#why does that scare me even more. what fucking strings are attached. when is the other shoe gonna drop.

[moe-broey]

Like addendum but for me it's about begrudging resignation. It's about a seething silent resentment that only grows. It's about "being safe" and especially "guaranteeing safety" and hating every minute of it. It's about being surrounded by people who would be Horrified to hear that you feel Trapped, but they're the ones that feed you when you cannot feed yourself. It's about being genuinely fond of these people and being able to see their good intentions, see that they, to some degree, Do care about you. It's about feeling Trapped, all the same.

It's about contorting yourself to ensure you are Kept. Because on your own, you likely would not last long.

Actually that is another Summoner Thought I am CONSTANTLY turning around in my head. The fact that not only is the Summoner painfully isolated in a way that no one even has the context to fully comprehend, but also the feeling of being Trapped. Like yeah, Askr and the Order are nicies, Kiran is Lucky to have stumbled into their laps instead of like. Muspell, or Eitri. Or even Embla and the Curse Directive.

But that doesn't really change the fact that Kiran was still forced into their position. The threat of being in an entirely new world and not knowing where you would even begin, if you were just. Dropped into a town or something. Esp from modern era to medieval. Nothing but the clothes on your back (hell, Kiran even got New Summonery clothes, so fuck whatever was in their pockets. As if it fucking matters, whatever is in their wallet wouldn't matter here and their phone is gonna die within the day. Two days tops. Again. As if it fucking matters, it's just a camera at this point).

But they fall into the laps of The Order of Heroes, who request their aid, saying YOU'RE the only person who can Do This, we did a very specific ritual at a specific ruin to bring you here. Already, how can you say No to that? Especially when promptly it's shown you DO possess that power they seek, now. And then there's the Basic Necessities. In exchange for your help, we'll give you a roof over your head. We'll give you food and water. You'll have your own room. And we'll even see to any odds and ends, should you ask, if we're able.

Kiran is Lucky. That they have the bare minimum a person could need. That, they didn't have to figure out all that on the fly. And again, Kiran is Lucky that The Order of Heroes is comprised of a good Commander, and a Prince and Princess who are very sweets very nicies and strive to be just and fair and to Do Good. That doesn't change the fact that Kiran's "choice" to serve the Order was essentially okay gun to your head. Do you want to have dinner and sleep in a bed tonight? Or take your chances doing god knows what. God knows where. And probably end up killed, if we're being honest here. Or at least, suffering A Lot. Be it by lack of resources, most likely no outdoorsy survival skills, and then there's the bandit situation and Emblian forces constantly poking Askr's ass.

Like. Okay. Yeah. I guess I'll stay. And I better figure out how to Keep Staying Here or so help me. As if I have a fucking choice.

[weird-an]

Billy is a good fuck. Steve loves it, at first. It's the reason why they keep on doing it. No strings attached, a very skilled tongue, if Billy manages to shut him up, and a beautiful body - all for Steve. It's just so easy.

But it's changing. Because what started with sloppy blowjobs and messy fucks at parties has become more. Billy is showing up on his doorstep at odd hours, sometimes drunk, sometimes miserably sober. He leaves, when Steve's asleep, but he always returns.

When it's like this, Steve can't hurry. Can't just go for a quick orgasm and forget about this. Because then? Steve can tear Billy apart. He's so responsive to his touch, shuddering when Steve strokes his skin, when he kisses him. Billy is looking for Steve and he doesn't even see it.

Just like tonight. Billy has gasped and whined and had grown so pliant under Steve's hands. Steve doesn't want him to leave. Steve wants to keep him. He doesn't want anybody else to see Billy likes this.

Billy sits on his bed, smoking a cigarette. A thin line of smoke fading into the dark of the night. The moon shines through the window, turning his face softer, the bruises Steve left on his neck darker.

"Stay," Steve says.

Billy scoffs at him. Like Steve expected.

"Harrington, you know what this is," he drawls, putting the cigarette out in one of Steve's most hated swimming trophy.

Yeah. Steve knows. But does Billy?

"Oh, I know." He presses a kiss on Billy's upper lip. Soft and careful. "Do you?"

"It's just..." Billy stops, like he took too big of a bite and can't swallow. "It's..."

His eyes are a summer's sky, realization shining bright in them. He stares at Steve. He's scared. So scared Steve can almost feel it. The tension in his back, the way he tries to close himself off.

Steve kisses him again. Their noses brush against each other. He puts his fingers under Billy's chin.

"You don't want this. I'm not..." He chokes on the word. "Good."

It feels like porcelain cup falls to the ground and shatters into pieces.

Steve cups his cheeks. "Of course you are. You're so good, Billy."

Billy melts in his arms.

"No." He moves closer, until his lips are nearly on Steve's. "Don't fucking lie to me."

"I don't," Steve says. The warmth of Billy's mouth is so close to his own. "Stay," he repeats.

Billy's lips press on his. It's an answer, spoken in the best way and the only way Billy can say it. Steve hears him anyway.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

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

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

-

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

*

 

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

*

 

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

*

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

[wonysugar]

it’s so over for me…. ch. 22

i’m going first! (fully written)

word count : 1.5k

okay.

okay!

don’t panic aeri, she thought, yeah, you’re in y/n’s bathroom, whatever, right? like, who genuinely cares, not you, that’s for sure. you’re like super nonchalant and wanted by literally everyone, remember? you know people would die to have you over at their house.

so why the fuck are you freaking out???

no seriously, why was she feeling like this? she’s had sex plenty of times before, and she’s probably gonna be having plenty of sex in the near future, too. so why the hell was she acting like a virgin loser that’s never seen a naked body before?? 

once you made her understand what “staying the night” entailed by kissing her lips and having your hands roam her body, passionate and hungry for more, she, very quickly, started panicking and thinking about how to escape this situation. i mean, it’s not like she wanted to leave, but when your cheeks resemble literal tomatoes, you kinda need to take a little break from the situation to not make yourself look ridiculous.

she splashed an absurd amount of water onto her bare face as an attempt to calm the fuck down, also mentally slapping herself as she stared at herself in the mirror. fuck, she just realized that she totally forgot to put on makeup? it was embarrassing, but, upon seeing that she had a date with you, she kinda just dressed up and left her dorm at full speed. look, she had priorities.

wait, she remembered, were the lights of her room even turned off???

oh who cares at this point. what mattered right now is that she was in your bathroom, stalling and panicking over this entire thing, for no reason, and she didn’t quite know what to do. she thought some more, then remembered an important detail; her friends specifically told her not to make it a sex thing, and that’s exactly what made it so complicated in the first place. she actually liked you, way too much for her own good, and she didn’t just want to be fuckbuddies.

she wanted to try to be so much more than that.

yeah love scared her, it terrified her, even, especially after… that whole situation. but.. whatever it was that she felt around you, she so desperately wanted it to work out, at least a little bit. it was pathetic, and deep down, she hated herself for feeling this way towards you. she was always so desperate for your attention that.. the truth is, since she was always being a huge insufferable bitch to you, she didn’t expect to get this attached to you in the process, especially not in such a short amount of time, either. she had no clue what she felt towards you. but if one thing was for sure, though,

sex was always easier when there were no strings attached, she knew that better than anyone. 

god, what the fuck was she doing.

aeri sighed, then placed her hand on the doorknob, not knowing what to expect once she opened the door. were you gonna be like… butt naked? god, she hoped not. well— okay let’s not lie to ourselves, she did, she was just.. y’know, scared of how she would potentially react.

she bit her lip in defeat upon realizing that she’d probably faint at the mere sight of a naked y/n, visualizing your body and feeling her palms get sweatier by the second.

okay! enough thinking, you were probably impatiently waiting for her behind that damn door.

she took a moment to compose herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep and long breath, before eventually turning the doorknob, getting mentally prepared for anything.

she quickly opened the bathroom door and–

oh.

you were laying there, 

asleep. 

aeri unconsciously sighed in relief, thankful for not having to act nonchalant to save her own dignity like she usually does. 

she slowly walked up to your bed, not even realizing that she was smiling warmly as she watched you, your chest gently heaving up and down as you peacefully rested. it’s like she was hypnotized by you, you occupied all of her thoughts almost immediately just with a single look. god, you were so beautiful without even trying, she thought. 

that is, before she snapped herself out of it and went back to tucking you in, shoving her feelings back into the mental box they were usually in as she took off your glasses, the ones she personally found adorable, and gently placed them on the nightlight next to you.

once she was done, she quietly headed for the exit, as she didn’t wanna disturb you in your sleep. 

unless she kinda did?

looking back at you and the empty space next to you, she contemplated some more.

you drove here aeri, she thought to herself, it’s not like you’re in the perfect state to drive back, you’re pretty fucking tired.

and your bed looked comfy as hell, too.

ugh, but then again, was she seriously gonna cuddle up to you like this? what if you woke up the next morning and got the ick from it.. hm?? then what, aeri, hm???

she sighed and shrugged off the ‘stupid’ idea, trying to recall why she even thought of it in the first place as she reached for the door, but before she could even place her hand on the doorknob,

“stop staring at me like a weirdo and just get over here, dumbass.” 

she jumped, ignoring the fact that hearing your sleepy voice definitely made her heart skip a beat, then looked back at you, uncertainty coating her entire face.

“are— are you sure?” she hesitantly asked, before mumbling something else under her breath, “also i wasn’t staring at you i was simply pondering on things not too much—“ which you didn’t catch, thankfully.

you definitely would’ve teased her for it.

instead, you simply nodded in response as you yawned, rubbing your eyes in a sleepy manner. 

well shit! 

why were you so cute all the fucking time?? it truly annoyed her on a psychological level how you could just be breathing and she’d be on the floor sobbing about it to her friends.

the only option she had left now was prayer; praying that she wasn’t gonna cling onto you for the entire night.

-

“aeri, wake up.” you whispered, nudging her gently in the process. you also lifted up the blanket a tiny bit, in hopes of getting her to be cold enough to finally leave dreamland and wake up. i mean, to be honest? you couldn’t really blame her, you guys slept at like, what? 5 am? no wonder she was knocked out and snoring loudly.

you watched her as she quietly mumbled in her sleep, her hair messy, her eyes closed peacefully, her makeup running everywhere, her cheek squished onto the pillow from being a side-sleeper. you caught yourself smiling.

she was really pretty.

you could’ve stared at her for hours, but you unfortunately didn’t; you really needed to get to class, and you absolutely could not leave your apartment in this much of a mess. so, naturally, you tried waking her up some more.

which.. magically worked!

drowsy, she rubbed her eyes. “y/n?”

you smiled tenderly as you stood back up, putting your hands on your waist. “good morning!” 

in response to your enthusiasm, she looked around in a confused manner, eyes set on the empty spot next to her in your bed. her eyes widen suddenly, and she looks up at you.

“did…” she paused nervously, swallowing her saliva, then continuing with, “nothing happened… right?”

you giggled, “you did spoon me throughout the whole night, if that’s what you wanna know.” you heard her immediately exhale, probably from relief. so preoccupied by the fact that she might’ve made it a sex thing that she didn’t even realize how embarrassing that whole spooning thing actually was.

she sat up and mumbled, checking her phone for a few minutes and looking at the time. you particularly noticed her wallpaper when walking to the side of the bed to retrieve your laundry basket, it was a black wallpaper with a medium sized white heart. 

it wasn’t a surprise, every single one of her socials mentioned hearts. 

you quietly scoffed, keeping that information stored in your head, for later on.

“fuck??” she turned to look at you, met with your startled gaze, “we have class today, don’t we???” she asked. 

“yeah? in like an hour—“

she stood up suddenly, throwing her phone on the bed, “y/n, i look a mess. oh my god i haven’t even showered, my schedule’s at home, i didn’t even bring any of my clothes—“

“hey,” you exclaimed in order to get her attention back on you, which worked instantly, “chill out, you can borrow some of my clothes for today.” still holding the basket, you added, “as for the shower, just go in after me.”

she nodded her head, up until that last part.

“how long are you gonna take in the shower??” she asked, turning to look at you.

“…like, 40 minutes?” 

“uhm??” eyes widened, she scoffed, “you’re not going first then.” 

you could only laugh at her, “last time i checked, this was my house, aeri.”

“and i’m your guest, so now what?”

you stared, pretending to reflect long and hard about it, then spoke up,

“i’m still going first.” 

“you’re delusional if you think you’re the one showering first.”

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[depressopax]

Nacho Varga relationship headcanons

NSFW version

Fandom - Better call Saul

Pairing: Ignacio “Nacho” Varga x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut, headcanons Warning(s): Sexual content. Situationships. Mentions of oral, handjob/fingering, degradation, penetration, semi-public, cuss words, sub/dom dynamic, pet names (gn) Reader is gender neutral. Might be a bit OOC! Words: 1.6K Summary: Dating Nacho would include…  English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! AO3 link! SFW version

Nacho is not the relationship type of guy.

He is scared of commitment, but most of all scared of hurting you.

If he is with you, it’s probably more of a Friends with benefits/No strings attached kind of situationship.

Sure he can be your friend and have sex with you - nothing more tho.

Nacho is more of a dom.

I feel like he’s a switch, but that's a side he hasn’t really explored, and would take some convincing for him to do so.

He likes being in charge and on top of his partner

It gives him a sense of control and he feels relaxed when he has you completely at his mercy

Buuuut… 👀

If he REALLY trusts and loves you

Homeboy will let you be on top sometimes. More about that later…

 When having sex with him, he is more of a “fast and rough”-guy

Will have you totally slutted out for him, begging for his touch

He is turned on by your submission and just how much he can dominate you if he wants to

His favorite position to take you in being doggy.

He loves having you on all fours and being able to thrust into you from behind

And he gets to stare at your ass the entire time without shame ;)

And he can give you light spanks on your ass etc…

I feel like he def is an ass guy

Which is the second reason he loves taking you from behind.

When he’s behind you he has full control of pace and is in a powerful position

He is very touchy during sex and likes grabbing your ass, thighs and hips, often with the intention of leaving marks

Speaking of leaving marks…

When he kisses your body, he does so to leave hickeys, and will be like “Oops, didn’t mean for that to happen lmao”

In a way, he likes claiming you

But he wouldn’t let you do the same to him.

Homeboy got them double standards

He is very loud in bed, cussing a lot, grunting and a few moans

He likes it when you are loud too.

Would probably be offended if you weren’t loud, and only fuck you even harder to make you react lmao

Nacho has a thing for degradation, but only when it comes to you.

If you are into that, he won’t hesitate to call you slut, bitch etc…

But he can also praise you during

“Look at you, taking my cock so well”“That’s it, you’re fucking amazing.”

He won't give you pet names tho, he finds it weird.

He prefers receiving oral.

He might give it to you, but then it’s mostly to “return the favor”

He’s not that enthusiastic when giving

Will make sure he does the job and makes you satisfied, because you deserve to feel good

But when receiving?

He L O V E S  I T

What can he say? It’s a good stress relief 

He just needs to sit down and have you do all the work

He’s not a head pusher, he lets you do things in your own pace

But if it’s too slow or “not good enough”, he’s not shy to guide you

Telling you how to move your mouth, where and when to use tongue

Your gagging is just a bonus to him.

Sorry but not that good at aftercare 😭

He might cuddle you, or give a few kisses

Or just lay in bed talking for a bit

After that? 

He either leaves to go to his place

If it’s late and he’s tired, he stays. But he just ends up falling asleep in your bed

Not the kind of person that cares if the two of you have left a mess. Why would it matter? 

Now for the second part of these headcanons… 👀

Nacho falling in love is rare

But when he does… Oh boy.

You’re his everything, and your sex life with him is totally different from how it used to be.

I feel like he totally acts different towards his FWB and someone he’s in love with

He’ll literally worship you

Sure he’s more of a dom and likes being on top

But if you insist on changing that, he’d be ok with it.

At first he hates the thought of being submissive

But something about seeing you on top of him, having him totally at your mercy…

Oh how the tables have turned.

And he loves it.

He likes how hot and powerful you look

He gets needy AF

Which gives you a good opportunity to be a tease 👀

Enough teasing and he will whimper for you even ;)

Of course he still likes being dominant, especially if you are submissive

But being dominated is nice for change sometimes…

A bit of a service top

He likes it when you boss him around and tell him what to do

The things he does when he’s on top of you - he does for your pleasure rather than for his own. 

Checks in on you a lot, whispering praise and lots of kisses

Fuck it, he even has pet names for you.

Nacho likes giving you spanish pet names, for example: Amorcito, Amor, Cariño

He finds it adorable when you’re flustered and always finds ways to make you that way

Whether it’s with words or touch.. He’ll do it

And tell you how fucking adorable you look

Homeboy is down bad for you

Legit is horny for you almost all the time and not shy to show it.

It’s enough with you wearing something that shows off skin, calling him a pet name or just being sweet to him… He just can’t help it!

He prefers to have sex at home, so he can make you scream his name as he claims you as his

But if his desires are urgent, or if he gets a boner in public etc…

He will take you right there and then.

You’re at some restaurant? At a cafe? Too fucking bad.

He knows how to rile you up, too.

Either by whispering dirty things to you, like telling you how badly he wants to fuck you, how hot you look…

Or simply with touch. 

Squeezing your thigh, having his fingers against the button on your jeans, his cold fingers finding their way into your shirt… You name it

Or his personal favorite:

Guiding your hand towards his crotch, having you gently rub his erection. “See what you do to me, amorcito?” AHDHJASHAD BYE- 🤤

He’ll grab your hand and lead you to the bathroom

But he got some class, at least. So if you’re too loud, he shuts you up, either with his palm against your lips, or with his fingers in your mouth.

He’ll fuck you against the wall while kissing your neck and whispering his love and devotion for you

He finds it entertaining to watch you wobble out of the bathroom after a quickie

…Which is usually just a warm up/appetizer of what’s to come once home ;)

He loves handjobs, especially cuddling up to you in the couch, watching a movie and then sliding his hand into your pants

Or his personal favorite - having you stroke his cock under the blanket whilst watching a movie with his hand around you, pretending nothing is happening…

He likes long, passionate sessions.

Really driving you wild with a combination of being rough and gentle, loving and mean… 

Nacho makes foreplay a big part of sex with you.

He wants to really warm you up and tease you

Likes it when you beg for his cock and to feel him

All I’m gonna say is, you need the warm-up, iykyk 🤭

Although, if he is in a hurry or just frustrated, he doesn’t mind a quickie.

Quickies with him leaves you breathless and with trembling legs “Gotta get to work, see you tonight, amorcito.” He’ll say, and give you a quick kiss before walking away, leaving you longing for more lmao

Oral remains the same as with a FWB

He prefers receiving but happily gives it too. 

But he’s actually more keen to making sure you enjoy receiving it

If he truly loves you, he could spend hours between your legs

E Y E  C O N T A C T

I’m sorry but his eyes??? I’m too autistic for eye contact but DAMN I could stare into his eyes all day <3

He’s very observative to your reactions and it gets him going to see you enjoy his tongue and lips

Probably would let you sit on his face ngl

When you give him head, he’s extra praising

Keeps his hand on the back of your head or on your chin

As a supportive gesture

He loves watching your mouth full of his cock

He is extra loud to let you know you’re doing well

He actually likes and prioritizes aftercare 

He has you cuddled up to him

His fav cuddle position is having your head on his chest, whilst he rubs your back with his hands

Since he tends to get rough when he’s dominating you, he’s keen to make sure you’re alright and not feeling any discomfort.

Happily runs you a bath - and happily joins you, too ;)

If it’s nighttime, he’ll hold you tightly in his arms, telling you how much he loves you etc…

Basically? Very passionate and loving towards someone he’s in love with.

NACHO PLEASE LET ME LOVE YOU AHHH 😭💕 Did I just make a 1.6K words smut headcanons for this gorgeous damn man? Yes. 0 regrets. <3

[satans-codpiece]

Darkfic Enjoyer here. please share some of your dark thoughts since you said you only unleashed your demons in only one fic of yours >:)

With Ramattra, you mean? Because EY doesn't even come close to releasing demons as compared to a lot of stuff I wrote with Kylo Ren or Michael Myers.

I just never really got a lot of darkfic inspiration for him? I honestly haven't in quite a while-- I dunno if that's better commentary on my relationship with my recent string of blorbos or on my mental health lol. Because the potentiality for darkfic with Ramattra is right there.

TW: Noncon, kidnapping, paralysis/forced to watch, injury, probably more

I briefly started a hard noncon fic where Reader is injured and/or pinned in the wake of a Null Sector attack and Ramattra unleashes some of that pent-up rage on them. Lots of Ramattra using his strength to keep Reader still and him talking about how this is justified by the simple fact that they are human and deserve to suffer as so many omnics have.

But I just didn't have the drive to write it?? There's so many WIPs I have with him that I want to finish but can't force my awful brain to look at for more than a few minutes at a time, but with the noncon fic I wrote a little bit and then my brain was like mmm, no. not this flavor. I still love reading noncon with Ramattra, I just don't have that drive to write it.

Hell, even, a Reaper/Reader noncon fic (with Sombra/Ramattra noncon in the background) was of higher interest to me than Ramattra/Reader noncon.

(For interested parties: where Talon is done using NS so Reaper & Sombra are sent to deal with Ramattra & Reader, but in particular Reaper's more than happy to make a point on what happens to people who betray Talon. so Sombra disables Ramattra-- but makes sure that he's awake and aware of what's happening as Reaper attacks Reader, with maybe some unwanted wireplay so that he's forced to cum watching it).

But with Megatron it comes so naturally. The very first thing I wrote with him was “Mmm, fabricating desire in exchange for your own survival is hardly the worst idea your species has had.” Literally the first line of dialogue my muse spat out to me was him accusing (and approving of!!) Reader trying to seduce him so that he wouldn't kill them.

And everything I have written with him since then-- which is all unfinished or no-context snippets that idk if I'll post-- has involved some degree of fuckedupness.

Megatron/Reader mutual noncon + Starscream/Megatron/Reader where Starscream catches Reader & forces them to suck off a regular gun. And Reader's humiliated and scared and just so confused as to why Starscream has this regular human gun laying around- until they realize it's literally Megatron stuck in a new alt mode that they've been polishing with their tongue. To which Starscream giddily fucks them with Megatron's barrel and the whole time Reader is terrified because... what does an overload look like for a gun? Also, Starscream's motivation is much more centered on Megatron, Reader is completely incidental and just gave him an opportunity.

Megatron & Knock Out discussing the mental health implications of kidnapping a human for morale (everyone is jealous of the Autobots' pets obviously). Namely, Reader is having a bad time of it- who wouldn't?- and Megs suggests to KO that he'd rather kill this high-strung human now and replace them with one more... agreeable before the crew gets attached. KO (who is already attached) insists that Reader will feel better as they get acclimated.

During the events of Rock Bottom (TFP), it's Reader who finds Megatron. They, naively, agree to help him (because it's the right thing to do TM) in exchange for his promise that he won't harm any of the other humans or autobots in the mine. Of course, he just kidnaps Reader at the end instead. When they're furiously kicking the inside of his jet form, he'll insist he didn't lie; they weren't harmed, were they?

Not really super dark in the way any of the above are, but literally just a little dubcon-y drabble with Reader & Megatron making out and Megatron's denta cut Reader's lip. And Reader tries to back off, but Megatron is so fucking horny about it that he holds them still and kisses them harder.

And that's just what I've written. I've also toyed with Facsimile!Reader where Megatron fucks you because why not, you exist only to serve the decepticon cause and, well, you basically feel like a human on the inside and he's curious. Super fucked up not because of the dubcon but more in tone, that you entire existence is for obeying him and serving him and dying for him and you're okay with that.

[kittycatcarla]

i am perhaps too selfish and i feel fucking horrible

But fucking hell. I put the full extend of my love towards a person, she knows she is my absolute best friend, that i would do anything for her, that i already trust her with my identity, that i would trust her with my life

She knows her presence makes me unbelievably happy. She knows how happy i am to be her friend. And despite all of that.

I would've been fine if i were second place for her. But more often than not, i feel like. She barely gives a shit about my presence if she has someone else to entertain her. I feel outright ignored. I feel like i dont exist, i feel dematerialized

And at that point? What's the fucking point? Is she going to spend time with me only when she literally does not have someone else to do that with? Only when she's scared of cutting herself? When she's grieving her ex-boyfriend and i need to remind her what he did to her?

Frankly i'd rather be a sex tool than an emotional tool. Cause the sex does not come with an emotional toll. No strings attached for a reason

But i love her so much. I cannot love myself and i choose to love others instead. Her i love more than basically anyone else. And that's why it hurts even more

[sucrows]

knock knock o/ 👉👈 i have... many madara mikejima thoughts. and im still thinking abt mutual obsession with him so uhhhhhh cw unhealthy relationship? we know why we're here... excuse me being annoyingly longwinded orz this is barely sexy. this is just me thinking abt mama im so sorry crow aaaaa

madara mikejima is the guy who would be at your service at all times— no questions just pure devotion. for as long as he is around you, you might as well say you have your own personal assistant. theres so many examples of him doing stuff for others and i will never shut up abt his fs1 where anzu was like hey what if your exclusive outfit was just a loincloth and he was on board purely bc she likes it. HE HAS 0 SHAME IN DOING EVERYTHING YOU SAY. NONE. YOU COULD ASK HIM TO BARK AND HE WILL. when that guy loves someone, he craves them with his entire being and desires nothing more than to be in their life.

he's also not above just. asking for a fwb situation. he wouldn't be so blunt about it, but it'd be a slow coercing. mama isn't above lying about his motives either. maybe he sees you're stressed and hey. let him massage your shoulders. lay down. oh your back is just tense huh? and it escalates until he's just fucking you with reckless abandon. well your stress is gone now so he offers to make this a regular thing. no strings attached and no worries. he just wants to make you relaxed.

here's where it gets messy. mama is also out of town a lot for work. he goes overseas, just touring around. but bc he spends every waking moment he is in town attached to your hip, his absence is so. prominent. and god it feels so awful not seeing him. phone calls arent enough. good morning and goodnight texts are sporadic because he's so busy. you miss having mama around to hold you while you do work.

and it's not great for him either. he's constantly worried about you. he can't get you out of his head. when he finally gets back it's like he's moved heaven and earth buying you various trinkets that reminded him of you (some even extremely rare and valuable since... he just collects those things anyway)

just. intense back and forth of hapoiness being with him every single day to devastating loneliness whenever he leaves. each time he comes back, ofc intense welcome home sex ensues. but it never goes past the fwb stage. any deeper feelings he's harboured are shoved aside and he grows distant when he feels like you want to get even closer. he always wants what he can't have. and he'd rather you not be caught up in whatever bullshit he goes through so he lies to himself saying he's content with meaningless sex and just doing things for you. even when you have consumed his entire thoughts. yet he's unaware that you are much the same. craving him more and more that you wanna get through to him. but HIS FUCKASS LONESOME WAYS MAKES YOU HESITATE. SO YALL JUST GO NOWHERE. AND ITS JUST A "what are we?" LOOP

mf.... madara just will not communicate. he can't go beyond superficial desires and acts of service because it scares him to face the fact these feelings have grown wildly out of control. it scares him because the moment he does, he fears his own self destructive tendencies will take over and he'll just ruin everything. whats more is that imo i think he would still unconsciously do things like distance himself, not speak to you for days even after coming back as like a way for you to grow to resent him. that way if things crumble he can just say oh the signs were there as if he didn't put those flags up himself.

uh yea 💚 thats all. uhm. unrelated i think youre super cool and i hope ya have/had a good day dependin on when you get to this 💚

minty i am going to become the JOKER if you do not stop apologizing for things i actively invited you to do and that is a THREAT /lh

anyways, this is soooo tasty idgaf if it's more angsty than horny i'm eating this up anyways, thank you for the meal 🙏

Madara Mikejima, King of Miscommunication. He adores you and puts you on such a high pedestal that it becomes nearly impossible to convince him to stand by your side as your equal. He believes that you deserve better so much but he's also too selfish to give you up. He's not worthy of you, but neither is anyone else.

He wants the emotional intimacy. He wants the domesticity. He wants everything. Hell, he probably indulges in these things pretty often in a FWB relationship, but he can't ever tie you down. The moment he gets the inclination that you're getting too attached, he runs. When you're truly in a time of need he will always be there for you but otherwise he's as fickle as the wind.

It's a horrendously painful but addicting relationship that neither of you can truly break off

[shoeshoesho]

March 17, 2023

i haven’t written in a while. I haven’t felt this bad in a while. I cant really put my finger on it. And to be honest now that i should be writing about it i find myself too tired to even dive in. Im tired of being tired. Im tired of being upset. Without even discussing the issue, the buddhist way would sound like this: Be less self centered. Everything that happens, happens. We are the creator of this reality that is in pain and anguish. We paint this landscape we feel. i feel bad at my job. I feel attached to this identity of my job. I tally my mistakes and reason with my own myself- why don’t you just quit? I feel tired and burnt out. I think to myself. Is that just an excuse for your mistakes? Or are these just excuses. Maybe, you are bad at your job? Maybe its ok to be bad at your job. Maybe if you accepted that you were bad at your job that you would be happier. Free-er. 

Maybe if you let go of this. You could finally be happy doing a half ass job at your work. I ask myself why cant I be an effective person? Why do i make the mistakes i make. What self help books can I get. Or am i just. not good. at this. job. IT pays well. I bought a house. Im sitting here on my rug with the fire. alone. Was it all worth it in the end??

IS this a millenial soul reaching out for some sort of unordinary lifestyle? Should i be doing something i really love doing? What are all the answers, where are all the fucking answers. 

Ive never had the confidence to do something unconventional. Ive always been so scared. So scared that if i didnt have it all, i wouldnt be happy. So now that i have it all, am i? 

I feel pathetic. and i find myself hating myself. I think im tired. Tyler says im always tired. He says ive been tired for as long as ive known him...

What does that say? Is that even related to this job?

I think im getting better though. at dealing with the dissapointment.

Today me and tyler were both hanging on a string. I think i was doing ok and he snapped at me. and then we were both not ok. He had a bad week and all his plans fell through so he was upset and moping around the house. I tried to go somewhere with him but then we both lost it in the car. I found myself feeling very similar to how it was in the beginning when i worked at dominican. When he had (and still doesnt really have) the capacity to deal with me being so upset. We could not be more opposites in terms of dealing with work, and stress. I needed someone to council me to sooth me. To want to understand. I wanted someone to ask me what exactly happened and what the situation was. I wanted him to tell me it was ok- but to actually take a look at the situation.

I know he thinks he doesnt need to look at the situation, because he believes in me and thinks im over reacting overall. But i just see him brushing it off completely. In fact, he probably is cause he fucking hates talking about work. IT triggers him into some sort of spiral. talking about my work, his work. Hed rather not address it at all and act like it doesnt exist. All these work problems.

In many ways hes right though. It doesnt matter. If you treat it for what it is.. it shouldnt make me worried. In fact, i shouldnt even be talking about it right now. I shouldnt bring it up because its not importaint in our lives. Unfortunately for me i still think work is importaint to me.

Maybe i need to put efforts in something more personal. Something that could actually help me feel good about what i do. I said this today but im having hard times remembering it. We count all our mistakes but none of the good things we fix. I think maybe i could count on my fingers all the mistakes ive made this year and last year. but i never even counted all the good things ive done in my job. I dont give myself that ever. 

[barbatos-sama]

small ocs i have in my head with no real story i just like churning different romances around in there: guy who is into crime (organized crime is part of my mindscape at this point) who's well known for being 'ugly' by his peers. he's got fucked up teeth and a huge gnarly scar across his face, blind in one eye due to the injury that produced said scar, greasy shoulder length hair. all his colleagues (for lack of a better word) call him ugly in good faith bc they think he's embraced the title. spoiler alert it still upsets him a little inside since it's hard for him to get girls and everyone is immediately intimidated by him bc of his appearance (which, isn't entirely a bad thing in his line of work, makes people more scared of him and matches his personality since he's a mean ass cunt)

anyway he's in a situationship with a girl(non biney), she lives in his house and sex is rent. shes blind, not fully blind (everything is just extremely blurry, she can see colors for example but good luck knowing what the thing she's actually looking at is) and they have kind of a toxic relationship at first since he's not exactly a conscientious lover. very much a no strings attached no feelings thing happening for a few months. he finds out later though that the reason she's doing sex work is that she needs to pay for a super expensive surgery for her cataracts and she'll actually be able to see if she can get it, and it kinda makes him see the situation differently. he's bad with feelings and introspection so he doesn't immediately jump to "am i exploiting her" because he just is not that self aware, he does start to feel icky about it and can't figure out why for a while.

a while later he overhears her crying on the phone to one of her friends about her life and how she wishes she could have a normal relationship and how he's so nice sometimes and wishes he could see her as something more than that and he's like ohhhhh uh oh. uh oh. how do i navigate this situation. and he decides that he wants to give it a shot and try to be something more with her, even though he has kind of a traumatic history with girls and trying to persue relationships with feelings.

he doesn't actually Tell her this though because communication is for pussies and he just starts acting more touchy feely with her and shows her lots of affection he didn't before, takes her out places and buys her stuff, just gradually starts introducing more couple shit into their routine and the entire time she's internally like what the fuck this is awesome. they just kinda fall into being a couple without saying anything about it. she asks to feel his face one day to map it out in her mind since she can't really see it, and he's reluctant and tries to tell her she's not gonna like what she feels. she does anyway though and she's able to outline his scars and says she thinks she has a good mental picture of them. he has a rare feelings drop where he says that once she gets her surgery and sees him she won't want to be with him anymore, that nobody who can see him has ever stayed, and obviously she's like nuh uh bitch you are stuck with me now

when she does get her surgery she needs really thick glasses afterward but she can See and of course his face doesn't matter to her and she was actually kinda proud of herself because she Did get a pretty good idea of what it looked like by feeling it so she had a cheeky >:3 moment about that. he helped pick out her frames, huge round ones that are very cute. and for a while afterward none of her friends will believe her when she said he changed like that and they're waiting for him to fuck up again, but he doesn't. they settle into a life together, that still can't really be considered normal given his career, but she's always there waiting for him when he gets home to tend to his wounds

[manslaught]

for both of their sakes, mikayla hopes that's true—that if taissa ever learns the whole truth about her, she won't be afraid of it, but mikayla's not sure. it's too much for most people to handle; the only reason she hadn't laughed when it was all explained to her was because there was no way for her to deny it, not after the chimera attack, not after being escorted across the country by a boy with goat legs, not after being taken in by a man attached to a horse's body. after all that, it was a little hard to not believe it. “i don't think i'm different. i am.” maybe one day she'll be able to tell her, but not today—not when the real point she's trying to make is that tai doesn't scare her, couldn't scare her, no matter what she's done in the past.

she wishes she could tell her why she really doesn't have to worry about mikayla—but she can't, not now, so she bites back any argument she would have had. “it's okay. i'm scared, too.” really, she probably doesn't need to say it—it's been obvious this entire time, from her panicking every time things feel like they're getting too serious, ghosting her every other week, adamantly denying the feelings she knows they both have, but she wants tai to know she's not alone in it. it's more than just being afraid of the feeling she has for her, but she's afraid of hurting her, too—not the same way tai's afraid of hurting her, she thinks, but she knows it's possible that one day, mikayla won't make it home. she has to fight back an eye roll, fully convinced there's nothing tai can do that she can't handle, but if it makes her feel better, she'll go along with it. “you're not going to hurt me,” she repeats, because she believes it, before continuing, “but fine. if anything happens, i promise i'll be safe.” it feels like an empty promise coming from someone who can never guarantee their own safety, but if it helps tai calm down, she'll say whatever she has to.

after a moment of hesitation, she steps closer, dropping tai's hand to wrap her arms around her instead, despite having never been the type for hugs. but then, she's never been the type for any of this, especially fighting for someone to stay. more often than not, she'll let someone walk out of her life, usually after giving them no other choice, but the idea of losing tai is even more suffocating than the fear she experiences with her. “don't—don't do that shit again.” make her think she's leaving. mikayla knows she would deserve it, after stringing tai along for as long as she has, but she's not sure if she could handle it. all she does know is that she doesn't want it to happen, that the fear of losing her outweighs anything else, including the fear of her father. maybe it's that that allows her the courage to finally shut out his voice completely, the one that's told her all along that they were wrong together. and once that's gone, she chokes out, “i want to be with you.” mikayla's grateful tai can't see her face, can't see the tears that well up in her eyes, because while she might finally be brave enough to admit it, it's still completely fucking terrifying. “i'm not—i won't be good at it, but i want to learn. with you.” a part of her wants to pull back just enough to look at her, but she's too afraid of tai's reaction, afraid she might say no, so she only holds her tighter, letting out a shaky breath. “—if that's okay.”

they're both talking vaguely now, and taissa hates that. she started it that way, because there was no other way for her to voice her concerns that had been getting louder and louder as she and mikayla got closer --- but hearing her do the same hits a nerve. ❝  what? i don't care about that. ❞ she doesn't know what 'that' is, but she knows mikayla is different than anyone else she's ever met. that's why she's always been more comfortable with her than anyone else, she just doesn't know what that really means and if there's a reason. when mikayla says she's not normal, she assumes it's as simple as that -- because it's all she can assume, that she's just different than other people. ❝  i like who you are. i don't fucking--- want normal. ❞ she doesn't even know what 'normal' is anymore, but she knows when it's impossible to connect with people because of it. mikayla is not one of those people, and she never has been. ❝  i'm not going to be scared of you either, no matter how different you think you are. ❞

her instinct tells her to drop mikayla's hands immediately, but her heart is louder, grabbing them tightly instead as she hears the nickname -- how intimate it feels given their situation, given this, given her. everything that's happening now is only more proof that taissa should call it quits for everyone's safety, and yet feeling mikayla so passionate about helping catches her off guard, and she wants to stay in this moment with her. she frowns, shaking her head, because that shouldn't be the standard -- and she didn't want to hurt van, either, but she still did ( over and over, she knows. ) she remains uncharacteristically silent, because she still wants to argue, but she needs to listen to her. her eyes close when she feels her lips to her knuckles, and it soothes her enough to keep her body standing straight, even if everything mikayla says feels like she's giving tai way too much. she wants it, of course, but why is it so easy for mikayla to accept it? that scares tai even more. her real problem is not that mikayla is too close, it's that she refuses to actually deal with her own problems, the things she's kept buried for so long now --- and she knows she never will, so she only fears now that she may not really be able to hold it all together as much as she's convinced herself she can. that's easier when she's on her own, not when someone else is relying on her. that's the scary part.

her eyes shoot open when mikayla tells her she wants all of her --- a confession that tai was always scared of and hoped for all the same. it doesn't scare her like it should now, though. it makes her heart beat faster, and her hand squeezes hers again. she's heard something like this before, even after she'd hurt someone, and before she did it again, which is exactly why she shouldn't give into it, but something tells her that mikayla, despite not knowing everything, really does mean all of this ( she knows her well enough to assume that she wouldn't fight this hard if she didn't. ) ❝  i do need to worry about you, ❞ she says quietly after a moment, quickly going on before she can argue. ❝  because when i feel this for someone, it's scary. for everyone, and i-- i feel it for you. i want all of you, and i, fuck, i don't know what to do with that. i'm just so fucking scared, ❞ she admits, and that's not something she's ever been willing to admit, even out there, but now that she's back here, it feels even harder to avoid the things she was afraid of then. her free hand moves up, hovering over her neck for a moment before she rests it gently there, her thumb brushing over mikayla's jaw as she stares back at her. part of her knows that she is already in love with her, because she wouldn't be breaking down like this if she wasn't, but she can't say that, so she simply looks at her instead. ❝  if something happens, if anything . . . you have to keep yourself safe. i don't care what that means for me, you have to be okay. ❞ because she's not leaving her, even if she thinks she should. ❝  promise me. ❞

[party-gilmore]

This is still just a half formed thought but @pebblesrus got me thinking bout The Pool Scene and Eliot viewing his body/safety as something to physically exchange for that of others, combined with the commentary about how Eliot was counting the seconds Hardison was without air, like

There's still the thrum of angry tension stretching out from Hardison between them through the night, during Flores's call, on the way in and through the airport... Eliot isn't avoiding Hardison's angry gaze, but he's not seeking it out either. It burns under his skin, a hot coil of discomfort and the sinking sensation of having ruined something unless he manages to make things even.

At some point midflight, Hardison gets up to pace near the bar (because it might have been last minute, but he's NOT gonna make the team fly coach - even though he's still upset with Eliot and may have thought about it for a minute). Eliot follows a few seconds later and catches Hardison on the way back, quickly shoving him into the small lavatory and locking the door behind them.

"Man! What the hell! If you don't get your hands off me, I-"

"One minute, nineteen seconds." Hardison stops flailing against Eliot's grip around his wrists and just... stares, incredulous.

"...what?"

"You were without air for one minute, nineteen seconds."

"...you were counting." It feels a little like a question, although it isn't. Not really. Eliot's grim expression softens often imperceptibly. Hardison would've missed it if they weren't crammed so tightly in the small bathroom. Eliot answers the non-question anyway, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"Course I was."

Hardison tumbles that around in his head for a bit. Of course Eliot was counting. Probably to know when it was too dangerous anymore to stay in character. Hardison knows how important it was to gain Moreau's trust at the time. In his head, he knows that. Knew it, even then. He was just... so afraid, at almost drowning, and angry at the secrets Eliot was keeping... but he was counting. He would've gone in for him, if he needed. Blown the whole damn thing.

Yeah the situation just sucked all the way around, sure, and yeah Alec's still a little pissed - why wouldn't he be! He's got the right! - but Eliot was counting. That means even though he'd had to put Hardison's life at risk, he was willing to risk even more - his own safety, the entire con - to pull him back out if needed. That was something, right? That was still-

-Hardison's too busy turning the pieces around in his own head to notice Eliot shifting his grip from Hardison's wrists to his hands. Tugging them closer. Pulling them up.

Alec snaps back to the present when his fingertips graze the warm, flushed skin of Eliot's neck.

"What-"

"One minute, nineteen seconds." Eliot suddenly presses Hardison's hands tight around his throat, guiding his thumbs to the appropriate hollows beneath his jaw.

"You... you can't be fucking serious!"

He tries to pull away, but Eliot's grip holds fast.

"Damnit Hardison," his growl comes rough, grating, as he puts pressure on his own windpipe through Hardison's palm. "You were right! Okay? I risked your life. For one minute and nineteen seconds. So that's what you get. Just... just do it, man! Get it over with, then we're even!"

"Even-... man, do you not realize how fucked up this is? I'm not... I'm not doing this!"

With a growl, Eliot tears his hands away from Hardison's, and Alec snatches his newly freed palms back to his chest. Eliot clearly wants to pace, but can't in the cramped room, so he settles with carding his fingers through his hair.

"Then what the fuck else do you want from me, man!" His voice already sounds ragged, even with how short of a time Hardison (or rather, Eliot by way of Hardison) was pressing around his throat.

"I just wanted you to be honest with us! With me!" Hardison slumps back against the far wall, anxiously rubbing his jaw as he tries to find the words. "Alright, look, I get it, what you had to do at the pool. I do. That doesn't mean my being upset about it is just gonna... go away!"

"I know that!"

Hardison flinches as Eliot slams his fist against the side wall. He knows the strike wasn't meant to be pointedly 'at' him, that in such a small space there's not a whole lot of room to safely lash out in when feeling cornered, but it was still too close to him for comfort. Eliot clocks the flinch, and for a moment the frustration on his face morphs into a clear expression of the guilt he's been masking since the pool.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't... fuck, I'm sorry," he pulls away, shrinking in on himself like he does on the grift, trying to consciously make himself seem smaller. "I just... I just don't want to have ruined us, man. Whatever is we've got... you and me, this team... I just wanna fix what I broke. I want us to be good."

"We are good, man," Hardison cautiously steps forward. He thinks to put a hand on Eliot's shoulder, but that's too close to his throat at the moment, so he goes for the outside of his arm instead. "You don't gotta... let me hurt you to make things even. That's... I don't know where the hell you learned that, but I don't like it. I'm not gonna do it. You just... you just gotta let me feel my feelings for a bit, okay? We'll get Moreau, and that'll feel fucking great, and have a little party, and everything will be fine. "

Eliot looks up at him and the ragged, raw desperation in his gaze about knocks Hardison back against the wall.

"...that's it?" Eliot's almost laughing, with a dry sarcastic bite behind his tone that makes him sound unhinged... well, more unhinged than usual. Although, he did just ask Hardison to choke him, so Alec figures we're not exactly working with the usual state of mind here.

"It's that easy, huh? You just... say we're good, and we're good?"

"Uh, yeah." Hardison shakes his head, tightening and loosening his grip on Eliot's arm in what he hopes is a soothing pattern. "That's how normal feelings work when somebody you care about pisses you off. You talk your shit out, it hurts for a bit while it heals up, then you're good. I don't know who fucking taught you you had to pay for-"

Oh. Oh but then it hits him. The dots finish connecting and he's looking down at Eliot, who's been strung tight and volatile as a clumsily stripped live wire ever since they closed in on Moreau, and in that moment Alec knows who taught him that.

He steps in close, carefully taking the back of Eliot's neck in a gentle grip, and ducks slightly to even out their gazes. Eliot’s whole body is tensed so hard he's almost shaking with it, but his eyes start to lose their sharp edge with Hardison's easy hold.

"I need you to hear me, Eliot. If I say we're good? Then we're good. No strings attached, no games, no doing any 'favors' for me first to prove any kind of loyalty or whatever. You know I don't play that shit. Yeah? You hearing me, man?"

Eliot's body starts to lose a bit of it's tension. A hesitant nod starts, but stops early. Hardison's seen Parker do that before, when she's too nervous to fully commit to a new idea even if she wants to, so he softens his tone and backs up a bit like he does with her.

"You hear me, babe?"

"I hear you," the reply is soft, almost embarrassed, and Eliot's eyes dart away. Hardison let's him go, indulging the gruff 'pretending to shake off the touch' Eliot does a second too late to be any kind of believable, and respectfully ignores the clearing of his throat and wiping at his eyes.

"We, uh..." Eliot turns to the door, fidgeting with the handle for a moment. "So, we'll talk. In San Lorenzo. When it's done?"

"When it's done."

Affirmation granted, Eliot darts out of the room. Hardison takes a few more minutes. Washes his face. Processes all the data thrown at him in the past few minutes as much as he can before filing it away for later. For 'when it's done.'

BONUS:

I feel like later, when they have their actual talk and Moreau is dealt with and both parties are a little more calm about it, Eliot is still like okay, I hear you, I understand that you don't need this to feel like we're square... but I do. Please.

And this time, knowing a little more of the whole story, Hardison is more comfortable accepting that like you know what, okay. If this is what you need, now that we've talked it out in a much less charged scenario and I can trust that you're in (more of) your right mind about this, okay. So long as you know I don't need this, that this is for you, and that if you need to stop early you swear you'll tell me.

Eliot probably rolls his eyes a bit at that like c'mon not even a full two minutes of getting choked out? He's had to go [absurd amount of time] without air in [equally absurd situation] in [obscure country], he'll be fine.

So Hardison sets a timer, and gently presses Eliot up against a wall, hands wrapping round his throat, Eliot's hands around his wrists - the deal is that he holds on for as long as he's good, if he let's go then so does Hardison - and he starts pressing in.

The whole scene is far softer and more intimate than either of them expected. They keep crazy intense but somehow still gentle eye contact almost the entire way through - the only exception being when Eliot's eyelids start to flutter a bit near the end, his grip loosening but not letting go - and when the time's up Eliot almost doesn't want Hardison to let go. He didn't even know that was a Thing for him. It had never been like that before, and like he said it's hardly his first time being choked... but something about trusting Hardison with that level of control... it makes him realize he maybe likes it a little too much. Putting his actual life in Hardison's hands in such a very physical, tangible way.

It kind of scares him, to be honest, how easily he'd be willing to let him do it again. And thinking about Hardison always leads to thinking about Parker, and thinking about Parker always leads to thinking about Parker's hands, and he realizes that he'd even trust "I hang off buildings by my fingertips" hand strength Parker to do it too... maybe even gets excited at the idea of it...

...and realizes he's well and truly screwed.

[demcnsinmymind]

He gets a bit lost in that head of his as he listens to her talk about her father. Still paying attention, but also...thinking some of his own things through. Way back, before all of this, when there had been just the show, his films, and the ever so glorious bliss of not knowing, hell, before the show and Washington and what not...he'd had a pretty glorious good and normal life.

With a great father, though it had been too late by the time he'd actually realized that. And yeah, no, he is not going to anywhere near those memories of losing him, all that grief, but what he will admit is that unlike her, he never celebrated his father's death.

Indoctrination though? Other types of men who called themselves 'loving fathers' but were entirely fucked up like hers seems to have been? He'd also come across one of those, too. And also unlike her, he did get to kill that bastard by himself. And it's that memory worth celebrating, one that makes him smile right along with her, despite its gruesomeness and horror.

"Hell yeah" he agrees and finishes his glass, then gives her an amused, almost cheeky look at her next comment. "Kiss me, huh" he repeats, not breaking eye contact for a while, until he ends up chuckling too, clicks his tongue, shakes his head. "Damn. Too bad that I'm already taken" he jokes. Still ever so cheap and repetitive, but there's just something about it. Making light of a terrible situation. Possession. Hardefuckinghar.

He frowns not long after, because now he just needs to know. He points at her with his empty glass, wondering. "So how exactly does that work though? Let's say, you meet a nice person in a bar like this, take them home or whatever, and you do kiss them. That mean you're not just stealing hearts but their souls each time? Or does it have to be a special one, serious strings attached type of deal for it to take effect? Gotta know what I'm getting myself into here" Lance chuckles, then puts the glass down on the table before him, starts twisting it around on the surface, playing with it, watching it. Only giving her a soft snort in reply to her question at first.

It helps that she herself makes it a little joke, keeps flirting in her unique and fun little way. Because this way, he gets the perfect opportunity to avoid having to even think about the actual answer. I don't know. Nowhere. No, I don't know how. I don't know where. I don't know shit and I'm fucking scared because of it. As if on cue, he's reaching for the bloodied shirt again, rubbing at the spot where he was stabbed, grinning and chuckling because what else is there to do.

"Well you're just in luck then. I don't do overnight stays anyway. Besides, I do have a very jealous girlfriend. Can't risk taking anyone home for long even if I wanted to" he gives her another pointed look, flashing a big and amused grin right at her, though it's not quite reaching his eyes anymore. Eyes that are a bit more eager to get right back to watching that empty glass in his hand. Glistening in the shine of the bar lights like the edge of a blade. Because fuck. Maybe he does want somebody to stay for the night. Her, after she so impressively and quite literally saved his ass less than an hour ago. Who the fuck even knows how many of them are still out there right now, looking for him. Eager to finish what they tried. Now, he ends up asking after all. Not outright admitting that he doesn't know how to shield himself and why, but indirectly answering her question after all.

"So yeah, fucked up firewall's set up all nice and tightly I suppose. Besides, wards aren't going to keep some normal dudes away, right? Won't do shit about knives. And guns. So why are you asking? You know about something other than those hunters being after me? What kind of 'ward' do you suggest I need exactly?"

'Fuck them then', he says. Like he's brushing it off, like it doesn't bother him that humans swearing to rid the world of darkness won't protect the one person who they should, more than anyone... but Meg can tell that it stings. That he's been disappointed by others before. Fuck, maybe they should form a club.

"Oh I'd say congratulations are in order, sugar. Bastard made my existence miserable from the time I was spawned. I would've killed him myself, but, had to dig pretty deep to free myself of that kind of indoctrination." She chuckles again, though she doesn't elaborate too much further. She wonders what kinds of things Lance has learned about hell, and it's society. Most tend to assume it's nothing but chaos, and while that's certainly a large percentage... there's just as much emphasis on politics and schmoozing and grappling for power in the underworld as there is on the surface.

"To minding our own fucking business." Meg jokes, clinking her class against his, watching curiously as he seems to mull over her proposal.

Ah... so his friend doesn't cooperate, necessarily. Reacts out of instinct, out of a need to protect him. But they are still intertwined, Meg can see their essence wrapped up in each other's, on some level.

At his words of agreement, she smirks, and her teeth gleam in the low light. "if you're worried about me taking your soul, that's not quite how we seal those deals. I'd have to kiss ya." She teases, winking back at him. "But, for a mutually beneficial partnership to stay alive and mind our own damn business, we have a deal."

She downs the rest of her drink, before motioning for another round. She definitely needs to blow off some steam, by any means possible. "Where are you staying right now, by the way? Got it warded up and all that?"

not that Hunters would be fazed by the wardings, but demons and angels would. And, any other hunters passing through wouldn't think of Lance as anything other than human. Another layer of protection. "And before you ask, I would stay the night, but I know how that goes. I'm too irresistible." Another joke. Maybe.

[neocrush]

— the girl groups enhypen’s gfs are in !

genre: fluff (angst on jungwon’s part) + established relationship (eventually lol)

pairings: idol!enhypen x fem!idol!reader

note: idk how to title this pls i thought of it while showering

tagging: @jeminiepabo @strwberrydinosaur

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

so yves told you to ask for some from the artist in the dressing room next to yours

you knocked on the door without looking at the sign that showed who was in there

you asked for some water bottles and heeseung went “i’ll go get it!” and ran off to go get get them

jungwon just chuckled and went “hyung’s a really huge fan of your group, he kept on singing star on the way here”

you nodded at the younger one, impressed at the fact that you were popular among idols

the tall boy came back with a whole box full of water bottles

“there’s 12 of you here right now so i figured why not get a whole box” he chuckled nervously

you giggled and smiled at the nervous boy

“thank you heeseung-ssi, i’ll take this to my members” you took the box in your hands but was taken aback on how heavy it was

“don’t worry i’ll carry it for you”

long after that you started hanging out and boom you became his gf

you couldn’t resist the charms of lee heeseung

once it was revealed that you were a couple, orbits and engenes went INSANE (in a good way ofc)

“wait so y/n DOESNT hate men????”

★ jay - aespa

OMG OMG LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS BBY

you both met at school after you both debuted

everyone was gossiping around about how you were in the same class with the enhas

so like... monster rookies class

usually idols aren’t seated together but the teacher seated you and jay next to each other

causing a bunch of “oooohhhs” from your classmates

there were times were you and the enhas would leave school early due to practice or schedules

and on the way to the school gate, jay would always spark up a conversation with you

you assumed he was just very friendly

long story short he had a massive crush on you

so a few months into your friendship (which the both of you were very open about with your fans), he confesses

you were like “WAIT SO IT WASNT ONE SIDED THE WHOLE TIME”

y’all were just really blind lol pls read between the lines

anyways on to ur lovely bf !!

he’s so bold and brave around you but so shy around your members and seniors

we all know how he really respects nct (along with other sm artists) bc he covered the 7th sense with sunghoon on iland

so one day you were like “oh btw i showed taeyong sunbae you and hoon’s t7s cover”

he was like 😟 to 😧 to 😯

got all shy and was like “oh what did he say..”

you don’t know why he was acting as if he didn’t body that whole performance ????

anyway you told him that taeyong said that he and hoon did really well and that he liked how jay did his part

hid his face on the crook of your neck

“baby we should come say hi to them next time you go to sm”

“NO i will make a fool out of myself”

speaks english and japanese with giselle a lot when he isn’t occupied with you

sometimes you’d even have to ask nct’s shotaro to translate

your seniors (especially exo’s kai) adore him so so much pls protect the boy at all costs

★ jake - everglow

he was an active viewer of produce 48 and (like me) was really attached to the yuehua trainees

especially you

so when you got eliminated just before the last episode, he was devastated to say the least

he awaited your debut and when the time came he supported everglow !!!!

LOVED BON BON CHOCOLAT SO MUCH

does the killing part choreo in his room when no one’s watching lol

dies everytime you do the little “everglow” in songs

right so when he debuted in enha, he looked forward to meeting you as an idol and not a fan

when you shared a dressing room at kcontact, he couldn’t help but introduce himself to you

he mentioned he was a big fan and your heart warmed

cute boy is a fan of you? omg heart go brr brr

your members tease you and you just shake it off

that day when you got back to the dorms, you watched a bunch of enhypen videos bc you were interested in jake

you weren’t aware of how popular you were among people - let alone idols so you were surprised

you fell in love with his personality and started saying hi to him whenever you meet backstage at music shows

not long after, you develop feelings for him

you thought it was just a puppy crush but as you saw him even more, it got serious

you never actually confessed but aisha accidentally spilled the beans when he was passing by

“cmon y/n just tell him you like him because he clearly feels the same !!”

“you like me?”

“AISHA”

“that’s my queue to leave”

so she leaves you two to pour your hearts out to each other

you two become a couple and forevergenes (such a cute name omg) LOVE you two

you’re both the puppies of your group so that makes your relationship 103892x cuter

you met his parents and they adore you and even asked for your autograph

“jake used to talk about how great you are after every produce 48 episode”

“okayyyy i think that’s enough embarassing me mom”

his parents love you like their own daughter but does layla love you?

you were so nervous to meet her and was actually scared she might not like you - knowing how important layla is to jake

at first layla ignored you and jake was like “she’ll come around”

you were convinced she just doesn’t like you, until this one time you were cuddling with jake on the couch and layla comes in

you expected her to snuggle up with jake but she came to you :D

now layla is super fond of you and mrs sim would even send you pictures and videos of layla getting excited whenever you were on tv 🥺

★ sunghoon - itzy

you and the girls were at isac

the six of you were just waving at your fans and making heart signs with your hearts

on your left you saw yeji making hearts with ryujin so you wanted to do that with another member too

you felt a presence next to you and assumed it was someone from your group

spoiler alert: it wasn’t

sunghoon and sunoo were waving at engenes who just happened to be seated next to midzys

so you turned to who you thought was an itzy member, making half a heart with your hand

until you realized it wasn’t 💀

you bowed and apologized when you both looked at each other, you were scared you crossed a boundary

you bowed and apologized to the engenes who were there too

sunghoon and sunoo reassured you it was all good

after that, sunghoon couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you the entire event

when the day was coming to an end, he pulled some strings and ended up having some alone time with you ...in stray kids’ dressing room

don’t ask

ofc skz already left so it was just you two there

fast forward, you both hit it off and he became your bf <3

midzys and engenes love you both sm and love bragging about you two to other fandoms

you two were even named the king and queen of 4th gen kpop

oh also

you already know where this is going

“SUNGHOON HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW NOT SHY’S PROPER TITLE IT’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S SONG” - jay

brags about how he can do the shoulder dance in wannabe

ofc it’s bc you personally taught him

sends you pics of jyp as reaction pics

so you send pics of bang pdnim to him

every once in a while he reminds you of that video of jay why pee trying to hit a high note

“lmao that’s your boss”

PLS you always get super embarrassed so ofc you bring up that vid of hitman bang

“rAp dAncE-“

★ sunoo - stayc

you were his seatmate at school predebut

you came from the same town, same school, same neighborhood, etc

the two of you were extremely close and both shared the same dream

when highup entertainment accepted you, the both of you were over the moon

he was so happy for you

but sad too bc that meant you had to move to seoul :(

you promised him to do your best and that you hoped to see him again but as an idol

and hopefully when he’s an idol too

well what you hoped for came true !!

although you couldn’t see him much as a trainee - which made you quite sad - you got to follow his journey on i-land

you even asked your fellow trainees to vote for him

anyways now that you both debuted, you became close again and became really open with your fans on how close you were

you recommended his songs to swiths and he did the same to engenes

he even memorized the choreo to so bad and asap and lemme tell you this

he BEGGED you to teach him those choreos

“sunoo you can watch the practice on youtube”

“but i want to learn it from you”

he never really realized his feelings until he saw you getting shipped with his other members

you were both on weekly idol and the hosts really seemed to like how you and jake looked next to each other and they just teased you both the whole episode

that made sunoo feel uneasy and he thought it was only bc he was an overprotective best friend

turns out he had feelings for you (wow shocker)

so one day he asks you to come to hybe

after slightly getting lost, you meet up with him in a practice room

he confesses bc he felt like not telling you about his feelings would put a wall between you two

you appreciate his honesty and tell him you’ve felt the same way every since you were classmates

he scolds himself for not seeing it all those years but you just laugh it off bc you were pretty good at hiding your crush

you both agree to secretly date, until you both announce it on your five month anniversary

fans were really shocked at first... but they support you !!!!

engenes will not hesitate to come at anyone who talks bad about you and swiths feels the same way about jungwon

he gushes about you every single time you’re brought up

and you can’t help but love your adorable boyfriend

★ jungwon - iz*one

okay so

he was just an average high schooler when you were introduced on produce 48

his deskmate was watching your audition video and it was the part where you were doing this freestyle

he was SO amazed and he secretly followed your journey on produce 48

always made sure to vote on time and watch the episodes live

once the debut evaluation came around, he asked everyone he knew to vote for you and even bought tickets to see the show live

almost cried when he saw that you were center

ACTUALLY CRIED when you got into the top 13 😭

fast forward to him debuting in enha

he wasn’t able to catch up on you since he was busy with trainee life, then i-land, then debut preparations

but somehow in the middle of promotions he ran into you and BOOM love at first sight

fast forward to you finally dating, he couldn’t believe he was dating the y/n of iz*one

wizones make those “ladies and gentlemen, y/n’s man” edits and engenes make those “ladies and gentlemen, jungwon’s woman” edits

both fandoms love you two so dearly that the only hate you two got were from the delusional ones (who clearly aren’t actual fans)

when your last concert came around, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry when you said “this has been iz*one’s y/n, thank you everyone!”

he got flashbacks from when you cried during the final episode of produce 48 and he’s just.. sobbing bc he couldn’t be there to hold you

so the next day he rushed to your dorms with snacks and emotional support bc you were emotionally exhausted from accepting the fact that your journey with iz*one is finally ending

you felt extremely lucky to be in his arms and he felt extremely lucky too that he’s able to make you feel a little better

★ riki - weeekly

you were both on weekly weeekly idol together

and both you and riki being main dancers, you were asked to do random dance together

a few popular songs played and the both of you did the choreos

until after school started playing and the boy did the chorus’ choreo and you were like “woah???”

bc he was so INTO ITTTT

the song was basically made for him to cover it

and the mcs saw your reaction so they asked him to do it once again but this time with the whole group

after filming, he came up to you and was like “i’m a huge fan of yours” and you’re just like ):&/£]>\**_£]

“woah really???? i rooted for you on i-land”

and his face just lights up bc his huge crush on you developed even more

you became besties since then but he didn’t ask you out until your birthday

he took you out to a puppy café, knowing you were obsessed with dogs

you’d ask him to show you pictures and videos of bisco

“i better meet bisco once we go to japan together”

melted at the thought of traveling to his hometown with you

anyways

once you left the café, he kissed you in front of your dorms

and somehow he became your boyfriend <3

riki as a bf isn’t really a very public person

he’s the “this is our relationship, not the public’s” type of person

he doesn’t wanna risk companies wanting to exploit your relationship

although he doesn’t talk about you two much, he loves to brag about you when given the chance

whenever variety show hosts would fawn over you he’d just look them in the eyes dead and go “she’s mine”

[spikesbimbo]

Better love

Summary: Niichan always takes care of you <3

cw: yandere niichan gojo but the reader actually likes him being a yandere, pseudo incest, blood play, possessive tendencies, violence, oral sex

wc: 1.9k 

   -

Your slight smile was hidden behind your fake, worrisome appearance as you looked him in the eyes, your doe eyed expression bringing him back to reality as his hands rested on your waist. 

You did not know why the guys following you around campus did not get the hint of “no”, and that your niichan would easily get rid of them if you asked. But you didn't want him to know that you, his sweet little angel, thought that way; so you conveyed it to him in a more discreet way. 

Crying, not so fake as you were frustrated and scared, but you easily let the tears fall to show him how distressed you were as he waited for you outside leaning on his car as you ran up to him, noticing that your precious little eyes were ruined as he embraced you in his arms.

What you didn't see, but felt, was the intense glare he gave them as he opened the door to set you in the passenger seat, trapping them in a barrier that you couldn't see as he drove you home.

As he finally got you washed up and in bed, tucking you in your favorite blanket, he left the house after giving you a kiss on the top of your head. You weren't really asleep as you heard the car starting, your heart racing loudly at the thought that he would go this much out of his way for you.

You knew what was going to happen as you got up, still a mess but for a ‘good’ reason now, your hands shaking from excitement and not fear as you tried to bring the glass up to your mouth. He was one of the only people in your life now, slowly getting rid of them one by one, whether it was just convincing you to cut them off or other methods.

But you didn't care, he's been the only one you could count since you met him Calling him niichan within a month of being with him, and still calling him it even though your ‘relationship’ has changed.

 He made you feel like you were the center of his world, universe. Thinking about how effortlessly he would slip you off your feet and catch you in his arms as you brought the glass down from your lips.

He quickly snapped his fingers firing it at them, the men disappearing besides the bloody remains left behind on him and the ground. He brushed some off walking straight back to his car, not wanting to waste another second without you as he sped down the highway.

You heard the door open, swiftly running to see him. Exclaiming “Toru!” as you wrapped your arms around him, he let out a little laugh not even through the door yet as your need for him made the seriousness in his head drop.

“You know why it did it, right sweetheart?” he whispered into your ear as he bent his tall frame into yours. Your hands working their way up to his jaw, wiping off some of the blood splattered there with your sleeve. Him showing it off in a sense after your reaction from this happening before, same situation different scenario.

He did it in front of you with no second thoughts as their disgusting hands reach out to grab your ass, coming to his senses when he saw the mess he made laid out before him.

And when he turned around, his mind was racing as he thought he was going to have to lock you away to stay with him, but the last thing he would've thought to see was your face flustered, eyes beaming as you clung onto his now dirty shirt with your fingers, muttering out “you did that....for me?”

“You needy honey?” he said letting you cling onto him as he walked to the bedroom. “I thought i told you to go to sleep.”

“m’sorry niichan, i was worried about you.” You pouted as he laid you on the bed taking his shirt off, thinking how ironic it was that you were the one wanting his attention. 

He always had you at his call, expecting you to respond to his texts directly unless you were asleep, which he knew of, his tenseness whenever you brought up another man that wasn't him, his eyes never leaving you whenever you two went out.

“Worried about me? That's so sweet of you baby” he said sitting beside you. “so worried about me that it got you this worked up?”  

His big hands were resting on your nightgown, lifting it up enough to see another mess he had to take care of. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re soaked for me. You want niichan to fuck you that badly?” he asked teasingly, grinning at your image.

You hid your face in the sheets, embarrassed of the reason he got you like this as he pulled them down with ease. Your fragile little arms being nothing in comparison to him”

“Cmon angel, u gonna let me wreck that dripping little cunt of yours or what? he said tugging on the string of your panties.

You whined out softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into you. His bright hair shining in the moonlight as it tickled your skin ,putting out a false complaint playing into the game he created. 

“Why, is it because niichan is dirty right now? I can take care of that sweetheart.”

“No! Tor-”

“No?” He chuckled out, seeing your hips grind in place as his dirty hands worked their way up your body. Freeing you from your nightgown, only being left in your panties as you leaned up and kissed his blood covered face. The iron taste spreading in your mouth as you held him close.

“You like me all messy, hmm? Messy because I had to take care of you... what a naughty girl.”

The tease in his voice never left as he kept muttering filthy words, your squirming body being the highlight of his day as his breath got closer and closer to your aching cunt, dripping though your panties as you moaned out when he touched you.“Fuck baby you got like this for me, im flattered.”

“You know niichan loves you.... and that he’ll do it over and over again if it gets you like this.” he says pushing his middle finger into the slickness of your hole immediately, thinking about claiming you in and out had his head going dizzy along with your scent.

Your tightness around his fingers is making his cock harder at the thought of stretching you out. He shushes you, cooing while rubbing your clit to ease you up, his finger curling into you as you thrashed around in his hold.

“Niichan’s the only one who can make you cum, you know that right? You know i'm the only one allowed to touch you here.”  he said, grabbing the base of your neck, wanting to instill it on you that he would be the only man to ever see you like this as his fingers tightened.

“Y-yeah, toru, please” you whimpered as he put another finger in, buried knuckle deep inside of you as he started thrusting them. He pulled out his cock, stroking it while he leaned his forehead onto your thighs.

Crying at how his lips attached to your clit, sucking the swollen bud intensely, so impatient to make you cum so he could fuck you. “Fuck baby, you're so sweet”

“You want my fat cock in there? Is that what you want baby?” he smirked, rubbing the area around your cunt. “You gotta tell me like a good girl or i don't know what to do.'' he said, removing his fingers from your hole to your protest as you gasped, nodding heavily to the point where you got dizzy.

His hands trailed up your sides, focusing on your pretty body before ruining it. His long fingers rubbing your thighs and tummy, grabbing the fat in his hands while spreading your legs open. 

“Such a pretty pussy, for my eyes only.” he observed gazing into yours, the blue turning white as he wouldn't let your vision go. You let out another whine at the feeling of his eyes burning holes into you.

“Shh angel niichans here to take care of you, like always” he said with your sloppy cunt spread open for him, your ankles besides your ears as he moved them there. The heat leaving your body as his cold hands gripped your thighs, locking them in place as he pushed his fat cock slowly into you.

“Fuck you're so tight, always sucking me up.” he groaned, his hips thrusting upwards as you moan out. “You got such a greedy little cunt, baby, you always wanna have something in you. Don't worry sweet girl, i'm gonna stuff you full like you deserve. Fuck you till youre all swollen and pretty with my cum.”

“Toru-” you sobbed, face being in his chest met with the dried blood that your hands were scratching against as his pace was ruthless. Your little hole clenched  so tight around him that he can ballet thrust in and out of you.

His hands grip harder on your thighs, pushing himself even deeper as his hips slam into yours, fucking you as fast and rough as he can. “That’s my girl, you this huh? Tell me.”

Your voice chokes out, head dramatically falling back as his cock was ramming into your cervix. “Yes, yea, nii-chan, p-please, cum in me ple ― ah.”

“Of course.” he grunted out, your cries being background noise at this point, mixing in with the sound of his balls slapping into your wet cunt. “Just like i always do.”

His hips rut into you faster as you feel your stomach clench up. You feel him throbbing inside you as your vision goes white. Your nails digging to the flesh of his back as you feel his warmness fill you up.

He lets you rest your head as your limp under him, pulling out slightly enough to see how much cum he left in you, seeing the slick pool out too. He doesnt let it slip as he fucks it back into you quickly. Loving how you're always ready to be fucked and bred, whenever he wanted.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice half gone as he fucked it out of you, making sure the blood was just there’s and not his.

“Yes baby i'm fine.” he answered, kissing you on the forehead before slowly pulling out as he had to clean you two up.

“nii― ” You voiced as he got up, picking you up along with him as he took you to the bathroom, due to the fact that he was unfortunately covered in someone else and not just you.

“Everything i do is for you, remember that.” he interrupted, his gaze hardening as he sat you on the counter while he was below you, running the bath to wash you.

But not before he placed his mouth into the mess he made, licking his cum out of your messy cunt then smothering your lips with it, covering you completely in him, in and out.

[drakenology]

𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  ♡  𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass. 

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy. 

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts. 

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form. 

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip. 

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something. 

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into? 

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders. 

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down. 

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury. 

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face. 

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub. 

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.” 

 He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock. 

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar. 

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him. 

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth. 

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude. 

“Thanks.” 

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. 

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing. 

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm. 

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more. 

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts. 

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off. 

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance. 

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry. 

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come. 

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car. 

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home. 

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in.