wall  across from the bed is covered in a massive mirror. Ever a curious mind Henry wanders over to inspect it and discovers hundreds of stains of god knows what. Some sick new instinct suggests he sniff and Henry is immediately lightheaded as his mind is assailed by what seems like years of cum stains.

His eyes glaze over and his mind is overwhelmed. Henry stands in front of the mirror staring straight at himself, unaware as his appearance slowly begins to shift. Glasses that are as solid a facet of his appearance as his nose fall from his face and disappear as his hair darkens and curls messily atop his head. His torso expands and thins as his arms grow gawky and lengthen. His skin tans and smooths as his mind remains boggled by the odors swimming through the air, stretching as the changes itch and burn under his skin. He feels muscle pull on his chest as something that should not be there cramps and breaks his trance. His nipples poke larger, growing hard in the chilly room and Henry blushes as he feels his cock pulse in his briefs. Uncomfortable at the idea of getting off at his own reflection and unable to bring his conscious mind to awareness of his changes.

Each second spent investigating his reflection the oppressive weight of Lex’s odor sinks deeper. Looking into his own eyes and seeing a man who he simply cannot be, Henry feels a headache quickly  rise. taking a deep breath he lets his mind clear and he shakes his head, hair flopping as it never has. But he pays no mind. He should just get started on the assignment. Yeah, the quicker he’s done the quicker he’ll be out of here. 

His mind strays to thoughts about Lex as he pulls out his laptop, he is in the jerk’s room after all. He sneers looking around at the mess, seeing oddly stained socks and half-drunk cans of beer scattering every surface. His eyes steer clear of his reflection as something deep in his mind refuses to see his reflection. His face burns as he feels his cock start to grow in his pants at the idea of Lex. “God fuck him, this is supposed to be a group assignment.” Henry bites his lip to distract from the mounting pressure in his pants.

Never a man of much will Henry digs deep into some new reserve and stubbornly gets to work. Opening a database to find sources for their report. Typically he wouldn’t even mind doing a report alone but something about that ass getting any credit really sets his mind ablaze. He thought Alex was his friend, but ever since seeing him as Lex something just. Something’s digging in the back of his mind just out of notice. He breathes deep to loose a large sigh, musk rising in his chest as a thought more pervasive than anything grabs his consciousness, Don’t worry about it bro.

Henry stares at his library’s homepage as any forward movement in his mind is halted. He could stand to chill a bit for sure. He scratches at his chest and tries to remember how he was planning to tackle this report. Thoughts moving slower than usual in his mind, waylaid by this command as well as the still advancing scent of Lex’s squalor. Following the professor’s instructions to a tee Henry sets out to start his dull work. Scrawling notes down into a spiral he tilts his head in confusion as his handwriting is far less fluid and graceful than usual. No time at all to think further on the matter as he is again struck with apathy towards anything peculiar. He takes another deep breath and another message blares through his mind, deeper, Welcome to the party bro, just keep breathing deep.

Henry scratches more at his chest as thin hair begins to poke out around his nipples. Nigh invisible blonde peach fuzz scattered around the center of his chest slowly lengthens and grows dark as the hair on his head grows longer and greasier. He rubs a hand through it and almost grimaces, feeling as unwashed as any of the slobs in this horrible compound. Despite the cool room in which he sits he begins to sweat as he sits there, computer in lap. His face rearranges into something a tad less feminine and his head twitches to the side at his criticism of the slobs, his fellow slobs. Like an alarm the thought brings him back to some semblance of himself. He is a neatfreak isn't he? He searches his memory to find any evidence to support the reality he knows.

Henry again scratches at his chest as similar itches arise in his pits and crotch. Two areas he is suddenly armed to ignore lest more similarities spring to mind between him and the slobs of this sick place, or worse Lex himself. His mind drags a memory of Lex’s treasure trail snaking above the pillow as he feels his pubes itch. His hands try to stray as he wrenches them abc to a keyboard to get some research done. His fingers miss keys as they inch slightly larger than they’ve been before, palms expanding wider and demanding adjustment. Henry clenches his jaw and takes another deep breath to stem his irritation.

The musk in the air becomes cloying to him as he suddenly begins to add to it, his sweat slides down his back and down onto his ass as a new itch arises there. He tries to keep his mind focused on his homework but every click and keypress becomes more difficult as his mind demands distraction, release. After clicking on an article filled with more text than he cares to read he thoughtlessly goes to scratch at his package. As soon as he touches it he is overcome with pleasure. Giving in immediately, he rubs through his pants as his sweaty back slides against the wall leaving his own stains in Lex’s room. His hips hump into the air as his cock strains his underwear beyond imagination, the sound of a tear cracks through the air as his pants slide into a wedgie from sliding down on the floor.

Henry tosses his laptop to the side and is stuck with indecision to just rub one out or not. What is he thinking? He’s in someone else’s fucking room, Lex’s room. The thought sends even more passion coursing through him as hormones and hunger rise. He bites his lip and scrolls to see just how long this article is, maybe he can work some kind of deal out with his balls right? He’s in control here. He tries to sit up and feels with every small movement or twitchy adjustment, waves of pleasure launch into his mind. Dulling every instinct besides those most basal and hungry. Attempting to gather any substance from the wall of text on screen is quickly abated as he decides to find some other distraction from whatever sickness is compelling his mind.

His balls pulse as he struggles to stand to his feet, his eyes stay focused ahead, away from his reflection as he sees a video game controller on Lex’s bed, surely his br- his lab partner wouldn’t mind, def not. He awkwardly steps forward feeling his larger balls pull tighter and grow larger as he struggles to fight against their constant impulses. His feet expand as he steps on Lex’s cum-filled socks and any disgust he once felt, should feel, is overridden by an ever-peaking desire for release.

His pants fully rip as his package becomes wholly unmanageable by the size 28 pants he threw on this morning. Henry scrambles under Lex’s blanket to protect his modesty and convulses as he hears something squish underneath him in the bed. His expression squirms between pleasure and judgment at his bro for being such a slob. God! Not his bro, his uh? New ideas breeze across his mind as his mind has begun to slip at a far greater pace. Each musty breath blanching more of himself away, Henry never really stood a chance. But hopping into Lex’s surely unwashed sheets was an err far too great.

Grabbing at the controller and getting started Henry feels his arm prickle as ink starts to seep to the surface. Would’ve sworn he’d never deface his body like that but he clearly has, right? Haha! His jaw grows slack as, for the first time in a while, he is able to focus on something other than his demanding balls. He feels an itch on his chin as stubble just like his bro’s begins to speckle his face as he begins to put on weight. Hair on his chest and pits begins to grow longer as he lays in an altar to Lex’s must. Quickly losing in the game he almost tosses his controller across the room as the unfamiliar rage that started his descent arises once more.

God what’s fucking up with him today. He grunts and pays no mind to the sound that echoes throughout the musty air, deeper than he could ever fathom issuing forth. He scans the room no longer seeing his laptop or discarded clothes. His eyes just manage to avoid looking at his reflection with some remnants of existential terror fighting against the rising instinct that he needs to pay his hot body some attention. Instead he notices Lex’s laptop on the bed beside him, porn already cued up. He bites his lip and smirks as he feels his cock begin to spew pre onto Lex’s sheets. Surely his bro won’t mind.

Back downstairs Lex gets off to himself as he imagines that little nerd trying not to lose himself in his own musky haze. Picturing in his mind the new curves of his body as hair begins to grow like a jungle across his figure. He starts going at it imagining Henry struggling to keep his mind focused on anything other than his growing muscle and rapidly expanding cock. Upstairs Henry himself quickly adds to Lex’s tapestry of stains as he sees his arms burn and grow. Guffawing to himself through his moans of self-pleasure as he suddenly finds his own body far more alluring than whatever shitty smut his bro had left open. Looking down at his cock as it grows beyond his understanding out of a bush of pubes darker and dirtier than he could conceive. He needs to see the whole picture.

His eyes widen and he twitches in pleasure and fear as he struggles to and to not look at his own reflection. Biting his lip to draw blood as he grunts deeper by the second, sweat staining the sheets as the bed creaks underneath his still increasing weight. His hair curls and his jaw widens as he clenches it. The curls on his chest spread wider as the little muscle he had became pecs outright, his heart pounding beneath them as the rise with each labored breath.

Drool begins to pool in his mouth as pre streams down the hands clenching his cock. His vision flickers as he manages to steal a glimpse of himself and is evermore changed. The nervous nerd who didn’t even knock on the door is wiped from Henry’s mind as he absorbs his new majesty, the power he now wields. The scent of Lex’s den is absolutely masked by his own as he languishes in his bros sheets, smirking as he flexes at his own reflection. Arms large enough to absolutely wreck his bros PR’s, a  core strong enough to fuck for hours, and thighs large enough to any fucker to submit, to say nothing of his massive cock in between them.

Immediately after taking himself in Henry loses any remaining control over his libido and moans loud enough to wake every still sleeping brother downstairs as his body cements him the king of this chapter. Painting his own stains up and down Lex’s mirror as he hears his fellow titan start to stomp up the stairs. He feels his cock harden even more intensely as another round swiftly churns in the balls hanging beneath it. Would’ve sworn he had something else going on but for the life in him he can’t figure out what. Making his way over to the door before his bro rips it off the hinges Henry decides surely a good fuck is just what he needs to set himself right again.

[fandomfuntimem]

DP x DC prompt.

I'm getting in on this shit *cracks knuckles* I have a few different prompts I may post. Some may be all out story ideas.

This one is a mash-up of multiple prompts and fanfics I have read.

So basicly, the accident left Danny with a ton of issues, both mentally and physically. He stutters sometimes, has a few mobility issues, and sometimes he just aches so bad he can't get out of bed. That mixed with the slow heartbeat, shallow breathing, and pale skin of a halfa, he almost seems like one hella sick kid.

His secret gets revealed and instead of his parents hurting him they just tell him to leave and never come back (i love a good vivisection fic, but i personally like to imagine they can't bring themselves to do it). Danny kinda becomes homeless and lives in his car for a bit. He eventually (somehow) learns he is adopted and goes to find his birth parents.

His dad is... you guessed it! Bruce Wayne! He goes to confront him with multiple forms of evidence and Bruce just SHUTS DOWN. He rejects Danny (probably out of fear and regret for not being there for him, again this is based on multiple prompts). Danny, degected, goes back to live in his car. Unbeknownst to him though, the bat kids had been listening in and decided to make Danny part of their family one way or another. So they try everything to get him to stay in Gotham.

Eventually they start to notice the 'medical' issues, they learn of the accident, and see that his grades and attendence in school dropped. Naturally, as any bat clan member does, they connect the dots and think "holy shit, this kid is dying and he just wanted to know his birth family"

Now everyone is pissed at Bruce for rejecting him, Bruce feels worse and and hides away MORE, and Danny is wondering why his step siblings are suddenly far sweeter, but also more protective and worried about him.

[callie-the-creator]

ayato aishi dating a yandere!reader hcs

sfw. warnings: yandere & obsessive behavior, jealousy, mentions of elimination of rivals, etc.

author’s note: this was also posted on my wattpad, just wanted to tell you all that beforehand, so no need to worry!

• when he realized that you were the same as him, ayato turned into the surprised pikachu meme, just looking at you all like: (ʘᗩʘ')

• but how did ayato find out, exactly? well...it took him a good few days to connect the dots fully. he didn't suspect you to be a yandere until well into dating you, that's when he started noticing things. a few of his shirts and other garments were missing— which is to be expected— but when he asked you about them, you pretended like you had no clue what happened to them which further deepened his curiosity. next, ayato began to pick up on things like whenever he wouldn't be hanging out with you and would be out doing whatever, he'd miraculously bump into you. quite the coincidence, isn't it? that's what ayato tried to chalk it up to at first but soon found out that you were following him around.

• soooo, one day when you were out of your house with your family, ayato took it upon himself to snoop

— he climbed into the window leading into your bedroom and practically turned the place upside down. of course, he was careful. he didn't want to give off the impression to you, along with your family, that he was ever here. ayato started by going through your drawers and found some of his clothes stashed inside (which he may or may not have stolen back) before opening your closet where he came face to face with a shrine dedicated to him.

— it was nothing compared to his, sure, but it was still impressive. not only that, but you had printed out some photos of him and littered them around the shrine.

• after he was looking through things, he left with his stolen clothes in tow but when you got back home and returned to your room, you felt something was off because of one thing that caught your attention: the window was open, something you definitely weren't responsible for. afraid that one of your parents was in your room or worse, you began looking around only to find that ayato's shirts and boxers that you had taken a while back had disappeared. scoffing, you pulled out your phone and texted him: "were you in my room??"

— ayato, as expected, tried to deny this but you easily saw through this act of his because you were well aware of the fact that before you agreed to be his girlfriend, he was stalking you. what followed was a conversation where both of you just let things hang out and confessed to a slew of things, you more so than ayato but luckily, you two continued to date after this (but it's not like either one of you would let the other leave willingly).

• you and ayato constantly vie for each other's attention, engaging in elaborate schemes to outdo one another in displays of affection; from leaving love notes hidden in unexpected places to planning extravagant surprises.

• you two are fiercely protective of each other, to the point where you may occasionally clash with anyone they perceive as a threat to your relationship

— ayato is more physical about it though. there will be times when he'll show up at your doorstep all bruised and bloody. he loves how worried you look when you help clean him up! even more when you pout, thinking he was the one who got hurt, and embrace him in a hug as you play with his hair

— when you get jealous over someone, it's the complete opposite. you're vocal about it, maybe not to ayato, but to the person you view as a rival. so, when you find them the next day at school, you'll outright tell them that ayato is your boyfriend. if they continue to be a problem, that's when you'll take things to the next level and eliminate them.

• both of you are skilled manipulators, adept at bending others to their will, testing each other's boundaries, and pushing the limits of control but they would only do the latter to their partner. though, there is really a 50/50 chance that their manipulation and gaslighting would work on another.

• anyway, good luck dating each other because you can't leave haha 🫡

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Chipper and Pleasant - S.Snape

Summary - When she got overwhelmed with the baby, Y/N went to who she knew could help, her husband Severus.

Pairings - Severus Snape x Wife!Reader

Warnings - Stress of a baby, use of Y/N, female reader, Snape is a girl dad

Author's Note - It took a bit because I've been so busy but she's here.

Based off this request from an anon! Thank you for the request!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

The Hogwarts students only knew Severus Snape as a cold-hearted professor whose class was near impossible to pass. Even the other professors thought he was a hard ass but most of them had known why he was such a hard ass as well as cold. There were, however, only a small few people who truly knew Severus, one of them being his wife Y/N. 

They had gotten married right out of Hogwarts, Severus never really understanding how love can change a life until he met her. And don’t even get him started on when his daughter was born. Even the students had noticed a slight change in attitude from the professor. They were never able to connect the dots until one day a woman and a baby walked through the great hall during dinner. 

Y/N was having a hard time soothing their daughter, no matter what she did she couldn’t get the baby to stop crying. She was desperate and knew that Severus was the one that could calm her in a minute. The wailing of a baby made Severus’ head lift, knowing that it was his baby. He quickly got up and rushed over to his overwhelmed wife, gently taking the baby from her.

“Is she hurt? Are you hurt? Are you girls okay?” Severus rushed out as he cradled his daughter, looking both of his girls over. 

“She just won’t stop crying Sev, no matter what I do she just won’t stop. I was just trying to clean the house and she started and I tried to feed her but nothing-”

“Okay, it’s okay love. Relax, take a breath,” He soothed his wife quickly before turning his attention to the baby in his arms. He noticed a tooth poking out from her gums, another right beside it. “I see the problem here. I have just the thing you need, my sweet girl.”

“What is it? She’s okay?”

“Her teeth are coming in, she’s hurting. I had a draught made up and ready for this. Come with me.” The couple was quick to leave the great hall, the second they left the students started to gossip about the scene they had just witnessed. Dumbledore allowed the students to discuss before interrupting.

“May I have your attention please,” He waited for the great hall to fall silent once more, “Thank you. I ask that you allow Professor Snape to tell you about what you have just witnessed rather than start rumors. He will tell you so do not push him to answer questions.”

The next morning, Severus had taken his daughter with him to his first classes to let his wife sleep for once. The baby was sleeping peacefully in a portable crib next to his desk. “Good morning, students. There are a lot of rumors going around so I’m going to debunk them. That woman is my wife and this baby is my child. Simple as that, let’s get on with the lesson.”

The day went by quite quickly, the couple being the main talk of the whole school. Everyone was surprised that Snape was a major softy when it came to his girls. They had never seen the broody professor smile so much, let alone ever. They had never heard him speak gently or with a shred of happiness until his girls showed up. They had started a petition to get his family to stay at Hogwarts with him because he turned out to be so pleasant with them around. The potions master turned out to be a happy man with his family who was there to stay with the go ahead from the headmaster. Severus Snape was no longer known as the broody and cold professor but now the chipper and pleasant professor.

[mrsshabana]

Hey Mrs.Shabana I just wanna say I really love your work and it’s always been a delight to read. What I would like to request a part two of NTR because not only was it hot but the possible drama afterwards makes me excited and I wish to know what happens next! You don’t have to do it though take your time with everything

𝐍𝐓𝐑 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary After cheating on your boyfriend, Tengen, it's not long before you face the consequences of your actions. But things take an unexpected turn, and Gyutaro couldn't be happier with the results. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, college au, 18+ MDNI, vaginal sex, netorare, cheating. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.4k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Part one

"Aw man, do you have to wipe it off? You look so pretty covered in my cum..." Gyutaro pouts as he hands you a paper towel.

"Yes!" You say, trying to avoid letting it drip into your mouth, "Tengen will be here any minute to pick me up."

Gyutaro rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as he watches you clean up the beautiful mess he made of you.

"Heh yeah, I'm lookin' forward to that," he smirks, imagining the look on Tengen's face when he received the photo he sent of you just moments ago.

Begrudgingly, Gyutaro helps you clean up. Taking the soiled paper towels and throwing them in the garbage bin.

"How do I look?" you smooth out your hair and try to look presentable.

Gyutaro narrows his eyes and looks you up and down, "Looks fine to me," he says as he can obviously see a bit of dried cum leftover in your hair - but purposefully decides not to say anything.

"Ok, thanks," you reapply your lipgloss and straighten out your clothes, "Hopefully he won't notice..."

Just as you begin to feel the guilt seep in, the doorknob jiggles, and Tengen barges into the room.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" He shouts and comes barreling towards you.

Never have you seen your boyfriend so angry, especially targeted towards you. You instinctually go to Gyutaro's side, grabbing his arm and staying close to him.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" you wail, genuinely afraid and confused. Though Gyutaro is shockingly calm and collected, an arrogant aura emanates from him as he grabs his vape out of his pocket.

"Are you fucking serious? You slept with my roommate!!" Your boyfriend clenches his fists in anger.

"Technically she didn't sleep with me, she just sucked me off," Gyutaro says nonchalantly.

Tengen narrows his eyes at his roommate, filled with fury. But honestly, he's not even mad at Gyutaro, he already knows he's a scumbag. So he isn't surprised he'd do something like this, he's more upset with you.

"Shut up incel, adults are talking," Tengen snaps back, "How could you do this, Y/N? I should've known you were a good-for-nothing whore."

"But I-I..." you whimper as your eyes begin to water, shame taking over you. Maybe you really are just a whore. Tengen may stand you up a lot, but that doesn't mean he deserved to be cheated on.

"Tsk," Gyutaro scoffs and takes a drag of his vape, "You're one to talk."

"Shut it! You're just a pathetic virgin, you don't know shit."

"Oh really? Then maybe I should tell Y/N about Hinatsuru. Or maybe Makio or Suma?" Gyutaro smirks as he watches Tengen go pale, "But what do I know? I'm just a pathetic incel, right?"

"You fucking prick..." Tengen curses under his breath.

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. Those were the girls that Tengen told you not to worry about, claiming that they were just childhood friends. You gave him the benefit of the doubt because you didn't have a reason not to. But now you feel like a complete and utter fool.

A part of you is fuming with anger but the other part feels relieved that now you're off the hook.

"Whatever," Tengen puts his hands up defensively, "You can have my sloppy seconds."

His words hurt, but honestly, you can't even bring yourself to care. As you watch Tengen leave and slam the door behind him, it's safe to say that your relationship is over.

But why is it that you don't even feel that sad about it? Maybe because a part of you figured he was already cheating. He was never around anyway so the fact that you're officially broken up doesn't change much. If anything you're just really happy that you don't have to feel bad about giving Gyutaro a blowjob anymore.

"We should fuck on his bed." Gyutaro breaks the silence with the most out-of-pocket, unhinged sentence. Though you can't say you're surprised he'd say such a thing in a moment like this.

"A-Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah," he takes another drag of his vape, "He said I could have you now so why hold back?"

You can't help but blush at his bluntness - this was one of the reasons why you crushed on Gyutaro in the first place. He's never afraid to say what's on his mind despite how strange or inappropriate it is.

"Haha, sure Gyutaro," you chuckle, "Let's do that."

With a big mischievous grin, Gyutaro takes your hand and leads you to his roommate's bedroom. Promtly pushing you onto the bed and hurriedly taking off his shirt.

"You're still wet from earlier, right?" he says as he slides off his pants, all too eager for round two.

"Y-yeah," you say shyly. He's right, you did get really wet when you gave him a blowjob - your panties are already soaked.

"Well hurry up, take that shit off," he gets impatient, his cock twitching as he glares down at you.

"He's one demanding virgin..." you think to yourself as you hurriedly take off your clothes. Honestly, you're surprised Gyutaro is already hard again after he just came. But he is a virgin after all so it makes sense.

Once your clothes have been fully removed, Gyutaro spreads your legs and crawls on top of you. "About fucking time, you know how many times I've jerked off while thinking about this?"

Your entire face goes red in embarrassment. His words aren't romantic in the slightest but his honesty is sexier than dirty talk could ever be.

You watch in horror as he's about to slide into you, "Wait!! Put a condom on first!"

Gyutaro rolls his eyes and shoves himself into you anyway, "Hell no, I wanna claim you in ways Tengen never could." He groans as he pushes his hips flush against you.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you feel him fill you completely. After being wet for so long without any stimulation, it feels heavenly to finally have him inside of you.

"Ah f-fine," you moan, "But you have to pull out! I-I'm not on birth control."

"Fuck I'd love to get you pregnant so then you'd really be stuck with me," he murmurs, "But fine, I'll pull out if that's what you want."

You hope he'll keep his word, but honestly right now it feels too good to care. Gyutaro begins bucking his hips wildly, thrusting in and out of you with sloppy thrusts.

"You're my girl now, got it?" he says between gasps.

"Uh huh," you moan, "M'your girl now, Gyu."

"Fuck... good girl, Y/N" he picks up the pace - the sound of skin slapping fills the room. And your combined fluids splash where the two of you are connected, creating a nice messy pool on your ex-boyfriend's bed sheets.

Gyutaro doesn't quite know enough about sex yet to make you orgasm, but he's doing a decent enough job at fucking you that you already feel close. So you use your right hand to rub tight circles into your clit, while your other hand holds onto his shoulder for support.

"I fuck you better than he did, don't I?" Gyutaro growls, getting closer to his peak.

"Y-yeah, so much better," you moan, "B-Bigger too."

His lips curl into an arrogant smirk, he grabs your hips tightly and shakily pounds into you as hard as he can. So pussy drunk that he barely pulls out in time.

His cock twitching in the air as his nails dig into your hips, "Th-this'll show him! You're my girl now!" he whimpers as his semen splatters all over your abdomen and all over Tengen's sheets.

Watching the white sticky fluid stain the cloth does something to you and you feel your legs tremble as you reach orgasm. Moaning and arching your back, wishing that he was still inside of you.

"Fuck... he's an idiot for ever cheating on you. You're the perfect girl," Gyutaro rasps, leaning forward and catching your lips in a kiss.

As you lay there, a panting and sweaty mess, Gyutaro grabs some tissues and cleans you up. Then he haphazardly smears his semen on the bed sheets. Watching as it soaks into the fabric. Knowing that when Tengen gets into bed tonight he'll have a little surprise waiting for him.

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking about Robin bursting into Steve’s house - he gave her a spare key long ago - and yelling, “I was just Nancy’s gay awakening!”

Steve is laying on the ground in the living room and sits up. “What?”

Robin launches into the story, “Well, I was just at Nancy’s as you know, and she insisted that she wanted to basically play dress up with me. So, she handed me some clothes and she jokingly changed into mine which were huge on her and so incredibly adorable. I mean-”

“Robin,” Steve says trying to cut off her inevitable Nancy ramble.

“Right. So, there I am in Nancy’s bra and pulling her really itchy shirt over my head, and when I finally get my head out, Nancy is staring at me in her panicked way. And I thought well, maybe I ripped one of her favorite shirts because it was tight and I may have heard a rip-”

Steve lightly taps her arm, and Robin nods. “But then, she just says, ‘Robin, when did you know that you were… you know… gay.’ And I didn’t think much of it, but I told her, and then she said asked if it can happen later in life. And the dots just connected, and I told her yes it can.” Robin finishes her rant in a frenzied state still as out of breath as when she got there.

“And then what happened?” Steve asks.

“I stole Mike’s bike and came here,” Robin says staring off with wide eyes.

Steve stares at her and blinks slowly. “So she’s had this gay awakening, and you ran away and left her to deal with it alone?”

Robin looks at Steve even more panicked. “Holy shit! Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!” She stands up and runs to the door. “I’ll be back later!”

The front door slams shut and Steve sighs.

“I was wondering when Nancy would realize,” a voice over Steve’s shoulder says.

Steve jumps. “Shit, Eddie. I forgot you were here.”

Eddie puts a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, Steve. Hurt. I’m always here.”

Steve looks off and questions his past relationship with Nancy. Yes, he got over her in a romantic way long ago especially when Robin told him she had feelings for Nance. And it’s been a weight off his shoulders but he can’t help but wonder…

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eddie asks already on the ground next to Steve.

Steve shakes his head, but he knows Eddie is stubborn so he gives in. “Do you think Nancy was gay when she dated me, and that’s why things never really worked out? I mean, I just feel bad for doing everything with her if she wasn’t happy.”

Eddie takes a moment and then shakes his head. “Steve, a person doesn’t just suddenly become gay, but I think what you’re missing is that I don’t think Nancy is a lesbian. I’m pretty sure she’s bisexual. Which means she likes both.”

Steve thinks for a second and realizes it makes sense. “So, she had more of a bisexual awakening than just a gay awakening.”

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, you could put it that way. What I had was definitely a gay awakening though. It was in the gym and this one guy stripped off his shirt and it all suddenly hit that yes, I was definitely gay.”

Steve stares off and suddenly blurts out, “Do you think I could have a bisexual awakening?”

Eddie’s jaw drops before he stutters out, “Ye-yeah. I mean… I-I guess you could. But it’s not something you can just force yourself to do.”

“Take off your shirt,” Steve says seriously because he’s curious.

“Dude, I’m not going to force a gay or bisexual awakening on you.”

Steve looks Eddie up and down for a second. He’s always known he’s attractive, just like he knew Billy was attractive and even Tommy in his own way. But it was only fair to notice who would be potential rivals when Steve started dating. But… he knows Eddie is gay, so why would he note his attractiveness?

Eddie sighs and stands up to take off his shirt. “Okay, now you can go back to being your straight self,” Eddie says already pulling his shirt back on.

Steve takes a moment to process, but then he grabs Eddie’s hand and drags him up the stairs. “Steve, there is now way you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“I sure am!” Steve yells determined.

A few minutes and a lot of complaining later, Eddie has Steve’s jeans on and is pulling his yellow sweater over his head. Eddie even does a little spin.

Steve looks him over and realizes that he feels the same way towards Eddie as he always has. He definitely finds him attractive, and even has the thought in the back of his head that he wouldn’t mind kissing him. Plus, Eddie in his clothes is definitely adorable wait-

Since when has he always wanted to kiss Eddie?

“Oh shit. You cannot tell me that this actually worked,” Eddie says and then laughs. “Okay, very funny, Steve. You can cut it out now.” Steve feels Eddie grab his shoulders, “Steve?”

Steve turns to look at him and says, “Eddie, I really want to kiss you.”

Eddie steps back and says, “Steve, this really isn’t funny. Just knock it off.”

“I’m serious,” Steve says with as much conviction as he has. “And I don’t mean just right now, but I mean that it’s always been there in the back of my head, and I’ve been ignoring it. But, shit, I want to kiss you.”

“Why don’t you buy me dinner first?” Eddie jokes and then stops. “You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.”

Eddie walks closer to Steve mumbling under his breath, “I cannot believe this worked. Must be a bisexual thing.”

Steve laughs and says, “Maybe it is.”

Eddie finally gets up in front of him and cups his jaw. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Not if I beat you to i-”

Eddie cuts him off with a soft kiss before pulling away and looking at Steve with a bit of fear in his eyes.

“Holy shit, I’m bisexual,” Steve says with a laugh before kissing Eddie again. He pulls back and says, “Wait, this isn’t just you helping me to realize, right? Like, I want to go on a date with you. Multiple if you wanted that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Eddie says and kisses Steve again.

Steve will have to thank Nancy and Robin later.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Sorry, I'm obsessed again with that damn sauce.I may be reaching, BUT I'm going to connect this. Something I noticed throughout the season was Natalie knowing something, and it was from knowing things about Pete.

In 3x04, Natalie talks to Richie, who tells her the story about the zen garden his favorite director visited. She knows it's William Friedkin because Pete loves him.

And in 3x07, Natalie talks to Marcus, who tells her he was inspired by the violet, and she shares a fact that it's the illinois flower. It's such a random fact to know, but she knows it because Pete knows it.

It's about knowing and paying attention to all your partner's idiosyncronticites and what they love.

That's emotional intimacy.

And I'm sorry, but I'll never get over this shit- Carmy seriously observes Sydney. Although he drives her away- unconsciously he yearns for Syd- he has a desire to know who she is outside of work because he's at a point where he hates his career and passion but he finds himself having passion for her.

He notices her fixation on polka dots throughout the month, and he's probably curious if it's her favorite pattern.

Recap if you missed it:

@sadbanana-69 noticed her Polka Dot Dress to the funeral. Her obsession with that pattern had been developing over the course of a month, and I'm sure that even Carmy, despite his agitation, noticed that she was always wearing it. This fixation seemed to start in episode 3x03. It was almost subtle at first, but then it became so intense.

He takes in her love of Thome Browne, her bow and sailor moon outfit. She has a habit of wearing scrunchies. There's a pattern with Carmy and an unconscious desire to know Sydney, maybe?

I'm not saying anything really new here, but lastly, he ultimately wants to know the man who raised her, and his motivation for that may be because he thinks Sydney is the best thing and Emmanuel, who raised her has to be just as great.

I think one of the show's main lessons is about the people and knowing everything about someone because life feels so short. It's a gift to have those around you.

[defectivevillain]

tongues and teeth

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reading (can be read as romantic or platonic)

reader's pronouns & race: unspecified, ambiguous

summary:

“What should I do?” Franklyn whines. His voice continues to grate on your ears. Every remark that comes from his lips is dripping in misguided arrogance and misplaced hero worship. He’s staring down at his tortillas with worried eyes. “He hates me.” “Chef Lecter?” You ask incredulously. Franklyn nods. “I don’t think he cares enough to feel any particular way about you,” you say, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. There’s a whisper of a dark laugh from far away, an amused exhale of breath.

Chef Hannibal Lecter is a world renowned chef praised for his innovative dishes. He’s won numerous awards and his restaurant, Hawthorn, reflects his talents. There’s something off about him, though. It isn’t until you’re seated in Hawthorn, a distance away from the door guarded by security workers and looking down at a breadless bread plate, that you begin to connect the dots.

word count: 6k | ao3 version

Warnings: spoilers to The Menu, canon-typical blood & violence, suicide, hanging

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is going to be an alternate universe, in which the characters from the Menu are replaced by those from Hannibal. Hannibal is the main chef and the reader takes the place of Margot. In this universe, we’re pretending that the dinner guests—many of whom are criminals in Hannibal—are not hardened killers, but rich consumers in the highest echelons of society. There’s an exact list of which character corresponds with The Menu dinner guests in the endnotes, if you’re super interested.

I have many different justifications for some of the choices I made while writing this, but I don’t want to bore you all to tears, so I’ll detail them in the endnotes. Just know that Hannibal and Julian (the antagonist of The Menu) have very different reasons and motivations for killing, which will impact the story

You’re not sure how you find yourself sitting at a table in Hawthorn, one of the world’s most exclusive restaurants, next to someone you can barely consider an acquaintance. Actually, you do know—you’d just rather not think about it. The boat ride over to the private island, the entirely unnecessary tour of the facilities, and the weirdly stringent rules governing your every move… You indeed remember how you got here. These occurrences all seemed outlandish and entirely otherworldly to you. This entire day has been nothing but a flight of fancy for those with more money than they know what to do with. Not for the first time today, you regret every decision that led you to step into the boat, walk along the sandy shores, and step into this cage of a restaurant. 

Indeed, the space is nothing more than an enclosure. Everyone in the group seemed too excited about the upcoming meal to notice how the door promptly swiveled shut when you entered, sealing you into this urban nightmare of a building. You had turned over your shoulder upon hearing the door close, only to find several men in suits blocking the exit. A horrible feeling had settled in your chest. Whatever may come tonight, one thing is for certain: you are not supposed to leave. This may very well be your last meal. 

You’re ushered rather forcefully to your table. Franklyn Froideveaux, the man who invited you, looks completely ecstatic. You berate yourself for accepting the invitation; in your defense, however, you weren’t exactly given a choice. You owe this man a favor, as begrudged as you are to admit it. You’d rather wash your hands of the scourge that is Franklyn Froideveaux as soon as possible, which is why you find yourself in Hawthorn tonight. This restaurant doesn’t accept single reservations—something Franklyn made sure to announce several times on your walk over. You should be grateful for this opportunity, Franklyn says every few minutes. Currently, he’s prattling on about the cooking utensils in the kitchen, and about some television series that he claimed to watch about the executive chef. You nod and hum at the appropriate moments, but your attention is elsewhere. Conversations fill the space, combining with clinking glasses to create a pleasant ambiance. At least, you suspect it is intended to be pleasant. However, you can’t help but see past the pleasantries scattered around you—especially when in the presence of such… notorious dinner guests. 

First, there’s Frederick Chilton—self-proclaimed genius and institutional leader of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Next to him sits Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier, another high-profile psychologist known for her numerous research publications. Dr. Alana Bloom is seated in the third spot at the table. From what you know, the three professionals are colleagues in the medical field and research partners. 

Next is Freddie Lounds. You remember seeing her make the news for her self-published food review magazine, TattleCulinary. She sits with James Gray, another critic who is more well-known in the art world. Gray edits the journalist's pieces, and you can pick up on the underlying tones of superiority in their dynamic as Lounds dominates their conversation.  

Scott Komeda sits at a table off to the side with his wife, Cheryl. Neither of them look too happy to be here. You can’t say you blame them; although, judging from their luxurious attire, they’re all too familiar with a rich dining experience. A sordid state of affairs, you might say, if they weren't absolutely dripping in wealth. It almost appears as if they’ve dined here before. You certainly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. 

Mason and Margot Verger sit at the table to your left. Rumor has it Mason is a cruel bastard. Since his rise to stardom, he’s been embroiled in many scandals—scandals that have dragged him into the courthouse, of all places. He is not a good person. Margot, his sister, sits next to him. Her shoulders are drawn tight, as if she’s on guard. You can’t find it in your heart to pity her—not when you remember her and her brother’s exorbitant wealth. 

And, of course, Franklyn is sitting across from you. Truly, you’d rather be sitting here with anyone but him. Mr. Tobias Budge was supposed to dine with Franklyn instead—as the hostess so rudely reminded you several times—but he couldn’t make it. You wonder if Franklyn also has Tobias under his thumb; although, if he was able to escape this dinner, you suppose Tobias is in a much better spot than you are. 

You allow your gaze to wander about the room. Everyone is preoccupied with speaking to one another or sipping the proffered wine. Upon first glance, there isn’t much that this group has in common. However, the more you look at them, the more you’re struck with one fatal realization: this entire group is enamored with greed. You can see it in the most minute of gestures—the roll of their eyes when they’re left waiting, the expectations they carry on shoulders that have never known burden or suffering. Indeed, it costs an excessive amount to take part in this dinner—this dining experience, Franklyn is keen to remind you. 

Amuse bouche is served first. You stare down at the dish. It looks to be no more than two mouthfuls of food. You can’t help but huff a laugh from under your breath, which goes entirely unnoticed by Franklyn. He’s too busy sneaking pictures of the food—something the group was explicitly ordered not to do—and ranting about something pretentious. 

As you stare down at your plate, you feel a prickling sensation rising up your spine. Unnerved, you turn around, only to find that a new addition to the kitchen is staring at you. It’s not just a new addition, you realize with growing horror, but the chef himself. You’re the first to break eye contact, as you tear your gaze away and focus on the appetizer. The man unsettles you. 

Ultimately, you don’t end up eating the dish, so Franklyn takes it and eats it himself. Somehow, his behavior has grown worse since you first set foot on the island. You contemplate the thought for a moment, before you’re interrupted by a loud clapping sound. It makes your heart race out of your chest; startled, you turn around to find the chef standing in the center of the room. 

“My name is Hannibal Lecter,” he says, his voice cutting through the eerie silence. “Today, you will ingest some of the building blocks of nature and, perhaps, even nature herself.” You take the gifted opportunity to study the man before you. Perfectly coiffed hair frames a sharp, angular face and mahogany eyes. An understanding smile is plastered on his face, yet malice curves his lips and sharpens his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You’re thrown out of your reverie by the light applause scattered about the room. Clenching your fists at your sides, you try to remain calm and turn back to face Franklyn. The cooks descend the stairs and serve you the first course. Once again, the dish you’re presented with resembles a display more than a meal. You pick around at it for a few moments before abandoning the thought. 

If the first course is sparse, the second course is almost entirely empty of nourishment. Lecter’s description—an allusion to the privilege of the very guests sitting around his restaurant—is a warning for what lies ahead. The group will not be receiving bread, you realize as the cooks step down from the kitchen and fan out across the room. You have to suppress your irritation at the scene. Sure, you understand what the chef is trying to say. However, you get the feeling you’re not his intended audience. You’re not from the same world as these people. This is painfully present in the way Freddie Lounds tastes her dish, gushing about its distinct flavor profile. You grit your teeth to stop yourself from saying something stupid. 

You’re anchored to your seat. Ultimately, you don’t belong here amongst these upper-class socialites, born with silver spoons on their tongues and privilege in their every movement; you feel like a sheep in wolf’s clothing. 

The third course doesn’t bring nourishment, but it certainly brings a host of other feelings. The chef’s anecdote about his childhood is disturbing—especially when punctuated by the dish he serves, chicken thigh with scissors stabbed in it. When the dish is served, you can’t bear to touch it. Thankfully, there is an accompaniment to the poultry: tortillas. The tortillas have engraved drawings on them, supposedly. You unfold the tortilla cautiously. To your disbelief, there are indeed intricate depictions on the tortilla. Your heart hammers in your chest as you look at the single tortilla you were served. It’s an exact replica of how you’re seated right now, except Franklyn is missing. His chair is pictured and there’s a dish placed on his side of the table, but the man is excluded from the image. Upon closer examination, you find his fork and knife positioned vertically on the plate. Dread courses through your chest as you recognize the nonverbal sign of a finished meal. This does not bode well for Franklyn. 

Franklyn, seeing that your attention has been captured by the tortilla, moves to grab his own. His tortillas are engraved with sketches of him seated at this exact table, holding up his phone and sneaking pictures of the meal. The color promptly drains from his face. You’re about to ask him why he looks so disturbed when you hear several outcries from the tables around you. Each person’s tortillas are depictions of unsavory, humiliating truths. The three researchers are whispering hurriedly amongst each other. Mason Verger is glaring at Margot, as if the dish is somehow her fault. Mrs. Komeda is staring at her tortillas with wide eyes and her husband seems to be sweating. Suddenly, you feel as if you were spared from any potential humiliation and embarrassment. 

“What should I do?” Franklyn whines. His voice continues to grate on your ears. Every remark that comes from his lips is dripping in unfounded arrogance and misplaced hero worship. He’s staring down at his tortillas with worried eyes. “He hates me.”

“The chef?” You ask incredulously. Franklyn nods. “I don’t think he cares enough to feel any particular way about you,” you say, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. There’s a whisper of a dark laugh from far away, an amused exhale of breath. 

Franklyn’s preoccupation with his tortillas prompts you to look down at your own. You look down at the tortilla warily. Suddenly, you realize your picture has another meaning. It’s not just an omen for Franklyn, but for you, too. It’s a warning: this night is going to be a bloodbath. 

The fourth course validates the trepidation settling in your chest. Chef Lecter allows a cook, Jeremy, to take center stage. Immediately, you know something is wrong. From what you’ve seen, Hannibal Lecter treats cooking as a performance. What performer would willingly let another take the stage? Unless… that other performer was the entertainment. Your suspicions are proven correct when you see Jeremy put a gun to his mouth and fire it off. You flinch at the gunshot, even though you’re expecting it. The guests around you scream. 

The subsequent dish is aptly dubbed “The Mess.” There’s a significant resemblance to the human body, and the dish’s sauce looks like blood. You swallow hard, feeling rather nauseous. Franklyn rubs his hands together and begins eating, as if someone hadn’t just committed suicide before his very eyes. He is entirely unbothered and you’re sorely tempted to snap your fingers in front of his face. 

You feel completely sick to your stomach. You grip the table hard, trying to keep yourself anchored to this horrible reality. A man died before your very eyes. You’re going to die tonight, surrounded by wealthy, privileged assholes. Bolts of pain slide through your fingers. Before the sensation can begin to truly burn, there’s a harsh grip on your shoulder.  Hannibal Lecter, the chef, is looming over you. You flinch at the sudden touch and look up at him, while trying to regain feeling in your locked joints. There’s a buzzing sound in your ears. The chef’s eyes gleam crimson in the bright lighting. Franklyn lets out a weird squeal, clearly excited by the prospect of Lecter visiting your table. Unfortunately, the chef doesn’t have eyes for Franklyn. He’s staring at you hard enough for your skin to be lit with a phantom burn. 

“How are you enjoying the meal?” Lecter implores, looking down at you. He’s rather handsome up close, you realize. You try to choke out a response, but Franklyn is quicker. 

“It’s wonderful, sir!” Franklyn gushes shamelessly, “Truly exquisite-”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” the chef interjects, sending him a withering glare before focusing back on you. He raises an eyebrow ever so slightly at you. You’re scrambling for words, empty promises and compliments that will leave him satisfied enough to leave you the hell alone. Thankfully, you’re spared by the enraged scream of Scott Komeda. The chef’s attention is drawn away from you and you breathe a sigh of relief. Lecter clasps his hands behind his back and levels the man with an expectant gaze. 

Mr. Komeda’s eyes are frantic and he breathes heavily. “Get me the hell out of here!” He screams. 

There are a few beats of silence, before the hostess—Abigail, you think her name is—paces over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. She whispers something quietly to him, something that goes unheard by everyone else. Whatever she says, it must be suitably disturbing, because the man’s face pales significantly. Abigail’s grip tightens on his shoulder. 

“Which hand would you like to lose, sir?” She asks politely. The placating smile on her face almost makes you second guess what you just heard her say. The man blinks at her in evident disbelief. His wife tries to pull him back, but security guards descend on the man and he doesn’t budge. “Left or right?” He does not answer.

“Left hand, ring finger,” Lecter announces, breaking through the tense silence that was descending in the air. You inhale sharply, nearly choking on air at the reminder of the dangerous man lurking near you. You had nearly forgotten his presence. Abigail nods and walks back towards the kitchen, returning with a sharpened butcher’s knife. 

You avert your eyes, but the man’s scream is enough to inform you of what occurs. When you turn back, you find Mr. Komeda holding his bloodied hand. His ring finger rests on the elegant tablecloth. You very nearly vomit right then and there—just barely managing to avoid the urge by placing a hand over your mouth and turning away. Mrs. Komeda’s jaw is frozen wide-open, and everyone else seems just as nauseated as you. At least, everyone except Franklyn. Somehow, amidst all this chaos and madness, Franklyn is still eating. His unaffected ferocity unsettles you. 

“Let’s get a breath of fresh air, shall we?” Lecter asks, before motioning for everyone to rise from their seats. No one seems to understand his question, in the wake of what just happened. After he repeats the question, the guests are quick to rise from their chairs. It is dangerous to try opposing the chef. You stand up and follow the group back through the entrance hall, until you step out the door and outside the building. The chef waits in the center of the assembled group, pausing for a few moments to let any stragglers catch up. Franklyn is still chewing. The researchers are whispering amongst themselves, and Mason looks two seconds from decapitating his sister with his own hands. You keep your eyes firmly on the ground. 

“You will be given a forty five second head start,” he begins. Everyone stares at him in confusion. “You may try to run. After forty five seconds have passed, my staff will chase you down.” Lecter doesn’t finish speaking before Frederick Chilton is sprinting away. The chef huffs in amusement, not looking the slightest bit threatened. He turns to regard the rest of the group. “Your head start begins… now.” Alana Bloom and Bedelia Du Maurier exchange glances before running away. Mr. Komeda stumbles away, with Mrs. Komeda tugging him along. Freddie Lounds and James Gray run in opposite directions, foregoing the path straight ahead and diving through the trees and bushes. Margot Verger doesn’t hesitate to run away. Mason watches her go for a few seconds, before pursuing her. This leaves Chef Hannibal Lecter, Franklyn Froideveaux, and you. You turn on your heel, about to run alongside the exterior of the restaurant and behind the building. A loud clap interrupts your momentary escape. 

“Stay.” You swivel back around, only to see Lecter staring you down. His eyes are glittering in the dark night. You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, you could simply ignore his command. However, you know you’ll be caught by his staff eventually, anyway. Might as well spare him the chase, you think to yourself. You nod and take a step to break the distance between the two of you. Franklyn sends you an incredulous gaze that you pretend not to notice. “We will go inside.” Lecter doesn’t wait for your answer, instead walking past you and back towards the door. You follow after him apprehensively, wondering what he could be planning. Perhaps he will slaughter you and serve you as the fifth course. The thought makes you shudder. You step through the opened doorway and stop once you’ve crossed the threshold. Chef Lecter is staring at Franklyn with a bored expression. 

“Not you,” he says, effectively dismissing the man. Franklyn, evidently embarrassed, steps back from the door. The attendant closes the door, leaving you as Lecter’s only dinner guest who is still in the building. The chef’s shoes click against the polished floors. You momentarily contemplate ducking down into a hallway, but you realize you don’t know the building well enough to ensure you have a fighting chance at escape. Lecter leads you through the kitchen and into another room, waiting for you to enter before closing the door behind you. The room is sparsely furnished.

“This entire evening has been meticulously planned,” the chef says, taking a seat. You move to do the same. “You are not according to the plan.” He doesn’t seem too troubled by the notion—it’s a mild inconvenience. You frown. Before, you had attributed the chef to be a person taking his grievances out on his guests—each of whom serves as a reason for his loss of love for his craft. You were wrong, you’re beginning to realize. Hannibal Lecter is doing this for his own amusement. The social commentary behind it all is certainly motivation for his actions, but he does not intend to offset the system—the fragile ecosystem of the high-end restaurant industry. He is utilizing it to cater to his desires. What exactly are his desires, though? 

“Why are you doing this?” You decide to ask, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.” It is not an answer to your question, yet it somehow provides you an explanation nonetheless. From there, the chef manipulates the conversation expertly, asking you all sorts of questions about your childhood, your adult life, your career… You’re beginning to feel unnerved, all up until he releases you from your pseudo-captivity. His attention has been recaptured by his staff, which you are extremely grateful for. His gaze felt as if it was searing through you. When you return to the dining area, you’re surprised to find the rest of the guests are already seated. They look tired, their hair messy and their clothing slightly rumpled. Just as you sit down, you’re immediately assaulted with tons of questions from Franklyn. They start off innocuous enough, but soon descend into an envious madness.

“Why would he want to speak with you?” Franklyn spits, stabbing at the remains of his meal. You watch as he shoves another bite into his mouth, seemingly immune to the positively disgusted glare Chef Lecter is pointing at him right now. 

“Franklyn.” The chef is heading towards your table. Franklyn practically lights up upon the chef saying his name. Lecter steps impossibly closer, until he’s almost towering over your table. It feels as if he’s looking down on you—and he sort of is, from his position. You try to just breathe. His attention isn’t on you right now. “There’s something you haven’t told your friend here.” The chef’s tone is slightly mocking.  His mention of you throws you for a loop. 

You look to Franklyn, only to find that he’s steadily paling. Agitation itches beneath your skin as you try to rationalize what could possibly cause such a fearful expression. Lecter is nearly smirking from his position at your side. You grit your teeth and clench your fists under the tablecloth.

“What were you told about tonight?” Lecter prompts the man. Everyone is looking at Franklyn now. Even the kitchen seems to have fallen into an uneasy quiet. What could he have possibly been told about tonight? You’re not sure. 

“Everyone would die,” Franklyn admits. There’s a ringing sound suddenly, and it takes several seconds for you to realize the sound is in your mind. Every thought almost seems to come to a screeching halt, as you try to come to terms with the unshakeable fact that Franklyn willingly attended this dinner, despite knowing he would die. 

“And what happened to your original companion?” Lecter muses. “Who did you bring in Mr. Budge’s stead?” You don’t stay still for long enough to hear his next remark. There is a sharp knife lying next to your fork and spoon, almost as if this very interaction had been planned (if not for you, then certainly for Tobias Budge). Rage governs your every move, as you realize that Franklyn brought you here despite knowing you would die. This night was a death sentence, executed by Franklyn himself. Before you can contemplate the consequences, you lunge across the table in a fluid movement, before reaching out and cutting him. Before you can stab him, you’re roughly yanked backwards by someone. The knife slices at the skin on Franklyn’s cheek, and he screams loudly. You try to fight the person’s grip off, and it takes a few people to hold you back from Franklyn. When you see the shock and fear on his face, you’re filled with a cruel sense of satisfaction and vengeance. 

“That is enough,” the chef remarks, slicing through the tense air with a simple sentence. 

“Sorry, Chef,” Franklyn immediately replies, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. Does the thought of falling out of Lecter’s favor really distress him so? Although, when you think about it, you’re not sure if he was ever in the chef’s favor. 

The chef looks at you now. You don’t bother apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong. If you’re correct, Chef Lecter engineered that very interaction. You don’t regret lashing out at Franklyn, so you meet Lecter’s expectant gaze head-on. Eventually, he seems to come to terms with your resolve, because his attention falls back to Franklyn. 

“Franklyn,” the chef starts. You see Franklyn nearly go limp at the prospect of Lecter using his name. You grimace. Something feels wrong here. Indeed, the chef’s next remark seems to be an omen. “You believe yourself superior to me.” 

“No, Chef,” Franklyn is quick to say. The patrons around you are entirely silent. The room almost seems to buzz around you, ringing with unresolved tension. You think back to Franklyn’s hero worship of the chef, clumsily combined with his own attempts at thoughtful critiques. 

“You have made a mockery of my craft,” Lecter continues.

“No, Chef-” Franklyn sputters. 

“Now,” the chef breaks off, a glint in his eyes, “We will test your assertions. Come here,” the chef orders. Franklyn obeys and, once he’s in the kitchen, Lecter awards him an apron and ties it around him. Franklyn looks absolutely over the moon, but you see the gesture for what it really is: the final nail in his coffin. “Everyone, please step back. Franklyn will cook something for our guests.” A hollowed laughter echoes throughout the space as the cooks chuckle, before stepping back to let Franklyn have control over the kitchen. 

What ensues is quite easily the most embarrassing and humiliating display you have ever been forced to witness. By the end, there are tears slipping down Franklyn’s face. You almost feel bad for him—almost. Your sympathy quickly fades to obscurity when you remember that he invited you here despite being told everyone would die. 

When Franklyn’s dish is complete, there’s a renewed silence around the space as the chef takes a few steps forward and leans down to smell it. Chef Lecter motions for a cook to step next to him and gestures for them to taste the dish. The cook eats the food, their left eyebrow ticking up ever so slightly.

“How is it?” Lecter questions. 

“Horrible, Chef,” the cook answers. “The lamb is undercooked, and the sauce is practically inedible.” They grab a napkin and wipe their mouth, before putting it in the pocket of their apron and stepping back to join the rest of the cooking staff in the background. The background is an apt term for the group—they are mere backdrops, accessories, to Chef Lecter’s performance. 

“Do you see now, Franklyn?” Chef Lecter asks, an understanding smile on his face. All you can see is sharpened teeth and a crooked malice. “Guests must remain in the dining hall, just as cooks must remain in the kitchen. Take off your apron; you’re dismissed.” But Chef Lecter isn’t done yet. The moment Franklyn takes off his apron and holds it in a clenched fist, Lecter places a hand on his shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. It’s incomprehensible to you, but you can still see the way Franklyn’s expression falls, before an eerie resolve sets his shoulders. Without explanation, Franklyn steps further into the kitchen and disappears from sight. 

Things don’t end there, however. Lecter then calls your name, beckoning you to follow after him as he weaves through the busy kitchen with ease. The rest of the patrons are banished to return to their seats. You glance back at them for a moment, before returning your attention to the chef in front of you. Once you turn the corner and are out of view of the guests, the chef turns on you. 

“Abigail was supposed to bring dessert,” the chef remarks. His gaze flits to the hostess behind you for a moment. You hadn’t noticed her presence. Lecter stares at you. “Fetch the barrel from the smokehouse. It is a key instrument for the next course.” You stare at him in disbelief. You desperately want to object, but you suppress the urge. Once you think about it, you realize you’re being given a golden opportunity: a chance to leave the restaurant and explore the premises. Perhaps you could find something to aid your escape. With that knowledge in the back of your mind, you accept Lecter’s request.  

You nod and turn around, intending to retrace your steps. You’re walking into the kitchen when something enters your field of vision. You squint and take a step closer, eyes widening as you process just what you’re seeing. Franklyn is hanging from a noose, feet hanging limp in the air. There’s a horrible motley of bruises around his neck and his eyes almost seem to pop out of their sockets. Your eyes are inexplicably led to the bloody cut on his cheek. You take a deep breath and pretend you didn’t see anything, before heading through the winding hall and exiting through the door Lecter mentioned. When you reach the open air, you feel a new sense of tranquility and calm hit you. The night air doesn’t know of the pain and suffering inflicted tonight; its briskness seems to ground you to the present.

You manage to make it to the smokehouse and, once you find the barrel, you drag it outside. However, knowing this may be your only opportunity for exploration, you decide to look around a little. Leaving the barrel to rest near the smokehouse, you head towards the nearest building. To your surprise, the side door is unlocked. When you open it, you’re certainly not expecting to be standing in a living room. Upon closer examination, this appears to be a home—the chef’s, most likely. Abigail had mentioned that all the cooking staff sleep in barracks, which leaves Lecter as the only viable owner of this residence. You look around the space, unsurprised to find that it looks meticulously clean. 

You look around a little more, finding a gleaming stainless steel kitchen and an elaborate dining room. There’s only one space that remains: hidden behind the wooden door that you’re currently staring at. You tentatively grasp the door knob and slowly twist it, only to find that it’s locked. You tug at the door again, only for the sound of footsteps to distract you. 

You turn around, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest as you see Abigail standing a short distance from you. “No one is supposed to enter Chef’s personal quarters,” Abigail remarks, her voice hollow. There’s a dullness to her eyes that disturbs you.

You frown. “Why are you here, then?” You ask. She stills for a moment, clearly not expecting the question. A moment later, the hostess regains her composure. 

“You were asked to fetch the barrel, because of my mistake,” Abigail recounts, eyebrows furrowing to let you know what she really thinks of that idea. She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes gleaming in the dim lighting. “But Chef never asked me to fetch it.” There’s a dangerous look in her eyes and a weapon in her hand. 

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, Abigail is running at you; the next, you’re standing over her bleeding body. A knife juts out of her throat and it seems that she’s choking on her own blood. The light slowly leaves her eyes, until her form is terribly still on the kitchen floor. You take a shaky breath in, finding the effort rather laborious. It takes you several moments to come to terms with the fact that you just committed murder. Once you’re finally able to steel your nerves, you take the hostess’s key and walk over to the door. After twisting the key, the door swings open to reveal a hallway. You don’t make it more than a few steps into the hall before noticing a doorway to your left, barricaded by a steel door with a small glass window. Against your best judgment, you steal a glance through the window.

There are chains and sharpened tools lining the walls, metallic gleam burning your vision. A corpse hangs from the ceiling, flayed and mutilated beyond recognition. It isn’t even the thought of a corpse that frightens you. No, this corpse is different from the ones you saw in the smokehouse—this one isn’t an animal. The realization slowly sinks into your skin, sending your heart roaring in your ears. Human corpses hang from dangling meat hooks, in various states of mutilation. 

You’re suddenly immensely glad you never ate anything. That chicken thigh served in the third course… was probably not chicken. You shudder. One thought triumphs over all others in your mind: you need to leave.

Afraid of what else you may find, you decide to turn back. You retrace your steps and walk back through the kitchen with bloody flooring and the empty living room until you’re outside once more. The walk to the smokehouse is quick, but once you grab the barrel, you’re reminded of how heavy it is. Your trip back to the kitchen takes longer than you’d like but, fortunately, Chef Lecter doesn’t seem bothered by how long it takes you to return. He only nods and instructs you to give the barrel to one of the cooks. Lecter’s attention is then taken elsewhere—as he still has a dessert to prepare—so you decide to take advantage. You know a way out now, after all. You have to wait for an opportune moment to access the outside door, since cooks are mulling about the kitchen near the exit. Eventually, you manage to find an ideal time frame for your escape and, with equal apprehension and anticipation, you walk over to the door. Your hand doesn’t even clasp the doorknob before there’s a hand on your shoulder. 

“Leaving so soon?” You turn around, dread prickling across your skin as you’re faced with Chef Lecter’s disappointment. You’re not sure you’ll make it out of this alive, after all. Every time you blink, you see yourself as the next course in this absurdly fanciful feast. The Unwanted Guest, the chef would probably call it. “The final course hasn’t been served yet.”

You manifest a confidence that you don’t necessarily feel. “I’m finished eating,” you assert. Beneath what you hope is a cool exterior, you’re panicking. You can’t think of an excuse that will permit you to leave. Lecter seems to recognize that, because he only arches an eyebrow at you. He is not threatened.

“You’ll miss dessert,” he remarks, a sad smile on his face. You know the gesture is nothing but an act, a performance put on for an audience of one. You bite the inside of your cheek, stopping yourself from doing anything rash. 

“I’m not much of a sweets person,” you eventually say, when the torrent of noise in your mind manages to calm down. The kitchen continues to hustle and bustle behind you, providing a subdued background of sound. It’s not enough to drown out your fear. 

“Stay,” Chef Lecter insists. 

“I couldn’t possibly,” you answer. You need to think of something quickly. What could justify your departure? “My clothes…” You break off, motioning down to your dress clothes, which are now stained with Abigail’s blood and who knows what else. This is as good of an excuse as you have, but it just may work. Stained clothing is extremely improper, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this hellish night, it’s that Chef Lecter abhors rudeness. 

It must only be a few seconds of silence before Lecter speaks again, but it feels like an eternity. “Very well,” the chef finally responds. Lecter reaches towards you, his hand frighteningly close to your hip, before he opens the door for you. It feels too good to be true. There’s no way you actually convinced him to let you go, right? 

He’s still holding the door open. This isn’t a trick. As you stand in the doorway, you briefly contemplate staying to rescue the other people. You contemplate fighting back against this chef and his staff. The thought doesn’t last long—not when visages of the guests are conjured up in your mind’s eye—Mr and Mrs. Komeda’s annoyed, impatient expressions, Miss Lounds and Mr. Gray debating the integrity of an ingredient worth more than your very life, Franklyn eating while blood splatters, the researchers amicably discussing the lives of their patients over the very depiction of the chef’s own trauma, Mason Verger gazing at his sister predatorily. None of these people are worth saving. 

“Thank you for the meal,” you murmur to Lecter. Somehow, it feels like the appropriate thing to say. It must be a good choice, because a small smile appears on the chef’s face. It’s a fleeting gesture, but it almost looks genuine. 

“I hope to see you here again soon,” Lecter says. You don’t acknowledge that remark, instead turning on your heel and walking away. The chef’s ensuing laughter follows you and echoes in your ears, even as you board the ship and sail back to the mainland.

©2023, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved.

Character Guide Chef Julian = Hannibal Lecter Margot = Reader Soren, Dave, and Bryce, business partners = Frederick Chilton, Bedelia Du Maurier, and Alana Bloom, research partners Lillian Bloom, food critic = Freddie Lounds Tim, Lillian’s editor = James Gray Tyler Ledford = Franklyn Froideveaux Ms. Westervelt, Tyler’s original guest = Tobias Budge Richard and Anne Leibrandt, restaurant regulars = Scott and Cheryl Komeda George Diaz, movie star = Mason Verger George’s personal assistant, Felicity Lynn = Margot Verger Elsa, Chef’s right hand = Abigail Hobbs

Adjusted Menu (Appetizer) Amuse bouche: compressed and pickled cucumber melon, milk snow, and charred lace. (First Course) The Island: plants from around the island, seaweed, raw scallop served on a rock from the island (Second Course) Breadless Bread Plate: no bread, savory accompaniments (Third Course) Memory: house-smoked chicken thigh, served with scissors stabbed in the meat, along with house-made tortillas (Fourth Course) The Mess: pressure-cooked vegetables, roasted filet, potato confit, beef au jus, and bone marrow Franklyn’s Bullshit: undercooked lamb with inedible shallot-leek butter sauce

Justifications At first, I thought Abigail as Elsa was a stretch. Then, I remembered that Abigail helped source the victims for her father, Garret Jacob Hobbs. That led me to conceptualize an older Abigail—one who wasn’t afraid to embrace the cruelty that she witnessed all around her. She is rather similar to Elsa, especially in the sense that she longs for Hannibal’s approval (just as Elsa longs for Julian’s). Just like Elsa, she is delegated to the sidelines—forced to carry out the chef’s every whim without even a moment’s gratitude.

Freddie Lounds as the food critic (Lillian) just makes perfect sense. She would be a perfect food critic—entirely unflinching and brutally honest. The Komedas fit pretty well too, and I wasn’t even aware of their existence until I looked through the Hannibal wiki for characters to substitute. Mrs. Komeda—and her husband, by extension—was a frequent guest at Hannibal’s dinner parties, which bled rather well into her status as a regular at his restaurant.

Since Hannibal’s relatives aren’t exactly alive or easily accessible, I scrapped the whole alcoholic mother bit that Julian had going, and instead just kept the third course as a vague allusion to Hannibal’s childhood. The bit about having the males hunt and the females dine felt misogynistic (and also exclusive of people who aren’t exclusively male/female), especially without the context of Katherine and Julian’s interactions, so I just scrapped it. Now, everyone gets to run from a murderer! Woooo!!

Y’all, I did A LOT of research for this fic… so pls lmk if u enjoyed reading it !!!! <3

TAGLIST (hoped y'all don't mind I'm tagging you in this, but I figured you'd like another Hannibal piece): @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

[doromoni]

A Rivalry Misunderstood | LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x McLaren Driver! Reader

Genre : Angst , Romance

Warning : Toxic! Lando , Possessive! Lando

Summary : You’re the new Golden Rookie of McLaren F1 , a driver loved and accepted by everyone. But Lando may beg to differ.

masterlist

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Quickly passing by every motorhome as you joyfully skip through the paddock , signing merchandise and taking photos with the fans. The Sprint race had just finished — with you getting your first Formula 1 win as a rookie! Well technically, but you were happy either way. Congratulations and pats on the back were constant from your team and even competitors as you made your way towards your own motorhome.

Life as a rookie in formula 1 had its ups and downs , majority of the people around have been supportive. However, oddly enough, you expected the least person to be against you would be your teammate … yet, here we are. You never understood Lando’s dislike towards you , it was so out of the blue and you could not think of anything you could have done to earn his mistrust.

You were always on your best behavior, and you always made an effort to be friendly towards your senior driver. You always made sure that you were cautious and that you didn’t step on any toes.

Busy with your thoughts, you reached your motorhome. So here you are, walking towards your designated driver room. Nearing the hallway of your destination.Head filled with thoughts but at the same time empty, not noticing the built figure as you turned the corner. Both bodies weren't aware of the other person, bumping into each other with a thump.

The person was heavy for sure, a built composed of lean and hard muscles. How would you know? He was currently lying on top of you. You were pressed by his chest, while he was on top of you. Yup … definitely muscled, you can feel it through your fireproofs

" Urghh, watch where you're going " you groaned in pain. Suddenly , you were face to face with the your teammate, Lando Norris.

His face was painted with an expression you cannot understand ... His toned arms were beside your head, trapping you between him and the floor . You stared at your co-driver, his hazelnut brown wavy hair, dark emerald eyes as green as the amazon forest, and a jawline that could rival a sword.

Unconsciously, your hand trailed the bridge of his nose to the soft and plump lower lip that the man possessed.

" What the hell are you doing" Stopping yourself from examining him more, and finally connected the dots. You were pressed on the floor by Lando Norris! The person who hated you and wanted you gone.

Almost automatically, you put your hands on his chest — an effort to push him . But alas, your efforts were null, when he suddenly pinned your hands above your head.

Struggling from his iron grip, and sighing into submission and decided to use your brain rather than brawn. Since trying to force yourself out would do you no good, knowing that he was much stronger than you were.

Having enough of his attitude and his harsh treatment , you realized being nice was never going to work— and that you don’t actually care about what he thought of you. And for the first time with him , you set your foot down and served him the attitude that he served you all the time that you were his teammate.

"I think your male bravado is content now, right? having a girl defenseless and restricted. I suggest letting me go now " you felt his hold on your wrist grow even tighter.

Steeling your front , you stared back into his glare, challenging his piercing glare.

"Why? Do you have somewhere to go? Have more people to suck up to? Don't you think that's low ,even for you?" A dangerous glint in his eyes. And an animosity in his voice that you couldn't decipher. He drew his face closer to yours, you felt his breath on your cheeks , an inch more his lips would touch yours.

Suddenly finding the situation amusing, a chuckle slipped your lips. Your chuckling then turned into laughter, and this stunned Lando, as he stared at your face, still sharing the same breath.

He can’t beat you on track, so he now uses other tactics to up you. Funny.

"Funny, such accusation are done by you , don't you think? Oh that's right its because the team actually prefers me now over you. Now that I’ve actually given them a win... hmm or maybe we all should be like you and bow and cower when max’s car shows in the mirror? “

Of course that wasn’t true, you just wanted to aggravate the English driver more. Once again, you tried prying your hands off his grip.

"Shut the fuck up . You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. " Lando bit back with so much animosity. You were definitely scared now .

Realizing that you are in the middle of a hall way and is still beneath Lando, you once again struggled to push him off.

" You know what, let go of me! I need to go to the debriefing for Pete's sake" You started squiggling trying to move away from under him, when an deep growl vibrated through your ear, causing shivers down your spine and goosebumps littering the nape of your neck.

"Don't.Move" Hearing him swallow and steady his breath, you smirked as you lay still below him and glared into his eyes challenging him further

Lando finally lets go of you as he stood up. Scrambling to your feet and dusting yourself off ; adjusting your driver suit and fixing your hair. You the felt his stare on you.

"What? The hell are you staring at?" With a scowl, you folded your arms and returned his stare with a glare.

"You changed your fireproofs" You looked down at your clothes . Your race suit was half open and your fireproofs were showing.

"What? Even my uniform you've got issues with? Should I also have my uniform exactly like yours instead? " you asked with a sneer as you patted the crease on your pants

"Stop trying to be different from everyone on the team! Fucking mooching on every mechanic . Know. your. fucking. place “ The British driver said scathingly.

Suddenly pissed, you decided to provoke Lando even further. Having enough of his bullshit. You drew your body near his , going on your tippy toes and placing a delicate hand on his chest, slowly dragging your fingernails to draw patterns on his fireproofs, feeling him tense under my touch. Fuck it! You were already a slut in his eyes anyway.

Slowly moving your lips to his jaw then towards his ear and whispered

"Does that make you angry, hmm, Lando? little ol me taking your precious spotlight? People adoring me instead of you. “ You tutted , making sure your voice held rotting sweetness

“All eyes on me. Does that make your blood boil? You getting nothing while I have everything, Lando?" Adding emphasis on his name, you gently moved your hand towards his hair and pulled.

Feeling Lando freeze and grow rigid from your touch you chuckled, you were about to move away, when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and suddenly pinning you against the wall with force.

" Don't fucking test me princess. Your playing a dangerous game. No one will look at you, I'll make sure of that.... Don’t prance around trying to win everyone to your side, you’re only mine to look at “ His lips ghosting the shell of your earlobe as he pulled you into his embrace even tighter.

Your breath hitched when you felt his teeth nip your ear. His lips traveled down your jaw to your neck, harshly biting the skin he traveled. He licked the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sucking and lapping his tongue over the bite. He let out a moan while you whimpered.

" Baby? I Never knew you could taste this good" Speechless , you stared at him as he licked his lips, your mind trying to gather any thought it could process.

"Win all the races you want, I don’t care. But don’t fucking flirt with anyone … and I don’t care if he’s your engineer. " With a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on your waist , Lando was gone

You stood shocked, heart pounding, in the deserted hallway,trying to piece everything that just happened.