#whatever that just means i can say whatever i like without fear of embarrassment

[tstain-is-an-idiot]

New (mini) hyperfixation unlocked???

yeah... him🥺🥺

[melinoelliones]

Jax NSFW Alphabet

I don't even know how I managed to forget to do his NSFW Alphabet... So anyways here it isss

Jax - Heat Part 2 is coming btw!!! It's almost done. Click here to read Jax Heat Part 1 if you haven't read already!

What I think he would do may not align with what YOU think he would do! I have tried to make this mostly gender neutral but I fear I slipped a bit of x Fem Reader is there. Also sorry for the ugly banner, his png's aren't great lmao.

My writing skills have fallen off since I've been off for like what 2 months, but I am working on getting better!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jax is the type to talk over what you guys just did in bed, maybe mock you a bit but it always follows up with him smothering you in kisses and ass grabs. His large grin shows as he pulls you closer knowing you get embarrassed when he mocks you. 

“?!&% ?!&% ?!&%, feels so good” he moans out, mocking your previous words as you hide your head into his chest in hopes that you’ll disappear from this world. “I’m just kidding babe, you’re so hot when you do it. Lets me know i’m doing it right yanno” he jested, slapping his hand against your ass before pulling you tighter into his chest.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jax likes his hands the most. Them in contrast to your body drives him crazy, and seeing his fingers in you is insane.

His favourite part of you would be your stomach or thighs for sure. He’s a thighs guy, what can I say. When you and the guys are hanging out, he is 100% sitting with his head on your thighs or just between your legs like its nothing.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Anywhere and everywhere. He loves to cover you in it, your perfect body being defiled by his cum is everything to him. Only he gets to do that to you, you’re his property and he can do whatever he wants with it.

He also just likes filling you with it, after rounds and rounds he gets to watch it slowly try and seep out of your precious holes.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He enjoys watching you get off, he could sit and watch like it was a tv show. Bonus points if he can guide you through it, making you edge yourself until you ignore his commands and he has to come over and punish you.

His oral fixation comes in waves, having your tits in his mouth is like heaven. He will never tell a single soul that, even you, but we all know it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A part of me wants to say that in the outside world he’s a raging virgin, now he’s in the circus so he can just go crazy.

But another part of me wants to say he’s super experienced, but he’s never been with someone like you. Not even in a stereotypical way, but he’s just not usually into you as a type.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mutual masterbation where ya’ll are side by side. From time to time he’ll just slide his free hand over to your body and play with it too.

Doggy but he’s so unserious with it. He’ll put his foot up by your head to make sure to get as deep as he can into you.

Cowgirl/riding and reverse cowgirl for sure. His hands are so large that they can carry your body with ease, so being in these positions means when he wants me he can just place them above your hips and slam you into him. Then he gets to watch your stomach bulge out with each stroke and your face contort.

“?!&%, well would you look at that” Jax hissed, skimming his fingertips across your stretched skin as he took in the sight of the bulge protruding from your stomach. 

Jax let out a small chuckle before grabbing your hand and placing it over the hump, “you feel that doll? You feel how full you are hmm?”. Your glossy eyes glanced into his as he began to thrust into you, your palm rising and falling with each one.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be humorous but most times I don’t even think it’s intentional.

Like if he was to say “woahhh, easy there tiger. If you go that fast you’ll cum before me, and you know that's not allowed”. I’d probably laugh but he’s dead serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Canonically… probably none.

To ME, he wouldn’t care to keep himself trimmed up nice. It’s a bit crazy down there but I don’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be both super romantic and just zoned in.

“?!&% babe keep going, my cock feels so good in that pretty throat of yours”

“Oh you poor thing, are you tired? But I’m not finished with you yet, so looks like we have a little bit longer to go”

“You’re mine, my personal fuck toy remember? So come over here, let me use your body for a bit”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he get off himself when he has you? You can fulfill every need and more at any given time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dacryphilia for sure, he mocks you for crying but he want more always

“Are you crying?” he cooed, grinning as he looked down at your sweet face, your tears mixing with your saliva at the corners of your lips.

“Awww you poor thing, bit off more than you can chew did we? Better finish off what you started, you’re doing so well, I’ll make sure to paint that pretty little throat of yours white” Jax growled, caressing your damp lower face with his hand and sliding his cock deeper down your throat, your gargles slowly inching him closer and closer to ecstasy. That and the fact he could see you rubbing your thighs together for your own enjoyment.

Overstimulation and edging for sure, he’s the ultimate tease. There are days he will make you edge yourself over and over again until you can’t any longer, just to then take over and overstimulate you till your body is a mess.

Free use and CNC 100% You guys have nothing but spare time, so having you at his disposal at all times is perfect. He doesn’t care the location, who’s around or who could come around. If he wants it, he’ll have it, and everyone else will have to deal with it.

“B~But Gangle is looking for us J~Jax”, “So? Why the hell do I care? That crybaby won’t say a word regardless. I want to fill you up right here and now n no one will stop me from doing so” he vowed, unbuckling his overalls with one hand and leaning you over the railing with the other.

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

Anywhere, he legit does not care where. He does enjoy public places though as he enjoys watching your nervous face when you hear the others roaming around, and he gets to feel you clench around him as they get closer due to fear.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You being a brat, he likes to fuck the brat out of you. 

Also just when you’re super needy, your body listens well when it wants something.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Toys on himself, he really isn’t into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Is it bad if I say his preference is receiving? Not saying he doesn’t give, but he prefers to get head.

“Ugh fine, stop with the frowning already and come over here before I change my mind” Jax huffed, rolling his eyes as he gestured for you to go to him. Sometimes he would act as if he didn’t want it, but he thoroughly enjoyed having you on his face, your thighs encasing his face as he got to play with you. 

“Remember dollface, I’m the one in control here, so I’ll have you here until all you can focus on is my tongue against you”

He enjoys head, so much so that he just has to fuck you after every time.

“?!&% you did so good, so ?!&%ing good baby” he breathlessly huffed, tangling a large portion of your hair into his hand and sliding you off of his dripping cock, a mixture of spit and cum still connecting you to it as he yanked you up. 

Before you could even really comprehend what was going on, your lips met his, resulting in the neediest of kisses. You hadn’t even had a chance to take a breath before, both of your hands now roughly exploring eachothers bodies, you both wanted nothing more than to be one.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both. Sometimes he just needs to be balls deep in you, crashing into you with no remorse. Other times he likes to take it slow and and make sure you feel every touch.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Daily. Not much else to do is there.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

All the time, again, y'all have endless time so why not?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go like 4-5 rounds back to back, others just 2 but a load of oral in between.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

On you he loves them, especially the vibes. Making you have one on you while you guys are with the others is like entertainment for him. Having to watch you squirm in silence while the others stare, oblivious as to why you're so antsy. 

“Are you okay? You’re acting like Pomni right now?”, “They’re fineeee, aren’t you? Go on, tell them” Jax jested, turning up the vibe as you went to open your mouth, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to form a straight sentence with it that high.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

To the point that it could drive one insane.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t too loud but he likes to dirty talk, he knows it turns you on.

“Does my cock feel that good? You’re drooling”

“Go on, cum on this cock. Make sure everyone knows it’s yours”

“You think Caine can see us right now hmm? Lets put on one hell of a show for him, I know he probably has one hell of a filthy mind. If he didn’t, wouldn’t he have stopped up by now?”

“You’re so ?!&%ing lucky I can’t breed you in this place”

“Do you want the others to hear you? Because you aren’t too good at holding your tongue”

“I’m gonna fill you up nice and good, only I can violate this, it’s mine”

“Stop covering your mouth, I need to hear how well I fuck you”

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

He wants to watch you fuck someone else, just so he can see how pathetic they are at making you feel good. Only he can make you cum, only he knew your sweet spots and what you liked. You’re practically molded to him, you are his and no one will compare, but he wants to watch someone try.

Jax watched as one of the NPC’s he had snuck in frantically fucking you, your fake moans only making him sigh heavily in the chair at the end of the bed. He was almost getting annoyed at the fact that this NPC was barely even trying, he was just using your body at this point. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you actually cum” Jax reassured, caressing your cheek before making his way to your legs, “A* for effort but you’re done” he scowled, shoving the NPC aside before he could even consider defiling your body any further.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Its girthy and long. It took you a long time to get use to, but now nothing else can satisfy you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It can go from wanting it everyday to just tired of it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It can be pretty instant after the aftercare, but even while asleep his body still pulls you into him for security.

[kaiserposting]

How to Subtly Show Someone You're Interested

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.4k TYPE: Humor, Bad flirting, bickering WARNINGS: huge Kaiser tw

#1 Eye contact

Kaiser has been acting strange.

Usually this would not be an observation you'd be making (as he acts weird all the time so it's not worthy of note), but today he's been so odd, it's starting to bug you even more than his default level of being annoying.

He keeps just… staring blankly. At you. You don't know what you did to deserve this horrible treatment — perhaps you did not grovel enough after accidentally butting into His Majesty’s shoulder, or breathed in his direction too hard without permission, or some other similar tragedy — but it's getting unsettling.

Well, honestly, it was creepy to begin with, but it's making your skin crawl more and more the longer it goes on. Like, what does he want? Are you going to be on the news soon? His eyes are blue and lifeless and evil like always, so you know he can't be up to anything good each time he burns your body to a crisp with his stoic serial killer gaze. It's even worse when he smirks at you while he does it, that's how you know the torture you'll endure at his hands will be slow and painful, and he's already delighting in his demented plans before putting them into action.

Kaiser attempts to maintain his stare down with you while he makes his way out of the training room and you stay behind putting away whatever you need to, observing him in confusion and fear. Though, of course, you would not admit to something as lowly as letting Kaiser intimidate you out loud (since you don't want to partake in an action that seems to give him a mental orgasmic feeling), at least to yourself, you can concede you're on edge.

… That is, until his dedication towards being a scrote proves detrimental even to him because he runs into the wall, hitting about half his face. It seems tormenting you is too distracting for a sick sadist like Kaiser. He palms at his skin, probably seething to himself while trying to seem cool and collected and totally not on the brink of shitting himself in anger on the outside, as if such a small thing as a solid wall could not faze him or even cause him pain.

You point and laugh at him. Kaiser pretends not to see you and walks out tall and proud like nothing happened. This will have to do as your revenge, for now.

#2 Initiate conversation

“Did you have a nice weekend?” asks Kaiser.

“It's Tuesday,” you reply, once again confused. Why is he talking to you, does he have nothing better to do.

“Right,” he says in a casual tone, like he didn't just ask you an irrelevant dumbass question. “The weather is nice.”

You ignore that one, but you can't help wondering if something is wrong with him and if this is an obscure call for help. Blackmail from a drooling fan perhaps? After all, it's unlike him to say anything so boring and ordinary, and you don't imagine he would make small talk with you unless it's a complicated code to signal that his life is in danger.

“What restaurant would you recommend?” Kaiser tries again.

“What?”

There's an uncomfortable silence during which you're just looking at each other, you perplexed and him expressionless, the previous guise of pleasantries and fake sweet smile wiped off. It is possibly even more uncomfortable than anything else that has unfolded between you two in the past. Then Kaiser says, “You know, I think you're an ingrate.”

“What?!”

“You’re not appreciative enough of my efforts.”

“For what?!”

Kaiser scoffs, averse to elaborating due to humiliation (either because of his apparent failure or because it's plain embarrassing to state his intentions when you don't seem receptive to them or because being outright on the matter requires him to express himself, which is in nature disgusting). Then you watch while he walks away from you in a moody fit.

Well, at least if he has the energy to act temperamental, that must mean he's not in any shittier spirits than usual. It is way less unnerving than his earlier civility, for one.

#3 Compliment them

Kaiser has no respect for personal space. Or more like he only deems his need for such important and disregards everyone else's. You know this.

But you can't lie in good conscience that he's gotten this close to you before, examining you, leaning in way too close. Close enough that you feel Ness planning your murder from across the field. Close enough to warrant a harassment complaint.

You assume Kaiser must be looking for miniscule flaws to fake laugh at like a missing eyelash or the fact that you have pores, but instead of doing what you predicted, after a long while of making you almost throw up from nerves — what's with this guy and staring at you like a microbe under a telescope so much? — he says, “You have beautiful sclera.”

???

You bristle at the sound of the strange thing he said. Unperturbed by your visibility negative reaction, Kaiser continues,

“And I love the way you look at me, like you want to kill me. It gives me a thrill.”

What's wrong with this guy? you think to yourself.

“Your bone structure can almost rival mine-”

“Kaiser, stop talking nonsense and go… back to doing something else somewhere away from me.”

“Hmph.” He backs off to a more socially appropriate distance, crossing his arms. “I see you still haven't fixed your attitude.”

“Me? I need to fix my attitude?! When you're the one acting like a depraved person?”

“Wow, if you think that's what I'm doing, you must not understand anything about the world at all,” he says in a condescending tone, smirking at you with played up amusement.

“You have some nerve! Kaiser, go away before I take advantage of my position and put rat poison in your water bottle. It'd suit you to go out that way.”

“You're so obsessed with me.”

After that declaration, he whips around to make a dramatic and majestic exit, with a deliberate swat of his hair to your face. Maybe you'll be spitting out gross blue strands after this. You fume to yourself.

#4 Light touches

Once again, Kaiser is plaguing you. Today's method of inflicting trauma seems to involve more gratuitous touching than usual.

He awkwardly drags his hand over your shoulder.

You stare at him as if this is the most scandalous offense you've been on the receiving end of. Maybe it's not, but he's been walking on your nerves all day with other such inept attempts at caresses. “Did you just wipe something on my sleeve?”

“What?” he asks in a flat tone. “No. Are you dumb?”

Your expression doesn't show anything other than incredulity. Certainly not the fluster and admiration Kaiser is hoping for.

You then go right back to ignoring him like he is dust. This is outrageous, he's going to be sick. Kaiser takes fate into his hands and embraces you stiffly from behind (once again showing his lack of etiquette).

Startled, you ask, “Are you gonna put me in an octopus hold?”

“No? Do you always have to assume I'm going to do something bad to you?”

“Well, it's not like you ever do anything good.”

Kaiser lets go of you even though he doesn't want to — truly a moment of his character development you're witnessing —, his arms dropping limply by his sides while he frowns at you like a kicked kitty. Exquisite manipulation tactic, however, you're not moved by the display at all.

He says, “I still think you need to fix your attitude.”

You roll your eyes and let him have his little moment with his snide remark. An immediate retort hasn't come to mind after all, and you'd rather play it off as disregarding him than admit to the shameful lack of a comeback. It's not your fault his incomprehensible behavior leaves you speechless, anyway.

#5 Be there for them

Kaiser decides to skip this one as it's even more vile than when he lowered himself enough to the point he tried to hug you.

#6 Use humor

Kaiser stands in front of you, trying to think of something funny to say, which isn't an activity he engages in often (as the comedy of his existence is often unintentional or manifests in the form of being a bitch for no reason and antagonizing people unprovoked). During this process, you're once more forced to endure the weight of his unrelenting, vacant stare.

“I have a controversial football opinion,” says Kaiser, finally.

“As usual.”

“The ball is sentient and it hates getting kicked around like that.”

You tilt your head, not understanding why Michael Kaiser would say something so… silly? “Well, I'm sure you take some delight in imagining that,” you say in an unsure voice, not knowing how else to reply.

Kaiser smirks at you in an attempt to shrug off his latest failure and feign casualness. Then he tries again because his spirit is as tenacious as his gawping. “You should always make sure to distinguish between ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I apologize’ at a funeral.”

“Why? Do you speak from experience? Is that a little slip up from when you attended the funeral of one of all those people you killed?”

“No. I think if I killed someone, I'd be the type to facetiously say ‘rest in peace,’ just to piss them off in the afterlife.”

“I can imagine you doing that. Good for you I guess.”

Kaiser snickers to himself — maybe because he's enjoying imagining all his enemies dead — and plays with his fingers in an almost nervous manner, which makes you question if you're perhaps hallucinating. He ponders if he's funny or not.

#7 Text them

(04:55 AM) Michael Kaiser: [5 image attachments]

(06:32 AM) You: why are you sending me shirtless mirror pics lol

(06:46 AM) Michael Kaiser: Wrong person

(06:50 AM) You: did you mean to send that to ness

(07:02 AM) Michael Kaiser: No

(07:05 AM) Michael Kaiser: ???

(07:43 AM) You: well you only talk to me and him so if it's not for us who else could it be for

(07:44 AM) You: lol don't tell me you did that to seem sought after haha

(07:48 AM) Michael Kaiser: Let's stop talking for a little while.

#8 Give them attention

Kaiser gives you plenty of attention, and he doesn't even make you do tricks for it. Like for example right now, when he's poking you in the ribs while you're trying to fill out something unfinished on the tablet during your break.

You slap his hand away. “Kaiser. What.”

He moves onto poking your neck instead, forcing you to wiggle away from him as he continues his antics despite your dodging.

“What do you want?!”

“I just don't want you to feel neglected by me,” he says in a tone he probably believes is suave.

“I don't.”

“You're trying to seem brave, but your eyes give you away.”

“You're crazy,” you say, not even in shock or embarrassment, but rather a very apparent disorientation. “If anything I've been overdosing on you lately.”

“There’s never enough of me. You don't need to pretend just to humble me. It's not cute nor clever.”

“Kaiser, quit it before I cut off your finger and poke you with it instead.”

To your surprise, Kaiser stops. You watch him warily for a few seconds before feeling safe enough to turn around and try doing your work again.

Kaiser pokes you on the sides.

#9 Playful teasing

“You look like shit today,” greets Kaiser with a smirk, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Did they let the clown academy off early today?”

“Kaiser, you're so immature.” You shrug him off. Usually you'd allow the contact, granted he's not being rude or creepy, but he's done the former a nanosecond into the conversation, so you're not going to stand for it.

“I assume you're stupid or uptight enough to take me seriously. That's always fun.”

“Trust me, you're the last person in the world I'd take seriously.”

“No, but really, you're quite unencumbered by the standards of beauty today.”

“So I'm ugly and stupid? Awesome, thank you so much.”

His traitorous hand which had grabbed at your shoulder earlier moves lower around your waist instead, pulling you closer. At his actions, you squint your eyes and look at him as if he is a dirty wet sock. “Don't worry, I'd still take you though.”

This horrendous thing he just uttered makes you gape in shock. Then it morphs into disgust, and you smack him on the arm and retch at him.

#10 Mention being single

You expect something horrific to happen this time when Kaiser approaches you, but instead, out of the blue, unprovoked, nobody asked or moved — as most things are with him — he announces, “By the way, I'm single.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, not sure what to do with this information. “Yeah, that figures.”

“What do you mean? Tons of people want me, but I don't want them back. That's why I'm available, that's all.”

“Don't explain yourself to me, I don't care,” you say flippantly, crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one leg.

“Well, you should.”

“Sure, Mr. ‘Sorry Wrong Chat.’” You snort.

Kaiser upturns his nose and glares at you. “You’re mischaracterizing me and presenting that whole situation wrong. For one, I didn't say sorry.” Then he scoots closer to you, grinning without smiling with his eyes whatsoever. “Anyway, I'll forgive you. As long as you remember the main point, which is that I'm single.”

“I know, dipshit.”

“Wow, can't you rub your little brain cells together, the whole two of them, and understand what I've been getting at?” Kaiser snaps, frustrated that the fruits of his incompetent labor aren't ready for reaping yet.

“It's not my fault you can't say whatever you have to say properly,” you say, delivering your line in a pointed tone so that he can grasp the implication you're making this time.

Kaiser blinks with the small frown still on his face, a remnant of his earlier scowling. Then realization sets in and his lips form a thin line instead. His cheeks color slightly.

You're fucking with him on purpose.

___

Some slop I wrote on my phone on vacation in between drinking and sweltering in my own gooch in the sun. Enjoy or don't

[star-girl69]

hi everyone! this is so lazy but pls enjoy 🫶🫶

warnings: swearing and also slight freaky stuff 😣

you: good morning my sweet girlfriend

kk: wtf

kk: why r u not in my bed??

you: babe… i told u i had to leave early this morning bc i had an appt

kk: for what?

you: getting my nails done

kk: u abandoned me to get ur nails done?

you: yes…?

you: i don’t think i appreciate this attitude maybe i’ll just go back to my dorm

kk: please come back to my place.

you: say pretty please with sprinkles on top

kk: y/n

you: ok see u tmrw then

kk: pretty please with sprinkles on top.

you: ofc i will come back to urs 🥰

kk: 🙄

you: attitude????

kk: no ily

you: aww i love u too!

—-

you: can u plz drive me to my friend’s birthday dinner on friday and pick me up

kk: what times

you: drop me off at 6 pick me up at 9

kk: ok no problem

you: thank u ily

you: i would carpool w my friend serena but i don’t trust her in a car

you: she runs red lights a lot lol

kk: ??? plz don’t ever get into a car with her. i will drive u always

you: aww ur so sweet! not wanting me to die 🥰

kk: anything for my passenger princess

—-

you: CAROLINE ROSE HARVEY

kk: im sorry

kk: i’m so sorry

kk: i’ll make it up to you i promise im so sorry

…

laila: what did you do to kk 😭😭

laila: she’s staring at her phone in horror and when i asked her what was wrong she just said y/n before putting her head in her hands

you: i’m letting her sit in fear for a minute

laila: i admire you a lot ❤️

…

you: so i wake up this morning

kk: yes and u looked so pretty when i left

you: thank u

you: anyways and i then go about my day and i’m ready to run out and do my errands i look at myself in the mirror

kk: and u saw how beautiful u r?

you: yes and also i saw a GAINT FUCKING HICKEY ON MY NECK

you: SEVERAL OF THEM ACTUALLY

kk: do u really want me to say sorry for that

you: yes??? i need so much makeup to cover this up. actually i think u should buy new concealer for me

kk: as long as i can do it again

you: no this is so embarrassing

kk: it’s ok you’ll be saying different later

kk: besides u were encouraging me last night

you: ur delusional i’ve never done that

kk: if u say so babe but we both know

you: *link to new concealer*

kk: just bought 2 prepare to use them up

you: no

kk: yessss

you: no

kk: 😉

you: die

kk: ❤️

—-

you: i’m really craving chick fil a

kk: ok

you: i’m REALLY craving chick fil a

kk: u mentioned that

you: bye u don’t care abt me

you: gonna go text my other hoes

kk: u don’t have other hoes

you: im about to

kk: we’ll see

you: PLEASE GET ME CHICK FIL A

you: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

kk: thought u were texting other hoes?

you: i lied ur my only hoe and ilysm

you: plz get me chick fil a

you: i’ll do a cartwheel on it

kk: ???

kk: babe i’ll get u chick fil a

kk: thanks tho? i think

you: YAYYYY

—-

kk: i know ur asleep right now and i know u r very tired and i’m sorry but i forgot my helmet can u pls bring it to me at the rink

you: how did u forget ur helmet

you: like it weighs 10 pounds and it’s huge

kk: mean

kk: and idk i’m stupid plz bring it

you: ugh fine i’m On my way!

you: omw.

you: im not excited

kk: i love u so much u r the light of my life i cannot imagine waking up without ur beautiful face next to me u are brighter than the sun and i love u

you: thank u shakespeare ur so romantic

you: can we go shopping tmrw and u pay i need new pants

kk: u don’t need pants

you: it’s 9am

kk: yes we can go shopping tmrw

you: love u!

kk: ❤️

—-

you: hi

you: are u doing anything tn?? i feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever

kk: i know baby i miss u

kk: i have practice until 8 but u can come over still after? sleepover?

you: yes definitely i’ll be there

kk: i cant wait to see u pretty girl

—-

you: omg this restaurant looks so good we should go

kk: sunday at 6?

you: um yes i’m free

kk: just made a reservation

you: damn 😭 i’m impressed

kk: whatever my girl wants she gets 🤷‍♀️

—-

you: hi baby

…

you: so what position u got her in rn?

you: missionary? cowgirl?

kk: why do i love u

you: blocked

kk: i have no girls in no positions except for u

you: why are u so busy then?

kk: picked up this new hobby called hockey idk if it will go anywhere

kk: been at the gym for an hour about to go hit the rink

you: send workout pics 😜

—-

kk: hiiiiiiiiii

you: hi babe

kk: tone down that attitude plz

you: ?

kk: actually

kk: turn around show me that ass

you: are u drunk rn

kk: maybe

kk: you have an amazing ass do i tell u that enough

kk: i should tell u more

kk: i love ur ass

you: thank u…

you: do u need to be picked up?

kk: no laila is dd

kk: wanted to talk to my pretty girl

you: u sure know how to make a girl blush

kk: only u babe

kk: i like ur boobs too

you: oh my god pls hand the phone to laila

kk: this is laila don’t worry we’re going home rn

you: laila ur a goddess thank u

kk: i try ❤️❤️

—-

[aennasan]

You have trouble keeping your inner thoughts to yourself. It always puts you in difficult situations whenever you just blurted out whatever comes to mind. The worst thing was you didn't really mean to say it out loud.

You just can't distinguish the voice inside your thoughts, and your real voice sometimes. It's really hard to keep track of it.

Today, you did it again.

Barou Shoei had always been scary looking with his hair gelled up. His eyes looking sharper and his face hardened. There were moments you refused to look at him, in fear that you would catch his eye. You felt shiver run down your spine just imagining his angry gaze tune in at you.

However, it was different today. It was unexpected to see him look so differently with his hair down when your group met him. Black shirt clinging tightly to his muscular body. Covered with mismatched sleeves, of black and red, varsity jacket. And black pants barely keeping his thick legs.

He looks so delicious. It's kind of scary how you imagine drooling seeing an image of him, half naked with only a towel to cover him down below.

“I bet I can ride you with your hair down like that.” You blurted out without thinking. 

Nagi, Isagi and Bachira froze at that. You probably wouldn't realize what you have said just now if they don't look so wide eyed, mouth agaped, and shell shocked.

Your brain slowly repeated what happened, what you just said, and you immediately covered your mouth with your two hands. The heat crawling all over your body, up to the tips of your hair.

Flustered, you felt the heat of shame oozing from your skin, as you tried to explain to Barou what you just said. Clearing up the misunderstanding.

You wish the floor to swallow you up and take you away right then and there.

You were dying from embarrassment, repeatedly bowing to apologize, when you took the chance to finally look up at him with courage, after you didn't get any response from him.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, when you caught his red eyes just staring at you. You felt exposed and weak on the knees. There was something that glinted in those rare orbs of his. You gulped not knowing what to do. The feeling was like a prey, caught in the talons of its predator. You were afraid that if you blink, he will swallow you whole.

"Hmmm... I bet you could." He responded, voice deep, still holding you down with his gaze.

You are not sure what to do when he opens his arm offering for you to take it. By instinct, you slotted your arm to his, and he walked forward, with you in tow.

You are still trying to process what he said to you. Bewildered and shocked.

It didn't take long for the others to get out of their daze as they erupted with cheers. They followed the two of you, teasing and poking.

You bury your face on his sleeve, as he intertwines his hand to yours, squeezing to comfort.

They will never let you forget. That's for sure.

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[kkami-writes]

hybrid hearts ━ chapter four. wc. 1.5k

It was one of those rare days where both you and Hyunjin were off work, the two of you able to relax at home. Normally on days off Hyunjin liked to paint, whether that was in his room, out on the patio, in the backyard or even just in the living room. He’d sit on the couch, watching a random kdrama. The boy was constantly covered in paint.

Today however he seemed on edge, his canvas barely touched and constantly glancing towards the backyard while he sat in the living room. White ears twitching every so often as if he was straining to hear something. You don’t even get the chance to ask him if something is wrong before he’s darting out to the backyard, transforming into a ferret midway. Hyunjin disappears into the bushes leaving you a little bewildered at his actions. While his behavior has confused you greatly, you’re not too worried.

As the day drags on the more you start to get anxious. Usually Hyunjin isn’t away from you this long, at least not without you knowing where he is. Of course he’s allowed to do whatever he wants without your permission but this is the first time he has just up and left, the thought that he’s gone forever scares you more than you’d like to admit.

You’ve gotten so used to the ferret that you know your life would be lonely without him, the fear of being alone has once again wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing painfully. So when you finally see his little form running through the bushes again you feel like you can finally breathe. Except then you see a very giant grey wolf trailing behind him. The creature looks like it’s chasing Hyunjin and your brain goes into overdrive. Before you can even think you’re throwing open the little glass sliding door and launching yourself over Hyunjin, shielding him with your body.

“No! Please don’t hurt him!” You beg even though you don’t know if the wolf is well, a wolf or if it’s a hybrid. Hyunjin is squirming in your grip, tiny body writhing as if he wants you to let go. You refuse, holding onto him a little tighter. He gets fed up and transforms back into a human, resulting in you being spread across his lap.

Still, you don’t budge, still trying to protect the boy. Hyunjin on the other hand chitters angrily towards the wolf, baring his little fangs.

“I told you to get lost! This territory has been claimed already!” You glance up at Hyunjin whose face is contorted in pure anger that it’s practically rolling off him in waves.

“Hyune. What’s going on?” You ask, taking a look back at the wolf who hasn’t moved, it’s just staring between both you and Hyunjin.

“This wolf has been nosing at the territory line I made. I don’t care what it wants. It shouldn’t be here,” Hyunjin growls, trying to get out of your grasp but you’re still afraid and can’t move.

“Territory?” You question and this time Hyunjin seems slightly embarrassed, ears turning red.

“Nothing I just- when you adopted me…I didn’t…want other hybrids to get the wrong idea so…I might have? Marked that…this is my territory,” Hyunjin mutters, now looking anywhere but you. To be honest, you’re not really sure what that means or entails but you suppose you’re flattered that Hyunjin truly thinks of this place as his home to want to protect it to this extent.

The wolf behind you lets out a whine and it causes you to turn to look at him. It’s nosing at it’s paw before letting out more sad pitiful whines.

“Ignore him. Tell him to leave,” Hyunjin huffs out, still glaring at the wolf.

“Hyun, he seems hurt,” You murmur, noticing how swollen the wolfs paw looks. “Let me at least help him. Then he can leave,” Hyunjin still seems unhappy about this, now burying his face into the crook of your neck, letting out the small squeak that you adore.

“Fine. But then he leaves,” He mutters much more quietly, his lips almost pressed to your neck as he says the words.

“Ok, ok. Then he leaves,” This seems to placate Hyunjin as he finally pulls out from your embrace, but he doesn’t look at you. You move to stand up, now looking over at the wolf. “Come on, lemme have a look at your paw,” It obeys, limping slightly but following you towards the bathroom. You hear a door slam and you assume that Hyunjin has resorting to locking himself in his room. A sigh falls from your lips. You hope the boy isn’t too upset.

Rummaging through your cabinet you pull out a first aid kit. To be honest you were a little worried, if it was really bad it would be best to get him to a hospital but you assumed he couldn’t afford it (but really could anyone really afford a hospital bill) and that’s why he had left it unchecked for so long. You turn back to the wolf, looking down at him. He was a little larger than a normal wolf, it was slightly intimidating.

“Uh, are you gonna transform? Or would you prefer if I just tended to you in wolf form?” The wolf answered by slowly turning back into a human, his injured hand behind his back. You take a moment to take the boy in. He’s taller than you of course but you think that Hyunjin might be even taller than the wolf. Brown curly hair sits on top of his head, cute grey wolf ears peaking out and twitching. Overall he’s very handsome, a thought you’ll keep to yourself for now.

“Can I see your hand,” You reach out, leaving your hand in the air for whenever he’s ready. He seems to trust you enough as he puts his hand out. Carefully you examine the wound. It seems like a nasty sliver, stuck between two of his fingers and embedded in his skin. His hand is slightly swollen and red, probably from having it in for so long. You can’t imagine how uncomfortable it might be and you can’t help but cringe.

“Ok, let me see if I can get the sliver out first…” You grab a pair of tweezers, moving his hand at an angle that would be easiest to remove the wood. “This might hurt a bit,” You warn the wolf before starting to squeeze at the wound, seeing if it’ll pop out a little to make it easier to grab. He doesn’t make much noise besides a small hiss, otherwise he’s pretty quiet.

You’re still working on getting the sliver out, pressing at different angles when he finally speaks up.

“I’m sorry for upsetting your mate. I hope I didn’t cause a rift between you too,” Your head flies up to look at him, eyes wide at what he called Hyunjin.

“O-Oh! No! Me and Hyunjin aren’t…no it’s not like that. We aren’t um. Mates,” You can’t help but stutter over your words. The wolf gives you a look that says he doesn’t really believe you but doesn’t push it any further. “So, what’s your name?” You try to change the subject, hoping your cheeks aren’t red from the insinuation.

“Bangchan, but you could call me Chan or Chris,”

“It’s nice to meet you- Oh! I got it!” You exclaim before pulling the sliver out, resulting in a yelp from the wolf. “Sorry, sorry. It’s out now,” You throw away the large piece of wood and grab some ointment and bandages. “I’m a bit worried about you getting an infection, it’s already a little swollen,” You bite at your lower lip, nibbling it out of anxiety. “Why don’t you stay? Just for the night and in the morning you can leave. I want to give you some meds but they’ll probably make you fall asleep and I’d hate to send you out there with an open wound,”

“But what about your mate? He’s already mad at just me being here,”

“Just let me deal with that ok? Hyunjin will probably be upset but he knows it’s the right thing to do,”

Chan seems a little hesitant but he knows that if he truly wants his hand to heal, he needs to avoid an infection. He wouldn’t be able to afford a hospital bill. So he relents, agreeing to just stay the night. You show him to one of your empty rooms. Chan thanks you for your hospitality as well as taking care of his injury before bidding you goodnight, already feeling the meds taking effect.

You take a moment to collect yourself, trying to go over the events of the past two hours. Thinking about it hurts your head so you pack it away to deal with later. That was a future you problem. For now, you had to think about how to tell Hyunjin about Chan.

You were in desperate need of some tea.

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[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 & 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈

❝ 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙪𝙨? ❞

꧁ 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.6k

Rating › NSFW

Warnings ›a bit mean no character x character action

Kinks › light spanking/degradation

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) was a bit weird. He knew, realistically, it was a bad idea to two time people but it wasn’t like they were truly dating. It was just sex and he made sure to test himself every two weeks. He was safe. 

It was just the two people he was sleeping with was vastly different. 

Kaminari was more soft, shocking (Name) the first time they ever had sex. It reminded him of the first time he had sex. Sweet whispers and moans of how good he made Kaminari felt. He could still remember the time Kaminari kissed him. 

It wasn’t something he thought about but it felt nice in the moment so he never stopped him. 

Compared to Todoroki…. 

It was like day and night. 

Todoroki was more rough. Skin slapping together and (Name) on his hands and knees the entire time. It felt more like actual fuck buddies than Kaminari. Normally, any other person would describe Todoroki as a bit dehumanising during sex but (Name) thought nothing of it. 

The two just gave him different types of sex and it was the most addicting thing ever. 

But sadly, he wasn’t even sure how he got himself in this situation. 

Kaminari was staring at him a bit hurt, sitting on a chair in the corner of the hotel room they were in. Todoroki, how did he even get here, was standing. His face was normal as if this didn’t bother him but (Name) knew he was a little hurt that he wasn’t the only fucking him. 

“You should’ve told me. I was…” Kaminari’s voice trailed off, hurt on his face once more. 

Todoroki hummed. “I would’ve been fine with it if you had just told me.” 

(Name) cursed. He had accidentally scheduled a time with both of them on the same day, at the same time. The two pro heroes ended up seeing each other try to enter the same hotel room. (Name) could still feel the heart attack he had when he opened the door to the two heroes staring down at him. 

Well, Kaminari was his height. It was more of Todoroki staring down at him. 

“I’m not a whore… If that’s what you’re thinking. We can stop, whatever this is, if you guys want,” (Name) said, staring at anything but them. 

“But you are.” 

“Todoroki!” Kaminari screeched, fear on his face. 

(Name) looked up in shock. A whore…? 

“You wanted the both of us but couldn’t realistically do anything about it.” 

Kaminari shook his head, ready to get up. “You guys can have your sex thing without me. I’m—”

“—Sit.” 

(Name) watched in shock at how quickly Kaminari dropped back down. A blush etched on Kaminari face as he looked away in embarrassment—shocked at himself for even complying with the man. Todoroki had a small smirk on his lips, a bit surprised himself that the blonde actually listened. 

“Strip, (Name).” 

(Name) glanced over at Todoroki. He saw the look the hero gave him, a look that told him he had the right to refuse. That he could say no and that would be that. But something inside him told him it could be fun. 

To live a little. 

Slowly, (Name) unbuttoned his shirt. It was something he has done before but not in front of an audience. He could tell Kaminari was still looking away—still mentally reeling at his recent actions. Todoroki was just staring at him, eyes watching his shaky fingers pull of his shirt completely. 

“Hurry up. I’m getting bored.” 

(Name) kissed his teeth but did as he was told. Swiftly pulling off his pants and underwear in one go. He felt a shiver up his spine from the cold air and looked up at Todoroki for any other instructions. 

“Kaminari, look.” 

Kaminari shook his head. “No, no. I’m not into this type of stuff.” 

It took only two steps for Todoroki to reach Kaminari and gently grasp his face, turning it to face him. (Name) couldn’t really see what was happening but he could tell that Kaminari was getting turned on by how pink his face was getting. 

Todoroki whispered something that caused the blonde’s breath to hitch and glance over at (Name). (Name) stared back, surprised at himself for not feeling embarrassed at being the only one who’s naked. 

“Come over here.” 

(Name) blinked and stood up to walk over only to be met with a glare from Todoroki who glanced at the floor. 

What…? 

(Name) was confused but kneeled down. There was no way he wanted him to crawl over there? 

Right? 

Well he would be wrong because as soon as he began to crawl over, Todoroki’s glare was gone as he moved away from Kaminari who could now get a full view of (Name) crawling over to him. Kaminari looked panicked but didn’t move, looking up at Todoroki to wonder what the hell he was planning. 

“(Name), can you do me a favor?” Todoroki asked, a small smirk on his lips as he reached over and pulled down Kaminari’s sweats. Kaminari cried out in shock, reaching over to grab his hand but was too weak to really do anything about it. 

Todoroki was stronger than him. 

(Name) hummed, reaching up to be in between Kaminari’s legs. It didn’t have to be said on what Todoroki want to happen. Kaminari’s cock was harden already, laying on his stomach in it’s five inch glory. He covered his face while muttering on and on about how crazy this was to do it in front of his coworker. 

Todoroki and (Name) ignored him. 

“Suck him.” 

(Name) didn’t need to be told twice. He reached over and licked at Kaminari’s cock, earning a gasp from him. With that, he raised his hand to grab it but was stopped by Todoroki. 

“No hands.” 

(Name) held back his tongue and nodded, leaning forward to try and take the cock in his mouth. He struggled a bit which Todoroki took pity on as he reached over to pull the cock towards him. Kaminari flinched at the touch but continued to cover his face—not wanting the two to see him. 

It was always easy to get Kaminari near release. He was so sensitive. 

(Name) knew blowjobs wasn’t his strong suit but he always tried his best. He tried to fit as much as he could while sucking on the tip, letting his tongue lick off any of the sweat Kaminari got from his hero shift earlier. 

Kaminari’s legs twitched with each suckle, keeping his lips tight so no moans slipped out. It was a shame, (Name) loved at how whiny Kaminari was whenever they had sex. It was a great balance to Todoroki’s limited groans. 

(Name) was so into sucking that he didn’t notice Todoroki was behind him until he felt a smack on his bare ass. He screamed, causing Kaminari to groan at the vibration on his cock. 

He so desperately wanted to look behind himself to see what Todoroki was thinking but he didn’t want to leave Kaminari hanging. (Name) pushed through, wondering when the next slap would come. 

It came whenever he got lost in the pleasure of Kaminari. (Name)’s back arched when Todoroki slapped his right cheek his time. The sound of slurping and hand touching skin was the only thing left in the room. 

(Name) wished he could speak and tell Kaminari to let loose. 

But it seemed Todoroki was able to for him. 

“Kaminari.” 

“Hngh…?” Kaminari whimpered, cursing to himself for letting him hear him. 

“Let (Name) hear you… Let me hear you…” Todoroki said. 

Kaminari shook his head, looking away. Todoroki didn’t say anything else, just a simple hum in response. (Name) could feel his jaw starting to hurt. He could certainly feel that Kaminari was close but wasn’t coming. 

Another slap on his ass caused him to accidentally bite on Kaminari’s dick. 

Kaminari’s voice was loud and sudden. From the bite, which would honestly hurt most, sounded more like a moan than him being in actual pain but that was something (Name) would think about another time. 

Something salty and sticky released in his mouth. Kaminari had came. 

(Name) pulled away, swallowing it easily. He glanced up at Kaminari’s face who had tears streaming done his face with an embarrassed look in his eyes. 

“Kami….” 

“Don’t. That really hurt.” 

“What did?” 

“My dick and my feelings.” He muttered, wiping away any tears on his face. 

(Name) blushed when he felt Todoroki pat him on the head as if he was a dog. He watched as he walked over to Kaminari and did the same. 

Kaminari simply stared at him in shock. 

“It’s okay. It’s just role-play.” 

Kaminari sighed. “Yeah, the sex was but my feelings weren’t!” 

Todoroki hummed, “then let’s go on a date. All three of us.” 

“Huh?!” (Name) and Kaminari yelled. 

“What? We might as well.” 

(Name) felt this had to be a dream. He knew it wasn’t set in stone but if he could possibly keep both men… 

Ah, it would be a dream come true! 

“After sex though, my dick is hard,” Todoroki said, reaching over to take off his clothes. 

Fuck, (Name) was not ready for sucking another dick. But his own dick twitched at the thought while he could see Kaminari look mildly interested in what Todoroki could be packing. 

Well, he could entertain him for a minute. 

ꕤ

It wasn’t a minute. Todoroki fucked him like he usually did with Kaminari in front row view of it. (Name) felt embarrassed with each thrust that caused him to scream out in pleasure. He could tell that Kaminari was a bit off put by Todoroki’s words of degradation—calling (Name) a slut or whore. 

“Next time, “Todoroki grunted, his thrusts becoming inconsistent, “do you think you could handle the both of us?” 

(Name) mewled as he could feel himself coming close. “Yes, yes…” He muttered, looking straight ahead at Kaminari. Kaminari blinked but kept eye contact with him, glancing up at Todoroki a few times as well. 

Yeah, next time, he was going to enjoy them both.  

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Another request finished! The person who requested this, so sorry for accidentally deleting your request

I’ll be posting tomorrow again another BNHA request

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[fizziepopangel]

A Surprise For You, My Dear

* Author’s note: In this story, I’m going to interpret Alastor’s asexuality and aromanticism as more fluid than it seems to be canonically. Also, this is my first fanfic so please keep that in mind if it's shit... That being said, I hope you enjoy!

P.s. If you enjoy this fic, you can always request more with the Fic Request Form

Alastor. The radio demon. Everyone knew the radio demon, and though he had been gone for quite a while, most still feared him upon his return, but not me. Because he was different from me. Softer, kinder, more genuine. It wasn’t a relationship, at least I didn’t think it was, but I still enjoyed my time with Alastor; the dancing, the laughter we both shared, every moment left me in awe of the man that had come to be feared by so many.

“You gonna answer me or not?” Husk snapped, pulling me from my thoughts. 

I tried to cover my embarrassment that struck me when I realized that I hadn’t been listening to the old bartender at all despite having been the one that came and started conversing with the man. I sat up a little straighter and looked over at the bar cat. “Sorry, I… my mind was somewhere else. What did you say?”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I’m goin’ out with Angel tonight but that damn pig of his is sick. I think the little shit got into my whiskey when Angel brought him down here last night. Angel wants to know if you’ll watch him.” He takes a long sip of whiskey in his glass. “So you up for it?”

Although I loved Fat Nuggets and would usually jump at the chance to spend time with the sweet little pig, I shook my head. “Sorry, I have plans with Alastor.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Al said he has a surprise for me tonight…”

“Right.” Husk gives me an unimpressed look that seems to say something along the lines of fuck you without outright saying fuck you. “Your boyfriend and your date night.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I say awkwardly. “I mean.. I don’t think so…I mean, I… I just… I like him but its, it’s…” I sigh deeply, a heat rising in my cheeks. “Shut up, Husk.”

 “Whatever.” Husk says in his usual empty sarcastic tone. “Guess Angel and me’ll just stay in with the pig tonight…” I watch as he turns, grabbing a glass and beginning to polish it with a rag that ironically  didn’t all that clean.

“Oh… sorry, Husk…” I mumble awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit like a dick for essentially denying the couple a night out. I knew they both deserved it but I just couldn’t bring myself to say that I would cancel on Alastor when he made the night out seem so special. “I…” I trail off for a moment, feeling the other demon’s judging eyes despite his back still being turned to me as he continues to polish glasses on the shelf behind the bar. “I’m gonna go get ready to meet Alastor. I’ll see you later, and maybe I can take Fat Nuggets another time?”

I receive a grunt in reply, but as I get off my barstool, I hear the old demon grumble under his breath…. A simple warning. “Just… Be careful around Alastor, kid…. You been having a rough enough time without his bullshit” He says, not even sparing me a glance as the words left his lips. I promise him I will, knowing that he’s only looking out for me… Husk always told me that, or at least something along those lines…. But this time felt different; this time it sent a spear of anxiety through my chest and made my mind wander to what everyone in hell knew about Alastor versus the Alastor that I knew. The Alastor that I loved despite knowing he probably didn’t and would never feel the same about me… when I really thought about it, I did wonder why the man had taken such a liking to me. I wasn't indebted to him, I had no real power in hell or the hotel, and even I knew that no matter what version of Alastor was on display, he didn't keep people around without a reason. 

My thoughts continued to wander from one shitty thought to the next as I went up to my room to change for our little hang out. I was so lost in the whirlwind of thoughts when a knock at the door jolted me from where I sat in my room.

“Darling,” Alastor’s cheery, sing song voice. “Are you ready to go?”

Despite the fact that I had just been questioning my entire purpose in his life and why my companionship was so valued by him, I practically tripped over my own two feet trying to get to the door. “Al!” I beam the second I see him. “I thought we were supposed to meet up? What are you doing here?”

Sporting his signature smile, the usually detached demon waltzed into my room, grabbing me and spinning me around. “I thought we could make our way to our outing together, hmm?” He says as I giggle. “What do you say, my dear? May I escort you to the roof for your surprise?” Alastor’s smile faded into a warmer grin as he held out his hand in invitation, waiting for me to take it.

When I took his hand and let him lead me through the halls of the hotel toward the roof, it felt as if all at once the anxieties that had been gnawing away at my gut just melted away ... it was like butterflies just swarmed my insides.

“What is this big surprise, Al?" I giggle as he whisks me up to the roof, stopping just outside the door. 

“Now, I know that you've had a rough week, and that you've been absolutely dying to see that new horror film…” He said giddily. “And I've set something up that I think you'll enjoy very much.”

A frown crossed my face for a moment. I had mentioned wanting to see the horror movie that came out last weekend, and I had been pretty having a shitty week, but I wasn’t sure where Alastor was going with this surprise since he wouldn’t dare touch a tv that would stream the movie. “Yeah…?” I laugh lightly as we stand in front of the door. “What, did you find someone to go to the movies with or something?”

“Not quite.” I can actually heat the excitement in his voice as he opens the door and pulls me through it. “What do you think?”

“Alastor…” I breathe, looking around at the rooftop. There’s twinkle lights strung up all over and blankets and pillows and wine sitting and a basket of my favorite snacks all sitting beside a projector pointed at the wall beside the door. “This is…”

“Oh, but wait, there’s more!” Alastor said, his shadow hitting play on the projector. The beginning sequence of the movie I had been dying to see popping up.

My eyes lit up and despite myself, I launched myself into the radio demon’s arms, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from the man before I felt his arms snake around me. “Alastor, this is amazing! I love it!” I looked up at the man who everyone around me seemed so terrified of, the man my friends warned me to be careful around. “Did you really do this for me?”

“Why of course!” The man smiled down at me, pulling me a bit closer than he usually did before his head dipped just a bit lower and I felt him place a soft kiss on my forehead. “I would do anything to make you happy, my sweet little radio wave.” 

My heart stopped for just a moment before it began racing, hammering against my ribcage as the butterflies in my stomach went wild. “Al…” Before I could stop myself, I found my lips connecting with his and despite his usual aversion to touch and romance and anything that could even possibly lead to sex, he pulled me a bit closer. 

When he didn't pull away, it felt like electricity crackling in my veins. I felt like every star in the sky aligned perfectly as he held me. It felt perfect, it felt right. 

Radio static cracked in the air around us and Alastor’s face was just a light shade of red, no doubt mirroring my own embarrassment at what I had just done.

“Well then, “ Alastor cleared his throat, the static seeming to fade a bit as he straightened his jacket and held his hand out to me. "Shall we sit down and watch the movie?” I take his hand and nod wordlessly, afraid that I would ruin what was certainly a perfect moment if I uttered even a word or asked him to define our relationship.

Alastor showed me to my seat on the blanketed area he had set up, I immediately sank into the soft pillows and blankets, and smiled as he sat down beside me. The movie began to play and as the opening credits began to roll, I knew I should at least thank him for all of this since I knew it was a show of care he reserved for only those he loved on some level, but before I could form a coherent sentence, I felt it… His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me closer to his own body.

“I don’t think I could’ve made this anymore perfect if I tried, Al.” I sigh softly, resting my head against his chest and listening to the quiet, steady crackle of radio static that always seemed to emit from the demon. Although he set this movie night up for me, I’m not even watching the movie, but rather, just trying to soak up this moment before it slips away. “Thank you.”

Alastor chuckles, his hand gently coming to rest on my chin. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned in, our lips hovering just apart from one anothers. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, my dear.” The static completely stops and his whisper tickles my lips as he catches them in another soft kiss.

The week had been shitty, but this… This was perfect.

Alastor Tag list : @writersonicfan91

[ihrtsevyn]

HOW TO GET THE GIRL: A LOVERS GUIDE

CHAPTER NINE: about jiwoo. (1.6k)

WARNINGS: angst, reader is referred to as woman.

◃ previous ep. ⊹ masterlist ⊹ next ▹

Weeks have gone by since you started tutoring Riki. To say you've started to like him more was a vast understatement. Once you dropped your "cold" act that lasted for a mere 3 sessions, You started to become accustomed to him.

Although you had gone many years without interacting with each other, it felt like the spark you had imagined between you two never left.

The both of you had grown comfortable with each other to the point you started to interact with each other outside of the usual library doors.

At first, it was embarrassing to have your name shouted at the other end of the hallway, however, it turned into a typical routine where instead of keeping your head down and speed-walking away from him to avoid lingering eyes, you'd wave back.

During these study sessions, you learned more and more about him. How he microwaves his strawberries, he has a dog named Bisco, he can play piano, and he has a large fear of bugs that you've sadly had to learn the hard way after he accidentally pushed you aside to run away from a nearby wasp.

Something else you learned about Niki was that his grades did not match up with his knowledge. Sure, he was inconsistent with his attendance and would rarely turn in classwork if any at all, but he was smart and an extremely fast learner.

It had gotten to the point where you'd just set a small bulk of his past-due assignments in front of him and study for your other classes until he finished.

The study sessions quickly turned into more of a hangout. Staying in the library together hours after completing whatever workload had stacked up over the week to share hushed laughter and talk about everything under the sun until the library had to close down for the night.

You'd even go as far as to call him your friend, and so would members of the Newspaper Club.

"You're in a rush." Lily offhandedly mentioned as she typed away on the school's computer. Her posture had straightened at the sound of you hastily packing away your belongings but her eyes refused to stray away from the screen.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to meet up with Riki." you answered before slinging the book bag over your shoulder.

"To do what exactly? It's a Friday and I thought you only tutored him on Sundays." J suddenly butted in, a playful yet accusatory tone to her voice as she suddenly invested herself in the conversation.

"I don't know actually, he asked to meet me at the school gates when our session ended."

"Oh? Is he walking you home? That's pretty cute." Yoon commented, a teasing smile growing on her face. "I don't know why he would, I mean— he's never done it before. So, I don't see why he'd want to do it now." You replied with fake unconcern.

You were being honest when you said you didn't know why Riki had suddenly made this decision to meet you at the school gate, but if it was to start walking you home on a frequent basis, you're 100% sure your knees would give out.

"Did you guys need any more help before I head out?" You suddenly questioned, trying to shift focus away from your last comment.

"Nope, we got it from here. Only thing we have left to do anyway is restock the printer paper." J assured with a small smile before hoisting herself up to sit on a desk.

"Okay, I'll see you guys later then." You quickly replied as you made your way towards the exit,

Lily only hummed in response to your statement before saying "Have fun, don't get into any trouble."

A smile crept onto your face as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how much she sounded like a Mom sending her daughter off. "And text us when you make it back home!" Seeun responded, suddenly bordering out of the storage closet with a box filled to the brim with different bulks of paper.

"Okay, Moms, will do."

"About time." Riki groaned out, loud enough for your approaching figure to hear as you made your way into eye view. "Oh, shut up," you said as he pushed himself off of the gates.

"I feel like I've been waiting for forever." He whines as he follows behind your figure. "Yeah, right. Couldn't have been waiting that long since it looks like you went home to drop off your backpack." You pointed out, silently relishing in the feeling of freedom as you got farther and farther away from school grounds.

"I didn't feel like carrying that thing around all day. Plus, it'll be easier to carry yours." He stated nonchalantly.

He reached over to slip your bag off of your shoulders before flinging it across his own, his delicate fingers brushing over your own as he did so. But just as quick as his touch arrived, it was just as quick to leave.

His simple actions shouldn't ruffle you like they do, yet it still happens. You know that when Riki does things like this he never has an underlying intention which makes it all the more pathetic when you feel your stomach brim with butterflies the moment you make skin-to-skin contact with him.

You cleared your throat before wrapping your arms around your stomach, a meek attempt at trying to calm the raging storm of feelings that was happening inside of you.

"So, why did you want to walk me home all of a sudden?" You asked, shifting your gaze around the growing shrubbery to avoid looking in his direction.

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask you something." He shyly uttered, his free hand that wasn't holding your bag made its way to the back of his neck, nervously rubbing it as he looked down at his sneakers.

You glanced in his direction to see that whatever was on his mind had been weighing in on him for a while. "Yeah, what's up?" you asked softly before shifting your gaze forward.

"Um, you're friends with Jiwoo, right?" he asked, out of the corner of your eye you could see him turn towards you. Trying to gauge your reaction and see what you'd say.

It took a moment for the question to fully translate in your mind as if he was speaking a foreign language you had never heard before. Once it did register in your head you couldn't help the shock that overtook your body, nearly making you stumble over your feet.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, it was as if you were a fish out of water. Your mouth had suddenly gone dry and it felt as if you saw the fantasy of your TV romance crashing in front of your eyes. "Yeah, Jiwoo and I are really good friends." You finally managed to push out.

"Why do you ask?" You quickly follow up, your eyebrows unknowingly furrowing.

"I asked because I wanted to know if she was single." He replied, his tone went from nervousness to giddiness in a matter of seconds.

You couldn't turn towards him because you could hear the smile in his voice at the mere mention of her name. You were afraid that if you saw how he beamed at the thought of her that the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach just a few seconds earlier would escape onto the concrete in front of you.

"She's single," you affirmed with a stiff nod.

"Do you think you could set me up with her?" He immediately asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. Each word that came out of his mouth felt like a blow to the gut, killing off each butterfly one by one.

Your head shook 'no' before you could even form the words. "I-...I don't think I could."

"Oh, come on, please?" He suddenly pleaded, turning towards you once again. He wanted you to look at him, whether intentionally or not he knew that if you made eye contact with him you'd fall into his trap just like everyone else.

"Just get one of the basketball players to help. Or one of their cheerleader girlfriends." you tried to reason. "It's not the same," he muttered, tilting his head towards the sky, another whine threatening to come out of his mouth.

"Come on, you'd be the perfect wing-woman. you're good friends with her so it'd be easy and less weird when someone she barely knows tries to set her up with me," he argued, adding onto why he wanted you to set him up with her.

You bit your lip in contemplation. It felt like the obvious answer was 'NO!' but another part of you wanted to agree to set them up. You were happy with the relationship you and Riki had started to build together and you didn't want an elementary crush to get in the way of that.

There was always the lingering possibility that you and him were only ever meant to be friends and nothing more, and maybe, just maybe, Jiwoo was the one for him.

"What do I get out of this?" You quietly asked after the lingering silence.

"Anything you want. If you do this for me I promise I'll pay you back" He swiftly responded before stopping in his tracks, instinctively making you stop alongside him. "Please, just do this for me." He begged, his hands fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your answer.

"Fine, I'll help you."

TAGLIST: @sakiimeo @sakuxxi @ilyjxdz @artstaeh @rosas-in-the-garden @k1ttylvr @stilesks @enhagvrl @yourssincerely-mimi @rizzanna-soda @saursoob @haechansbbg @nishislcve @winuvs @kyrojackson @suhiiiies-blog @rikisgeef @soobs-things @jumigurumino @ssukiyakii @baribaaari @eleanorheartschishiya @rikibun @seunghancore @wonik1ss @sheepgardenbahhhh @rksbae @lukesboo @moomis @luvvvash @conwunder @yvjw @bunnbam @eilidiii @riksaes

[sugarsnappeases]

i need to know what u think about jily

hi....... the only way that jily interests me is A) when they try so so hard to make things work for years but ultimately decide they need to go their separate ways or B) when one or both of them dies, like in canon but also esp. when lily kills james and maybe harry too <33

in this essay, i will discuss option A but if you want there is MUCH to discuss for option B........

for me. jily is like. james who is in love with the idealised version of lily that he created when he was like eleven and decided that she was going to be the love of his life and they were going to have their happily ever after forever and ever amen. the lily he loves is one he made up over years of pining and one that ultimately does not exist. lily, similarly, isn't so much in love with james but with what he represents and what that means for her. he's what everyone expects, a good, well-off man who can provide and care for her and who has been loudly declaring his love for her for years. he's something solid and the inevitable next step in her life and their relationship is a kind of wartime whirlwind spurred on by the feeling that maybe they're running out of time (they are) and by the fact that as far as everyone is concerned, they're perfect for each other.

i think a lot about them during those long months in hiding, just them and baby harry and the realisation that maybe they don't actually know each other all that well or have anything to say to each other or all that much in common. they've never really spent a lot of time one-on-one before. i imagine those months as very quiet and very lonely and filled with a lot of revelations about their relationship that they tell themselves they'll deal w when the war is over. obvs in canon that never happens.

in a non-canon context, i think they're both incredibly stubborn, and convinced that they're right for each other and this is the life they want, and, without the isolation that arose from their specific war-time circumstances, it would take them a long time to realise that their marriage is built on the foundation of fundamentally failing to understand and see each other for who they are. and even when they do realise this, it takes a long time for either of them to do anything about it bc, like i said, stubborn, but also. terrified of what it means if the one thing that's always felt certain and inevitable, is falling to pieces around them. they're scared of those uncharted waters, and also a little embarrassed, and also entirely horrified at what's become of them. they're clinging to the broken pieces of the façade that was their relationship.

i think this is also a very internal thing, in terms of like each of them internally, but also mainly in terms of the breakdown of their marriage mostly taking place behind closed doors, in their house, where it's just the two of them (and baby harry) and there's no one to perform in front of. and they argue and they cry and they try to hold things together and eventually they both come to the realisation that they can't do it anymore, no matter how scary and unknown whatever comes next is, and quietly go through the process of a divorce. their relationship begins with bright swirling colours and loud glittering celebration and a kind of manufactured joy and ends with a messy kind of honesty, and closure even if i kinda think they'll never fully understand each other, and horror & guilt & anger & fear about the time wasted and the times to come...... so.........

[carmensbrain]

can you write uhm gulps loudly uhm Genji and reader uhm gulps sharing a first kiss but Genji is a little insecure and shy because of his scars and like he doesn't want to take off his mask at first but like gulp uhm... looks around uhm I DON'T KNOW I NEED GENJI FICS!! Maybe we can even kiss his mask idk... Preferably with a fem reader!

The way you wrote this request took me OUTTT

I’ll give you some shy genji anon (˶˃⤙˂˶)🎀

Contains- kissing ( ˘ ³˘)

Rating- E for most brains

Warnings- none

Authors note- I can’t write kissing tbh, we get thru it though!

Fic starts below cut!

Unlike when he was a teen, Genji is slow with his love, being cautious to show who he is to people he didn’t fully know or trust yet. He was scared that his scars and body, or lack there of, would make the person he loved feel repulsed.

That fear still lingered in your 3rd month of dating when you had noticed him avoiding the subject of physical intimacy, or even showing you his face or body often. Whenever you’d bring it up he’d conveniently have a meeting or a mission to get ready for and avoid you for a few hours until he’d figured you’d dropped the subject.

Today you finally wanted to open the subject back up, deciding that it’d be best to ask when you both were home so you waited around for him. You lit candles in the living room and set up a bunch of blankets to ensure he’d be comfortable when he got home.

Later on he returned, tiered from the day. He instantly noticed the warm smell of the house as he took off his shoes before he joined you in the living room.

“What is all of this?” He asks, sitting on the plush couch cushion next to you, the material sinking beneath his weight. You figured it was now or never, if it was an answer you didn’t want to hear at least you’d know in stead of worrying that it was you.

“Genji- honey I know that you don’t like talking about stuff like this but I need you to listen” you start, taking his hands into yours, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles soothingly. He stiffens up, looking away from you.

“I understand if it’s just not something you want or- even like but I just want to know…” you sigh, collecting you thoughts before continuing.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” the words burn your throat as they come out, a slight embarrassment festering in your chest as he sat silent for a moment.

“It’s not you” he sighs, the realization of his attitude regarding the subject setting in. He does feel guilty that you’ve been waiting so long to know why but he still feels like he’s doing you a favor.

“Then what is it? I promise whatever it is I will be fine with it” you say, shifting to sit closer to him while facing him. The cold metal of his hands had slowly warmed under your touch, the coldness of his work slowly fading.

“I just… I don’t want to disgust you” he mutters, shrinking away from your warmth with a shudder. You stare at him for a moment, contemplating what he could possibly mean.

“Genji I could never be disgusted by you” you reassure, soft hands meeting the jaw of his mask, your fingers grazing the clips holding it in place. His hands quickly covered yours, a pained look in his eyes. He hated hiding from you but he could feel in his soul that you would be utterly repulsed by what you saw beneath the metal plating.

Regardless of his resistance you removed the covering, silently reassuring him with a warm smile. He closed his eyes as your hands met his tattered skin, warmth spreading over the surface.

He was shocked to say the least when he began to feel your lips pressing soft kisses on his scars, lipgloss transferring to his skin, leaving shiny residue.

“Oh Genji” you sighed, taking in his face in full as though it’d be the last time you’d see it.

“I don’t care what you look like, I’ll love you regardless” you whisper as he forces his eyes open to find a genuine smile on your face, is eyes brimming with tears that threatened to fall over his cheeks.

Without another word he leaned in and met your lips, hands shaking as he held you close. He could feel the heat of his cheeks worsening as his cheeks grew wet with tears, happy tears.

“I love you”

[randomshyperson]

Ribs - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: It's an afternoon like any other, but you and Wanda are grown up now. | Song Based.

Warnings: Mutual Pining, friends to lovers, fluff., some typical trope angst, high school. | Words: 1.755

A/N-> Old work that I found lost in the drafts, is part of a new collection "Song-Based". This one is based on "Ribs" by Lorde.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

-&-

The drink you spilt all over me

"Lover's Spit" left on repeat

My mom and dad let me stay home

It drives you crazy getting old

Your apologetic chuckle echoes through the room and mingles with Wanda's. She was wet - from the tip of her shirt to the hem - as was your left hand that had just accidentally turned the cup over your best friend.

"Fuck, Wanda, I'm sorry." You repeated once again, stumbling away from her and unknowingly allowing her to breathe normally without having you all over her. You left the glass in the kitchen sink and grabbed the first dishcloth you could find. "Here. To dry."

As she tried to lessen the damage to her wet blouse, you found another cloth to wipe up the drink that splashed on the floor, offering Wanda a wink as you caught her staring.

"Do you think your parents are going to kill me? They specifically told me to behave." Your comment makes her laugh slightly, and Wanda gives up drying her blouse.

"Don't worry, just wipe it off and I'll cover you." She assures, walking past the puddle. Your joke, whatever it was, dies in your throat as Wanda pulls the blouse off her body, and exposes her pale back and bra lock to you. 

Your face burns, and you immediately turn your attention back to the wet floor.

She leaves the kitchen for the bedroom, probably in search of a clean T-shirt, and if she notices your silence or misses your come back, she doesn't say anything.

–//–

You finish cleaning the kitchen floor first, and when Wanda comes out of the room - now wearing a large T-shirt that makes her look like she's not wearing shorts at all - you are in the living room again, tracing your fingers across the pictures on top of the fireplace.

Listening to her footsteps on the carpet, you comment on the photo you are looking at: 

"It seems like yesterday." Wanda looks at you curiously, and you point to the photo, turning your face to her. "Elementary school. You and me on the slide, Wands. It seems like yesterday, but it's been years. How crazy is it that we're already going to college?"

Wanda smiles fondly, moving closer to look at the photo. "Totally insane." She murmurs, chuckling softly when she has the picture in hand of the two of you playing together. "You haven't changed a bit, detka." 

You shrug, looking at the other pictures. "I like my hair better now." You comment, getting a hum in return. "And you have changed. You do look prettier." Wanda raises an eyebrow, surprised, and you look away. "N-not that you weren't pretty before, I mean..."

She giggles, returning the photo to the fireplace. "Are you drunk?"

You snort in embarrassment. "How could I, I knocked over all the wine." 

Wanda giggles again, stepping away before you can get any closer.

She walks over to the radio you forgot to turn on and decides to change Lover's Spit which has been on repeat for the last 30 minutes to something else.

You take a deep breath to yourself, trying to keep it together before staring at the picture for one last time.

"It's kind of scary, Wanda." You mutter. "We're growing up so fast."

Wanda looks over her shoulder at you. "At least we're growing up together." She reminds you, and it brings you such immediate peace that you feel silly for ever having felt fear.

“We can talk it so good

We can make it so divine

We can talk it good

How you wish it would be all the time”

Wanda carefully adjusted herself on the pillows, fearing that the slightest movement would wake you up and end the moment completely. Hours into what you called "hang around her place" as you two had always done since elementary school, and between stealing wine from her parents' shelf, dancing to music on the carpet, and pillow fights, you crashed together on the couch. You spent some time making small talk, dreaming about college until you said you had a funny video to show her on Tik Tok and Wanda ended up lying on your side. 

You fell asleep just before sunset, halfway through Little Women that you decided to watch after you got tired of the app, and Wanda was having the best and worst time of her life.

The best, because she felt too good with your body tangled up in hers, snoring softly against her collarbone. And worst, because you were her best friend - probably her only real friend - and it was terrifying how good that feeling was when she knows she was not supposed to feel like this about a friend.

She swallowed dryly, once and then twice, trying to keep her heartbeat under control inside her chest, fearing that the sound would wake you too. The movie played quietly on the carpet, Wanda had dropped her cell phone and simply didn't have the heart to move away.

She just stayed there, almost static for a good few minutes, feeling you breathe against her skin and warming her whole body at once.

Despite her efforts, you started to wake up. Maybe it was your favorite dialogue starting in the movie. She continued to stare at the ceiling, fearing that you were going to reprimand her for allowing you to snuggle with her without protest.

Instead, you chuckled low and squeezed a little tighter.

"Sorry, darling." You mumbled sleepily. "I'm not moving. 'm tired."

Your warning made Wanda chuckle with butterflies in her stomach. She figured that permission for her to move had just been granted as well, so she did, not letting go of you while she found a more comfortable position. You grumbled softly, your soft breath chilling the skin on Wanda's neck.

Perhaps to gain a little ground, or perhaps just because she wanted to, Wanda brought her hand to your hair, biting her lips at the immediate sigh of satisfaction she received when she began stroking them.

It took a moment, but you spoke again. "Wands, you are my favorite person in the world." You whispered against her pulse, and Wanda was sure you can feel it quicken. She froze, and before she could tense up, even more, you sighed. "Promise me nothing will change when we went to college."

She frowns and resists the urge to face you. "Why would anything change?"

You swallow dryly, one of your hands moves down to play with the edge of her T-shirt, and Wanda knows she is blushing at the feel of your fingers rubbing against her hip, but she says nothing about it. Just waiting for you to clarify what you meant.

"Like... Bucky and Steve." You mutter. "They were inseparable before Yale, but now..."

"We're not like Bucky and Steve, Y/N." She assures you, finally looking down. It takes you a moment to meet her gaze again, and Wanda understands that it's because, in this closeness, it becomes difficult to talk about anything. "Nothing is going to change between us. It's you and me forever, remember? Just like we promised."

Your gaze wavers, between the green irises and the pink lips, and Wanda hopes that everything changes between the two of you. 

"I'm going to miss this." You confess with a small smile. "Spending afternoons around your house."

Wanda smiles as well. "Spilling drinks on my favorite blouse too." She teases making you giggle and release her to tickle her. Wanda struggles to get away from your hands, but you fight back, and between giggles, you end up on your back on the carpet as you fall off the couch, increasing the other girl's laughter. She covers her face for the next minute. "Sorry, but you had it coming."

You giggle as well, sitting up leisurely until you are at the height of her face again. "I think I might just move to your dorm." You tell her. "I won't survive if I can't talk to you."

"Your fault for choosing another course." She tries to joke because you are looking at her in a way that makes her heart unlearn to beat properly. You smile, and you don't stop, just stare and stare until Wanda finally builds up the courage to break the distance.

The brushing of lips is as fast as the blink of an eye, but it freezes you. You sigh with your eyes closed, like Wanda, and are ready to surrender to the absurd attraction when the front door opens and you jump away as if you've been burned.

It is Pietro and Yelena returning from the summer club and they are loud enough to drown out the sound of your racing hearts, trying to disguise what they were doing. 

"Mama's gonna kill you, Wanda." Pietro suddenly emerged from the kitchen, with the bottle of wine she had forgotten to put away.

Wanda left the couch, never meeting your gaze again, with the perfect excuse to flee to the other commode.

Yelena threw herself into the seat she was occupying.

"How do you manage to spend all day locked in here? It's fucking hot." She commented, only noticing your awkward compartment because you were biting your lip so hard it was going to hurt. She frowned. "Did we interrupt something?"

You grimaced. "Don't start." You cut her off in desperation, looking back to check if Wanda or Pietro had heard the joke, but the two of them were arguing in the kitchen about the wine. "Don't say anything. Not today. Please."

Yelena looked worried. "Shit. We did interrupt, didn't we?"

Suddenly you seem almost on the verge of tears. Yelena has no chance to despair. You take a deep breath and push your emotions away at once.

"Oh, honey, you need to tell her." Yelena says, looking at you with compassion.

You deny it with your head, forcing a smile. "We're friends, Lena. I don't want to risk losing that."

The blonde sighed in defeat, looking into the kitchen as well to make sure none of the twins were coming back. She taps the seat next to her and waits for you to sit down.

"You like her. For a long time, Y/N." She insists in a low tone. "Being friends will never be enough if you like her that way."

You twiddle your fingers together, and when you hear the twins approaching, you nod to Yelena. "I'll tell her one day." And that ends the matter.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: SAUSAGE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, force feeding, nausea

Read after the cut

---

Will and Hannibal stay up late into the wind brushed night, communing on the merits of art, of cities far they yearn to see and to absorb into themselves like scent into a rag.

“And her?” asks Hannibal; this, kneeling behind a door, you hear, a question as to the enigma of fate.

“She’d come with us,” Will answers. “Wouldn’t she?”

For a beat Hannibal entertains a silence sopped with threat. In spite of his forgiveness you have, through strident disruption of his party, trespassed upon good taste; he has no reason to think you would not humiliate him in less private spaces, may even consider a further blunder cause to discommunicate you from the family.

“If she is well enough, she’ll accompany us on all our ventures,” he says, at last. “It would be a pity if she couldn’t enjoy the food and with it boundless new experiences.”

You wilt against the doorframe in relief. No matter how many countless promises as to your permanence in their company are made you’ll never trust their word.

“Will she always be like she is now?” asks Will.

“A little girl? Not always. In phases, and behind closed doors, she'll revert to that state, however. Does fatherhood weary you already, Will?”

Again you stiffen.

Will says, “The taste hasn’t soured just yet.”

“You find that the flavour doesn’t quite compliment the other features of the menu, then," Hannibal suggests.

“I’m developing my palate. She’s still bitter.”

“But not without occasional sweetness.”

“Could do with a little more.”

Hannibal produces a quiet laugh.

“You surprise me, Will. In spite of her stubbornness to admit it, I find that it’s clear she cares for you. Considering the circumstances and your previous hostility I’m satisfied with her progress in that regard. In others less so.”

“She asked you to stop sleeping with Alana,” Will says, flippantly. “That’s progress. And the other day she asked me if you love her.”

Your mouth wraps around a knuckle to restrain a cry of angered embarrassment.

“She craves desire even from those she loathes,” says Hannibal, with a dismissive air. “I must renew my attempts to woo her. Only then will she begin to love.”

As quietly as you’re able you rise from the floor and take the stairs on slippered feet, fleeing the horror that is to be romanced by a murderer, sex surely the alembic with which he’ll distil your loyalty to his reign.

*

The next day begins with another breakfast, carried out with the performatory illusion that nothing whatever has happened at all between you three, or beyond.

You scrutinise your egg and sausage, chewing at your inner lip until your fore teeth unbutton blood from within.

What is this Hannibal’s served to you? A morsel from a previous kill, minced and made into three cylinders for your morning plate— this you believe, suddenly and entirely.

What would it mean to bury the flesh of those other girls in the earth of you, to grow fat off their death, to thrive like a maggot in this warm house as they degrade? Their breasts, their flanks served up in spiced pieces like any dish— you’d come to crave them, you fear, think deliciously of their flavour even as your soul writhed within the filth and heathen animal you'd be.

For if Lecter is the Copycat he’s surely served human meat to you before. The Chesapeake Ripper had once murdered a man named Mortem Briggs, had hung him from a fir tree, his limbs spread through the pines; Briggs’ left breast had been taken, may well have been frozen and unthawed later to convert into any feast you've partaken of in captivity.

To have eaten it unknowingly— by the skin of your teeth you can cling to the fact that it was forced on you. But to gnaw on human flesh aware like a witch of Homeric origin would stir your brains insensible until you'd be as your keepers would have you: a cannibal's love, and a cannibal yourself, complicit in their malign.

Ridiculously you think of the calories, how rich in fat such meat would be. Like pork, you’d heard, somewhere, although Hannibal has the skill to disguise it as other animals.

Why does he kill? For the pleasure alone, or some other purpose? To test Will Graham, perhaps, or merely to discard the unworthy from his world; he is cruel and aesthetically driven enough.

If you—gauche, unpleasant, ignorant to the names of painters and intellects, verging on uninterested in such facts—cannot learn to accept the beast he is will he reverse his word and put you to his table?

A flare of dread dispatches your hunger, and you sway in your chair, groaning under your breath.

The men talk, oblivious to your battle.

“The cooling periods between the Lover’s kills are getting shorter,” says Will, wiping butter from his lip. “On average they last around three months, maybe one month minimum. They're starting to fall. There’s a direct correlation between those figures and our investigation. The Lover's following us as closely as we’re watching him.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal. “He’s frustrated by the notion that you and Jack may thwart his grand romance before it’s truly begun.”

“There’s certainly an anger in his recent activity. Sloppiness. He sees us as an obstacle, but he still doesn’t think we’ll close in before he achieves his life’s work.”

You notice a humour in Hannibal’s otherwise neutral expression, a creasing about the eye only one as close as a lover would see.

“You disagree with the killer's belief,” he comments.

Will shrugs.

“If he made a mistake this time then he’ll do it again. He left a partial boot print in Amy’s hallway. He was wearing Timberland boots that night; forensics picked that up right away. He wears a size 10: the typical American male. That fits the profile we have of him— average height and weight, maybe a little muscle from handiwork.

“He’s in his mid to late fifties, estimated from the age of his victims, which have risen every year since he started killing so that his targets continue to resemble his doll. He could be any working class guy in America."

“His mediocrity is as much a mask as the most elaborate disguise," says Hannibal. "His aberrant heart will reveal him."

You feel that both men are holding back from one another, a shift from the previous night.

“He’s somebody who isn’t as smart as he thinks he is,” says Will. “There was grass and dirt in the tread of his sole. We analysed it. The soil came from three separate locations. While that could have been picked up from general wear, the remote nature of those places suggests he’s been keeping his victims in different hiding spots each cycle to avoid detection.

“We’ve got officers looking into small buildings in those areas. There could be evidence that would close the case.”

“And other unknown victims,” says Hannibal.

Will nods.

“The Lover chooses troubled women. High school dropouts, runways, previous mental health patients. He might have abducted any number of Jane Does that just haven’t been reported missing.”

That they hold this conversation without a glance in your direction makes you feel less than invisible, a non-entity only summoned when the need for your existence arises. The space for a third party to cohabit with Will and Hannibal is slender, and you cannot fathom that you are so wanted, and yet as seemingly incorporeal as the air.

“Amy was a bad choice for the Lover,” says Will. “She was on her guard when she opened the door to him that night, almost as if she was anticipating some sort of negative attention. If Freddie Lounds is telling the truth and Amy did reach out over an article then she may have expected a visit. She just couldn’t have known who exactly it would come from.

“Amy’s tall, stronger than she looks. When the Lover struck she pulled him down with her into the house, bumping into a table in the hallway and smashing a lamp. From the damage it’s obvious that she nearly overpowered him before he knocked her unconscious.

“From there the Lover got her out of the house and into the back of a truck. The neighbours report having seen one in the area, though we don’t have a model, and nobody saw the driver’s face.

“The Lover was injured, under stress. Turned off. He dumped Amy in the shack where he planned to carry out her rape and murder sometime later that week, only that didn’t go to plan, either. He was interrupted.”

“The Person from Porlock,” says Hannibal, enigmatically. “An innocent wanderer, or an accomplice?”

“The Lover works alone,” says Will, bluntly. “He doesn’t want romantic competition. If he did accept any kind of help it would be like members of some fringe group tipping each other off out of goodwill.”

You watch, grimly fascinated as Hannibal collects dirtied cutlery and plates without the merest suggestion of alarm.

“You suspect the Copycat,” he says.

Rather than answer directly Will looks in your direction.

“Your patient needs your assistance, Dr Lecter,” he says, gesturing to the sausage you’re attempting to sneak under a napkin.

Hannibal turns, his face brightening with open interest.

“Breakfast is always a hurdle for you,” he says. “What is it this time, Little One?”

“I don’t want to eat meat anymore,” you say, at a frayed, childish pitch. “It’s cruel. I... care about animals.”

Will’s eyes—tools of blue mercury—analyse the climate of your answer.

Hannibal says, “While I admire your interest in vegetarianism, I can’t allow you to restrict your eating any longer. We must return to the old rules, I’m afraid. Will and I agree that's best.”

“I can’t eat this,” you insist. “I’ll throw up. I swear I will. I’ll make a mess.”

At this Hannibal appears to lose something of his sympathy, his stare gaining an iron edge.

Will says, “Couldn’t she have double helpings of everything else to make up for it?”

“It was you that suggested I should tighten her reigns, Will,” says Hannibal, coolly. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

With a taut patience he leans across the table to cut your sausages into fractions. You haven’t even touched them with your cutlery, not wanting the juice of fattening mortality to taint the remainder of your meal.

“She’s been through a lot lately,” says Will. “Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

“It’s a sensible hill. The food she will eat lessens by the day. If we remove such a significant category from her diet she’ll merely find excuses to deplete it further. She’ll suffer from a lack of nutrients that supplements will not fully replace.”

It is not an argument, exactly, but you sense a challenge between them, nevertheless, the testing of loyalties.

“A lot of people are vegan and vegetarian and they’re just fine,” you pipe up, nervously. “Tell him, Will.”

“I’m not clued-in on the statistics,” he says, holding up his hands. “But if this is what you really want, maybe we can figure something out further down the line.”

“Of course,” says Hannibal, with a near imperceptible relief. “I’m not unwilling to compromise. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve served a vegetarian at my table. But at the present you’ll eat what I deign acceptable for you. I hope that you can understand, my darling.”

You stare at him, astonished that he can be so cruel and still, with cloying sympathy, claim to care and to adore you. In a book long ago you’d read of diseases passed from human flesh to its eaters that drove them mad; you’d think him such a sufferer were he not so controlled, nor so sane.

“You know why I can’t eat it,” you whisper. “You know. Dad, please.”

“Know what, Little One?” asks Hannibal, casually.

He's quite aware that you don’t dare speak before his friend of such secrets as even he has not admitted aloud. 

Trapped by your fear of Hannibal’s wrath should you do so, you only mutter, “You hunt your own meat. I don’t want something you killed.”

Will says your name sharply, and you realise you’ve made a mistake in directing anything even remotely resembling an insult in Hannibal’s direction. Yet in the younger man’s tone there is also an interest in the undercurrent of secrecy at this table of whose scent he’s caught.

“What would it matter who slaughtered the meat?” Will asks. “You’ve never taken an interest before. Why now?”

You glance down at the tablecloth in helpless silence

“It’s as I feared,” says Hannibal; so much for wooing, you think. “She’s set against me.”

“I’m not!” you snap. “If he was the butcher I’d feel just the same way.”

This said with a glance at Will, who folds his arms, disapproving.

“This is starting to feel a little personal. I can’t let you act out like this. You know that, right?”

“I’m not acting out!"

“You’re being argumentative,” says Hannibal. “If you cannot eat then you must be assisted to do so. Will, if you’d be so kind...”

You watch a look of incredulous realisation pass across Will’s face.

“You want me to feed her?”

“Yes. I’ve done it myself many times. Your turn to carry out the role, I think.”

Will turns you a sidelong glance.

“You don’t need me to do that, do you?”

There’s no declining the meal; Hannibal will force the point till you are full, no matter the method. Yet if Will holds the fork then it is at least his choice for you to gain weight from the unknown dead, another imposition of many.

So you nod, an infant not yet canny enough to brook the use of any adult tongue.

Will laughs, a guise for his discomfort.

“That isn’t the answer I expected from you.”

“It’s a good thing that she’s asked for help,” says Hannibal, kissing the top of your head as he walks by to take the empty plates to be washed. “We mustn’t discourage her growth.”

Picking up your fork, Will holds it awkwardly aloft. In his grey suit and checkered shirt he appears very much a young father with the care of a pouting stepchild foisted upon him. The bustling inconvenience of the early hour, the brimming stormcloud of the Lover's case: Will has neither the time nor interest in the role to truly engage.

Still, you are wounded by the sense of casual rejection: he wouldn't pause his world for the worship of you as he would for Hannibal.

“Fine,” Will says. “Open up.”

As he tips the fork you imagine a gobbet of minced labia rolling upon your tongue, a strip of shoulder meat, a plush cut of cheek.

Your hand goes up to your greasy lips at once.

“No spitting,” says Will, and the firmness of his voice grounds you in your nausea. “I’m supposed to be meeting Jack in half an hour. Can’t exactly do that with your breakfast all over me.”

If Will is offering up a person to you then surely he does not know it, or he would not seat himself so readily to his own meal. Yet by now he is wilfully ignorant of the reality before him, a little boy covering his eyes against the atrocities he finds a friend capable of.

Suddenly you feel imperious, advanced, cleverer than Will in that you’re unclouded by the love of Dr Lecter.

You eat almost to spite him, then, so that when he learns what he has done he might grovel for your forgiveness. That he will think of this morning, of the Chesapeake Ripper’s trail of death, and shudder that he had gorged so hungrily on those for whom he sought justice.

“You know I can’t do this every time, right?” asks Will, misinterpreting your obedience. “This might be more fun for you, but you’ve got to learn to do this on your own.”

“Yeah,” you say, sweetly, having done away with the last lump of ambiguous sausage. “I know, Daddy.”

You kneel up on your seat and lean in to kiss him, but Will turns his head away, likely thinking of the pleasure you’d had him taste in your last caress.

“Mean,” you say, but he only scoffs before he, too, leaves the table.

*

In the afternoon Will returns to the house from his work unexpectedly, white as a cave etching, his balance precarious.

“Go to bed,” says Hannibal firmly as he puts a hand to Will’s brow to take his temperature. “You’re pushing yourself too hard with this case. You need rest.”

Thinking of the night of Will’s seizure— the night Hannibal suggested that food may well be its trigger—you gain a new suspicion. You wait an hour before slipping into Will’s room, taking advantage of your older captor writing a new piece of music in absorbed concentration to do so.

You look at the sleeping young man, so pampered and petted by the doctor as to have been tucked in under luxurious sheets, and feel a white wing of jealousy beat across your vision.

Yanking back the coverlet you climb into bed and crawl atop Will to shake him rudely awake, too intent on the confrontation to look to the dangers of it.

His eyes start open, and one of his large hands wraps around your mouth to stop you screaming out at the look in them, a blue-bladed killing rage.

“Again?” he says, lowering his arm. “What did I tell you? You shouldn’t wake me up like that. The dreams I’ve been having, the blackouts, the seizures— it’s not safe. You could get hurt.”

You feel the thud of Will’s crazed heart beneath you, like the pendulum of the devil’s clock at work.

“I want to talk to you,” you say. “You’ll always take Hannibal’s side over mine, even when you know he’s just being petty for the fun of it. Why? You’ll do anything he says. If he decided to kill me and serve me up to one of his stupid party guests I swear you’d help him!”

Will screws his eyes shut and opens them again, attempting to rally his cognition from the peat of slumber.

“You think Hannibal’s the Copycat,” he says, softly. “So this is what’s been going on with you.”

You pause, aware that you must be careful what you divulge from here. Certainly nothing Hannibal has suggested to you in confidence is safe.

“Don’t you think he could be the Copycat?” you ask. “It makes sense, right?”

Will sits up slightly against his pillows, his hands going to your hips almost by instinct to prevent you from slipping.

“Careful,” he says. “You know that I need proof for an allegation like that.”

“But if you doubt him even a little bit then why are you here?” you cry, in exasperation. “Why are you with him? How can you say you give a damn about the murders? What’s with you?”

You punch at Will’s shoulder for emphasis, and he looks at your balled hand with such amazement that he doesn’t immediately respond, merely tolerating the blow.

“You’re obsessed with each other,” you hiss. “Why don’t you both just kill me, eat me like he made us eat Savannah—”

“Stop it.”

There is authority in Will’s voice, now, cold confidence you’ve seen only in flashes, and always before some shameless feat of violence upon you. You cease fighting at once, wary of provoking him into lashing you as he would have done in your early days together.

“You’re going to let me work and navigate this situation in my own time without throwing a tantrum,” says Will, through his teeth. “And if you still think I’d stand by and let Hannibal kill you then I don’t know what to say to you. You belong to both of us. You’re mine, too, Little One.”

You don’t let yourself fold to that statement, give in to butterflies and flattery in the romantic language of possession.

“I know what I see,” you say. “The only reason you don’t want to believe Hannibal’s the Copycat is because you’d be hurt that he didn’t let you in on all his dirty little secrets right away. And if he’s caught then you’ll be all alone with your thoughts.”

Will’s hand returns to your lips again, pressing down until you’re forced to huff through your nose for breath.

“How is it you think you have everything about me all figured out?” says Will. “You’re no psychiatrist. You just throw guesswork at the wall to see which theory sticks. Aren’t you afraid of what'll happen if one does?”

With a hysterical jolt you see that you comprehend this man the least of your fathers, cannot when he knows not from one minute to the next who he is or what he truly wants.

The agent of order set on catching a murderer, the diabolical, petulant abuser, as aroused by your pain as by your whimpering ecstasy— are they at civil war, or are they the same entity in co-existing halves?

Chilled, you attempt to clamber away again only for Will to haul you back to him, settling your thighs on either side of his stirring groin.

“Um,” you say, in bashful affront. “What are you doing? I didn’t come here so that you could—"

"Don't give me that," says Will. "You woke me up by climbing on top of me. Seems like a pointed decision."

You gulp at the verge of him under you, at the olfactory concoction of masculinity, hot skin, hair oil, sick breath, and cologne.

"I wanted to strangle you, Dad,” you say. “Don't make this something it's not."

Will smirks, a harsh, pitying look.

"What do you gain from lying to yourself? You flirt with me at any opportunity you get. And when I touch you I know exactly what you feel. Don’t forget what I heard out of your mouth when Hannibal asked you about me. You said I was handsome.”

You recall that moment, your breathy little ‘yes’, and wriggle in humiliation.

“I was high.”

“But you meant it,” says Will. “Still mean it now.”

He’s merely trying to grasp his dignity back, you tell yourself, wearing his ability to empathise like the garb of some sneering god. Yet as he moves you against the quill of his instinct he brushes up the skirt of your dress to unveil miles of cold-pebbled skin, the deltoid of silk at your labia made black by your response to him.

“It helps you to say no,” he says— his voice is husky, coaxing now, almost kind. “To fight back the way you never could, all those years ago. So let me help you.”

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

You want to say, "it's wrong" but both of you are aware of that. Only Will strains at the possibility that this indulgence will save you, and half-heartedly, at that.

You say, "Let me go downstairs already."

Will touches a finger to your philtrum.

"Shh. Do you want Dr Lecter to come up here and join us?"

"Do you?" you return.

In the mid dark Will smiles nastily.

"While I appreciate my time with Hannibal, solo dining has its own appeal. And I’m in the mood for that."

He kisses you, a display of dominance flailing amidst uncertainty, and you find him more pitiable than ever, groping at you as though expecting you to return his passion. For it is his will—his, and Hannibal’s—for you to convert to the religion of violence.

You let Will touch you only so that you must tolerate him alone, barricading yourself against the whimpers that agitate your throat as he uses the wet of your betrayer cunt to please you.

You behold his face in its innocence, like a doe run from a thicket. His hunter's eyes.

He thrills and ignites you, invokes an obsessive desire to glimpse how deeply his attraction to evil goes. There is a mine of it in Will, the plenty that has him wrapping your underwear about his fingers to tighten the seam at your clitoris, that gathers the diamond strand of slick and smears it across your sulking tongue.

He kisses you to share in it, holding your rudely shoving hands from him by the wrists.

"How do you like it?" he says, with a crafty grin. "You ought to think twice before you act like such a wiseass."

Will’s left hand opens the damp buttonhole of his boxers and brings out his cock, stroking it as you wrestle in obstinate controversion to what he means to demonstrate.

Your blood is up, as frenzied by this struggle as by your dreams of death.

He's talking to you, touching you not as a father, nor as the cajoled colleague of Dr Lecter, but only as himself, and that frightens you, for without the layers of acting and the unsaid you are alone here with a man.

The Man lifts you at the waist, and as his erection intrudes that unwilling territory you squeak, and are silenced by his palm upon your mouth once more.

Guilty, guilty, the chant of a jury as Will grinds you atop him. Though he lies under you he is far from lazy, his right hand quick between your bodies.

You bat at his wrist. He shakes his head.

"You deny yourself every good thing life throws your way," he says. "And I know that this feels good. I've had enough practice to know how you look—how you behave—when it does. I can hear it."

Wetness in the curtained gloom, the sound of teeth in a tangerine.

You can't bear that he holds your attraction to him so easily over your head, the knowledge that had you met him elsewhere you would have hoped he'd fuck you like this.

With hands bunched in Will’s t-shirt you come, his hand quieting your whines as he holds you down to the root of his cock.

He's fed you in two ways, now; how could you ever say he does not care for you? This question you see in his cynical eyes, in the cycle of his pelvis into you. This conjugal act is just one brick in the cathedral of a burgeoning fascination between you.

In that moment you truly believe that Hannibal's blade in you would contort the older man into something like Will's enemy. That you cannot die with him beside you is both shield and weapon, not some curse you must bemoan.

“I need you,” you say, aloud, and Will chuckles huskily, the sound washing like foam through your loins.

"I know,” says Will, and he kisses you as he comes.

You kiss him back, and he cradles you against him, the anger gone out of you both like a wind dropped at sea.

“If Hannibal is the Copycat and the Ripper,” says Will, at length, “haven’t you thought about what would happen to you if he’s caught?”

“You’d take me home,” you say. “Right?”

Will shakes his head.

“I’d never send you back there while Leland Frost still has access to you.”

You wonder why Will hasn’t reported him and guess that he’s waiting on your word.

“But you’d keep me here with Hannibal,” you say.

“And with me.”

Sitting up again, you say, “Take me to your house, then. I’ll live with you and all your dogs. I’ll take care of them while you’re at work. I’ll do whatever you want. I could be your girlfriend for real.”

Will gives a short exhale.

“That can’t happen.”

Stung, you ask, “Is it because you don’t think I’m adult enough? Because you’re ashamed of me?”

“No,” says Will. “Of course not.”

“Then it’s because you can’t do it without him,” you snipe, getting down from the bed. “Or you just don’t want to do it without him. You want this to work so badly that not even the idea of him being a cannibal really bothers you.”

“That’s enough,” says Will, turning away. “Go to your room. I’m tired, One.”

You linger to stare at him, disturbed by your own revelations.

While Will might be your strongest chance of escape, he’s apprentice to the lord of this household, and can be influenced to follow Hannibal into his own Nyx. You must devise a second plan, one without any exterior aid required to run.

Open doors are there for you yet: you must believe this or perish, a star put out like a cigar, light gone into dust.

“Okay, Daddy,” you say, at last. “I’ll go. But you really should go get a brain scan or something. What’s making you sick isn’t just gonna go away. And watch what you eat, too. It’s making you worse.”

You dart from the room, shutting the door upon Will’s bewildered beginning of a question.

[moneymartin]

・❥・- after the storm

summary: you meet kate at a bar after you get stood up on a date ♡

warnings: none rlly. more fluffy than smutty. also rlly awkward kate cuz shes nervy :( use of y/n if that counts???

rpf. dont read if ur uncomfy

a/n: this has been in my fucking drafts for a week. also thank god i revised cuz this thing sucked before i proofread it 😭 same like every story every divider is a skip. also sorry for ending it like that i jus like leaving it up to everyone’s imagination 😇

you sit quietly at a table, a drink in your hand and at least 4 empty beer bottles in front of you. drunk and somewhat confused after some stupid guy stood you up on a date here. at least 3 hours have passed since he was meant to come, but you couldn’t suck it up and leave the club without the embarrassment of coming in alone, and walking out alone. it was fucking embarrassing and that always made you wanna hurl. everything did now.

everyone was meant to find someone or do something with someone tonight but you were certainly checked off of that list. things haven’t gone your way in forever and this is probably the worst one. now you’re just drowning yourself in alcohol and digging a deep hole you probably won’t be able to get out of. scanning around for a way to get your butt out of here, or just find a waiter, you’re suddenly stopped when you make eye contact with a girl. she’s got the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and she’s coming your way.

“hey,” she spits out and smiles, taking a seat in front of you. it makes you a little nervous and frankly, you’re quite scared. “i’m kate…” her hand extends outwards towards you, expectantly waiting for a handshake and an introduction back. the fear you felt when she sat down just a moment suddenly dissipates and is replaced with a feeling of relief when your hand meets hers. “y/n.” you slur out, breath slightly reeking of alcohol. it doesn’t reel her away but makes her grow a little bit worried.

“thats um.. a lotttt of beers.” kate laughs, hoping to bring up the mood and energy that surrounds you. you’re obviously not happy, but she’s trying to make it seem like whatever happened isn’t as bad as you think it is. “y’know, being all drink and alone in a club like this isn’t very safe,” she starts and shakes her head slightly. “especially when it’s a pretty girl like you.” your eyebrows raise at her slip in of a compliment, face flushing and your lips pursing. she’s already incredibly bold, but there’s a glint in her eyes that shows how shes really feeling about this interaction.

you notice that she’s slightly nervous and that her movements and small jitters make it known that she is incredibly awkward. when you don’t answer back to her compliment, she smiles weirdly with her teeth and looks around the club, then at your face again. theres a pause as you let out a breath and just stare. “i’m sorry, what?” your voice is raspy still, and the music is straight over your voice which makes it harder for her to hear you. but the way your eyebrows raise and your eyes nearly pop out of your head makes her put the pieces together about what you felt about her ‘boldness.’

“it was nothing! i didn’t mean that…” she laughs and rubs the back of her neck and then digs her nails into her arm. kate’s teeth grind together and she inhales a deep breath, trying to play it cool when she knows deep down she’s dug herself into a big stupid hole she can’t get out of. “i’m just saying it isn’t safe, y’know!! not a good idea to be alone.” her voice goes up an octave and her body tenses up when you lock eyes with hers. yikes. “i can take you home to like.. help you sober up?”

her proposal makes your face scrunch at the thought of it. a stranger you met not even 10 minutes ago offering to take you to your home so you can sober up. really? “you’re not some serial killer, right?!!! i really don’t wanna end up in a ditch tonight cause that’d make everything worse!!” you blurt out just a little bit louder than you should’ve. kate gets the sudden urge to just smack her hand right over your mouth after you two get looks from people inside. “oh, god, no! what the hell?! i’m just trying to help you. so, please let me.” she begs and grabs your hand, locking her fingers with yours to calm down the drunken nerves in your system.

“okay..” you sigh, realizing just how desperate she is to talk to you. that is what it is. she just wants to talk to you, and shes trying her absolute hardest to make it seem like shes just going to help you out. kate pulls you up from the chair and wraps her arms around your waist, steadying your drunk and wobbly body. “i got you, alright?”

your body sinks into the couch after you somehow managed to guide her to your place. it took a little longer than it should’ve. the club was only 5 minutes away from your place but the whole trip took about 20 minutes. different streets and different roads and different alleyways.

“how’d you end up alone in there anyways?” kate asks, dabbing the back of her hand against your face to feel for a fever. your face is flush and you feel the rush of embarrassment coming back when her question finally registers in your head. it was the one thing you didn’t wanna talk about with her tonight. not because it was bad, it was just the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing. “got stood up.”

her eyebrows scrunch at the reasoning you give her while a pit grows in your stomach due to the look on her face. she looks like she wants to leave all of a sudden but its quickly replaced with a soft smile when she sees how you feel talking about it. “things happen for a reason, no?” kate says and smirks. she has a point though. maybe you got stood up on that date because you were bound to find her? that was dumb to think about. but it might’ve been true.

“yeah, i guess.”

“guys come and go. its not like it’ll happen again too. you’re very pretty.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

kate’s bold statements and words make you wonder if she really does mean them. and for some reason, you’re hoping that she does. her hands are shaky against your face and she shifts around the space on the couch to keep you comfortable instead of herself. she’s putting your needs in front of her own needs. you take in a heavy breath, looking up at kate while she stares at you longingly. “there’s obviously a reason why you wanted to help me.” you giggle.

her jaw slacks at your accusation, her face suddenly becoming a deep red. “no, c’mon! t- thats not true!” kate stammers over her own words and turns her head to the side to hide her face from you. you reach out to grab her wrist and tug her down towards you. her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her skull and shes got a nervous frown on her face.

the confidence she manages to build up always crumbles in just a matter of seconds after you say something back. she likes that, and it makes her nervous in such a good way. “oh yeah?” you question and slide your hands up to her shoulders. your fingers wrap around her hoodie neckline, gripping tightly. “yes!” you know that she’s lying. theres an obvious reason why she offered in the first and you know exactly what it is.

“then show me why you really wanted to help.”

[possamble]

do you have any particular thoughts regarding marcille being a half-elf? its interesting to me considering the fact that she seems self-conscious about being a half-elf, but denies it when its brought up

i remember marcille looking visibly uncomfortable over laios simply asking her how old she is, which i think the only reason she might feel nervous about this is because it might reveal her as a half-elf to him.

she's never corrected anybody whose called her an elf either.

never mind the circumstances of the reveal, in which thistle goes on about how half-elves are inferior and accusing her of wanting to become full blooded elf, she seemed particularly upset like he struck a nerve-

i wish the half-elf thing was built upon more. also, underrated marcille line:

okay so i revisited this sequence just to make sure I could back myself up and it's just... man. there's a lot going on.

the first reaction we get from Marcille is this huge panel that takes up half of the page

she is viscerally affected. flushing to the tips of her ears with the intensity of it. and we see it again, a few pages later

so it might seem like she's embarrassed about it and lying to herself, but... I really think it's just that Thistle is accidentally hitting sore spots. If you really look at what he says to get these reactions

"you'll live out your entire life [...] and die that way too"

"a hundred years from now, nobody will be there"

Hear me out. I think, if he stuck to harping on about her inferiority without bringing up how terrifyingly long-lived she is, she wouldn't have been as bothered. But right now, Thistle is accidentally hitting all the marks on Marcille's deepest fears-- and this is after the Winged Lion promised her that her dreams could come true in an extremely vulnerable moment, so it also hits her slightly guilty conscience as well.

I do truly believe that Marcille isn't bothered about being a half-elf the way that people assume she'd be bothered by it. To her, the biggest problem with being a half-elf is that it's isolating.

On one hand, it's not hard to imagine why she'd distance herself from elves in the west. A lot of them can clock her as a half-elf on sight, unlike other races, and therefore she's always branded with this weird stigma of being Othered -- I would even say that she considers herself lucky for being born outside of elven culture instead of having to grow up in it. I mean, just... look at the way elves talk about her.

Skipping past the uncomfortable implication of what 'not tolerating the existence' of half-elves would actually entail, this is incredibly fucking annoying. You can see why she wouldn't want to be around elves much. You see a lot of Marcille reacting badly here, but honestly, almost all of it can be attributed to her freaking out that her bluff completely failed. She's honestly more paying attention to Izutsumi's footsteps and trying to coordinate an opportunity to escape.

And in the end, you see her built-up frustration at being asked if she wants to be a full-blooded elf like 2-3 times in a row.

Yeah, yeah, "the lady doth protest too much," and all. But we know Marcille. We know that she's a lot more embarrassed and horrendously unconvincing when she's being prodded about something she's actually self-conscious about.

Moving onto the flipside of things, it might seem weird that she "pretends" to be a full elf around other races, but it's not really that strange if you think about it. Again, people are weird about her being infertile or whatever, and a lots of them don't even know much about what sets half-elves apart from everyone else. I mean, look at how uncomfortable Laios is just asking her about it

and look at how exasperated and resigned she looks

And like... she's right. Where would that come up in normal conversation? Why would she go out of her way to tell them? She's functionally a normal elf to other races anyway -- got the ears, the abnormally long "childhood", and the huge mana capacity. Unless it's directly relevant or important for people to know, I don't think it's all that strange or indicative of insecurity that she prefers not to bother with it.

(This combined with her sense of being an "outsider" to elf culture also explains why she thinks elf superiority is embarrassing. She sees the way elves treat short-lived races from the "outsider" perspective nonetheless, and thinks it's obnoxious; especially more so because she usually has to play the elf around short-lived races and deal with the reputation of arrogance that elves have built up.)

The sad thing is, this all means that... she doesn't actually fit in anywhere. She doesn't like going out West much because of how elves treat her. But she's also an outsider in the continents she was born in, treated like this exotic long-lived alien choosing to live among short-lived races for some reason. She is always an outsider, the Other, no matter where she goes. Add in the fact that she'll live longer than literally anyone she knows, and it's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

And I think that's the crux of it. Marcille really doesn't act like she's at all self-conscious about being a half-elf because of any feelings of inferiority or being half-made or whatever. She considers herself a perfectly legitimate being and might even, in some ways, consider herself superior to normal elves because she's not blind with elf supremacy or whatever. (And whatever "elven biases" she displays, all of them are born more out of the fact that she's kind of bad at conceptualizing how other races age and mature compared to herself, not that she actually considers herself better or more mature simply for being an elf.)

I think that whatever self-consciousness Marcille has about being a half-elf is, instead, related to terror and loneliness. The reminder that it ensures she'll never truly belong anywhere for the rest of her very long life. The reminder that, in truth, even she's not actually sure how old she is by other races' standards (hence the discomfort when asked how old she is). She doesn't want to not be a half elf, or be a full elf or full tall-man-- in her ideal world, she's still a half-elf. She just gets to live out her life at the same pace with the people she loves and doesn't have to say goodbye again and again and again until she dies.

and one last very important panel, right after Mithrun tells her that all her desires would be devoured

In her ideal world, she's still a half-elf and reality magically starts marching at her pace. But failing that, the second best thing is that she's still a half-elf-- but one who is able to accept reality and let go of her fear.

(But the rest of the story pans out the way it does because, to Marcille, taking reality apart and reshaping it was less scary than simply and fully reconciling with it.)