#i'd be biting my thumb nail... then my skin... then i'd be bleeding

[slashingdisneypasta]

.

[vigilante-3073]

Ink

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean takes you to get your Devil's trap tattoo.

TW: Fluff, fear of needles, comforting, handholding, tattoos, flirting.

Dean and Y/N sat in the two flimsy wooden chairs out in the waiting room of the tattoo parlor.

Dean was leaned back in his chair, scrolling on his phone quietly while they waited for the tattoo artist to be ready.

Y/N was understandably anxious, she had always had a horrible fear of needles. The thought of laying still for hours while needles stabbed into her skin made her heart pound in her chest.

She rested her fist against the center of her chest as she attempted to calm her racing heart with a few deep breaths.

Dean looked up from his cellphone as Y/N sighed for probably the tenth time since they had sat down.

His eyes flickered down to her knee as it bounced quickly, channelling her nervous energy into the repeated movement.

Dean tucked his phone into his pocket before he reached over and rested his hand on her knee.

He brushed his thumb back and forth soothingly, "Calm down, baby," Dean said.

Y/N huffed, "Sorry," She muttered, "Don't be," Dean smiled.

Y/N rested her hand over his and interlocked their fingers. Dean brushed his thumb over the side of her hand gently.

"It's gonna be fine, okay? I'll be right there with you the whole time" He assured.

...

Y/N was laid on her stomach as the artist moved the tattoo gun over the skin of her shoulder blade.

She grimaced, her breathing starting to pick up as the pain became too much for her to handle.

"Hey, just hold onto me, alright?" Dean said, pulling her attention to him.

"Squeeze my hand," Dean offered, taking her hand in his.

Dean smiled slightly as her grip tightened on his hand, her nails biting into his skin. She could hold onto him for hours if she needed to.

"There you go, sweetheart, just keep squeezing," Dean instructed, holding her hand in both of his.

Dean held onto her hand the entire time, thumb brushing across the back of her palm reassuringly. He was actually impressed by the sheer strength of her grip.

Dean was sure that his hand was bleeding from how deep her fingernails were dug into his flesh, but he wouldn't dare say a word.

The tattoo artist sat back, wiping the tattoo down with a nod, "All finished," He said.

Y/N let go of Dean's hand with a deep exhale. Dean stood up from his seat, looking down at her shoulder blade with a whistle.

"Looks good, sweetheart," Dean said.

"Wanna take a look?" The artist asked.

Y/N nodded, standing up from the bench and turning her back to the mirror. Dean pulled her hair out of the way gently, allowing her to see the tattoo.

"It looks great. Thank you," She said.

"No problem," The artist smiled, carefully laying a bandage over it before giving her directions for how to care for the tattoo.

Dean paid at the front desk and they made their way out of the shop, walking down the sidewalk towards the Impala.

"Wanna get some ice cream on the way home? Since you were so brave?" He asked with a smirk.

Y/N shoved him with a smile, "Shut up, you ass," She said.

Dean smiled, catching her wrist and pulling her body into his side. His arm wrapped around her waist as they walked.

"You look really hot with that tattoo, baby," He said.

"Good, because I won't be getting any more," She smiled.

"Not even if I hold your hand?" Dean questioned.

"I'd think about it," Y/N stated.

[zuricu]

Sub!Dallas Winston Fem!Reader

My first post thought I'd spoil you. *wink*

Fem!Reader Just because of female anatomy- mentioned once I think?

WARNINGS: Smut, praise, mentions of alcohol and being drunk, submissive/soft dom, drunken sex, edging, unprotected sex, I think that's It? If there's anything I missed lmk

It was a usual Friday night. We were at Buck's, playing pool and getting drunk. Dallas was winning our game, I thought I had a chance this round but Dallas nearly cleaned the table on his first shot. I won't lie, he's pretty good at this game. 

He smoked me in the game so I decided it was only suitable to go out and take a smoke break. I made my way outside to stand outside of the building. It wasn't warm out but it wasn't cold either, merely a pleasant temperature. I was only out there for about ten minutes but when I returned Dal was beyond drunk. He fumbled while walking and slurred his words. 

"Fuck it," I say while grabbing onto his arm, I drag him to the bar and order some more drinks for myself. I down them and make sure we get to Dal's room before it hits.

"I'm like..." He pauses, his words not really making much sense. "Sooooo fucking in love with youuuuu..." 

I kiss him, gently, but as Dallas is Dallas, we eventually begin to make out. Our lips, even though drunken, move simultaneously. He tastes like sweat, whiskey, and beer. The taste is undeniably attractive, even though it may not seem like it. His tongue presses up against my lips eventually so I open them, giving them somewhere to go. My hands, which were on his neck, trail down to his chest. This leads to his hips and then the hem of his shirt. I grasp the cotton fabric and pull it over his head after our lips part. My clothes soon found their way off, leaving me only in my undergarments. I push him over to the bed and lay him down. I adjust myself on top of him and start trailing hickeys down his neck and chest. He giggles, which I take as a sign to start teasing him some. I kiss his lips again, but now I'm in control, I bite down on his lower lip. It starts to bleed a little bit so I take my thumb and wipe it away, I kiss it again but much softer. 

"You want this, Dal?" I ask him, he answers eagerly. 

I begin to add some friction in our lower half, and his still being in his jeans made him upset. He groans in annoyance, I make sure not to give him what he wants. I place my hand on his chin so that it's resting on my index finger and being held still with my thumb, I maneuver his face to make him look me in the eyes. 

"You're so goddamn pretty, Dallas," I coo. "Your eyes are so beautiful." I take my hand from his chin to his ear and down his neck into the middle of his pecs. I press my nail into his skin, not enough to cause pain but enough to cause discomfort. I continue until I get to his V line and trace down the right side. He lets out a noise, letting me know my job is being done well. I palm the growing bulge in his pants. "Is this for me?" I ask, already knowing the answer. All he does is nod. "Use your words, baby."

"Yes," He admits. "It's all for you, everything I do is for you." I give him a peck on the lips for his answer. 

"Aww," I babble. "You're so cute." I begin to rub what's mine. He shifts around from all of the sudden movement. "Enjoying this?"

"No- Yes," He says. "Yes, I am, just please take them off."

"I'll comply, you've been so sweet, baby," I take his jeans off, along came his underwear and I begin to stroke his dick. Slowly, up and down, teasing the tip every so often. I do this cycle until I start to feel him twitch, give him a break, and do it again. This happens a few times until he's had enough of it. 

"P...please..." He pleads.

"What, baby?" I act clueless. "You need to tell me what."

"Please let me cum, thas' all I want, Doll," His eyes squinted from the pain of being edged.

"That's all you want?" I ask. "You don't want me?" 

"Oh, God! Yes, I want you, I want you so bad! Please! Please fuck me until I cum, Doll."

"I guess I have to, now." I giggle. 

I slipped my panties off and lined myself up with his dick, before I could slide down, he thrust into me, eager to get what he wants. I bounce up and down as he thrusts. 

"Dallas!" I cry "Dallas I love you so much, baby." My stomach gets tangled with the thought of my oncoming orgasm. 

"Doll, I'm gonna cum, hold me please, babe, please." I oblige and grab ahold of him and we cum at the same time. I quickly remove myself from him and throw myself next to him. 

"We are gonna have such a hangover, sweets," I announce.

"No fuckin' shit."

"I'll be right back," I tell him, grabbing sweats and a tee from his drawer and heading to the washroom. I do my business, clean up, and get dressed. On my way out I grab Dallas some of his clothes and throw them at him, prompting him to put them on. After he did I plop back into bed and lay next to him. I curl next to him. "You did a good job baby."

"I'm glad I did, Sugartits," I laugh at the nickname and ruffle his hair.

"Your eyes really are pretty, Babe."

"That doesn't compare to everything about you," he tried being sweet but I ignore his notions, not that I didn't want to hear them. 

"Your smile, too," I remark. "It's sad I don't see it more often, but love makes up for it." He smiled at what I said, I know what I'm saying doesn't actually make any sense but I really love everything about him. "You aren't perfect in any Goddamn way but, God, you're all I need."

[skeltonjunction]

cringe post incoming

i've been biting and scraping my fingernails and the skin around them since i was 6, i think. got the habit from my mum. occasionally tried to kick it but ended up uh, relapsing? is that an appropriate word for this? anyway. never lasted long. generally said i "didn't have nails" as they weren't useable for the things you use your nails for. skin all around them is jagged and sharp and pretty much always bleeding on at least one finger.

couple of weeks ago i noticed that my nails were long. like, a few of them reached the ends of my fingertips, actual white tips of the nails level of long. realised i must've stopped biting as much without even thinking about it. immediately went into town to get some of that growth + strengthening stuff and a nail file. figured now i'd paid attention to it i'd immediately ruin it again, but guess what: i didn't! still accidentally ripped bits off when they broke and haven't quite stopped scraping, but removing, moisturising, filing to a manageable length + shape, and reapplying the polish has been a nice little routine to go through when the urge to do Something to my hands comes up.

only issue i found was with trying to shape them — specifically working out what angle i should be filing them to. not sure how best to describe it but they detach from the nail bed (?) really far up my fingers, at uneven angles, due to all the years of fucking with them, and my thumb nails especially are really fucked at the inner corners due to me gouging the skin out, so they look like they're growing diagonally. it's pretty hard to get my eyes around how they're meant to look and what direction they're going.

so. about 15 years after the birthday party i once went to that involved all invitees getting their nails done and the nail painters scowling at me for having nothing to paint, today i bought actual coloured nail polish for the first time ever. mostly so i can see the actual shapes of my nails.

i should've gone for a lighter colour cos i wanted it to not be noticeable but the lighting in the shop and the selection both weren't great, it's messily applied (never done it before, dyspraxic), occasionally smudged or full of fingerprints (impatient), and the skin around them is jagged and has holes in it (probably gonna have some permanent scarring even if i do manage to stop entirely), but whatever.

behold:

quite literally the best they've ever looked, which isn't really saying much but listen. this is an achievement TO ME. i've always avoided ever showing my fingertips in photos etc. got really good at angling my hands away or curling my fingers in a way that still looks natural whenever they did show up in pictures. and they still look like shit but they look so much less like shit than they ever have before and i've been losing my mind over this for about 3 weeks. literally the only thing keeping my mental health in the positives rn. look at this shit. wow

[allevilsarc]

[OFFICE]: sender and receiver are making out in receiver's office indie <3 / @everlived

indie sticks out like a-- well, she wouldn't use sore thumb. that implies a level of ugliness. instead, he stands in her office like a piece of art (though it's one that only she can touch). she's stared at him enough to classify him as art, in any case. it's easier when he doesn't look at her. that way, he doesn't see her gaze soften, something almost kind. she doesn't want to think how he'd react if he knew.

he sits on her desk, her body slotted between his legs. indie's mouth is soft on hers, her touch rough against his back as she returns the kisses. there's an urge in lucy that wants to bite his lip, make him bleed into her mouth to taste him fully. instead, she tamps it down, her nails taking purchase in the fabric of his shirt. she won't hurt him physically-- not now, not even if the urge burns low in her stomach. perhaps there's a leaf turning.

he's been so good for her, his hands resting against the cool of her desk. she told him not to touch and he hadn't-- of course she was going to praise him for doing what he's told. her tongue draws against his bottom lip when she pulls away. it takes her a moment to really take him in, all flushed and smeared with her lipstick and beautiful. " you're a very good boy for me, indie. " there's a thought to send him out like this, just so people know who he's with. instead, lucy's thumb draws lightly under his mouth, pale skin reddened with makeup. " unfortunately, i'm busy for the rest of the day. otherwise i'd just keep you here and use you for my own purposes. " the thumb of her other hand draws circles against his thigh, eyes meeting his. " will you be okay alone? if you want, i can-- have one of my assistants take you out to do something on my dime. really, you aren't going to run me dry if you want something. " she pauses, pulling herself away from indie to grab a tissue from across the room. she has to make herself look professional and not like she's had her partner's tongue down her throat for the past half hour. " or, if you want, i can have you driven home to relax. it really is whatever you want. i promise. "

[tsumusamu]

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

-

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

-

tip jar + commission info

general taglist (italics for people i could not tag):  @aomineavenue @intheawks​ @deltahemm​ @bap-kingdom @shegoeshexing @brinnnx @crescentsteel​ @ dokidokisama @smellssharpies​ @dearhajime​ @plutoxxxworld​ @kritiiiii​ @ muppetz @ iscreamtea @rizzyrisso​ @makeitrainonsomehoes​ @maraudusk​ @kybabi​ @tsumue​ @thischickwritessometimes​ @angrylittleriri​

[tfw-adhd]

I am not diagnosed but I'm trying to see if I have adhd, doing as much research as I can. Problem is I'm 17, a girl and woc and from what I've been seeing, it seems almost impossible to get a diagnosis. I was hoping you could help me. God, this is way too long I'm really sorry to bother you. You don't have to answer if yoh don't want to

Some of the symptoms I feel like I may be experiencing are:

1. Hyperfixations: the most recent one I can think of is star wars, specifically one ship. I got into it in April 2020 and boy, I am obsessed for the lack of a better word. I literally of it when I wake up, when I go to bed and all the moments in between.

I (this is embarrassing omg) literally didn't attend a single class this year because I can't stop thinking of that ship enough to focus. I have an exam today, and I still can't stop reading fics or scrolling through ship twitter instead of preparing. Maybe I'm just lazy? Idk man I don't even have friends so idek what is normal and what is not anymore.

And I seemed to have hyperfixations throughout my life. It was Percy Jackson till 9th grade. Then AOT till 11th. And before that, dinosaurs and science of all things. I would literally buy notebooks to write science and dinosaur facts in. I only have one thing i am attached to for months at a time. To the point where if people ask me what fandoms I like I can't even give more than two or three because that's all I consume. I can't watch another show or read another book without feeling like I'm somehow cheating on star wars lmaoo

2. Focus is a big thing. I don't have it. I remember with physical exams I would have to stop in between because the focus would slip away, and I'd just spend a good ten minutes staring at my paper not taking anything in because my thoughts are too loud. With Internet exams, I'm more accustomed to having tumblr, twitter and reddit open for when I inevitably lose focus. Studying is a struggle. Fuck that, reading is a struggle. Often not able to get past one or two sentences without immediately feeling irritated (?) Not the right word but I can't think of anything to describe the fuzziness in my brain.

I daydream a lot in physical class and while eating and watching movies. And when I try to sleep. And when I'm in waiting rooms or trying to study. Literally everywhere to the point where I often forget they're in my head.

3. I am very forgetful. Fuck, i forgot what the things on this list are. I forgot to take my medicines. I forget what I'm saying half way through the sentence. Literally a pain in my ass.

4. Idk if this just stress or something else, but ever since I was a child I would suck my thumb (still do), bite my nails, pick at my skin and hair. I would pull my hair and eyelashes qnd eyebrows. Rubs my skin. Scratch till it's bleeding. I feel very horrible if I don't do it.

5. Xakwdlkdkalkdadkod I literally can not remember I had a whole list figured out and I can't remember it anymore because I got distracted in between oh god.

6. Oh wait, restlessness. Always shaking my legs or ripping up tissue or tapping my fingers, picking at my body or sucking my thumb. Anything to keep my occupied. Without any sort of physical activity i feel very fuzzy. Like somethings not right.

7. I've heard about rsd and idk if this is it but I'm literally the type of person to overexplain and apologise quickly even if the other person gave no indication of being hurt.

My mother could ask me how my studies are going and I get very defensive and angry because I feel like she's trying trying imply I'm not studying enough even though that's not her intent.

I'm sorry for going on for too long. I hope you can help me figure out if this is normal or not. Thank you so much and I hope you and your family are safe, healthy and happy.

Unfortunately, you’re right that it’s harder for both girls and POC to get ADHD diagnoses. Even though both sexes show equal numbers of people with ADHD, it goes under-diagnosed in AFAB individuals.

But everything you just described sounds exactly like ADHD, yeah. The Neurotypical brain doesn’t fixate on things like that (not to the point of skipping loads of classes and it being all they can think about, anyway.)

And the one about sucking your thumb sounds like stimming, something neurodivergent people do.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is a simple one shot featuring you, the femme reader and Poe Dameron.

You're on your period, it's kind of heavy and you feel miserable.

Poe has an idea to help make you feel better.

Warnings, period sex kink, lots of menstrual blood, unprotected sex, fluff, not for anyone under 18.

I've seen worse

"How's my beautiful girl doing today?"

"Beautiful? Are you kidding? I'm bloated, having severe cramps and my head is pounding".

You were relaxing on the couch inside the modest apartment you shared with your boyfriend Poe Dameron.

He had just come through the door, full of the usual compliments, when you brushed them off in a cranky manner.

"Yikes". Poe replied with a slight laugh, sitting down in a chair next to you. "I guess I hadn't realized that, you were, um..."

As Poe desperately searched for a non offensive term in his mind for what you were experiencing you laughed a little, rolled your eyes and blurted out,

"That I was on my period?"

"Yeah, that". Poe replied with a nervous laugh. "Is there anything that I could do to make you feel better?"

"Honestly, I think I'd like to just go to bed". You replied, smiling weakly.

You were in bed early that night, before him. Wearing one of his old t-shirts as a nightgown. Poe took a shower and then had a light snack in the kitchen before joining you.

The throbbing pain in your back and your uterus was too much to bear. After tossing and turning for awhile you finally announce out loud,

"Ugh, I can't take it anymore, my back is killing me".

"Would you like a massage?" Poe asked with a slight smile as he rolled over to face you, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"I'd be willing to try anything at this point". You replied with a laugh.

Poe grabbed a towel from the bathroom and helped you remove your shirt, revealing your nude body.

He was wearing a pair of boxer briefs, and judging by the bulge, Poe liked what he saw.

You relaxed on the towel, on your stomach, and immediately Poe's strong, calloused hands got to work on your lower back.

You could feel your pain melting away under his strong and soothing touch.

His touch was arousing to you. You secretly wished that Poe would put his hand between your legs and massage that area into orgasmic bliss.

"Stop it". Poe told you with a laugh as he continued to work on your lower back.

"Stop what?" You replied with a laugh.

"Stop making those cute little noises". Poe teased. "You're turning me on".

"Your hands feel so good". You replied with a weak moan as you closed your eyes.

Poe started to kiss your back, starting between your shoulder blades and then gradually going lower, the soft skin on his lips made you sigh and wiggle around a little.

You surprised him by rolling over on your back, pulling Poe on top of you and kissing him passionately.

"Hey, are you sure?" Poe asked with a slight laugh as he began to grind his throbbing cock against your body.

"Only if you're okay with it". You replied with a giggle as you looked into his smoldering eyes.

"I've seen worse as a resistance pilot". He replied with a laugh.

Poe reached between your legs and carefully pulled the tampon out of your body to make room for him.

He then began to massage your throbbing clit with his thumb, making you sigh and pull him closer.

Poe carefully penetrated you with his fat cock, making you moan from pleasure and dig your nails into the smooth, tanned skin of his back.

"Fuck, your cunt feels so good, so warm". Poe moaned as he began to suck and nibble on your neck, leaving behind a few noticeable love bites.

He began to thrust into you harder as he approached his climax. The brutal cramps that you were experiencing earlier seemed to melt away on his perfect cock.

Poe held you tightly and lovingly as he fucked you as desire and passion burned like a hot flame in his eyes, his curly hair a mess and your bodies dripping in sweat.

You were bleeding heavily again at this point, the contractions from your own release making things worse.

Poe didn't care as he continued to fuck you, your menstrual fluid acting as a lubricant.

You could feel his cock spill it's thick, creamy load inside of your sensitive, throbbing cunt.

Poe's cock, and entire groin area, was red from your fluids, for a moment you were a little embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry". You told him with a deep sigh as kissed him on the cheek.

"No, no, you're fine". Poe replied with a sexy, rather rogue smile as he kissed you back. "I wanted to help you, make you feel better, I love you, y/n".

After taking a hot, steamy shower together he changed the sheets and the two of you soon fell asleep as Poe cradled you protectively in his arms.

With your nude bodies entwined together Poe whispered into your ear,

"Like I said, I've seen worse".

"Poe Dameron, you are too much". You whispered back with a giggle.

The end

[laynavile]

Some Days, I'm Struggling For Control

Pairing : Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

Warnings : Mentions of murder and blood, anal sex, spit as lube, oral sex, physical fighting (hitting, punching)

Rating : E

Word count : 2k+

Will pisses Hannibal off, he starts swearing which turns Will on, they fight, then they fuck.

Inspiration came from Mads character, Nigel, saying the word, "fuck" a lot. I wanted to write Hannibal getting angry and not being able to stop saying it. So I figured why not write this as the fill for the free space on my @hannibalbingo card.

Enjoy 😌

"How careless are you? Do you want us to become caught? Do you want to go back to uncle Jack so badly that you'd expose us in such a way?"

"It wasn't my fault, h-he was flirting with you."

"Flirting with me? Do you know how many men I have to watch flirt with you every single day? Do I kill them in broad daylight for it?"

"There was no one around. Hannibal, I'm sorry, he pissed me off."

"Do you even fucking understand how pissed off I get every time men flirt with you? When they attempt to take what is mine? You're lucky everyday that I do not fuck you in front of them."

"Then who would be careless?"

"Would I not be following your fucking example?"

"I'm shocked, Dr. Lecter, I've never heard you use such crass language outside of our bed."

"You insufferable man, you make me crazy."

"I think it's very sexy of you." He knows what Will is doing, how he's trying to divert the situation, it will not work.

"Do not fucking trying to distract me." Hannibal is doing it on purpose now, now that he knows Will likes him cursing. He's still upset, still needs to try to control the situation, but right now he cannot help but want to rile Will up. "You know damn well what the fuck you've done wrong. We don't murder in the middle of the day. Unless of course as I said, you'd rather go back and play FBI with uncle Jack again, is that what you fucking want? Is it?"

"No, if I wanted that why would I have come to you in the first place?"

"Perhaps this is all an elaborate fucking ruse again to try and get me into a cage." Low blow, he knows that Will regrets what happened that night in Baltimore what seems like a thousand years ago and yesterday all at once.

"How many times will you make me apologize for that? I wanted to run away with you, and now I have and you're pissed because I killed someone. Hannibal, we kill people all the time."

"Yes, but one of us is not careless when fucking killing. Will, if you want to go, there's the fucking door, don't let it hit you on the way out." He doesn't mean it, never would he mean it, but Will has him angry and not only that Hannibal is feeling particularly petulant today.

"I'm not leaving, unless you're coming with me."

"Tell me, Will, why the fuck would I come with you after what you've done?"

"I did it for you, you bastard."

"For me? No, you fucking did it for yourself. You threw a fucking tantrum because someone flirted with me."

"You're mine, no else's, they don't get to flirt with you."

"Do you think I fuck every person who fucking flirts with me?"

"You fucked me."

"Yes, I fucked you, because I fucking love you."

"I don't understand why you're so mad."

"We could get fucking caught now, or is this your way of saying you don't want to be in fucking Germany any longer? You couldn't fucking say so like a fucking adult? You're such a fucking child sometimes."

Will throws the first punch, fist connecting with Hannibal's jaw.

"You little fucker." Hannibal resists, he doesn't want to hurt Will.

Will punches him again, this time in the stomach--Hannibal stays standing at least. "Fight back."

"I do not wish to fucking fight you."

Will smacks him this time, Hannibal is certain there will be a red hand print across his face.

Hannibal snorts, "Fine, you want to act like a fucking child, I'll leave."

Will backhands him, "You're not leaving me." The force of it splits Hannibal's lip.

He's not leaving, he's never leaving, this is the exact reaction he'd hoped for. Will takes his anger and frustrations out on Hannibal instead of some random man in the middle of the street. "I'll leave whenever I fucking want to. You do not fucking tell me what the fuck I can or cannot do." He can practically smell Will's anger and arousal.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Will grinds his teeth together, Hannibal grabs his jaw to stop him.

"No, I don't want you to fucking hurt me, but I'd rather it me than someone in the middle of the fucking street exposing us."

"I'm sorry, I got jealous. But you have no right to get mad at me."

"I have no right? What the fuck does that mean? I have no fucking claim over you? You are my fucking husband or have you decided that's not what you fucking want any longer?" Blood leaks from the split in his lip, it stings but Hannibal welcomes the pain.

"No, never, Hannibal I chose you. I want you, and in wanting you, I want no one else to even look at you."

"So that fucking equates murder in the middle of the day? I'd have rather you had fucked me in front of him."

"You would've allowed that?"

"Perhaps I wouldn't have. I wouldn't want to be arrested for fucking in public. Though I'd rather that than be arrested as a fucking serial killer."

"I told you, I'm sorry. I was jealous, but Hannibal,"

"No, no buts, this isn't a fucking I'm sorry moment. Perhaps you should fucking leave."

Will's nostrils flare, and suddenly he lunges at Hannibal, knocking them both to the ground. He hits and punches Hannibal anywhere he can reach. Hannibal's nose is bleeding, his lip, the inside of his cheek where it has been bitten when Will's fist had connected with the side of his head for the third time. "You fucking asshole."

No doubt Will can feel Hannibal's erection beneath him, Hannibal resists the urge--for now--to grind up against Will.

"I'm not leaving you." The side of his fist connects with Hannibal's sternum this time. "Don't make me leave you."

"Never, mylimasis, never would I let you fucking leave me."

"I hate you." There's no truth to his words, Hannibal knows that.

"I fucking love you too."

Finally Will notices or finally decides to acknowledge Hannibal's erection, he grinds his hips down, ass pressed firmly against Hannibal's trapped cock. Neither can keep quiet at the sensation--Hannibal groans and Will whines. Will bends down to kiss Hannibal, his face is covered in blood, it's not a bother to either of them. Will laps at the blood where it still drips from Hannibal's nose--it doesn't feel broken, thankfully, Hannibal would hate to have to set it later--he licks across Hannibal's lips, nipping at the split in them, trying to bite it open further.

Hannibal pushes Will up, there is blood smeared all over his face, "Are you fucking trying to wound me, mylimasis?"

"Who knew you had such a dirty mouth Dr. Lecter?" Will rips Hannibal's shirt open, buttons skitter across the hardwood.

"You little fuck, who do you think you are ruining my shirt?"

"Oh, boo-hoo, it's a fucking shirt." Oh, so that's how Will wants to play this.

"A shirt that you know as well as I do cost one hundred and fifty fucking dollars."

"And you have a million more. Don't be a baby, Dr. Lecter." Will grinds down onto Hannibal's cock again, nails digging into Hannibal's chest, dragging down--the scratches are not bleeding now, but he has no doubt that they will be soon.

"You insolent little fucker, you'll be sewing the buttons back on." Hannibal grabs Will's hips, lifting his own hips to press against Will's ass.

Will's nails dig in again, he's panting harshly, "You don't control me."

"Do I not?"

His nails scratch down Hannibal's chest again, nails catching on his nipples, causing him to practically growl. "No, I'm in control of myself."

Hannibal pushes and pulls Will's hips, grinding Will's ass against his cock. "Take your shirt off, mylimasis." Hlannibal's voice is low and predatory.

"Make me." Will leans down, crushing their lips together, reopening the split in Hannibal's lip, fresh blood smears across their lips.

Hannibal's hands snake between them, under Will's t-shirt, caressing his soft abdomen, before pushing him back, and yanking his shirt up. "Do not fucking challenge me again."

Will slides down onto Hannibal's thighs, hastily unbuckles his belt, yanks the button open and the zipper down, he lifts himself up on his knees to push Hannibal's pants and underwear down enough to expose his cock. It's flushed and dripping, foreskin retracted fully to expose the dark, glistening head, Will touches gently with his thumb, before jumping up, "Do not move." He pushes his own pants and underwear down, kicking them across the room. He drops back down onto Hannibal's thighs, scooting down further to take Hannibal into his mouth.

Hannibal's fingers tangle in Will's hair, "Such a good little cocksucker for me."

His throat constricts around Hannibal as he takes him further into his throat, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, smearing across Hannibal's skin. He moans around Hannibal's cock, as he slides his fingers into Hannibal's mouth. 

Hannibal licks and sucks and coats them in his saliva--he knows where Will is going with this, and while he would rather grab one of the many bottles of lube stashed around their home, part of his wants it to hurt a little bit, he knows Will's body, knows what he can and cannot handle, being fucked with only spit as lube is no where near the worst thing he's endured because of Hannibal.

Will takes his saliva slick fingers and presses them into himself while focusing his attention on the head of Hannibal's cock, licking and sucking, tip of his tongue sliding into the slit, tasting Hannibal's precum before it can escape.

Hannibal groans and grunts and growls, pulling on Will's hair--to keep him down on Hannibal's cock or because he knows Will likes it, he himself is unsure of.

He pulls off of Hannibal's cock abruptly, saliva drips down the shaft. Will braces himself and sinks down, taking Hannibal inside in one swift motion. The corners of his eyes scrunch up slightly, nostrils flare out--tell tale signs of his discomfort--he grabs at Hannibal's shoulders and chest, nails digging in again, moaning high pitched and breathless.

Will fucking himself on Hannibal's cock, fast and hard. "Don't try to tell me what to do."

The nail marks Will leaves sting, his nose dully aches, his cheek intermittently throbs where he'd bitten through the flesh, but the only thing Hannibal can focus on is the tight, heat engulfing his cock. "Fuck, I will never get used to how tight you are. You will obey me, Will, you will do exactly what I want you to fucking do, or you will not come."

He braces himself--palms flat against Hannibal's chest, knees firmly on the ground on either side of Hannibal's hips--and increases his pace, fucking himself faster on Hannibal's cock, "I will come when I'm ready to come, Dr. Lecter. You cannot control how your cock hits my prostate, you can control how tightly I clench around you. I will come without your permission and you will do nothing about it, unless you'd like to go jerk yourself off. Is that what you want, Dr. Lecter?" The sounds Will makes tell Hannibal he's getting close--Hannibal is determined to make Will come first.

He grabs Will's hips--tight enough to bruise, lifting and dropping Will back onto his cock. "Fuck yourself, Will, come across my skin, smear it the scratches you've left. Let me fucking feel it."

Will bites at his own lips, stifling the pretty sounds he's making.

"No, none of that shit, let me hear you."

Will cries out above him, "Oh, fuck, ah, Hannibal."

Hannibal gets lost for a moment, staring at Will, he looks so beautiful--skin flushed light pink, skin glistening with sweat, that Hannibal wants to taste, his pupils are blown wide and his eye lids are heavy--Hannibal tries to memorize every detail so that he may draw Will this way later.

Will trembles, tightening around Hannibal's cock, "Mmhm, fuck, Hannibal, I'm sorry." Warm, sticky cum spread between them, pooling on Hannibal's stomach. Will slides his hands through it, smearing it through Hannibal's chest hair.

The scratches sting as Will's sweat and semen seep into them, but Hannibal doesn't mind. He bends his knees and thrusts up into Will's, chasing his own release. Will all but collapses onto Hannibal's chest, face pressed into his neck, panting, and moaning still. Hannibal's orgasm comes on quickly as Will's body clenches and relaxes around him. Hannibal cannot resist, he tilts his head up and bites down on the first bit of flesh he can reach--the juncture between Will's neck and shoulder--Hannibal tastes fresh blood, he laps hungrily at it as he releases deep inside of Will, thick, hot spurts of cum, coat Will's insides.

They lay there, unmoving for a long while, Hannibal's cock still inside of Will until it's gone completely soft and slips out on its own. Hannibal's back begins to ache from lying on the hardwood floor, and he can't imagine Will's knees appreciate it either.

"Apologies for getting so angry with you."

"No, Hannibal, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I need to be more careful."

"We have to leave Germany for now, you know that?"

"Yes," Will sighs, "I did really like this house."

"We'll have an even better one wherever we go. Do you have a preference, mylimasis?" Hannibal asks as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, Will seated firmly in his lap, Hannibal's arms wrapped tightly around him.

"No, not really, but wherever we go, Hannibal, I want to get a dog."

"Oh for fucks sake, I suppose it was only a matter of time until we got one, but only one, Will."

"We'll see Dr. Lecter." Will kisses him, barely more than their lips brushing together. "Let's go get cleaned up, this bite mark is killing me, and I think we need to make sure I didn't break your nose."

"Rest assured, mylimasis, my nose is not broken, but you are right, we need to get cleaned up, so I can bandage your neck."

"Wait, Hannibal, you know I didn't mean it when I said that I hated you, right?"

"I know, you were upset and I was not helping the situation."

Will nods against his neck, "Alright, carry me to the bath now, please."