#hannibal lecter blurbs

[calummss]

Mads Mikkelsen Headcanon: Dating A Younger Woman Would Include

masterlist

the age gap i'm thinking of is 20-35 years, so if it makes you uncomfortable do not read!

you would probably meet randomly at a park, both of you walking alone and bumping into each other

let’s add the cliché where one of you is holding a cup of coffee and it goes everywhere, staining the two of you

instead of glares or words of anger, you both chuckle at each other and laugh, apologising with grins on your face

he offers you some money for new clothes but you deny

you start to talk and realise similar interest and it all kind of comes naturally

both of you had intentions of frienly acquaintances but slowly evolved into friends that went out for dinner or drink every couple of months

i feel like you would be the first to fall for him

you knew that he was significantly older than you but your heart saw right past that

mads never brought up the topic because he thought it would be weird and didn’t want to destroy the newly friendship

but one day you were bold enough to ask him if he thought of you more as a friend

he stumbled over his words a few times but ultimately admitted his affection for you

you kissed him to let him know you felt the same way

secretly knowing that mads was an actor, you approached the relationship carefully, always making sure that you were alone or not as seen to avoid paparazzi

which did not work because 5 months into the relationship a famous paparazzi released the pictures because he knew the age difference would cause a scandal

and you were right

newsites, twitter, every social media app was talking about it; his fans especially where halved. some backing up the relationship, others not

the two of you pulled away even more and stayed in his home in denmark

your parents contacted you after seeing you on the internet

they were weirded out who am i kidding?

they met him and talked

realised that you are in love and couldn’t really disagree because you’re both consenting adults but it took them a while to get adjusted

you spent the next couple of months doings various things:

baking (your mother’s blueberry and raspberry chocolate muffins)

walks in the park

snuggling up on the couch watching throwback movies

dancing to songs

your favourite being i wanna be yours by arctic monkey

and your favourite activity was mads bringing you breakfast to bed…

when everything died around your dating scandal, you slowly started to go out into the world again

mads bringing you as a date to an award show where he mentioned you in his winning speech

your relationship faces ups and downs but you know that it was meant to be

[arabellavernierwrites]

patched up. will graham.

summary : after accidentally slicing your hand open in the kitchen , will takes care of you.

word count : 463

warnings : mention of knives , mention of blood , mention of injury (cut from knife) , brief swearing , mentions of pain

a/n : hello everyone !!! thank you so much for how kind and supportive you all are. the fact that anyone reads my writing is such an honor and i’m so appreciative of all of you. i wanted to make something a little short today , an idea that came to me this morning. i adore will graham and would love to write for him more , so if you have any requests , please send them in !!! have an amazing wonderful incredible day , love you guys !!!

dinnertime had rolled around once again.

mid-evening, the last remaining golden glow of the sun before it tucked itself in.

the beginning of the ending of another day.

you and will were in the kitchen.

a soft hum of music circled and spun its way through the air, filling the empty space between you two.

you were chopping vegetables, will was stationed at the stove, carefully stirring the stew.

it was rare for you two to be assuming these roles while cooking.

will was almost always assigned to the chopping. he wasn’t known for his cooking skills.

the vegetables on your cutting board fought against you.

your knife was dangerously dull and you knew that. you had been meaning to take them in to get them sharpened for weeks, but the shop was far and you hadn’t had the time in your schedule.

“how’s it going over here?” will asked, stepping beside you, wrapping a hand around your waist.

you looked up at his smiling face, “good”.

whatever solanaceous veggie you were cutting had slipped out of your grip. the blade of the knife fell, slicing your palm.

“shit,” you dropped it, an angry puddle of blood weeping from your slashed skin.

“here,” will grasped your wrist hurriedly, guiding your hand under the faucet as he flicked it on, “are you okay?”

you nodded, the pain was uncomfortable but the vulnerability was worse.

“i’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt,” you lied.

will studied human behavior for a living, he knew you were fibbing.

he placed a soft kiss on the side of your head, “we’ll clean this and then get you patched up, okay?”

“okay,” you tried to smile, wanting to pull away from him and handle it all yourself.

once the blood stopped spilling from your torn skin, will dried it off, pulling you into a chair at the kitchen table.

he sat beside you, pulling you closer so your knees were pressed against the inside of his thighs.

“does it still hurt?” he asked, smearing ointment across your wound.

you dropped your head, “yes”.

he set small sheets of gauze on your palm, gently pressing them down. you winced at the pressure.

“i’m sorry,” he brought your knuckles to his lips, a tender kiss deepening his apology.

his movements were thoughtful and slow, different from how he was understood to be by most people.

will wrapped the elastic roll around your hand, holding all of his work in place.

he taped it up, mindful of your pain, but keeping the cloth secure, “done”.

“thank you,” you placed your good hand on his hip, patting it lightly.

“of course,” he smiled, his big, round eyes pulling you in.

you leaned forward, a gentle, appreciative kiss for the boy you loved the most.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

⚔️ with Hannigram ? Pretty please ?

Omg yessss of course this is perfect! ❤️❤️❤️

———

It was strange at first, seeing him on the other side of the glass. Then it hit you that you could only look, but not touch him, and it was utterly heartbreaking.

Will took your hand, sharing your anguish. Hannibal seemed to be holding onto the last thread of his composure, but you knew how to read his face too well not to see your turmoil mirrored.

Alana and Frederick had mercifully left the three of you alone, but you were sure they'd be listening to everything in the latter's office. At that moment, though, it was the least of your worries.

"Oh, Hannibal..." was all you could say, your voice low. You feared it would waver if you spoke any higher than a whisper.

"It's good to see you two," Hannibal said after clearing his throat. "I'm so glad they let you visit."

You approached the glass slowly, watching him do the same. Will hovered nearby, not wanting to stray from your side at all.

"Why did you let them?" You whispered, an edge of fury in your tone.

"I had to," he said simply, not looking away from your eyes, willing you to understand.

"But this!" You gestured around at his cell. "I would've rather you were free, even if we couldn't speak at all."

Will placed a hand on your shoulder. "All he wanted was to be able to see us. You know we can't blame him for that."

"We could've tracked him down after some time had passed," you argued defiantly, your wounded pride making you stubborn. "We could've-"

"It's no use speculating, my love," Hannibal cut you off. "Everything has its price, and this was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make."

After trying to swallow the bitterness in your throat, you placed your hands on the glass. "I feel as though a whole world is between us. It kills me to know I can't do anything to help."

"I don’t think you understand," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing can hold us apart. Not this cell, not time, nor anyone else's verdict. As long as we continue to choose each other, then it shall be so. I simply preferred not to torture myself with your absence."

Will pulled you into his embrace as your shoulders started shaking. He placed his hand on the glass too, his other arm wrapped around you.

Hannibal returned the gesture, his sad little smile making your heart soften towards him once more. It wasn't him you were mad at, not really. But perhaps there were better ways to channel that anger, into something more productive.

"We'll find a way, I know we will. But in the meantime... It's good to know you're here," you said with a watery smile.

"It's why I did it," he said. "So you would always know."

-----

[m4r5h4ll]

religious hannigram where Hannibal is a deity and will is a devout worshipper. kinda follows along the lines of that little story where the true love of a statue touched it and it comes to life, yeah. that, but hannigram and religious ties as will as a devout worshipper on his knees kissing the knuckles of the statue of his god before him, the god of the hunt and feasting(like the white stag hircine from skyrim), for the first time. only for the stone hand to turn soft and caress his face, running His thumb over the dark but soft facial hair and features of his most loyal follower.

the one who called His name during pleasure and panic. the man who called His name with his spine arched and pleasure rocking his body. as well as the very same man who cried and begged His name after he spilled the first blood he ever had poured onto the marble, killing a fellow worshipper, leaving the man’s daughter, abigail, to try and find Hannibal’s light herself.

Hannibal’s hand caressed his will’s face. Hannibal had chosen this man, as to why he calls out his name during his most vulnerable. Placing the seed to sprout in will’s mind that Hannibal is all he needs. That single hand is soon joined by another on the opposite side of his face.

could will’s eyes deceive him? was this his god before him? living and touching him? did he deserve this treatment from Him? Was he worthy? Apparently enough for his god to run His thumbs over his cheeks and jawline, His hands slipping behind his ears and grasping a fistful of will’s unkempt and shaggy hair, yanking it back to force him to look up at Him.

the way will would grunt softly as Hannibal pulled his hair to force him to look up. He leans in and licks a stripe across will’s face. no words were needed. will was all He wanted and more. he was the most exquisite flavour to ever touch Hannibal’s palette in centuries. He wanted him all to Himself. His hands let go and rub the base of his skull before trailing His hands back to their previous placement. Hannibal’s hands would leave will’s face only to return to the same position as they were before, set in stone.

to others, will was deep in prayer.

to will, his god had chosen him, marked him as His. will felt the blanket of comfort he sought for years finally rest over his shoulders and protect him from any other outside forced that wanted to oppose His mortal.

[slash-me-please]

Hannibal Lecter x Reader Blurb

His hand found the inside of your thighs easily, legs parting almost instinctively against the rough touch of the detective above you. The pads of his fingers grazed against the soft skin in between your legs, then his eyes closed and he breathed in a deep breath. You knew what you were doing was wrong, eyes trained on the white button up he was wearing. It was stained with blood, whose blood? Your heart was pounding against your chest, your own blood rushing to your head and making you dizzy.

“You killed them?” You whispered, knuckles turning white as your nails dug into the wooden chair beneath you. His silence rang through your body, though you could not stop how your hips cant forwards against the length of his fingers.

“Oh…?” He mumbles, but you know he wasn’t surprised at your efforts.

Still you cannot make eye contact with the man, but he begins to pull at your lace underwear- it’s moved to the side easily. You gasp a sharp breath in, the wood in your hands creaks slightly but you’re only strong enough to hurt yourself.

A needy whine bubbles up the column of your throat, and you rock against his hand when his fingers push inside of your hole. You know he’s watching you intently but you can’t pull your eyes from his arms. He leans forwards and his fingers reach deep inside, and he seems to know exactly what that does to you. There’s absolutely nothing romantic about the situation you’re in, you think, adverting your gaze from the blood pooling on his dining room floor. But still, there’s something about him in particular.

“I killed them all.” Somehow you know he’s not just talking about the people that invaded his home, but you still shudder with a twisted delight and meet your end to his hand.

[literalite]

character/story influences tag

rules: write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your story and/or OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe

thanks for the tag @tricoufamily :DD i am tagging @gunthermunch @lucidicer @itsmariejanel @orphyd @goldenwaves this is FUN u should do it. thank u

medias/characters meet me in the woods: man in the dark (paul auster), orlando (virginia woolf), lord huron's entire discography, specifically meet me in the woods and the ghost on the shore, the godfather 1972 (barely), age of adaline 2015, the old guard 2020, this specific cc cross, and reading homer's the iliad in my final year of high school. somehow don't go where i can't follow: the raven cycle (maggie stiefvater), his dark materials (philip pullman), adventure time 2010-2018, mitski’s bury me at makeout creek album, next of kin by alvvays, bite the hand by boygenius, matilda (roald dahl) (jokingly), horrible no good homoerotic teenage friendships, the chosen one trope, and this post by tumblr user @/louisegluckpdf. also my life which explains why the aesthetic is completely disjointed RIP violent affairs (with @lucidicer): nbc hannibal, bones and all 2022, arachnids, ethel cain’s preacher's daughter, sir chloe’s i am the dog album, mine and olli's deranged combined mental energies mutually focusing on t4t cannibalism  vinny reign: matt murdock (netflix daredevil), joel miller (tlou), the fallen angel painting by alexandre cabanel, caravaggio paintings, catholic guilt, arsonist’s lullabye by hozier caleb vatore: those italian twinks that renaissance artists kept referencing to paint religious figures, dorian gray, orlando, timothee chalamet (LMAO), the reveal that the noo don’t kill yourself you’re so sexy guy is a twink [redacted] morrow: gojo satoru, howl pendragon (studio ghibli), jay gatsby, kageyama shigeo and also a bit of reigen arataka (mp100), ronan lynch and gansey (the raven cycle), eden's entire discography, birdcage by novo amor, mercy by sir chloe, myself ophelia griffin: ophelia painting by john everett millais, blue sargent (the raven cycle), clairo, phoebe bridger's discography, strawberry blonde and your best american girl by mitski, clairo’s immunity album, the first crush i ever had manny pluto: yotasuke takahashi (blue period), tbh a lot of blue period in general, alhaitham (genshin impact), adam parrish (the raven cycle), a hint of geto suguru, working for the knife by mitski nayef al karim: spiders, abel AND cain, julian slowik (the menu 2022), hannibal lecter (yes obvious i know but moreso the focus on fine dining as opposed to the psychology), stewy hosseini (succession), inbred by ethel cain

[sourweather-fics]

I'm Gonna Talk About AO3 Fic Summaries For a Minute:

I'm saying this with all the love in my heart and I'm saying it to hopefully help some fellow fic writers:

If your fics have a tendency to flop, especially if the ship is popular enough that multiple fics get posted a day, there's a possibility that you may just not be good at writing summaries.

And I get it! Writing summaries is the WORST! I just wrote the whole fic, now you're telling me I gotta write it again but in a short way? Well yes! Because the summary is the part people are actually looking at to decide whether or not to click on your fic. For a lot of (I would even say Most) people, tags are usually not enough unless the tag happens to be their super niche fixation.

The good news is that writing a fic summary is not actually hard. The better news is that the best summaries are short! I feel like the expected comparison would be that you want it to look like the blurb on the back of a book, but I'm gonna take it a step further and say you actually want it to look like an elevator pitch for a book, which is to say, like 3 sentences. You only need a paragraph.

There are a lot of great articles online on how to write an elevator pitch, and I genuinely think a lot of what you'll find in them applies to a good Fic Summary, but let me give you an idea of the pattern I'm most fond of. It's something like:

"X is Y. But when Z occurs, X becomes A."

1: establish the existing circumstances. Give us an idea of something that is true at the beginning of your story

2: introduce the inciting action. What causes the existing circumstances to shift.

3: hint at how characters might react to the inciting action. It depends on the story you're telling how much you'll want to give away here, but you can be vague if you want, just give us an idea.

Some examples of the summaries for a few of my fics so you can see how I apply the formula:

"The first time you make eye contact with your soul mate, you see a vision of their greatest accomplishment. They call it your Peak. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his soul mate's Peak is a vision of blood and horror. Fortunately for Hannibal Lecter, his soul mate's is too."

-this is the summary for my most read fic. Four sentences, in and out. As you can see, it adheres to the formula pretty exactly. The first two sentences establish the conceit of the au and tell us what world we're in, the other two sentences tell us both what the inciting action is and how both romantic leads will (at least initially) respond to it.

"Will and Bev have a game they like to play. They go to bars and see who can get the most phone numbers from strangers. One night, he meets a very interesting stranger. Is he safe falling hard and fast for Hannibal Lecter, or is the mysterious man making his way into Will's heart hiding something much more sinister beneath the surface?"

-this one was a lot tougher to summarize, because the hook of this fic is actually that it leans really hard into the idea that the reader knows Hannibal is a serial killer but Will doesn't. But I wanted to make it clear that it was also an Alternate First Meeting AU, so I eventually arrived at this 4-sentence summary that might not be perfect but still gets the job done. Also, including it here allows me to talk about my trick of ending the summary with a question. It's a little bit cheesy, but sometimes that's what I'm going for. It's very "will Vanessa stay with Roberto or leave him for Sebastian? Tune in Monday night to find out!" In a way that I think is kind of cute and fun.

"Will is both embarrassed and intrigued when he finds himself drawn to a collar at the pet store. When Hannibal finds out by mistake, it escalates into some very ethically questionable therapy"

-included this one just to show that the formula can work for smut, too. This one's only 2 sentences but it tells you everything you need to know

Okay one last thing I want to address before I leave this way-too-long post, and thats the inclusion of quotes from the fic in your summary. I don't personally do this very often, but I totally think it can get people to click if you use it correctly. In fact there have definitely been some fics that I might've scrolled past, but their voices for the characters were just too perfect. The keys to using quotes in your summary, in my opinion, are:

-Stick to sections that are mainly dialogue. If your voice for your characters is good, that's a selling point. Show that off.

-Make the selection relevant to your pitch. Use quotes that relate back to the inciting action.

-include a Summary after/before your quote. The quote alone is not enough. Even if it's just one sentence, sum up the hook in your summary.

-keep it brief! Only give us what we need to know we wanna click the link!

Okay that's all I got for now but I hope this is helpful to someone out there maybe 💖 good luck, writing summaries is annoying but you gotta do it.

[genderlesslady]

GENIUS DUO. (meeting blurb)

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid and Will Graham meet when Will gets to finally be a real agent after catching Hannibal Lecter, and Spencer is back from jail and could come back to work.

It was a rainy autumn morning, Will Graham went over the case by himself after he heard the briefing. The unit chief, Emily Prentiss and the rest of the team welcomed the star agent warmly. They asked a little about 'Hannibal The Cannibal', but fortunately unbearably much. Graham had a scar on his face and stomach, and also on his shoulder. He was all scars, thanks to his former psychiatrist. He should visit him soon, he thought, when the door opened roughly.

"SPENCER" they all said, and went over to him. Will cocked up an eyebrow, and looked up at Spencer's standing form, as the others were very happy to see him finally back. Dr. Spencer Reid looked rough too. His hair was longish, wavy and messy, but he still had a suit on. He was damn hot. The rest of the team was too, but he was over the top.

"Is this the agent that took my place?" Spencer asked, his tone filled with mockery as he pointed at Will. He scoffed at this.

"He didn't come to replace you. He was a professor for many years, but now he decided to come and work with us in the BAU." Emily said, and Will nodded, with a small smirk.

"That's right. After catching Hannibal, I'm going to keep riding my high. I'm not going to finish with stopping the evil." Graham shrugged, and Spencer was a bit in awe, and parted his lips slightly. His innocent, nerdy appearance shined through for a mere second.

"Will Graham.." He smiled, and it was obvious that he respected him now. "Welcome to the team."

[the-idle-woman]

Excited to announce the start of a new fic over on A03: Ghosts in the Rose Garden - the sequel to Black Wings at Midnight. I’ll be posting it as I write it, so I’m afraid this one will take longer to go live!

If you do pop over to read it, do leave a comment to say hi, and consider subscribing, as updating is liable to be irregular…

Here’s the blurb:

It’s autumn 1945 and, despite his best efforts, Will Graham is still alive - and taking it personally. To make matters worse, his fate is now entwined with that of Hannibal Lecter: aristocrat and murderer, former fighter ace and society psychiatrist, and now Britain’s most notorious escaped criminal. As they negotiate the boundaries of their new lives on the run, Will realises that Hannibal’s company comes with its own dangers. For Hannibal Lecter had a life before he came to London, and it casts a long shadow. On a remote estate in Tuscany, an old adversary has spent twenty years waiting for revenge. As Hannibal plots to clear his name, a game of cat and mouse unfurls across two continents, in which - it turns out - no one can be trusted.

[zoanzon]

Lol technically I finished this a whole week ago, I'm just bad about uploading these on time. All the same, now I finally get to climb on my soapbox and bitch~

Just covering it from the get-go: if I'm reading a history book and there's no citations of any kind, be it footnote or endnote, I want to eat that author's face. I can't help it, this is a bone- deep urge: if you publish a history book and I don't know how to follow up on any particular sentence or paragraph or even page, I'm mentally going Hannibal Lecter on you.

Norman Cantor, get in my fucking stomach.

In Wake of the Plague was overall rather interesting (part of what infuriates me more when I can't follow up on material I liked). It looked at the context of the population boom that led up to the Black Plague, raised a theory (ft. evidence) on how said boom helped prime the plague to be as bad as it was, covered how much of a shitshow inheritance law was when ~30% of the population is dropping dead, pointed out how the Black Plague was accidentally responsible for the War of the Roses a generation or three later...it was all rather interesting.

Cantor did ramble a bit more than I'd have liked -- he maybe could've done with subheadings in his chapters -- and the last chapter 'Serpents and Cosmic Dust' was a bit too pseudoscience for my taste. I will give him the caveat that he wasn't obviously into it and was just... more accommodating to listing research/believed-causes on the Black Plague with a neutral tone than I'd have taken. ('Viruses are caused by dust falling to earth from comets', like holy shit lol)

Otherwise, the most bewildering part of this book was...I've seen books have critical bibliographies before. (Essentially, the author(s) grouping works into categories if you want to follow up on specific content, usually with an opinion-blurb on each work.) This book is the only book I've ever encountered that had a critical bibliography...but not a general bibliography? Like, normally if you have an 'academic' book that doesn't use in-text citations, you at least have the general bibliography so you know what works were drawn from, when if you don't know what work in the bibliography accounts for any particular paragraph of material.

This book... just didn't give a general bibliography? Presumably some if not all the books in the critical bibliography were ones Cantor drew from writing this book, but...yeah, this really threw me off.

Like... this man was apparently one of the most widely-read authors of medieval times? So the fact he just... doesn't cite anything, in this book at least...yeah. Kinda...fucking annoying, that. I don't care if a book is a layman-oriented coffeetable ornament, it should have citations goddammit.

Anyways, rant over.

Books finished in 2024 so far: 003

[storiesforallfandoms]

fic recommendations part two

I did not realize how many fics I had saved for this part two list until I went back looking through my likes posts. So, I figured it’s time for a fic recommendations part two list!

Note: any imagines marked with * are smutty imagines!

obedience ~ hannibal lecter by @inktelepath

the bookshop ~ thomas shelby by @imagine-t-h-a-ttt

gangster’s wife ~ thomas shelby by @lotsoffandomimagines

not now kitten ~ henry cavill* by @littlefreya

was it necessary? ~ machine gun kelly by @groovyzombiellama

as if nothing happened ~ machine gun kelly by @livingmybestfictionallife

unspoken words and read messages ~ corpse husband by @star-gaz3rs

common room ~ draco malfoy* by @draocmalfoy

addicted ~ harry styles* by @for-fucks-sake-h

dirty henry ~ henry cavill* by @littlefreya

pumpkin lights ~ matthew gray gubler by @mgg-mybeloved

thomas shelby x female!reader fic by @thepeakygurl

babe ~ beck oliver by @a-second-hand-sorrow

cabin fever ~ aaron tveit* by @aarontveitfic

wake up call ~ aaron tveit* by @aarontveitfic

[calummss]

It Runs In The Family | Hannibal Lecter

masterlist

summary: not only is there a secret that you and hannibal are keeping from the fbi, but a secret that you’ve been keeping from him

pairing: stepfather! hannibal lecter x fem! reader

words: 3.3k

a/n: this is hannibal so you know the tw’s, also includes description of murder, inc3st to an extent (just dabbles in), and well everything else

also this is my first time tapping into genres like this and i love it. i really love this piece and hopefully so do you!

The smell of eggs, bacon, and sausages filled your nose as they swept past your nose hairs alerting your brain that it was time for breakfast.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day is what all doctors said, including your father, well stepfather. It was the hardest meal for you to get down though. Not because the food wasn’t delectable or filling, but because of other reasons you couldn’t disclose and be open about.

‘Y/n darling, breakfast is ready.’ You heard your stepfather shout from downstairs, hearing the plates make contact with the wooden table that often had company of other aristocratic guests that were in awe of his dinner parties.

His voice left a familiar trail of tension down your every body hair, a feeling that was indescribable but you knew that it wasn’t an acceptable feeling to have, more of an ashamed guilt-tripping spark that ignited and was unable to be put out no matter how hard you tried.

Next to you on your dark wooden bedside table stood a picture, taken last year in October when you visited Germany. In the pictures you stood next to Hannibal and your mother. She died shortly after you returned back to Baltimore. The cancer had reached stage 4 and there was nothing you nor him could’ve done to prevent it. And though she left, he stayed. You weren’t his blood, his offspring, pretty much anything to him, just the child of the woman he loved. Out of his love for your mother he decided to stay and not to abandon you. Of course he loved you as a daughter too, but it was rare seeing people like him care so much about circumstances like yours. He stayed for you, cared for you, loved you like his own, which may have contributed to this confusing solicitude.

You pulled back your warm bed covers exposing your feet and pink cotton pyjamas that you were given by Hannibal last Christmas, and lifted yourself up to get yourself in order before descending down the stairs.

Hair; brushed, Contacts; put in, your heels on the stairs, making contact with the carpet that covered them and led straight through the hall where it ended abruptly in front of the doorway your father was walking past the opening to plate the last few items.

It was no secret that Hannibal was a perfectionist, especially when it came to his culinary arts he indulged in every day, something people would call an addiction if it wasn’t cooking.

Entering the room a large glossy table stood in the middle of the room, one side facing the wall with plants sitting inside stone pots attached to the material. The front was drowning in the rays of sunlight as they pierced through the window and curtains, sprawling across the table, leaving a nice warm tint on the brown surface. The white plates sat on the opposite side, a helping of Hannibal’s favourite morning protein scramble that included sausages, with a side of raw veggies so it wouldn’t be too unhealthy and oily.

‘Sit down,’ Hannibal entered the room. His left hand carrying a jug of orange juice you know he freshly squeezed moments before re-entering the room again. ‘It’s still hot.’

You did as he said and sat down in front of your plate. The smell now increasing as you sat before it. A seductive smell manipulating your senses.

Hannibal sat down, pouring some of the juice into your glass. He pulled his chair towards him, sitting down before grabbing his napkin and swiftly laying it across his lap, careful not to ruin the expensive Brioni suit that cost more than most people’s cars.

He nodded his head, signaling you to dig into your food.

Your knife and fork found themselves in your hands, piercing through the soft consistency of egg and sausage, making sure to have both on one fork before placing it in your mouth.

‘What are your plans for today?’ Your father asked, a piece of cucumber entering past his soft-looking lips.

You took a sip of water before answering, your hands under the table, the nervous playing of your hands too ashamed to be seen.

‘I’m going to see Dr. Heilenbroch, and maybe see Alina afterwards.’

He smiled in response. Something he often did.

‘Father,’ you cleared your throat, nervous the piece of food might get stuck as soon as the question you wanted to ask left your lips. ‘Why did you never leave after my mother died?’ You played with the eggs on your plate, unable to maintain eye contact or any contact at all. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for months yet always too cautious to ask such a controversial question.

Hannibal took his time chewing his food.

‘Because you’re just as much my family?’ He raised his eyebrow slightly, ‘Did you think that I would abandon my parental figure just because we share no DNA and our mutual connection passed?’

‘I guess.’ You shrugged your shoulders, continuing to eat.

Hannibal’s gaze stayed upon you, not sure if his answer was good enough. ‘Eat your breakfast.’ He smiled, trying to maintain a comfortable silence. ‘You’ll be late to your appointment with Dr. Heilenbroch. Those are fresh sausages.’ He pointed at your plate, ‘from last night's catch.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Gabriel Lousdy.’

Placing another heap full into your mouth, you could taste his ego, mellow yet slightly pungent, melting into your tastebuds with every bite you took. It paired nicely with the eggs.

Hannibal’s eyes softly sat upon your frame, loving and endearing eyes on the younger version of his love. A reminder that he had found his life partner and was left with a great responsibility. He always wanted a child, someone he could share and talk to about his practice—well passion. A passion that was too complex for ordinary people to understand, yet you did. You understood.

‘You have to be careful not to get caught.’ A tone of worry rolled off your tongue.

‘I don’t care.’ Hannibal said but caught himself again. ‘Well, I would be lying if I dismissed that. I want to be a free man in this free world. I won’t get caught because my manipulation on their minds has wired them into completely looking the other way as the mastermind stands within their reach.’

‘Do you care about me?’ You shoved more food into your mouth.

‘Of course I do.’

‘And how would I believe the word of a psychopath?’ Your eyes sharpened, your tongue pressing against your teeth unconsciously.

‘Because psychopaths can have a select person they genuinely feel feelings of likeness for, or deeply care and bond with. It is rare but possible. For me it was your mother and you.’

You continued to finish breakfast with a pleasant conversation before setting off to your room to get ready for your appointment with your therapist.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

Doctor Heilenbroch sat opposite you like she did in every session. Her pen making rhythmic sounds as it flicked against her notepad, a distraction she craved whenever patients with harder thoughts to detangle came in to see her.

‘We’ll continue from last week's session,’ she said almost monotonously. ‘When you mentioned that you have feelings of fondness towards your stepfather. That is still correct?’

You nodded only enough that she could make it out. Ashamed that someone else but you knew of this.

‘Is there a reason as to why you feel this connection? A certain event that may have sparked this new insight?’

‘N—no,’ you stumbled over your words, not really sure what to say. ‘The day my mother introduced me to him, I already thought he was attractive and well…’ you paused. ‘Thought of him sexually, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, it was always there and I was aware of it. Since my mother’s passing it’s been harder to control the urge to do something with him…yeah.’ Your voice faded into the silence.

‘The urge to do something?’ She repeated your words but as a question.

‘Yes.’

‘What urges would that be?’ Just as monotone as before.

You knew it was her job, but bringing a smile into the conversation wouldn’t be that bad.

‘Kissing him, touching him, being with him closer than I should be.’

‘Are those desires you crave throughout the day?’

‘Of course I do,’ you scoffed, ‘I literally just told you? Don’t you listen?’ You rolled your eyes. You tried to keep it under control, she was just doing her job and you were just another fucked up patient who Doctor Heilenbroch, detached from her profession judged.

‘Y/n, I know this is hard for you and I understand your frustration with the whole situation, I mean this isn’t easy. The one person you truly care for is your own father, even if it isn’t by blood. There is still a huge power shift in the dynamic. He could be using it to his advantage. And as you told me,’ she flipped through her notes, ‘he’s a psychiatrist just like me, it’s most likely that he knows of those feelings but chooses to ignore them.’

‘What if he doesn’t know?’ You met her eyes only for the second time since you entered the room.

‘He thinks that all the taking care and being nice to you is nothing more but protecting his wife’s daughter.’

‘And what would happen if I did something with him, Doctor?’

‘Then one of you would go to jail.’ Dr. Heilenbroch said calmly. ‘Are you planning on doing something, Y/n?’

‘Of course not.’ Your back relaxed into the seat, the cushions pressing into your back comfortably. ‘As much as I want to do it, Doctor, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to put myself or him into prison.’

‘That’s a good start to the problem you have. A stable one too. Only a person who knows how hurtful it can be to pursue those relationships can make out the big picture at the end. You’ve done a great job at painting it.’

You smiled awkwardly, not really knowing what type of reaction she was looking for.

‘That’s all we have time for today. Let’s put a period at today’s session and continue in our next appointment that will be next Thursday at 2:45 pm.’ She placed her things on the coffee table before standing up and writing down the details for the next appointment.

You stood up quite fast and walked out of the office with heavy but fast paced footsteps, making your way to Alina’s house.

Would you ruin the relationship you had with Hannibal? Do you want to ruin it? Is this what Hannibal was thinking too? Did he too feel a connection? Or was it just you? Who mistaked clear father-daughter-affection for something more?

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

‘How was your session?’ Alina asked, walking beside you as you both walked towards your house, wanting to spend time there rather than at her house which was filled with constant noise of the twin brothers that just turned eight years of age.

‘Good.’

Alina’s hands gently made contact with your finger before intertwining your hands, swinging them back and forth, almost skipping in excitement seeing her friend after weeks since school ended.

‘Alina,’ you trailed on, sceptical if this was the right approach to tell her your secret. Especially when you were only two minutes away from your house. ‘There’s something I want to tell you but I’m afraid you’ll see me differently…’

‘Y/n,’ she looked at with a serious yet grin on her face. ‘Nothing you’ll tell me will ever make me think of you differently! You’re my best friend and I’ll stand by you no matter what.’

You approached your house and climbed up the stone steps. Every step made you more nervous than the last one. You swore you could feel a cold sweat droplet rolling down the side of your face as soon as you tried to open your mouth and say the same words you said to Doctor Heilenbroch two weeks ago.

‘I—Well—I’m not quite sure I—‘

‘Just say it, Y/n!’ Alina turned your body so that you were now directly facing each other. Eye to eye. Chest to chest.

‘I’m—‘ You paused for a moment, collecting yourself before weakening yourself with the information you were going to put out. ‘I’m in love with my father…’

Alina stayed quiet. Her eyes wide with shock, her lips slightly apart, her face stiff. Her hands that she placed on your shoulders moments before you said those words, slid off your body, loosely hanging next to her sides as she stayed silent.

Your eyes shook, your breath hitched when you realised that her reaction was not what you expected. ‘Alina?’ You whispered. ‘Say something please.’ An almost whiny tone came past your lips.

‘Y/n, what is wrong with you?’ She pulled her eyebrows together, her words now sharp and judgemental.

‘What—What do you mean?’

‘You’re in love with your father?’ She took a step back. ‘That’s fucking disgusting. You thought I would accept that?’

‘You’re my best friend!’

‘Best friends don’t have to agree with everything?’ Alina said loudly, scanning the environment to see if someone was listening in to their conversation.

‘But—‘

‘No buts, Y/n.’

The betrayal of your best friend stirred something inside of you. With every second a glooming ball of anger grew inside of you. A sort of rage you had never experienced before but your intentions of what you wanted to do were clear.

Were you like your father? No? Yes? Maybe? You wanted to give her to him, to show Hannibal how much you loved him, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

You slipped your hand into the right pocket of your padded jacket and pulled out a knife you carried around for protection. You placed it against her abdomen, covering the sight with your body as you leaned towards her ear.

‘You’re going to stay silent and walk into my house,’ you narrowed your eyes at her. ‘If you don’t,’ you paused, ‘you’ll come to find out how painful wounds to the stomach are.’

Alina’s eyes reflecting betrayal, nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

You grabbed your keys from the other pocket and unlocked the door, ushering Alina inside, the knife pressed towards the small of her back as she placed foot after foot into the hallway before you closed and locked the front door letting a mildly loud bang erupt.

‘Y/n, is that you?’ You heard Hannibal’s voice through your clouded thoughts, him moments later standing in front of you, a weird look painted on his face as his eyes darted to you and then towards Alina. Repeating the movement a few times before his eyes rested upon you.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked, his gorgeous face visible in the hallway light, his stance sexy as ever, your eyes full of lust as you stood next to Alina who still had the knife against her back.

‘Don’t move or I’ll fucking kill you, whore.’ You whispered the threat into her ear before carefully placing each step after another, moving towards Hannibal slowly. Slowly enough to rethink the action you were going to take.

Once you stood before him, you lifted yourself off the ground with your toes and grabbed Hannibal by the sides of his face. His hard stubble made contact with your soft skin as you pulled his face towards yours, your lips crashing against his.

His lips soft as butter melting into yours. A feeling of new developed love took over your body like a fever, engulfed in what seemed a daydream but was reality.

Hannibal kissed back only for a second, momentarily lost in the kiss before pushing himself off of you making you stumble a bit.

‘Y/n, why did you do that?’ His stern voice said as you glanced back at Alina to make sure she was still present, her face a mix of disgust and fright.

‘You said you loved me.’ You looked up at him through your eyelashes, a trick that worked on a few guys at school. ‘Did you lie?’ Your tone more reproachful.

‘Of course I do, but not like this.’

But Hannibal’s words were not convincing. It seemed like he too was fighting the urge to pull you back into his arms. Lips craving the touch of yours, his hands wanting to roam every inch of your body.

‘I brought you her.’ You said to him, not being bothered to look back at Alina since it was obvious who you were talking about. ‘Meat that belongs to my best friend, well not anymore because she lied about always supporting me.’ You glared.

You stepped back towards her figure, taking a step behind her, dragging the knife against her cheek, cutting it, your finger collecting a drop of blood you licked off your finger before collecting another one and walking back to him.

‘She’s sweet.’ You half smiled and smirked, brushing your finger against his lips, letting the blood coat his lips.

‘You’re insane!’ Alina’s high-pitched yell made you spin around on your heels.

‘Oh shut up, Alina.’ You moaned. ‘Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?’

Alina started to sprint towards the doors that were connected to other rooms but found that they were all locked. No escape out of this place. Her hands balled up against the wooden doors, screaming, crying, losing hope all at once; a beautiful sight both you and Hannibal couldn’t deny.

‘Alina,’ you whispered endearingly, your eyes softening, putting away the knife as Hannibal watched you from the place his feet hadn’t left since you walked through the front door. ‘I’m sorry.’ A tear slipped through your lashes.

Alina backed up into a corner. Her lips quivering in fear as you approached her slowly. ‘Stay away from me you freak!’

‘It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.’

She closed her eyes and faced away from your presence.

‘I promise I won’t hurt you—too much.’ And you plunged the knife into her heart.

Your smiley eyes staring into her rounded eyes. One smirking, the other’s wide open. ‘I won’t let any part of you go to waste.’

You retrieved the knife back from her chest cavity and watched her fall to the ground where she sat in the corner of the room. Her thick red blood pooling beneath her, the liquid reflecting you.

‘If you would’ve just accepted me.’ You brushed her hairs behind her ear as life slowly began to leave her eyes. ‘You would’ve met a different fate.’

You stood back up letting the knife fall to the ground before walking back to Hannibal like you had moments ago. Next moment you stood very close to him, your lips briefly touching his but this time you did not move.

‘I bet she’ll make a good Lasagna.’ You moved your lips against his, your blood coated hands grabbing his face one more time.

This time Hannibal was the one that crashed his lips against yours. His flesh melting into yours. The kiss growing hungrier and deeper with every second. The urge to finally do what both of you wanted overpowered you and took over your body.

‘Jump.’ He whispered against your lips, and you did.

He walked towards the bedroom finally removing your clothes like you always dreamed of. The pink lingerie burned into his pupils as lust took over and his big rough hands tore the lacey fabric from your body before indulging in the sweetest dessert he would learn to love infinitely. A taste sweeter than any human flesh he had ever tasted before.

[arabellavernierwrites]

i chose you. will graham.

summary : will graham had felt himself slipping away for months. after a particularly grisly nightmare, he finds himself being comforted by his partner who can’t help but reassure him. (can be read as gn!reader)

word count : 944

warnings : nightmares , anxiety , panic attacks , unstable mind , insecurities , fear of hurting others

a/n : hello everyone ! it’s been a while. truthfully , i had been having a bit of a rough time. i apologize for the leave , but i want you all to know that i have received your requests , they are in my ask box and i will be getting around to them ! thank you so much for all of the love and support you all continue to show me. i truly am so appreciative of it and find it motivates me to write even more. that being said , this is my first hannibal fic ! i would love to write more for it , so please let me know if you all would be interested in that. and please send in requests !!! i want to write for you ! i hope you like the story. thank you all again for the support. have an amazing wonderful incredible day ! love you all !

it was a cold, rainy wednesday night.

it wasn’t rare for the weather in virginia to be like this. sprinkles, drizzles, downpour. it was all the same to you.

you glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. its electronic glow read 8:53 p.m. it was still early in the night. you and your partner, will, hit the hay early this evening. will had sipped on a small glass of whiskey before declaring himself drowsy enough to go get in bed.

you had followed him up the stairs, a small army of dogs on your heels as you trudged up the wooden steps.

“i think i’m gonna read,” you announced, tossing the sheets aside.

“oh yeah?” will smiled gently, “your new one?”

“yeah, i’ve got just over 60 pages left and i want to get it done before friday,” you adjusted your pillows.

“i’m expecting a review when you finish,” will stepped out of slippers, lying down next to you.

“like i’d ever pass up the opportunity,” you grinned, reaching for your book, “lamp or reading light?”

a timid look settled on will’s face, “lamp. please”.

a few months ago will had started having nightmares. they were grueling, each night a horror film of his most traumatic moments, deepest fears, and haunted past played on a nauseating reel in his mind. since then, will had liked to keep the bedroom lamp on. he found it comforting to awake from his grisly slumber to a well-lit, familiar place.

“lamp it is,”

will sunk into the mattress beneath him, drifting off to his nightmarish dream world, a place his sleeping figure visited far too often. once you heard the soft, steadying of his breath, you propped yourself up under the covers, resting against the wooden headboard as you began finishing your book.

37 pages or so later, here you were, glancing at the clock that read 8:53.

a small shake of the bed startled you. looking down at the man next to you, you swayed again as his body jolted.

his shirt had seemed to change color in the past half hour as his sweat had drenched the cottony fabric. his breathing had become uneven, sharp and jagged, clawing at the oxygen around him, begging for sweet relief from this panicked suffocation that encased his lungs.

spasming, sweat, hyperventilation. you knew what was coming.

you placed your book down beside you, preparing yourself for the storm of will that was brewing beside you.

his wet shirt clung to him as his shaking turned to convulsions. his arms and legs thrashed around, trying to fight off the dreadful scene that played in his mind.

your heart raced, fearful for him as you reached forward, resting a protective hand on his shoulder.

“will,” you shook him carefully.

the hideous sounds that ripped from his chest frightened you.

“will,” you shook harder, terrified that he was actually going to suffocate himself, “will!”

his body lurched forward, a gasp escaping him so loud it seemed to silence the rest of the world.

he looked like he was being pinned down, the way his body uncomfortably pressed into the bed, an attempt to make himself feel grounded.

escaping from his nightmarish state didn’t appear to help to ease his mind at all. his breathing was still frantic and his eyes shot around wildly.

“sweetheart,” you gently wiped a few strands of wet hair from his forehead, cautious as to not spook him.

he placed a desperate hand on the back of yours, a pool of comfort flooding his chest. your tender touch breaking down the icy walls that trapped his harrowing thoughts.

“will,” he was still trembling, his mental battle still not quite over, “look at me”.

you started pulling away, afraid your physical presence might be overwhelming while he was still so raw. will moved to grip your wrist, pressing your palm back to his cheek.

he breathed deeply, bit by bit, the life returning to his eyes.

“how am i ever supposed to save anyone when i can’t even save myself?” he whispered sullenly.

“i wouldn’t say it’s all your own doing,” you stroked the side of his damp face, “there’s a lot of people that put a lot of pressure on you. people that would rather see you drown trying to help them than allow you to swim to shore”.

“what if i can’t save you?” he met your eyes, his gaze timorous.

“that’s not something you have to worry about,” you reassured him.

“well it is,” he pressed.

“you don’t have to save me, will. i’m okay. i’m here, in this moment, in bed with you,” you offered.

you were met with silence.

he gnawed on his bottom lip as thoughts bounced around his brain.

“what if i can’t save you from myself?” he stressed, his real worry coming to light.

“i don’t need to be saved from you. you’re not holding me captive, i choose to be here. i choose to spend my nights with you, reading books and drinking whiskey and caring for dogs because i love you, will,” you brushed the hair from his forehead, “there’s nothing else i would rather do in this world than be here with you”.

for a moment, the air was still. a blanket of calm had quieted everything except for the pattering of the raindrops that hailed from above.

he rolled over, his face falling into your chest as his shoulders quivered.

“i’m afraid,” he choked out.

“i know you are,” you pulled him flush against your body, massaging your fingers through his hair, “but i’m here for you. i’m always here for you”.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

🔪 with Hannibal ?

Yes yes yessss perfect fit!!

——

You knocked on the door to Hannibal’s office, opening up as you heard his faint voice granting you access.

He sat at his desk, reading something on his ipad. His brow was furrowed in displeasure, his posture tense. He sniffed in that way you’d seen him do when he was furious, nose scrunching slightly in what looked like a snarl.

You stopped by one of the armchairs, unsure if you should approach.

“Bad time to visit?” You asked, sitting down.

He glanced up at you. “Freddie Lounds is up to her usual antics. This new article on Tattle Crime is… particularly scalding.”

“You know she likes to get under your skin,” you said, mouth twisting to one side with distaste. “She knows just which buttons to press.”

“Will and I are certainly her favorite subjects,” he sighed, setting down his tablet. “I have been kind before by warning her, but I’m not sure if I can spare any more kindness.”

“Especially not when she’s been so rude,” you added slowly, your words holding the weight of secret meaning.

He pushed his chair away from his desk and opened his arms in a gesture for you to approach. You got up and stepped into his embrace, his hands settling on your hips.

You cupped his face gently, scanning his features. The planes of his handsome face always seemed more severe when he was disquieted. His eyes were unfathomable, too, so searching them wouldn’t prove very fruitful.

You wondered how many had looked into that flat gaze and lived to tell the tale.

“You look like you want to kill me… or maybe fuck me,” you said, the softness of your voice constrasting your words. You tilted your head to the side in curiosity. “Or maybe even both.”

He let out a slight huff of amusement. “Pain and pleasure war inside me. Pleasure at seeing you, and pain… at the consequences of my being merciful with someone undeserving. Perhaps I should go back to listening to my instincts.”

“And what do your instincts tell you now?”

“That I definitely do not want to kill you right now. Or ever, for that matter. I should always make that abundantly clear.”

You smiled, but raised an eyebrow. “What about the other option?”

“That can definitely be arranged,” he smirked, hands squeezing your hips. “And that’s more than my instincts guiding me.”

———

[godzilla-reads]

[09.13.2020] Ironically, the bleeding heart cakes I made did not come from this cookbook. They came from here. Although, there are lots of recipes I want to try out 🔪🔪👌

[writeshite]

I absolutely love the homelander x therapist smut! Can I request a part two where John wants the reader to top him? Fluffy smut too

One Look And You’re Hypnotized

Summary:

“You’re hot when you’re threatening people,” John murmurs. You sip your drink with a smile, “She’ll be back,” you place your hand on his chest, sliding it beneath the side flap, “In the meantime, why don’t we go see how many orgasms I can fuck out of you.”

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Smut | Fluff | Brief Possessiveness | Praise Kink | Slight Threat Of Violence

Words: 2482

Author's Note:

I will not explain the thought process behind this other than Reader is once again inspired by Hannibal Lecter (excluding the cannibalism). Do I know where this went? No. But did I enjoy writing it? Yes.

Previous

John takes having sex as the final boundary to cross before he dives all the way into his infatuation, you fuck twice more on your kitchen floor, and you doze off after, waking in his suite at Vought Tower. You’re no longer in your usual sleep attire, instead draped in a long sheer robe - the fabric around your torso is near see-through, but the bottom half is slightly more opaque. You sit up in bed and find Ashley standing off nervously to the side, biting her lip and scratching anxiously at her nails.

The room is decked out with more of your possessions, all waiting for you as if you’d just moved into a new apartment. When you look to the side, a vase of flowers awaits, and beneath it sits a card - Congratulations to the happy couple - Ashley clears her throat and hands you a singular piece of paper. “What….”

“Vought sends its happiest regards on your marriage,” she says, “sir.” She blurbs out the title after, and you turn to her with a look of confusion; she just points to the paper. Now genuinely looking at it, you realize it’s a marriage certificate; the details are all filled out, and at the bottom are spaces for three signatures, the first two - John and Vought’s President - the third space is for you.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” you both turn to the door. Homelander stands there, all happy smiles. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Could you…give us a moment?” You ask, but Ashley’s already rushing to leave; once the door clicks shut, you hold the paper up, “John, what is this?” He moves towards the bed, sitting beside you before he pecks your temple; when you press for an answer, he distracts you with another kiss, “John, I need an answer….”

“You don’t need an answer,” he interjects, “you’re home.” 

You turn your head and trail your fingers on his cheek, “Darling, I’m your therapist —”

“Exactly, you’re mine, so you need to be with me; besides,” he pulls you close, your legs across his lap, one hand between your legs, “you said I was a good boy, and good boys get rewards.”

“Ah, so I’m a reward then?” He nods enthusiastically, “Is that what the marriage certificate’s for?” He smiles wider, happy that you seem to be going down the same thoughts as he no doubt is with this; he’s caressing your inner thigh and gripping your waist. There’s a hint of uncertainty in his eye as he tells you all this; mild panic surrounds him as he awaits your verdict on the matter. 

You tilt your head, moving your legs to straddle him, “If I marry you,” you begin, “it means I’m yours, but it also means you’re mine. That means no one else gets to have a piece of you, no intern, no other supe, no one,” he moves up, chasing you for a kiss, you bring your face close to his, mouths inches apart, “not even Sitwell.” 

He stops at the sound of her name, eyes locked on yours; you move your body closer and grind down onto him; he grunts, but you don’t stop. His hands push your robe up as he adjusts your position, hands gripping your ass painfully as he moans out your name. A wet patch forms on his crotch, the tent of his hard-on causing him to groan. His eyes flutter as he loses his concentration, his mind buzzing as the lust wraps around it. “No, no, sweetheart, don’t go just yet,” you lightly slap his cheek, “we’re still talking.”

He mutters something incoherent. You take his face into your hands, pushing aside the haze so he can speak more clearly, “...love you…you…love….” It’s the closest you’ll get to an answer at this point, so you take it; he whines when you move from him, then grumbles when you call Ashley’s name. She returns to the room, congratulating you as you sign the paper.

“There’ll be a press conference next week to announce it to the world; until then, enjoy your…uh…honeymoon.”

When she’s gone again, you return to the bed; John looks mildly irritated; you stalk up to him on all fours, and he slides down a little. He pulls you onto him, the outline of his dick pressing against you; you unbuckle his belt and help him shed the suit, chuckling when his cock springs up eagerly. He doesn’t waste any time lining it up, and you have to stop him when he gets half of it in before you can prepare. You hiss as you slide in the rest of it. John’s hands run along your lower torso, gaze facing up; he smiles at the slight scrunch of painful pleasure in your expression. He moves the robe off your shoulders but doesn’t toss it aside, leaving it on you; when you’ve adjusted to him, you glance down, clenching around him. 

“That was a dirty move, dear,” you mutter; there’s a dull pain on your lower back, “I might not be able to walk after this.” 

John thrusts into you; you lower your face to his, close like this again, “Good,” John mutters before his lips are on yours. It’s not as fast-paced as the first time; he moves slow, hands stroking every inch of you as if mesmerized, passion coils between you, and you push your own emotion into it. John hums at your delight when you part for air, his mouth holds open as his eyes close in bliss - his head tits back, and yours follows suit - the robe flies in the air as you bounce on his dick. You use his shoulder to balance yourself, your hands wander higher, settling around his neck - you don’t have the strength to strangle him, but John still enjoys it - his thrusts slow down, but you don’t. Riding him hard and reveling in the choked sound that leaves his mouth, he grips your hip hard, no doubt leaving an indent of a bruise, but you don’t care. 

Your hands migrate from his neck, then down his chest, nails barely grazing his skin as you spear yourself on his dick. “Look at my pretty boy…,” you say. John’s hair curls around his forehead, gathered like a halo, the pillows beneath surround him like clouds, and the sounds he makes ring like music in your ears. When John comes, he tries to thrust further and manages a few, he draws his legs up, and you lean on them, still sat atop him as the come rushes in.

You shower together after, and John carries you into the bathroom, hands never quite leaving you; he holds you above the ground as the water runs over you. And you leave the bathroom, lips swollen from making out. John still has hero work to do, but he rushes back after, snuggling into your arms the second he returns.

“How was work?” You’re lying back on the couch; the TV sound falls into the background as you card your fingers through John’s hair.

“Shitty,” he grunts, “had to save a bunch of cocksuckers today….” He rubs his face on your chest; ever since your marriage, he’s liked keeping you in sheer robes and as less clothing as possible, “....missed you.”

You kiss his forehead, “Missed you too.”

Ashley is the only other face you see in between now and the press conference; she tries not to be around much, treading lightly when John’s about. 

The press conference is loud, cameras flash at you as reporters clamor for your attention, and the room is arranged to mimic a church altar - with the podium at the front surrounded by flowers, and you and the people present sitting in rows. You stand hand in hand with John as the speaker drones on; the Seven sit at the very front, half on one isle, half on the other. The dress code has everyone around you donned in white, and various shades of cream - including the supes - John had grimaced at the sight of his ‘wedding suit’ earlier. 

The speaker, Madelyn Sitwell, puts on a facade of joy, but there’s a bubble of irritation, you think, around it; when she turns to you and John, you note the strained smile on her face. The reporters nearly swamp you at the mock reception.

“How did you meet?”

“How long have you known each other?”

“Is your husband a supe too?”

John’s PR smile is on full blast; he takes one of the mics being shoved in his face, “Look, all you need to know is that marrying this man was the greatest thing to ever happen to me….” He goes on, laying in the sweet sappiness, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from outright laughing. Over the flashes and heads, you see Sitwell again, a glass of something in hand; she’s not smiling anymore; her lips are drawn into a frown as outright envy bursts from her. There’s a dash of vexation there as well, and a part of you almost feels smug; leaning your head onto John’s chest and placing your hand there riles her further.

She looks about ready to snap her glass in half. “Anything else to add?” the reporter who asks does so timidly, a nervous smile on their face as they pass the mic to you.

“Not much,” you say, “but I do want to express how lucky I am to have found such an amazing man to be my husband.” 

Oh, she doesn’t like that. Stalking off in a huff as John tilts his head for a kiss, the cameras go off tenfold, and you hold him softly; you send him off to fetch you refreshment after to give Sitwell a chance to saddle by. “I’m amazed at how well you handle him,” she starts, holding out her hand, “Madelyn Sitwell, Vice President of Vought, as you know.”

You shake her hand, introducing yourself, “Husband to Homelander, as you know.” You both stand there, eyeing the other up, “so Miss Sitwell, come to offer your happiest blessings?”

“Something like that,” she replies, “I just wanted to meet the man who stole Homelander’s heart….and mind.”

You grin, “Well, I guess I’m just that good,” you shrug, “but that’s not really why you’re here, is it? Go on then, ask away; what do you really want, Sitwell?”

“I’ve never had to struggle keeping John’s attention, it took me a while, but I got there,” she says, “now you show up and, in less than a year, manage to do what I did and keep him in line. What’s your goal here? What are you planning?”

“Well, tonight, I’m planning to fuck my husband,” you respond slyly, “see, he likes it when I —”

“I don’t,” she holds her hand up, “I don’t need to know the details, thanks. Still doesn’t answer —”

“Oh please, don’t pretend to care about John’s wellbeing,” you interrupt, “you’re just mad you can’t make him do what you want anymore.” The resentment she’d been holding in flares up, and she glowers at you, “Struck a nerve then, have I?”

She takes deep breaths to calm herself, “I’d think twice about crossing the line with me.”

“I should say that to you,” you tell her, “who knows what John will do for me.” It’s not a threat per se, at least not in the most blatant way, it does the trick, and Sitwell steps back, resentment fading into fear, then slight panic when John returns; he hands you a glass of champagne with a kiss, then turns to greet her. She smiles as she offers her good wishes; you toast to her words, and John follows suit, “Thank you, Miss Sitwell.”

“You’re hot when you’re threatening people,” John murmurs.

You sip your drink with a smile, “She’ll be back,” you place your hand on his chest, sliding it beneath the side flap, “In the meantime, why don’t we go see how many orgasms I can fuck out of you.”

You slide away from the events, John flying you back to his suite; he doesn’t bother to lock the door as you pull him inside. Most of your clothes get discarded on your way to the bed, and shoes and gloves fumble together by the bedroom door - John falls onto the bed, head on the bottom half with you on top of him. He’s happy to toss the white suit aside; you sling one of his legs over your shoulder as the other curls around you, heel digging into your backside. You kiss him giddily, “Put it in already, will you?” 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” You utter by his lips, you’ve still got your shirt on, and he pulls you by your tie. He moans when your dick goes in; his other hand grips your shirt as he pulls the tie, “You like that, don’t you?” Thrusting into him, you kiss him again, biting his lip when you move back - there’s content and cheerfulness around you; John drags you back in every second for kisses. 

When you do get some semblance of a pace going, John tosses his head back, eyes shut, and you hold onto his hips, the sound of skin on skin in the room, as you pound into him. There’s a sound somewhere in the background, but you ignore it; when you recognize the sound of heels, you glance up from John’s face - Sitwell stands by the door; she’s got one of her dress sleeves draping off her shoulder, a bottle of wine in one hand and her clutch bag in the other. You tilt your head, smirk on your face, John’s still unaware of her presence, and you doubt he’ll come down from the high anytime soon. You don’t stop, gaze locked on hers as you fuck John, “Are you mine forever, John?” you ask smugly.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes….” he repeats the word like a mantra. Sitwell looks like a deer in headlights, and you laugh - something wicked, something mocking - you pull her mind into the haze, and she flinches at the overwhelming feeling of it, dropping the wine bottle; it shatters as she clutches her head, it’s too much for her, and she whimpers as it strangles her thoughts. Distress bursts from her, and a trail of it drifts behind her as she runs from the room. 

“....what….what was that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” you reply, kissing his nose. You hover closer to him, John’s arms wind around you, and he locks his legs around your waist; you kiss along his neck, reveling in the small whimpers that come from him. John maneuvers you around so he can lay on your chest, nudging his head into your chin until you run your hands through his hair; you fall asleep that way, hands loosely tucked in the strands of his hair.

End Note:

At this point, my FBI agent is probably rolling in their grave. I gotta admit, the idea of Reader and Sitwell just ready to fight entertains me. Stay Hydrated.