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luvtak · 4 months

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seasons of love, hhj

✦ pairing hyunjin x reader

✦ genre/tw FLUFF! FLUFF! ONE MORE TIME SAY IT WITH ME! FLUFF!!! hyunjin and mc are very much in love! hyunjin is said to be taller than mc and have bigger hands. lots of kisses and i love yous. suggestive in a couple places. in and out of present and past tense lol. overall very sweet and lovely--hyunjin and mc falling in love through the seasons

✦ w/c 2412

✦ a/n okay so! this is a rewrite of something i posted springtime last year and i hated it lol. this time around i am very proud of hyune and mc and they’re love story and i hope you all love it too!! I've spent months adding scenes and taking them away until I got here <3 please like and reblog, and please please reach out if you have any ideas or questions or just wanna talk!! love you guys forever, mwah!!

He came to you in the Summer, bringing with him music and dancing, and so much laughter you forget how serious falling in love can be.

There is just something about warm weather. It could be the sun shining over your beloved, lighting them up like a god or a king, maybe it’s just that the temperature resembles the touch of your lover’s caress, or that the awakened world is made for romance. It was early July, and everything was blue and sunny; days were filled with jokes and getting to know each other over hot days and cold drinks. Confessions given on front porches and whispered under blue skies—a million firsts bundled up as the heat went away.

He tells you he likes you so quietly, whispering in his sweet little voice, “would you like to go out sometime?”

The way his tall frame looked against the paint palette sunset would live in your head forever; pretty hair and long legs, the sweetest smile curving up to his crescent moon eyes. Looking back, you wished you had a camera or shared his talent with a paintbrush–just to have that moment set in stone. The smile that made you say yes.

In the beginning, he was too shy to hold your hand or stand too close. Inching closer and closer until he stood against you–brushing his fingers against yours until his big hands were enveloping your smaller ones.

The first time he kissed you, his hands were shaking.

He was so nervous you could feel the goosebumps rising on his arms, but he asked so sweetly,

“Can I kiss you.” And there was no way you’d ever say no. Not when he stood there in his summer clothes and pink cheeks, not when it was Hyunjin asking.

He held you straight against him, both hands on your face—the first press of his lips like drinking water, so slow as not to choke then gulping it down. His skin was soft everywhere you touched, and his kiss was happy: full of teeth and giggles and coming up for air.

Getting to know him was like walking into your childhood home, everything about him as familiar as the lines on your palm. Some parts of you are certain you’ve known him before—maybe you were lovers then too, or maybe two trees whose roots were intertwined. In any reality, you can’t see how Hyunjin is supposed to be with you. There is just no other reason why he could know you so well already, no other explanation as to why his body fits around you like it was made to.

Late one night you tell him your theories, and the smile he gave you was so bright and shiny you thought the sun came up. You tell him calmly and earnestly,

“Hyun, I’m almost certain we’ve already met thousands of times before.”

August is hot and covered in orange sunsets and long kisses; pink skies the same color as his cheeks when he asks you out again and again. He tells you about his life while you flip through his journals, page after page dedicated to moments he loved and dreams he’s had, and moments yet to come.

The days are long and it’s so easy to care for him, 15 hours of sunlight allowing you to learn all of him and still need more. Sharing secrets under leaves and laughs under covers–it’s too quick to fall in love, too fast for this insatiable longing to rise up in you. But you think you are, you must be, what else could that aching pull in your tummy be?

The first I love you falls from your lips like the leaves around you. A day spent shopping in the Halloween aisles and holding hands to keep warm. He looks so pretty, dark hair standing out against the grays and oranges of the season, and you love him so much you can’t help but tell him. The words float easy, accompanied by wind bitten skin and a warm gaze.

At first, he hesitates, making sure he’s heard you right, until finally the sun breaks on his face and he speaks.

“I love you too, silly.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it is. He’s been telling you with his eyes and his hands for months, it’s the truest he’s ever felt.

Autumn is spent studying each other, learning how and when to touch—how to make him gasp and sigh. His eyes flutter when you kiss his hip and roll when you bite down; He scratches and pulls, he makes your teeth rattle with his skin. Late nights and early mornings mapping each other, he tells you he loves you and swallows the response, touches the words away.

“I love you; I love you; I love you.” You say over and over again, hoping it sinks into his soul like a second skin.

In mere months, he knows your heart like it’s his own, slotting himself into your life like he’s always been a part of it. Your body has become his home; he’s tied his heart to yours in a double knot. You’re made for him, he’s sure of it—molded from the same clay, split-a parts who’ve found each other.

He tells you things he’s never told anyone before, pressing the secrets against your lips and pulling all of your secrets out of you at the same time.

He adores you, cherishes you as a person, a friend, a lover. He feels happier than he ever has, and he wants to show you to everyone he knows. When he introduces you to his friends, the smile never leaves his face and his hand stays wound with yours. They welcome you like an old friend, and he feels like both pieces of his heart are melting together. He watches you joke with Felix and be teased by Minho, and he thinks you’re the piece that’s been missing this whole time.

Months have been spent just the two of you, and it’s been perfect–intimate and so warm, but seeing you among his friends changes things. Almost like it wasn’t yet real, and now it is.

When you go to bed that night, he tells you,

“They love you and I love you.” and the look you give him is so beautiful, he thinks he should bottle it and save it for later.

Winter brings an unwelcome guest, a yearning for him that won’t go away—it’s harder to love him when he’s busy, and you wish you could be stronger and less jealous, but you’re only one person. It gets considerably difficult to wash the harsh feelings away when he isn’t there to help you, too many nights spent feeling too far away from him induce an anger you can’t get rid of.

When he arrives late and smelling of alcohol, you can’t seem to swallow the bitterness—why would he be drinking when he could be here with you?

Hyunjin, never a novice in reading you, picks it up right away.

One quick comment and then yelling.

“Are you just tired of me?” It escapes from your tongue like a lash, pricking invisible scars onto every vein. He wishes you would know he misses you too, but how could you when he’s never around, not physically nor emotionally, so you keep screaming. Yelling so loud about things that don’t matter. You hope he knows you’re fighting to stay, not to leave, but the words leaving your mouths are so harsh, you can’t be certain if he remembers he loves you.

If you were in your right mind, you’d know he doesn’t want it this way. Everyday he longs for the heat of summer and the comfort of autumn. If he wasn’t drunk, he could tell you, but instead he says, “I just can’t do this anymore.” Maybe it’s better to let go and find each other next time, next life.

Recently it’s been too hard, and maybe he’s not strong enough to learn about this part of you, but you are.

You’ve never been afraid to learn his bad parts, sure he’s a dream shaped like a boy, but he’s also whiny and clingy, and sometimes he gives up too fast. Even though it’s hard, and the tears are streaming into the seam of your lips—you gulp down the acidity and tell him you love him.

“It’s never going to get easier, Hyun, you’ll always be busy, and I’ll probably always miss you, but I love you and you said we’re meant to be, and you’re not a liar.” You tell him you’re sorry for yelling, and he says he’s sorry too, and in the morning, he’ll use his hands to apologize and then his mouth and he’ll promise to keep you warm when he can.

Winter is spent learning to love the pieces of each other that are unlikable, to see the invisible boundaries of before and honor them. You remember your theory about the trees with woven roots, and you remind yourself sometimes you’ll have to sacrifice your share of the water to survive, and you hope it’ll be easier when the world reawakens.

Night comes so fast, and it's so cold, but he loves you. It’s been half a year now, and you almost can’t remember where you were this time last year. Were you freezing without him? Or did you only feel the cold now that he’s here?

All you know is his warmth–pressing into you wherever he can.

A silent promise for the spring yet to come.

His birthday arrives with the first of the blooms, the world not yet alive. You wish him happy birthday under warm sheets, whimpering the words in place of presents. He spends the day with the people he loves most and the happiness he feels eases into spring. He tells you it used to be his favorite; and you promise for his day you will bring some of the magic back.

You help him pick flowers to paint, and read him your favorite stories, you kiss him under cherry blossoms and show him your favorite sunsets. It helps some, but not all—even so, spring with you is prettier than without. He’s sure his skin is brighter because you kiss it, and his paintings are better because they’re of you. He doesn’t know if you believe him, but he means it. His world has become technicolor since you walked into it.

He says it’s just better with you, “I mean it, honey, life is unbelievable when you’re around.”

It’s almost been a year, months spent learning and growing just like the flowers scattered around you. He loves you, so it takes no hesitation when you ask him to move in. He feels like it was already in the midst of happening anyway—his one drawer became a dresser, and his favorite snacks found their way to your cabinets.

Months ago, your heart became his home, and now he gets to live in it every day. Sure, you bicker some: many sighs of “That’s not where that goes, Hyun.” Combined with sweet mutters of “Well, it should go there, sweetheart.” But it’s exhilarating to open his boxes and link his life with yours—mitch-matched mugs in the sink and dirty clothes mixed together.

Your home is filled with dancing and music, laughter and love. His paintings cover the walls, pictures of your days held with magnets on the fridge. His life is now yours and your days belong to each other, and every night he reminds you it’s almost been a year, but how could you forget.

Sometimes, when he puts a dish away wrong, or leaves his clothes on the floor, you question why you invited him in. Even so, you wouldn’t take it back. He’s added so much color into your life, spring personified. A lovely romantic boy who sets your soul on fire.

The flowers that line the street remind you of him, and the bees who accompany you on your walk sing a quiet song that resembles his sweet nothings.

Your sweet spring boy, Hyunjin.

Radiant in every season.

Somehow, he looks the prettiest in the July heat. Of course, every season you’ve spent with him he’s been beautiful, but there is something about his smile surrounded by clear skies. His cheeks are the same color as the flowers and his kisses as warm as the sun. Something about the season where you first met, encasing him in a beauty befit of a prince. You can’t believe it’s been a year with him, a year getting to know how to love him and feeling his love back.

Looking at him now, he could probably make you do anything which is why when he woke you up at the crack of dawn dragging you out to see the sunrise you couldn’t say no. It was frustrating at first, when all you wanted was a few more hours in bed next to him, but Hyunjin could make you do anything if he smiled down at you.

He’s doing it now, looking so darling in his light sweater and clips in his bed-messed hair, looking past you at the sunrise. You love him like this, and it takes all of you not to tell him, to keep the peace of dawn.

You’ve loved things before—people, places, things, but never a boy like this.

Hwang Hyunjin is so precious, so dear to you that it hurts sometimes. No one has ever loved you the way he does, his love surrounds you—covers you under a warm blanket of his affection until it radiates into you.

He’s telling you how pretty you are, how you look like the fresh blooms and you’re laughing—which is all he wanted. He only ever wants to make you happy, even if that means being a cheeseball sometimes. Especially if that means waking you up early enough to see the sun come up, and he wants to see that smile again, so he asks,

“Honey, do you wanna know a secret?”

“Oooo, yes tell me.”

“I love you.” It comes so easy, flows so quickly past his lips like a nightly prayer, like it’s something so objectively true he can’t lie about it, which it is. And your smiles is so wide, laughing at how sweet your boy is, and you say,

“Oh, I already Knew that. I love you too.” And he smiles, grinning at the summer sky.

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #skz x you #stray kids #skz

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hayakawalove · 2 months

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A Little Pain Never Hurt Nobody

Summary: Life was dull lately. You needed something to jump start you. You figure you may as well check out the local sex club, cause why not? You meet "professional" dom Suguru and he shows you a whole new world of pain and pleasure. You're in for a ride.

A/N: This is. Um. Yeah.

I purposefully didn't make it too extreme as this is your first time engaging in anything like this. I hope you enjoy.

P.S I've never been to a sex club so excuse me if this is completely wrong

CW: Smut, Masochism, Sadism, Impact Play, Flogging, Dacryphilia, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Slapping, Face Slapping, Rough Sex, Aftercare, Sex Club, Top Getou Suguru, Alcohol, Choking, Dominance, Submission, Humiliation, Degradation, Biting, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, Creampie, Praise Kink, Pain, AFAB Reader, Female Reader

W/C: 7,232

Credit to @benkeibear for the divider

Why were you doing this again? To be honest, you didn’t really know the answer yourself. Everything had just been so boring lately. You needed something to spice up your life. That’s what you told yourself at least, when you were standing in front of the club with blacked out windows.

It was a sex club specifically. It had always piqued your interest, but you were never crazy enough to actually check it out.

Not until now, apparently.

You wrap your trembling hand around the door handle, pulling it open to feel a blast of warm air. At least it was better than staying outside in the freezing temperature.

I’ll just check it out, I won’t stay for long. You told yourself.

When you entered you were greeted by a woman standing at a desk. She wore a bright white smile and a black choker.

“Welcome! ID please.”

“Oh, right.”

You fish in your purse to grab your ID to show to her. Were kids really dumb enough to try to sneak into this place? Scratch that, you remember being young and stupid.

“Have a good time!” She bids you, passing your ID back.

You give a nervous smile before walking further in, a blast of stimulation coming at you from all angles.

The lights were dim, but you noticed colorful shapes being projected around the room, dancing. In tandem with the lights, there were women and men on platforms moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music. And the music, it wasn’t as loud as a normal club, but it still just added to everything. It was almost too much.

You walk in, the exciting energy drawing you in further. People were in various stages of undress, but no one seemed bothered by the nudity.

A man passes you, his neck collared and leashed as he follows a woman in high heels. He smiles at you before the girl tugs the leash, pulling him further.

Okay, that’s new.

You hear a shrill sound, a woman screaming.

Your head whips to the direction of the noise, fear briefly settling in your veins before you remember where you are.

The sight that greets you confuses you.

A woman was strapped to a metallic x, her body completely nude baring her ass for the small crowd to see. Her bottom was tinged bright red. If you looked close enough, you thought you could see her skin begin to split open.

A man stood behind her, a crop held tightly in his hand. His eyes flicked to her face before back down, slamming the crop against her again.

She let out a wail causing you to jump. It looked like it hurt so bad.

And that excited you.

The man runs the crop over her skin, her sobs echoing as he teased her tender flesh. Long black hair cascaded down his back, thin eyes scrutinizing her.

Just as you were admiring his beauty, you noticed his gaze settle on you. You wanted to look away, but you just couldn’t. Not when his demanding authority had captured you.

The moment was over as soon as it started, and his attention was back to the woman. You force yourself to look away and head to the bar, suddenly feeling light headed.

You stand next to the shiny counter and the bartender struts up to you.

“What can I get you?”

“Just water.” You croak out, your throat feeling dry.

He turns around and passes you a bottle of water, free of charge, before attending to a different customer.

The cool liquid slides down your throat while you watch the scenes before you. The performance was seemingly over as the masses of people surrounding it had dispersed. Your gaze flickers across the dancers in front of you.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes they,” you start, turning towards the source of the voice.

The man from earlier stood next to you, eyes on the dancers.

“Are.” You finish.

He was even more stunning up close. His hair was like satin, flowing down his back. Dark golden eyes, and he was tall.

He turns his head to you and smiles, seeing the way you admire him.

“You’re new here.” He strikes up a conversation.

You shuffle in place, looking down at your water bottle and back up.

“That obvious, huh?”

He gifts you a serene smile.

“I’ve never seen your face before, and you weren’t as calloused to the play scene.”

You fumble with the bottle, the sound of it crinkling filling the space.

“Don’t be embarrassed, everyone needs to start somewhere.” He comforts you.

One look at how genuine he seemed soothed your nerves. Earlier he exuded power, quiet dominance leaking from his pores. But now he seemed like a regular guy.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finish the water bottle and set it beside you.

“So what brings you here?”

“I was bored.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle at your response, his eyes closing.

“You were bored so you decided to go to a sex club for the first time?”

Heat floods through your cheeks, you were unsure if he was teasing you or not.

“I mean I’ve always been interested, just never got around to it.”

Another scene was unfolding, drawing most of the people away from you as they gathered to observe it. You almost thought you were going to have more breathing room that way, but somehow it was even more stifling. All of this man’s attention was on you, and there was no one around you to dull it out.

“What do you think so far?”

You played with your opinions in your head. It was strange, but you liked it. Everyone seemed happy here, and there were no aspects of a normal club that weighed it down.

“I like it. It’s a bit more than I expected, but it’s exciting.”

He seems satisfied with your answer. He flags down the bartender and orders a whiskey, before turning his attention back to you.

“And what did you think of the scene?”

The question jolts you. The air around it felt different than his first question. It almost felt like he was asking you to rate him.

“I-it was good. I liked it a lot actually.”

The air shifted around you, you were beginning to feel that commanding presence of his again.

“I’m glad.”

His voice runs a shiver up your spine and you have to will yourself to contain it.

His drink arrives and you watch as he brings his mouth to the rim, a small sip of brown liquid kissing his lips.

“Why did you start coming here?” You can’t help but ask.

The man turns to you with a smile.

“I like making people happy, and it’s something I enjoy.”

You press him further and he reveals more.

“People feel much more open here, like they don’t have to hide their true selves. It’s refreshing. I like seeing people’s genuine smiles.”

The answer simmers in your brain. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. What a kind man. It was almost unbelievable he was the same one hitting the woman earlier.

“I’ve actually always wanted to do something like that.”

He sets his glass down and cocks a brow at you.

“From your scene, I mean.”

He turns his full attention to you. You piqued his interest.

“Why haven’t you?”

“I just didn’t know where to start. It’s kind of a bit scary.”

He seems to be contemplating something, eyes looking up. You watch as his finger taps the glass.

“I could always help, if you’re still interested.” He offers, swirling the amber liquid before tossing his head back, taking another swig.

It feels like gravel is in your throat now, settled somewhere between your voice box and tongue. The mushy pink muscle refuses to cooperate inside your mouth.

“It doesn’t have to be me of course. I can always see if someone else here would help if you would prefer that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“N-no! I mean yes! That would be great, trying it with you, I mean.” You rush out, an overwhelming amount of heat rushing to your cheeks.

You think you see something akin to a smirk spark over his features before he nurses the reaction back down to something more neutral.

“Great.”

“So, are you like a professional or something?” You fiddle with your hair.

“More or less.”

He stands up and leans over the bar, rummaging around until he finds what he’s looking for. Orange post it notes and a pen.

You study his face while he looks down, scribbling his number onto the paper. His penmanship is surprisingly neat, something you weren’t used to seeing from men. Then again, something told you he wasn’t like most men.

“Here, text me if you decide you’re still interested. We can set something up and discuss hard and soft limits, and also share our results as we both should get tested first.”

You grip the paper once he hands it to you, eyes dancing across the conglomerate of numbers.

“You don’t have like, a business card or something?”

He lets out a chuckle, leaning against his chin as he watches you.

“I’m not that professional. I have a full time job and a life outside of this, it’s just something I do for fun. Although, I do have lots of experience, probably more than anyone else here.”

You clear your throat and look back down at the note. At the top, he wrote his name.

“Suguru.” You taste the sound of his name, letting the syllables fall from your lips.

“That would be me.” He says with a smile. “What would your name be?”

You tell him your name and try to not run away when you hear him repeat it back to you. Your name had never sounded so good before, you were sure of it.

“Alright, well if you decide you want to go forward just text me. We’ll get something figured out.” He drinks the rest of his whiskey, sliding a couple of dollar bills down before standing up.

You wave goodbye, your skin buzzing off the high from talking to him. He was such a good looking guy, and he seemed so kind. Was this real? Was he really going to help you experience something new?

There was only one way to find out.

~~~

You and Suguru had been texting for several days ironing everything out. He asked you what you were interested in trying, and it took you longer than you were willing to admit to come up with a list.

It was partly because you had no idea what you wanted to try. How could you pick? The other part of it was that it felt embarrassing sending him the list. Sure you met him at a sex club, and he offered to help, but it almost felt too vulnerable. You hadn’t even shared these fantasies with some of your boyfriends. Maybe that was why you agreed to let him help you. There was no personal connection, no fear of rejection.

After many hours, you were able to create a list.

Impact play

Choking

Hair pulling

Biting

Sensory play

It wasn’t the most extreme list. You were quite sure he had seen and done much worse, but you were still sort of scared. He complimented it once you sent it, and let you know to start thinking of safe words. You had heard of the idea before, so you knew you would have to pick them.

Along with the list, he also told you to get tested for any STDs, not that he didn't trust you he told you, but it was more procedure. He told you he was going to get checked as well.

The day came where you were to meet Suguru once more at the atmospheric spot. He told you to bring a change of comfy clothes, drink lots of water, and come on a full stomach. Having instructions to follow before sex felt weird in a way. It almost felt as though the scene had started before you arrived.

You checked yourself out one last time in the mirror in your bedroom. You wore a short black dress, complimenting all of your favorite parts of your body. Telling yourself you wore it only for you, but you secretly hoped Suguru would be pleased when he saw it.

You didn't know whether or not to be let down when his eyes didn’t linger over your body when you arrived. You found him talking with a couple of people, ones you recognized. It was the man on a leash and his owner. The man stood patiently behind her while she spoke with Suguru, a friendly demeanor between the two.

When he saw you, his eyes glanced down at your outfit then back up, excusing himself from the conversation. He rested his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards a long row of doors.

“Are we not doing it out in the main area?” You ask.

He glances at you with a smile before opening a door, a big room inside.

“No, it’s your first time. I wouldn’t make you do that. Unless, of course, you want to do it in front of everyone.” The lilt in his voice makes your hair stand on edge.

“N-no. Here is much better.”

He closes the door behind you, walking over to a chair. On it lies a piece of paper. He lifts it up and brings it over to you. It was his test results, all clean. You dig into your purse to bring your results out too and hand them over to him.

“Good. Are you on birth control?” He asks, eyes looking over the sheet.

You straighten up and open your mouth, nerves beginning to settle over you.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Suguru sets the paper aside. “Oh actually, I wanted to talk about something on your list. We won’t be able to do the typical choking you’re probably thinking of. Too much risk involved so it’s not allowed in clubs like this. I’m sorry.”

You feel disappointment in your chest but you nod in agreement.

“That makes sense, okay.”

“Have you put any thought into the safe word? Most people use red, yellow, and green. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for all good.” He suggests.

“I’ll do those then, if that’s alright.” You fidget with your fingers, digging into the side of your dress.

He smiles at you before looking down at the bag you brought.

“Oh! These are the change of clothes you asked me to bring. I also had lots of water and just ate.”

“Good girl.” He purrs, the sound of it instantly turning your face hot.

Suguru peers at you and smiles to himself once he notices your reaction.

“Oh, you’re gonna be fun.” He says, more to himself than you.

You dart your eyes away, finding it hard to look at him. So instead, you study the room you’re in. There was a floor length mirror, a large bed, and various sex tools on the wall. The room itself looked comfortable, if not for the daunting things that were meant to cause pain.

“So how do we um, you know, start this I guess? I’ve never done it before-“ you find yourself rambling.

Suguru closes the distance between the two of you, making you gasp out. His finger slides under your chin tilting your head up.

“Just relax, let me take care of it princess.”

His lips are on yours. They felt plush, molding to yours while his tongue slots in your mouth. You grasp his shirt for support. All oxygen had exited your body the second you felt him press up against you.

It’s not that you were against the idea, it was far from it actually, but you didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

Suguru’s large hand spans across your cheek, long fingers pressed into your skin. He walks you backwards until you hit a wall, and it takes everything in you to continue standing on your own. His tongue grazes against yours, drawing out a soft moan from you.

“How cute.” Suguru pulls away to speak, instead choosing to place kisses down your neck.

“A-ah!” You dig your fingers into his shoulder, feeling his teeth graze against your sensitive flesh.

He doesn’t bite down like you expected. Instead, he decides to continue sliding his tongue down your neck, occasionally bumping his teeth against your throat. It was as if he was reminding you that he could bite, but he wasn’t going to, not yet at least.

One thing you should know about Suguru is that he enjoyed playing with his food first.

Suguru pulls back and looks down at you. Your eyes were glazed over, a mix of both your salivas coating your lips.

“Wore this for me, huh?” He asks, fingers trailing down your dress.

The way he stood over you commanded dominance. You had never experienced such a thing before. But in that moment you knew you would do anything he asked.

“Yes.” Your voice trembles.

Suguru hums while he further analyzes you. He didn’t know where to start. You gave him a good list, but he also didn’t want to scare you or hurt you, at least not in a bad way.

“You’re so kind to wear this baby, but I’m gonna need you to take it off now.” His voice commands.

You pull off the dress, tossing it to the floor before looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles darkly, reaching a thumb up to drag over your lip. He swipes the saliva away, letting his finger slide down your chin, down your chest until he reaches your stomach. There was a predatory glint in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl. He grips your waist hard, turning you around.

“Turn around.” You follow what he says and face the wall.

Suguru stands back and admires your form as you follow his directions. He looks at your underwear, a lacy thong, before looking back up. Your body trembles beneath his gaze, the weight of those feline eyes searing into your back.

He steps back to grab a tool, one of many in his arsenal. It was a flogger, the handle of it fitting comfortably in his palm as he steps back closer to you.

“This is called a flogger. People use it as a whip. I’m going to strike you a couple times, and I want you to tell me how it feels.”

“O-okay.”

He desperately wants to correct you on your manners, the urge tickling the back of his throat. He much would have preferred a “yes sir”. But this is your first time, so he refrains. If you visit again though, he won’t be so lenient.

Suguru raises his hand, brandishing the flogger, before bringing it back down against your ass. The feeling jolts you, your body jumping up in response. It didn’t hurt per se, but you could definitely feel it. He must’ve been holding back, and that fact irked you a bit.

“How was that?” His voice remains steady.

“It was okay.” If only you could keep your voice as steady as his.

He hums in response before bringing the whip back down on your other cheek. This time was much harder, sending a shock of pain across your skin. The pain traveled straight to your pussy where you feel yourself clench around nothing, the act somehow more painful than the whip.

“Better?” He asks, flicking his eyes up to look at your head.

Your head was turned sideways, your lip caught between your teeth. You wanted to try things like this, always intrigued by the idea of pain during sex. But you had no idea it would feel this good.

“Better, feels good.” You admit, inhibition slowly falling.

Suguru strikes you again, this time even harder than the last. Heat spreads across your ass, the action making you moan out. Pure ecstasy. Your arms tremble as you keep yourself against the wall.

Your eyes dart to the side to catch a glimpse as best as you can of the man. He looks nothing short of a god behind you, tall and unwavering. His raven locks flow down his shoulders, keen eyes focused on your figure.

Suguru sets the flogger down before pulling a hairband out, dragging his fingers through his hair as he gathers it all into a bun. Can’t have any hair getting in the way of his vision, after all.

He picks the flogger back up and drags it across your backside, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Keep your face forward.” There was that commanding voice again.

You snap your head forward once more, eyes boring into the wall in front of you. Anticipation settles in your veins, heart racing at the idea of him hitting you again.

“I'm going to keep going, and I want you to count after every single one.”

“What happens if I lose count?”

“Don’t.”

He strikes you once more, a sob racking your body. A temporary moment of bliss settles over your bones before you remember what he told you to do.

“One.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Again. Again. Again.

Each strike was more painful than the last. Every time he made contact with your skin, you jumped forward and groaned out.

He continues bringing the flogger down on your ass, each time making you cry out. Your voice shaky each time you counted. Tears were blearing your eyes from the pain, from the pleasure. You find it hard to stay standing up, the room spinning around you and your knees almost buckling underneath you.

Suguru keeps his eyes trained on your ass, noticing the beginnings of marks start to form. It pleased him greatly to see your skin react, the mere sight causing his slacks to tighten.

“F-f-f-fifty!” You sob.

Suguru sets the flogger down and spins you around, almost groaning from the sight of your tear stricken face.

“Did so good princess. What’s your color?” He asks, dragging his hands up your shoulders, rubbing your skin soothingly.

It was almost hard to believe those hands were the same ones causing you so much pain.

“Green, green.” You look up desperately at him, needing to know what else he had in store for you.

He brings a hand up, the back of his forefinger swiping beneath your lash line under both sides. He watches the way your tears coat his skin, and it takes everything in him not to bring his finger up to his mouth to lick off the salty remenents of the calamity he caused.

“Good.” He says.

He didn’t even break a sweat, meanwhile your chest was heaving like you ran a marathon. A part of you was desperate to see him at his worst, see what he looked like when he really went all in.

“Get on your knees.” His voice was soft but demanding.

You sink to your knees and look up, waiting for more instructions. He smoothed a hand over your head before bringing you closer.

“You know what to do from here. Unless, that pretty brain of yours is already too far gone.”

You look down at the hard bulge in front of you. His pants were hardly doing anything, you could see the outline of it all. Your hands reach up and fumble before finally successfully dragging his pants and underwear down, his cock jumping out.

You feel drool pile up behind your lips, your tongue feeling too heavy in your mouth. You had been with guys before, but you were sure no one compared to him.

His angry tip stands at attention while you bring your lips down, popping his cock in your mouth. It felt somehow larger in your mouth than it looked, and it didn’t look small. It fills you to the brim, your cunt throbbing as his heavy cock rests against your tongue. Suguru hisses at the feeling of your wet mouth engulfing him. He was sensitive and needy. Hearing your cries got him more riled up than he had led on.

Your tongue slides around his cock while you take more into your mouth. His cock slides down your throat, oxygen slowly depleting from your lungs. Suguru keeps his hands to his sides, merely observing you. It felt like you were putting on a show for him.

Spit begins to flow freely from your lips, dripping from the corners of your mouth while you move your head back and forth along his cock. There was a fire underneath you, the raw flesh of your ass clawing at you.

You couldn’t focus on that though, there was only him.

“Oh right, you said you wanted to try choking right?” He begins.

You look up at him, your eyes starting to water again.

“Take all of it in and hold it.” He demands. “You can manage that, can’t you pretty baby?”

You squeeze your eyes shut while you slide down further, his pubic bone meeting your nose. You couldn’t breathe at all, your body quickly setting off alarms to get you to back off. But he gave you an order, and you intended on listening to it.

You couldn’t breathe. You needed to breathe. But, you didn’t want to. The feeling of lightheadedness made your clit throb. Knowing that his cock was in control of whether or not you deserved oxygen.

Suguru chuckles softly and leans his head back, closing his eyes. He could feel the way your throat clenched around him, feel your lips adjust around him.

After what felt like an eternity he finally looked back down at you. Something akin to pride laces his features.

“Release.” With that, you tear your head away, gasping as air fills you once more.

Long strings of saliva connects you to his cock, lewd in a way that almost made you flustered.

“Continue.”

You slide his cock back into your mouth once you feel able. You’re more faster the second time around, your throat having already been melded into the shape of his cock. His brows furrow while he watches you, groans escaping his mouth.

You decide you could do this forever. Nothing else mattered when you were pleasing him, you would continue to do so if he let you.

However, he had other plans.

“That’s it.” He says, pulling his cock from you.

You go to wipe the tears and spit from your face but he grabs your wrist before you’re able.

“Leave it.”

Suguru helps you to your feet, the action once more astoundingly sweet. It was making your head rush being surrounded by the two versions of him.

He grabs your arms and brings them up, placing them on his shoulders. He looks into your eyes as he gets on his knee, his hands ghosting over your waist.

“I’m going to take these off now.” He says, giving you room to stop him.

But you don’t.

You watch as he looks down, his face right in front of your pussy. He hooks his hands on the band of your underwear, sliding them off your legs. You lift one leg up at a time, suddenly grateful you have something to hold onto.

Suguru drops your underwear to the side and runs his hands up your thighs. He places a kiss on your tummy before standing to his full height again, his hands reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

There was nothing to feel ashamed about. He had already seen you go through more than anyone else had, so why did you have to fight yourself to remain neutral as he took your body in?

His features look serene as his gaze drags across your body, no detail going unmissed.

“Stunning.” He looks back up at you, capturing your attention.

Your throat feels dry as you scramble for a response.

“Thank you.”

“Did you know you’re dripping, princess?”

Your thighs clench together and you feel the slick coating your inner thighs. You grimace and nod.

“Is this from getting whipped or from sucking my cock?”

“Both.”

Suguru hums in satisfaction, looking back down between your legs.

“Want some help with that?”

Your heart lurches in response but you timidly nod, following him as he leads you to the bed. It’s much softer than it looks, the comforter giving your ass some reprieve as you lay down on the side of the bed. Suguru spreads your legs, watching as the low light catches on the glint of your leaky core.

He bends down, placing gentle kisses down your chest as he goes. Suguru looks up and notices how your nipples begin to harden as his administrations. So damn sensitive. How adorable.

He travels down until he’s placing kisses closer to your pussy. The feeling was teasing in nature, but you didn’t want to rush him. Clearly he knew what he was doing. You might as well enjoy the ride.

Suguru places a kiss on either side of your pussy before pulling away, pupils focusing in on your unmarred thighs.

Oh, no that won’t do.

He gets in closer bringing his mouth to your skin. Your body reacts before you can even register what’s happening. Your legs try to clamp shut but his strong hands are holding them open. Looking down you notice that Suguru had bit into your inner thigh, his dark eyes staring right back at yours.

The sensation was unlike anything you had felt before. His teeth dig into your flesh, your mouth hanging open as you watch him. Suguru sucks lightly, his tongue darting out over the bite mark before pulling away. The sting of it spreads throughout you, but pure pleasure does as well. Who knew pain from so many different things could feel this good?

Suguru closes his eyes before bringing his mouth to the other side, teeth digging into your other leg. You moan out, fighting to keep your legs open for him. There was dynamite going off underneath your skin, you were positive of that.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He pulls away from your leg and draws himself in closer towards your throbbing pussy. He holds back a coo when he notices your hole clench.

He darts his tongue out, flicking it against your clit to test you. And just as he expected, you let out a desperate moan. Your reactions were driving him crazy, each noise causing his mind to reel.

Suguru dives in completely, his lips encasing your clit. You wanted to cry from the pleasure, his tongue working magic against your sensitive clit. He drags one hand away from your thigh to bring up to your pussy, feeling as though it deserves to be filled.

A finger works its way inside you, immediately hooking against your gspot. You laugh incredulously before tossing your head back, reveling in the pleasure he was indulging you in.

It was almost criminal how good he was.

His tongue dances across your clit while he slides a second finger in, both of them slowly working your gspot. You had never been brought to cumming so fast before, you would be ashamed if only it didn’t feel so good.

Your moans bounce off the walls of the room, the sound filling Suguru’s ears. You keep your eyes clamped shut in fear of what you might do if you saw the sight in front of you.

Suguru knows before you do, your pussy tightening around his fingers. He fucks you harder with them, sucking your clit as you cum. It feels like an out of body experience as he fucks you through it, bringing you down until your groans die out and the sound of your heavy breathing fills your ears.

He pulls his fingers out of you, swiping them against his tongue. Sure, he had many clients before now, but none of them were as sweet as you. It almost felt wrong to call you a client, this experience felt different compared to previous ones.

You peel your eyes open and watch as Suguru brings himself on the bed, his face hovering over yours.

“You’re cute when you cum,” he starts. “Cute when you cry too.”

You force your head to turn, staring away from him. The compliment simmers in your gut while you feel the body heat between you grow.

“Yeah, okay.” You murmur, self conscious.

“I’m serious.” He brings a finger under your chin to guide your gaze back to him.

As much as you want to disagree, you can see the truth his eyes hold. He was so damn kind. Many people would disagree with you. They would say no one who was a good person would enjoy hurting other people. But you knew the truth. Suguru was a kind man.

“You ready?” He asks.

Excitement bubbles up and you part your lips, telling him you are.

He presses his lips down on yours, wanting to share a tender moment before he fucks the life out of you. He locks his fingers into yours on either side of your head, before pulling away.

“Hands and knees.” His rough persona is back.

You crawl up on the bed, facing away from him. He takes a moment to appreciate the scene in front of him, your beaten ass on display as your cum drips down your legs. A new world wonder, if he was being honest with himself.

Suguru slides his shirt off, throwing it off to the side by your dress. Heat flickers beneath his skin as he watches you. He smooths a hand over your back as he grips his cock and rubs it between your sticky folds. The anticipation was killing you, knees practically shaking from the suspense.

Suguru slides into you, your walls struggling to accommodate him. Your mouth hangs open as he nudges into you. Nothing had ever felt so good, the pressure of his cock filling you to the brim.

“God damn it, princess.” You think you hear him say.

He sets a steady pace, wanting to slowly build up before getting back into the roughness of it all. His hips push into you a couple of times before he picks up speed. You moan out each time his cock plunges into you. You would have gotten lost in it if he didn’t snap you out.

Suguru threads his finger in your hair, getting a firm grip before he pulls it back. He holds it in a tight grasp, pain searing throughout your head.

Each part of you throbbed. Your ass, your thighs, your head. But somehow you craved more. Craved more pain. Craved more Suguru.

Suguru bares his teeth as he fucks you, your pussy tightening around him each time he yanks your hair.

Each thrust causes your mind to blank. He was fucking all sense out of you.

Suguru releases your hair before gripping your shoulder, yanking you back until your shoulder blades meet his chest. He reaches around in front of you, gripping onto your jaw, leaving you no room to look away as he tilts your head back.

His hand digs into you, pain settling in your face as he holds you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He sounds nearly breathless, his eyebrows knitted up in pleasure as he looks at you.

You furrow your brows as you look up at him, attention being split between his cock fucking into you and his hard grip on your face.

“H-hurts.” You murmur, your pushed up cheeks making it hard to talk.

Suguru’s breaths quicken, heart pounding as he thrusts into you.

“Yeah? Hurts?” Excitement leaks from his voice.

You nod and let out a sob when his cock presses against your gspot, his grip tightening.

“What do you think about the pain?”

“L-love it. Love the pain. Love when you hurt me.”

Suguru audibly swallows, throwing his head back as he lets out a low groan.

“Think you can handle more, princess?”

You agree, your mind swimming. He looks down at you again and releases your head, but keeps you pressed against him.

His hand makes contact with your cheek, a sting instantly spreading across your face. He slapped you. And you liked it.

Suguru does it once more, the force heavier this time. You moan out when he makes contact, all the while his cock punishing your insides. Endorphins swim in your head, muddling all remaining sense. You brace for impact once more, only to be met with nothing.

He doesn’t slap you again.

“Color?” You’re amazed he can even remember asking that while he’s doing this.

“Green, oh, green.”

Suguru smacks you again, his cock fucking you harder. You weren’t even aware you could moan this loud, but leave it to Suguru to give you a bunch of firsts.

Your eyes roll back as he slaps you again. He feels a deep satisfaction spread through him as he watches the pleasure dart across your face. That’s what all this was about, after all.

Suguru pushes you back down and you barely catch yourself, your hands holding you up. He puts one hand on your waist, placing the other one in your hair again. The loud noises from your connected sexes get louder, your pussy dripping even more as his cock drags inside you.

He pulls your head up, forcing you to stare in the mirror across the bed.

“Look at yourself.” He wills himself to say.

To say you looked debauched would be an understatement. Your face was a mess, tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. You couldn’t see your ass or the inside of your thighs in the mirror, but you didn’t have to see them to feel they were there. They hadn’t been hurt in awhile now, but the wounds still ached something fierce. You briefly wondered how long they would hurt. Hopefully for a long time.

“You look filthy. Utterly ruined.” His cock punches into you.

“Ohhh, fuck, FUCK!” You all but yell as his cock bruises you from the inside out.

Suguru moans behind you, going back and forth between looking at your face in the mirror and how his cock looks when he pulls it out.

He pulls his hand away from your hip and reaches down, instantly finding your swollen clit. Your body lurches forward once he makes contact, drawing tight circles around you.

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice is raw as it leaves your throat.

Suguru’s hips stutter as he feels you get closer to the edge. He keeps a tight grip on your hair, loving the way you wince each time he holds tighter.

“Fuck, you’re soaking. Pussy’s so good. Such a pain slut. You my little pain slut?”

You nod even though it causes more pain to spread across your head. Maybe that’s why you do it.

“Yes, I’m your, your pain slut.”

Suguru groans out a curse, his fingers continuing their ministrations.

“Gonna cum from getting knocked around?”

Your stomach tightens, moans increasing.

“Yes! Oh, fuck, fuck yes.” Your eyes clamp shut as you feel it start.

You cum around Suguru’s cock, your pussy squeezing his cock as you shake beneath him. The earth shattering feeling catches you off guard, electricity shooting through your body.

You register a groan from behind you before he pumps into you one more time before his cock shoots cum out, filling your spasming walls.

It takes you a minute to recover, each gasp of breath bringing you back down to earth.

Suguru slides out of you carefully, eyes drawn to the way the milky white cum seeps from your abused hole. He pushes back his bangs that came loose before going to the bedside table, rummaging around until he finds a towel.

His touch is careful as he cleans you up, fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin as he wipes away all remnants of his cum.

Suguru sets the soiled cloth aside before aiding you in sitting up. You whimper as your ass makes contact with the back of your calves. Your skin was on fire. He places each hand on either side of your face, the action instantly calming.

“How are you doing?” His soothing voice comes out.

Your eyes feel heavy as they look back up at him, his features washed over with concern.

You reach out and ball your fist against his toned chest.

“I’m okay.” Your voice sounds far away.

Suguru pulls one hand away and grabs a water bottle that sat next to the bed. He brings his other hand to it and cracks it open, passing it to you.

You grab it, tilting your head back as the cool water rushes down your throat. You take a couple of gulps before passing it back.

Instead of the sharp pain from each of your wounds, you’re body settles into a dull ache. The wounds were definitely there, and they were pleasing.

Suguru gets into the bed next to you and opens his arms.

“Come here.” Another command, one that was much softer.

You’re confused by the gesture but you scoot closer to him nonetheless, laying down until your head is directly over his heart. He was still shirtless, only his pants remaining but they were pulled back up and closed.

“This is an important part of each session. I’m not going to hurt you and send you packing.” He explains, his thumb stroking your arm.

His warmth seeps into your bones and you find yourself curling up closer to him.

“That’s sweet of you.”

“It’s the bare minimum.” He gently says, moving his head until he can see your face.

Your eyes were closed but you were still very much awake, if not hanging on by the tiny grasp of consciousness you still had.

“How did you feel about it?”

You try to articulate your thoughts, many feelings surging through your body.

“I really liked it.”

“None of it was too much?”

“No, it all felt really good.”

Suguru moves his head back as he gets comfortable. He had rented the room out for 24 hours, not knowing how long the session would last or how long you would want to relax after. He had no timeline, willing to stay here for as long as you needed.

The contact with his skin was helping bring your heart rate down, the adrenaline exiting your body. Your body was sore, and probably would be for the next couple of days.

“Thank you for helping me with this, I mean, giving me my first experience.”

Suguru smiles above you.

“No problem. I enjoyed it too.”

You feel giddy at his admission. Now that you had done this once, you weren’t sure you could get enough of it. You were already thinking about what your next scene might look like.

“Could we do it again?”

“Hm, I don’t know, I feel like you should rest a couple of hours first at the very least.” He ponders, obviously teasing you.

You click your tongue.

“You know what I mean.” You say with a shy smile.

Suguru chuckles above you.

“I’m kidding. We can do it again. You know where to find me.”

You smile against him, your eyes shutting. Sleep overtakes you, the feeling of success spreading throughout your body.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss

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#my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #suguru imagine #suguru geto imagine #geto imagine #jjk imagine #jjk fic #tw pain #tw dacryphilia #tw impact play #tw choking

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sleekervae · 2 months

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New York Romantic .6

Masterlist

a/n: Hi everyone, thanks again for your patience! This chapter is a little shorter and there's not as much dialogue as there is a lot of dancing. I had a lot of fun researching some of the dances for the Nutcracker ballet, and while I hoped to have this chapter up by Christmas, March 1st isn't so bad either 😅

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: tom attends noelle's recital

word count: 2,759

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

Tom wasn't so sure how he found himself sitting across from Noelle's family at a local breakfast eatery, somewhere along his morning Franca had insisted that he come along. And it went without saying that he was grateful for the meal, it had been a while since Tom had the privilege of eating out while on his student budget.

Maurice was an investment banker who worked for a smaller banking branch in Maine, tall with a shiny bald head, a seasoned gentleman of respectable stature with deep smile lines and wise eyes. Meanwhile Franca was an architect, a lavish yet simply dressed woman with long auburn hair, and freckles were scattered across her cheeks and nose. Chiara was a couple years younger then Noelle, her curly hair was much more reminiscent of her mother's but it was easy to draw facial comparisons between the cousins. She was a senior at some fancy private school, and whatever was on her phone proved to be much more interesting then conversation with the table crowd.

"So, Tom," Maurice looked to him as he stirred his tea, "Have you always wanted to get into show business?" he asked.

"Not at first," Tom replied, "I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do at first, but my mum signed me up for some drama classes and my father worked in the film industry, so it all just kind of fell into place,"

"And where'd you grow up in England?" Franca asked, resting her chin on her locked fingers.

"York,"

"Oh, lovely! It's just North of Leeds, yes?"

"That's right,"

"Maurice and I were debating where to go for our fifteenth wedding anniversary, and I've heard such lovely things about that town," she said, "Alas, we settled on Marseilles and toured a bit through Southern France,"

"That sounds beautiful!" Tom awed, glancing Noelle's way, "Did you go, too?"

Noelle shook her head, "Nope, Chiara and I were manning the house for two weeks," she replied.

"It was so peaceful," Chiara added, her gaze still fixed on her phone. Maurice cleared his throat abruptly, staring down his daughter as she swiftly got the hint and put her phone away.

"Anyway," he then grumbled, "What do you want to do when you graduate, Tom? Theatre? Movies?"

"Movies, ideally. But I'd be open to wherever the wind blows me," he replied.

"I went to see his improv show last week," Noelle said, "He was really good!"

Tom shrugged, praying his cheeks wouldn't tinge, "I -- I mean I was okay..."

Noelle cocked her head down, giving him a playful glare, "Oh, c'mon. You were great. And I say so, so it must be true," she grinned. He couldn't help it then, Tom averted his gaze to his plate but nonetheless he was blushing.

Chiara scoffed under her breath, "You two are just adorable," she muttered sarcastically.

Tom watched Noelle roll her eyes, never the less her fingers fidgeted as she went to pick up her coffee cup. A sip of something to quell his dry throat sounded like a good idea, a pleasant cooling off before Tom could find himself swept up in the memory of that kiss yet again.

"Anyway," Franca cut in, "How's Bianca doing, Noelle?"

"Good!" Noelle nodded quickly, thankful the spotlight was off her for the moment, "She made it Maine just before the snow storm hit,"

"Is she gonna be back in time for the showcase?" Chiara asked.

"She's supposed to be back the morning of,"

Tom raised a brow, "Why didn't she leave after the showcase?" he asked.

Noelle shrugged listlessly, "She likes Christmas in Manhattan better,"

"-- Is Derek gonna come down?" Chiara asked, her interest seemingly peaking more than it had all morning. Derek was Bianca's older brother, as Noelle had told previously.

"I guess we'll find out," Noelle replied.

Maurice's gaze narrowed, "And if he were, what would you have in common with a twenty-six-year-old college drop out, anyway?" he asked gruffly.

Franca swiftly elbowed her husband, an urgent smile plastered to her lips as she stared him down pointedly, "Perhaps we can find something more relevant to talk about?" she suggested, turning back to Tom, "Have you been to any of the ballet recitals, Tom?"

Tom shook his head, "I haven't yet. This will be my first," he replied.

"We're so excited to see it. This will be Noelle's first big part in a production," she beamed.

Maurice nodded along, cutting into his egg-white omelette, "She's our little Sugar Plum Fairy!" he awed. None of them paid attention to Chiara's eye-roll.

Noelle grimaced, a bashful grin befalling her as Tom turned to her, "You didn't tell me that," he said.

She shrugged back sheepishly, "... Oh... didn't I?" she chuckled.

"No, you did not," he drawled back, "That's fantastic!"

"Well -- I still have a lot of practice to do before Friday, so we'll see," Noelle didn't like drawing too much attention to herself in that rhetoric. She was grateful for the opportunity, though nevertheless she knew the recital wasn't all about her.

"Are you gonna do her makeup, Chiara?" Franca asked her daughter.

Chiara shrugged back, glancing at her cousin, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Of course I do!" Noelle nodded, "I'm no where near as good as you,"

"Alright, sure then," Chiara barely got the words out as she turned to her phone once again.

Maurice took the conversation again, folding his hands before his plate and twitching his nose, "Tom, why don't you join us on Wednesday? We reserved a box for four,"

"It'll be a great view of the stage," Franca added.

Tom was flattered, though he didn't want to impose, "Oh, I don't -- I don't want to intrude on you guys like that,"

Franca shook her head, "Please, it's not intruding if we invite you -- that's what my mother always used to say, anyhow," she chuckled.

"Have you bought your ticket?" Maurice asked.

"Yes," Tom replied.

"Well then, you're already set up," he told him, "I insist, and we can head out for dinner after,"

Tom turned to Noelle, her smile was bordering on confident, but she hoped that he wouldn't feel too pressured. After all, she knew her family could be a bit much and they had all only just met. But he didn't see the harm; her family was so nice and the view of the stage was promised to be excellent. And if it meant having a better view of Noelle, who was he to pass that up?

"Alright, if you're sure I'll be happy join you," he decided.

Friday was the twenty-third, and despite Christmas Day being just around the corner, the hustle and bustle of New York never stopped. Neither did the cold. It hadn't snowed again but the nefarious east coast arctic fronts swept through the streets; icicles were formed off of passing trucks and the sidewalks and roads were awash in various colours of crushed melting salts. And the cold certainly didn't deter eager shoppers to tick off last minute Christmas gifts from their lists.

Tom wasn't sure what he was supposed to wear to a ballet recital, he didn't want to overdress but he certainly didn't want to look sloppy either. His mum had shipped over some more clothes a couple weeks prior, nicer slacks, dress shirts, a couple pairs of shoes that definitely weren't ice-friendly. Nevertheless, he settled for a white t-shirt and blazer jacket sat over some dark jeans, and his trainers that at least wouldn't send him skidding with one wrong move.

The last few days had flown by rather quickly, and surprisingly, Tom always found that he had something to do. Usually hanging out with Jordan; he introduced Tom to a plethora of video games ranging from Super Mario to Zelda. It was one of the few things Tom found Jordan didn't complain about. And when they weren't inside playing video games, they were out exploring Times Square.

And this worked out quite well because when Noelle wasn't spending time with her family, she was always rehearsing. But in the evenings they would spend time together, watch more movies and just relax. Tom was practicing his cooking skills as well, nothing too fancy but he perfected how to cook salmon in a pan and boiling rice. Noelle was grateful too, especially as her muscles ached from her practice. The more time they spent together, the more fascinated they became with each other.

The campus was typically closed for the holidays, making exceptions for shows such as this. Audience members were lined up just outside the auditorium door, shielded from the cold within campus but still bundled up in long or heavy coats, scarves and hats.

Tom found Noelle's family already settled in their balcony seats, Franca spotted him first and waved him down. And just as Maurice had said, there was an excellent view of the stage from their spot. The heavy red curtain was drawn over the stage, dim mood light reflecting off the material and back on the shadowy faces mingling in the crowd.

Backstage meanwhile was a calamity mess, stage hands rushing to finish prop placement, sets, and stage cues. The ballerinas were also making their last minute touch ups, makeup, hair, tutus, dusting their slippers in rosin and some even sewing their tights and ribbons to their slippers to keep everything snug and in place. Noelle however was dawdling behind the curtain, peaking out through the sliver at the side to skim over obscure faces.

It was a delicate balance, trying to locate her family without being too conspicuous, but after a bit of searching, she spotted them. Chiara was engrossed in her phone, bathed in the soft glow of the screen, while Uncle Maurice struggled to free himself from his coat. Aunt Franca was deep in conversation with Tom, who, despite the dim lighting, seemed to blend into the shadows effortlessly, though he appeared to be holding his own in their lively discussion. Noelle's stomach was aflutter, not from the performance unfolding before her, but from the sight of Tom. Her attention was fixed on him, and the magic of the evening's entertainment paled in comparison.

"Noelle!" Stanis' voice bellowed behind her, he was storming her way as Noelle turned, "Pre-show in two minutes!"

Tom found Franca fascinating. She was a captivating woman, full of vibrant tales from her travels to exotic locales. Her stories were peppered with encounters with intriguing characters from whom she had negotiated for unique souvenirs to add to her collection. Nevertheless, Tom's anticipation grew as he eagerly awaited the start of the show. His eyes couldn't help but flicker towards the curtain, eager to catch a glimpse of Noelle as the curtain would lift. His curiosity and excitement were palpable, adding to the charged atmosphere of the evening.

And sure enough the lights dimmed down to near darkness, a single spotlight illuminating a spot on the curtains. The theater was alive with excitement as the curtains rose, revealing a beautifully adorned stage set for "The Nutcracker" ballet. Tom sat back in his seat, his eyes wide with anticipation, taking in the magical scene unfolding before him. The stage was transformed into a winter wonderland, with a backdrop of snow-covered trees that stretched up to a starry sky. The stage was lit with a soft, moonlit glow, casting a magical aura over the scene. Glittering snowflakes fell gently from above, adding to the enchantment of the setting. The dancers moved gracefully across the stage, each step perfectly choreographed to Tchaikovsky's enchanting music.

The Miniature March Dance began, and the stage came alive with the lively and charming movements of the young dancers. They moved with precision and grace, their movements synchronized to the playful notes of the music. The choreography was intricate, with the dancers forming intricate formations and patterns, showcasing their skill and talent. Tom was captivated by the youthful exuberance of the performers, as were the audience, and the dance brought a smile to everyone's face.

As the performance unfolded, Tom found his eyes repeatedly drawn to Noelle, who gracefully moved among the dancers. Clad in a celestial white gown, she seemed to float across the stage, her every movement a dance of ethereal beauty. While she was currently a background presence in the performance, Tom couldn't help but be mesmerized by her presence, captivated by her effortless grace and enchanting allure.

Next came the Arabian Dance, and Bianca took centre stage. A hush fell over the audience. She was a vision of grace and lithe elegance, moving with a captivating fluidity that mesmerized all who watched. Her every movement was deliberate and confident, exuding a subtle but undeniable aura of cockiness.

Bianca's performance was a masterclass in control and precision, her movements perfectly synchronized to the haunting melody of the music. As she danced, she seemed to command the stage, drawing the audience into her world with a confident allure that was impossible to ignore. The Arabian Dance was no easy feat and Tom had to give Bianca credit where credit was due, however he couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved as her gaze always seemed to land on him time and time again.

Soon enough it was Noelle's time to shine. As the familiar notes of the Sugar Plum Fairy dance began to fill the theatre, Tom's gaze was immediately drawn to Noelle, who had taken centre stage. She looked radiant in her tutu, rose gold detailing shimmering in the lights, her gorgeous long hair tied back in a sleek up-do, and a delicate, shiny tiara placed upon her head. She looked like a true princess, her every movement a testament to her skill and grace. Despite the beauty of the dance unfolding before him, Tom found it impossible to tear his eyes away from Noelle, his admiration for her growing with each passing moment.

Noelle, for her part, felt a mixture of nerves and excitement as she danced. She had dreamed of this moment for years, to prove herself worthy of the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and now that it was finally here, she couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous excitement. However, as she danced, it wasn't the perfection of her performance that consumed her thoughts, but the way her stomach fluttered with butterflies every time she caught Tom's gaze. It was a feeling unlike any other, a mix of joy, nerves, and she could see the admiration and affection in his gaze, which both thrilled and humbled her.

As the dance reached its climax, Tom found himself holding his breath, completely captivated by Noelle's performance. She danced with a grace and elegance that took his breath away, her every movement a testament to her talent and dedication. He couldn't help but think back to the moments he had seen her exhausted, bruised, and drained after long hours of practice. He could only imagine the dedication and hard work she had put in to reach this point, and it filled him with a deep sense of admiration for her. All those late nights and early mornings had led to this moment, and as he watched her graceful movements across the stage, he felt a swell of pride knowing that he had witnessed a small part of her journey to this incredible achievement. He swore he could've watched her -- become lost in her -- forever.

As the final notes of the dance faded away and Noelle took her bow, the audience erupted into applause, but Tom's eyes never left Noelle, his adoration for her greater than ever. She glanced up briefly, trying desperately not to become so overwhelmed with the applause, and her gaze fixating on Tom once more. His beaming smile was all the validation she needed in that moment.

The show progressed on, right up until the final Pas de Deux between the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Nutcracker. Tom watched among the crowd, his heart racing with a realization that took him by surprise. In that moment, he couldn't deny the truth to himself any longer. Watching her dance, he had felt something more than admiration or friendship. It was a crush, a flutter of emotions that he had been trying to ignore but now couldn't deny. Tom realized that he had developed feelings for Noelle, captivated by her everything. And if the previous few days had been anything to go by, there was a slim chance that she too felt the same way.

If only his own uncertainty wouldn't hold him back.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #original story #original female character #original series #imagines #imagine blog

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fanfaron · 2 months

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Adagio ovvero Largo. - A kinky Hannigram fanfic

Hi!

I'm Fanfaron, and I'm completely new to both the world of Tumblr, and the world of fanfiction.

I woke up a few days ago with just a burning passion to write something after having binged all of Hannibal whilst I worked on my latest cross-stitch project.

I hadn't written fiction in nearly two decades (and I don't read anymore, books nor fanfiction), and I used to struggle to pass even two paragraphs, so I was very surprised when I found myself spending an entire day feverishly writing this 6000-word homoerotic romp.

I've heard that Tumblr is the place to go if you want to engage with fandoms, and as an official Old Person I feel quite out of my depth, but I figured I'd give it a go.

I've also noticed that a lot of fanfiction writers for gay content tend to be cis women, and whilst they are absolutely talented and wonderful (I saw a couple of fics that were intensely steamy), I hope that my experiences as a certified queer boy might be a welcome addition to the scene.

I'm going to pop the entire first chapter here, and going forward I'll be adding new chapters on my (shiny new) AO3 account, and I'll update here as they go live.

You can find that here!

I would absolutely love feedback, thanks ever so much in advance.

This fanfiction is intended for Mature, Adult readers only.

Content Warnings: Power imbalance, therapist/patient relationship, suggestion of manipulation, sadomasochism, light blood letting, impact play

Adagio ovvero Largo.

Chapter One - Composition

The clock on the wall acted as a metronome, the rhythmic tick, tick, tocking of the second hand creating a reliable constant as swathes of notes streamed out amidst the mind of the man striding elegantly across his office. With each step, more imagined twangs of a mental harpsichord spilled forth from his inner recesses, relishing in past compositions whilst beginning anew with a natural ease akin to breathing.

Dr Hannibal Lecter was not only a connoisseur of fine music; it ran underneath his very skin, unseen. Between the layers of dermis and muscle lies pitch, tone and chord. The blood within his veins created a coloratura as it spread across every inch of his body, a crescendo of sanguine liquid flowing into his heart and syphoning back out into the body that lightly swayed as it travelled across grey wooden floors.

The arts provided him with a stillness, a calming lull of sweetness that filled his soul, and his belly. In moments of waiting, that fullness was enough to satiate his hunger for more unconventional cuisines. Such a craving was of course inevitable, but he was well versed in finding other ways to seek mediary satisfaction.

His slender fingers stretched out by his sides as he meandered across his broad, tastefully decorated office, fingertips lifting and dipping with each note that played out behind his eyes, his digits moving in perfect measure as though to truly caress the ivory keys.

As his ring finger began to press down to strike another mental chime, a sharp knock at the door rang through his skull and the music was brought to an abrupt silence. The first knock was met with a second, more hesitant dull thud, as though the person who stood behind the door was taken aback by their own sound. Hannibal immediately knew who possessed such a second guessing nature.

“Come in, Will.” His own low, precisely measured voice broke the silence this time, as he made his way over to his desk, leaning back against the solid frame.

The door opened, revealing the smaller-framed man that was FBI profiler Will Graham, an air of apprehension practically radiating off of his body and into the stillness of the confined space of Dr Lecter’s office. He pressed his back against the door, closing it with his physique, his eyes only briefly flitting to glance at his duty-bound therapist.

“You knew it was me,” he mumbled simply, “I know that this isn’t our... allotted time.” Dark curls of hair fell over his glasses as he looked down at the floor, his skin pale and adorned with beads of perspiration. He was dishevelled, at least more so than usual.

“I suppose I have a knack for prediction,” Hannibal replied with a hint of a smile, “And you know that you are always welcome, Will. I was not otherwise engaged.”

A ragged sigh spilled from Will’s lips as he stepped towards one of the two dark leather armchairs, looking almost as though his knees would buckle as he firmly grasped the back of the chair, his knuckles briefly turning white as he squeezed the material. “I… lost time again. I feel as though my own memories are being ripped straight out of my head.”

“Where did you find yourself?” the older man asked, hoisting himself forward from his desk to join the panicked fawn before him, smoothing out his dusky blue plaid jacket as he lowered himself into the other chair.

“...Here.” There was a bitter resentment in Will’s response, his voice breathy and his face contorted as it escaped his mouth. “I was outside the building, but I don’t know… I don’t remember how I got here.”

“Perhaps your subconscious is trying to protect you, and take you to where you need to be. A safe place.” Hannibal extended his palm, inviting Will to join him, who did so with a visibly shaky reluctance as he sank into the chair opposite.

“Is this a safe place, Dr Lecter?” Will finally raised his eyes to meet the good Doctor’s. Though now both perched on the same level, he both looked and felt infinitely smaller in his seat, his wrinkled shirt stained with dark patches of sweat that made him look strangely sunken.

Hannibal didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to search Will’s eyes for more information. The blues of his irises seemed almost stormy, dulled with anxiety and uncertainty. He glanced away, aware that staring can cause a more vulnerable animal to bolt, before responding, “If that is what you need it to be, yes.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, distrusting, as he began to pick at his nails, his breath still unsteady. “So it’s not always safe, then.”

“It is what the patient needs it to be, Will. Do you perhaps think that you thrive better in an environment fraught with danger?” This time Hannibal’s eyes were unwavering, boring into Will’s with this question. If Will was going to withdraw his trust, Hannibal was going to be less inclined to a gentle approach.

“You’d probably think so, wouldn’t you,” Will almost laughed, but there was no humour in his tone. He tried to hold the other man’s gaze, becoming aware that behind his professional demeanour was an impending sense of a predator considering its prey. “That seems to be all life is these days. Danger. Are you dangerous, Dr Lecter?”

The smirk that curled up against Hannibal’s lips was an undisciplined response, but not one he tried to disguise immediately. Instead he rose from his chair and approached the rather traumatised, younger man, stepping behind him so that he could observe, but not be observed.

“We all possess the capacity for malevolence, Will,” he replied softly, looking down at the paltry shape of a man before him. His eyes drew across his shoulders, hunched and pathetic, his unkempt hair that glistened with panicked sweat from his sleep walking, and finally his gaze landed upon the nape of his neck.

“Y-yes, well, I’d rather not be exposed to it, if it’s all the same,” Will contested from his seat, shifting uncomfortably as he felt Hannibal’s eyes burning into him from behind.

Burn they did, as he studied the small patches of skin between hair and shirt, glimpses of naked flesh he could not ignore. Hannibal had known for some time now that Will Graham was not an adversary, nor a patient, nor quite a meal. But rather he was the other side to his coin, something to consume that would make him whole.

He placed a hand gingerly upon Will’s shoulder, causing the man to flinch instinctively, but he kept it rested there. “I assure you, you are safe here.” With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes of which the younger man was none the wiser, Hannibal leaned in to place his lips beside Will’s ear, where he continued in a hushed purr, “Unless you do not want to be.”

The prey had been startled, the fawn had bucked, and Will Graham unceremoniously launched himself out of his seat, his knees colliding with the ground before clumsily pushing himself off of the floor. He swung around, staring at Hannibal with wide, wild eyes. He held a hand tightly to his ear, gripping it as though wounded.

“One would think I had just bitten you,” Hannibal murmured, his voice dripping with beguiling satisfaction as Will glared at him through a haze of red-cheeked embarrassment and rage. “Of course, that could be arranged.”

“What are you doing!?” Will sputtered, surprising even himself with how his voice cracked as it left his lips, but then his tone lowered and emitted an unmistakable sense of having been the victim of betrayal. “Am I not suffering enough for you?”

Hannibal stretched into a standing position from where he had been leaning, his long limbs looking almost feline. Once again he neatened his suit, and his russet eyes landed upon his prey with a hint of arrogance. “Do you not relish suffering? You almost seem to seek it out, do you not?”

“I do not!” Will snapped, his voice raising with very little self control. He folded his arms across his torso in an attempt to disguise the quiver rising in his fingers, determined to hold his ground despite the disorientation that brought him into this situation.

“Then release yourself from it.” Hannibal’s voice spilled forth with a darker tone, a suggestion of a dare. He began to make his way towards Will, who stepped backwards at equal pace. “Take control of your suffering and release yourself, or stop fighting it and accept who you are.”

“I don’t—” Will’s words were interrupted by the collision of a bookcase against his back, radiating through to his chest and stealing his voice. His eyes glanced around wildly as if to find a way to escape, but before he could even think he was being stared down.

“You revel in pain.” This last word was punctuated by the thud of Hannibal’s palm thrusting against the thick spine of a book beside Will’s head. “Whether that’s taking a life, or inviting others to bring harm to your door. Or perhaps turning up at their door.”

The shorter man avoided the heat of a gaze upon him, eye contact felt unnecessary at the best of times but this was downright invasive. “...Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” Panicked or not, he would not be outdone.

“It is a personal one,” Hannibal responded frankly, his shadow cast over the other man, causing any reflection in his glasses to vanish and give a clear glimpse of the thick lashes covering the eyes refusing to look back at him.

“Your personal opinion…” Will began, his breath stuttering, their closeness now bringing a sense of claustrophobia that seemed to steal the very air from his lungs. “...Is that I want you to-... hurt me?” It was as though the word ‘hurt’ had to be forcibly wrenched from his tender insides, carrying a strange weight of perversion.

Hannibal leaned in and lowered his lips to Will’s ear once more, taking delight in the way that his body stiffened as he braced himself for the hot breath soon to be tickling his flesh, already tinged pink with a rush of blood. “...Don’t you?”

Will’s breath caught in his gullet as his face seared with embarrassment and confusion. His abdomen was a mess of knotted organs, a dull aching sickness rising to his sternum with a peculiar sense of guilt. “I don’t-...” He furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to phrase his reply. “I’ve never considered it.”

A deep inhalation through his nostrils caused Hannibal’s eyelids to flutter closed. Top notes of the lingering remnants of a familiar, unsuitably cheap aftershave. Fighting to overtake that scent were the salty middle notes of apprehension, the fragrance of a cold sweat from a frightful awakening. Finally, base notes of what can only be described as irrefutably Will Graham; musky beech trees, the faintest hint of a tulip poplar, and a not entirely unpleasant whiff of wet dog.

“Are you considering it now?” He dipped his face ever so slightly as he spoke in a deliberately soft and slow inflection, his mouth passing Will’s earlobe, the tip of his nose brushing across a layer of stubble, for which he was rewarded a small jolt of Will’s frame. He allowed the combination of earthy scents to fill his lungs, as his lips hovered below an enticing jawline.

Will frowned, unable to comprehend exactly how he was to approach this situation. He was caught in a bear trap, but curiosity halted his desire to flee. He had his suspicions about Dr Lecter’s decorum behind closed doors, and he certainly expected a degree of unorthodox psychiatric practices, but this was something even his deeply rooted empathy could not have foreseen.

Then there was the unexpected closeness of this man he had been having deeply intimate, professional conversations with, who had witnessed some of his nethermost insecurities and traumas. Physical contact was not on his list of priorities, let alone a communion which not only flushed his skin and caused his heartbeat to echo against his eardrums, but also carried an underlying current of saccharine sadism.

“...I don’t think I have much choice, do I? You’ve planted the idea in my head. Probably not a first for you.” His voice was calmer; he could feel a part of his psyche giving in to defeat, a faint hint of submission.

“There’s always a choice, Will.” Hannibal drew back to meet Will face to face. He knew that if things were to proceed in his favour that this was a point that was crucial to communicate, even if in his mind autonomy was not truly in Will’s hands, but his own. “You can choose to leave, our impromptu night session drawn to an end. Or you can stay, and consider my words further.”

“It’s your actions that I’m worried about,” Will muttered, reaching up to rub his temple, only to be reminded of his glasses. He pulled them from behind his ears, massaging the side of his forehead with one hand, as though to soothe himself.

“May I?” Hannibal reached out a hand towards Will’s glasses, and although a tad perplexed he handed them over without question. Hannibal travelled over to his desk, placing the glasses down neatly upon the mahogany surface.

This allowed Will a moment of reprieve and he took several deep breaths, finally able to free his back from being pressed up against a rigid wooden column, and no longer trapped under excruciatingly close contact.

“So, there’s the door. What will your choice be?” Hannibal spun on his heel, standing by his desk so that there was now a clear path from Will to the door. He extended an offer of freedom and self-determination, yet the confidence ringing in his voice suggested a predetermined outcome.

Will did not respond. He simply stood, thoughts racing, studying the handsome Lithuanian. He felt as though his feet were glued to the floor, torn between self preservation and painfully alluring morbid curiosity. Ultimately an out was provided, and he simply did not take it.

“Well then,” Hannibal continued, after allowing Will some time to fester on the spot. He carefully removed his jacket before laying it delicately across the desk, then moved to unbutton and remove his waistcoat. “Take off your shirt.”

“Sorry- what?” Will stumbled over his words, eyes frantic as he watched Hannibal begin to remove his cufflinks and roll his white sleeves up towards his elbows. “Wait, I didn’t-, I’m not—”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Will.” Blunt, to the point, and stated without even looking at the wounded creature stuttering across the room, Hannibal instead focused on pulling at and tidying his sleeves in place, ensuring his forearms would be comfortable for the acts to come.

Will stared, dumbfounded. Those were not words he was expecting to hear that day, let alone from Dr Hannibal Lector. Blood rushed to his face, a bizarre concoction of emotions flooding his brain. There was a twinge of excitement at the unexpected imagery that he tried to shoo away, followed by an even more unexpected sense of indignation; he couldn’t help but take offence on some level.

“Will. Your shirt,” Hannibal repeated, noticing that Will had yet to react to his instructions. “Unless you require some assistance.”

“No, no, I got it.” Feeling a little lost, Will simply began to follow instructions, and unbuttoned his shirt. As he began to remove the garment he realised just how much he had recovered from his earlier panic, the air feeling cold against his skin from where it had been slick with sweat, causing goosebumps to prickle up across his arms and chest, fine hairs standing on end.

“Good. Now, face the wall.” Another instruction delivered curtly.

Will raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘excuse me, come again?’ but he said nothing, just staring for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before turning slowly and moving towards the wall beside the bookcase, his shirt still gripped tightly in one hand.

The sound of footsteps alerted him as he stared at the wine coloured wall before him, and a sense of dread began to overtake any sense of composure he had regained. A hand reached around from behind him, startling him into a small jump, as Hannibal took his shirt from his grasp and disappeared from his side.

He heard the soft slide and click of a drawer being opened and closed, before Hannibal’s voice penetrated his mind with yet more instructions. “Place your hands up against the wall.”

It was beginning to feel like some sort of ludicrous police arrest role play, a parody of what he had witnessed so many times now, but Will did as he was told, feeling as though he had come too far to back down now. He planted his hands up against the cold paint, experiencing some small reassurance in his chest no longer being exposed, but that sense of security would be short-lived.

First he heard the sound of Hannibal’s shoes on the hardwood floor behind him once more, then he recognised the presence of the taller man looming over his figure. He expected more instructions, but instead what he received was a perplexing epiphany.

Leaning in close enough for his lips to now make direct contact with Will’s ear, moving beyond the tease of breath and instead sending a small bolt of electricity that penetrated his flesh and punctured his spine, Hannibal softly whispered a simple praise, “Good boy.”

A gasp stifled its way out of Will’s diaphragm and for a split second his knees threatened to give way beneath him, a hand momentarily shifting against the wall. In a heartbeat his breathing became laboured, the air knocked out of him by two words. He was thankful that Hannibal could not see his face, a mix of bewilderment and thrill.

Hannibal was equally grateful that the grin spreading across his lips would not be shared with his prey. He inhaled deeply against Will’s skin, a faint dizziness dancing across his forehead as he detected the subtlety of a new, growing bouquet. Arousal.

“Do you know what vampire gloves are, Will?” He broke the silence, hoping to deceive that he had not sensed Will’s reaction to his words.

“...No,” Will replied weakly, trying to regain composure, praying that the wall would either somehow support him or crumble beneath his grip and provide escape.

“Then let us test your senses, and see if you can describe to me what you believe you are feeling.” Hannibal continued to speak in a tone that hardly differed from that of what Will would hear during their sessions, but now affording him an entirely new form of trepidation.

Will jumped immediately at the first sensation, struggling to keep his hands in place. It was as though a hundred cold needles were being pressed into his shoulder blade. Not painful, the pressure was light, but unusual enough to take him by surprise. He felt the series of needles being towed across his skin, down along the left side of his back at a cruelly lethargic speed.

“...Spikes?” he asked with a pondering hesitation.

“Yes, good. A leather glove, the fingers of which have been pierced from within with many tiny, metal spikes, like a chorus of vampire fangs,” Hannibal explained matter-of-factly, continuing to stroke his gloved hand along the left side of Will’s back from top to bottom, occasionally running a sharp finger along the nape of his neck, causing small sighs to erupt from between his lips.

The rhythmic stroking was not at all unpleasant, but rather began to lull Will into an almost sleepy haze, the gentle scratches along his skin making his muscles glow with a soft warmth. It felt almost as if he was being petted, and each time a finger approached his neck or the small of his back he found himself instinctively flexing into the sensation.

“They have the ability to tease…” Hannibal’s voice drew quieter as he focused on his actions, his eyes tracing the small red lines created by his glove. He brought himself closer to the man’s blushing back, replacing the glove this time with his mouth, planting a chaste kiss that charred with the heat radiating from the base of Will’s neck.

Just as he was rewarded with a surprised gasp from the other man, he continued, “...And to torture.” With this he moved his gloved hand to the right side of Will’s back, planted it upon his scapula, and dug firmly into the flesh of his shoulder.

A pained moan emitted from below him, but Hannibal did not relent. Will instinctively writhed, his back contorting to flee the assault, small gasps and pained sounds pouring from him, but still Hannibal held firm. He placed his bare hand against Will’s upon the wall, though it was not clear if this was to support him or to trap him.

“Dr L-Lector—” Will choked, feeling the surprise of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, struggling to keep his posture upright as the man’s hand pushed harder into his skin.

“Endure it,” Hannibal practically growled in Will’s ear, a feverish tone domineering over his usual calm demeanour, his fingers now intertwining with Will’s against the wall. “Endure,” he repeated, before dragging his gloved hand down along Will’s back, from the shoulder blade and further along the pale landscape of flesh, a brief moment feeling like an eternity as gasps and whimpers filled the office.

His hand stopped above Will’s hip, but he did not withdraw. Instead he began to dig into this new patch of virgin territory, squeezing at the small amount of fat tissue beneath the skin. All the while the thin, needle-sized trails from his shoulder blade began to bead with droplets of blood, a stream of budding lines swelling and rising, his skin growing redder with every passing second.

Finally, Hannibal released his grasp, and the sound that escaped Will was one he didn’t recognise, a strained moan he had never heard uttered from his own mouth before. His breathing was quick and shallow, his heart thumped inside his chest, and he felt as though he had run a marathon.

“...Good boy,” Hannibal uttered, his head now upon Will’s shoulder from behind, and it was at this point that Will realised how laboured they both were, with intermingled rapid breaths, and equally hot cheeks pressed together.

Those words began to ring in Will’s head as the pain across his back started a transformation, the blistering agony instead taking on a sharp, stinging ache that prickled at his skin in a way that baffled his brain with waves of adrenaline-fuelled pleasure. If this was torture, it was delectable.

In a brief lapse of self control, Hannibal took the side of Will’s ear between his teeth, gently grazing against the lobe in a manner most contradictory of his instincts, his tongue beginning to probe the sensitive organ, prying small, sweet sounds from Will’s lips.

But bliss is not why they were there.

Will let out a satisfactory sigh as he succumbed to the sensations of Hannibal’s unexpected intimacy, but it was soon caught in his throat as the vampire gloved hand snaked its way around the side of his neck opposite to Hannibal’s oral torture, slowly creeping up along the nape before seizing its target.

“Aah, Hannibal—” He winced and buckled a little, not even noticing that he had resorted to his therapist’s first name, but the other man certainly noticed and made sure to reward such familiarity by clamping his hand down firmer upon the back of Will’s head.

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asked in a low voice, the vibrations of his purr reverberating against the side of Will’s face, metal spikes clawing downwards at a snail’s pace.

Will’s breathing stuttered and his eyes closed tightly, the pained tears that had escaped them mixed with the skin of Hannibal’s cheek. “F-fuck!” was all he could utter, but he could feel Hannibal’s smile against him.

“So, which do you prefer, Will Graham? Teasing, or torture?” He pressed his lips against Will’s stubble, enjoying the mix of rough and tender against his sensitive skin, as he released the flushed boy’s neck and began to drag the glove down along his spine.

“I…” Will began, his brain deliriously flooded with chemical releases, the hot sensation of blood upon his back, and the frustrating closeness of his torturer pressed up against his face. But something in him was breaking. “...I think you can… do better than that.”

Hannibal’s hand withdrew almost immediately, and he found himself stepping backwards, feeling the loss of Will’s cheek against his own as he removed himself. He took the opportunity to survey his handiwork, the body before him almost slumping against the wall now with shaky breaths, and a series of magnificent scratches adorning his physique. Hot, red, swollen and decorated with patches of drying blood, he was simply beautiful to behold.

He slipped the vampire glove from his slender fingers and tossed it carelessly upon the desk, observing his victim with ravenous eyes, before stepping away from the challenger.

“Come here, Will,” Hannibal called from across the room, taking Will by surprise. He slowly peeled his hands from the wall, straightening his back and feeling every wound throb with an enticing sting as he began to move his muscles. Unsure, he turned to see Hannibal sitting in the chair facing him. “Come and stand in front of me.”

Each step felt like a lifetime as he followed orders once more, until finally he was standing before Hannibal. Although a pain-induced haze still hung like a curtain over his eyes, he was all too aware of how his body betrayed him. His nipples were as swollen as his wounds and just as crimson-hued, but worse still he was now conscious of the small damp stain upon the crotch of his trousers.

Hannibal’s eyes travelled up and down the man’s figure, and if he noticed these things he opted not to draw attention to them, instead settling his eyes upon Will’s own. “Perhaps I was too quick to praise you. It would appear, Will, that you are in fact a very, very naughty boy.”

Will’s face flooded with embarrassment. Whilst the praise stirred something almost animalistic in his loins, suddenly being infantilised like this instead brought about a sense of humiliation that was not to his tastes, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes suggested that his discomfort was wholly the point.

“Remove your trousers,” Hannibal stated simply, his eyes drifting down to Will’s belt.

“I-... I’m not sure-...” Will hesitated, the growing demands of disrobing making him uncertain, even with the painful reminders pulsing on his back telling him that there was little point in turning back now.

“I already told you,” Hannibal began, taking Will’s gaze once again, “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“...So you keep saying,” Will muttered, choosing to ignore the somewhat bemused expression that appeared on Hannibal’s face, averting his eyes to focus on unbuckling his belt. He stumbled out of his trousers, sliding off his well worn shoes in the process, until he was standing in only his socks and boxers, hands awkwardly placed in front of him to try and keep some semblance of modesty.

“Good,” Hannibal said firmly, knowing that providing only half the praise would leave Will feeling unsatisfied. “Now, bend over my knee.”

“Sorry, what?” Will responded immediately, a soberness to his voice that surprised even himself.

“Must I repeat myself?” Hannibal looked up at him curiously, but without a single doubt upon his face. He knew that his instructions would be met, one way or another.

“...Fine.” Will’s reply was delivered through gritted teeth, and he was unable to prevent the hiss escaping them as he felt the small wounds upon his back stretch to reopen as he leant over Hannibal’s seat, trying to fight off discomfiture as he stumbled to find himself laying stomach-first upon the man’s legs. The texture of his suit trousers against his skin made him painstakingly aware of how little clothing covered his own body.

Another inevitable smirk formed upon Hannibal’s face as he placed a hand down upon the small of Will’s back, his fingertips brushing against a laceration. “Good boy.”

Will clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan, internally cursing himself for the impact those words had on him, for knowing that his body would react in a way he’d be unable to disguise.

Hannibal’s hand simply continued to stroke along Will’s back, taking delight in the way he had marked his new plaything, but of course this was not the activity that he had in mind. He began to toy with the waistband of Will’s boxers, which he studied intently. The material was old and slightly worn; he got the impression that Will likely didn’t buy new clothing often. How he wished he could take him shopping for a tailored suit.

As Hannibal casually mused, Will was already in mental anguish, his attempts at internally willing away his growing arousal were not remotely successful, and he was already in the full throes of torture, or at least so he thought, until a muted slap echoed through the room. Taken aback, it took Will a moment to even realise what had happened, that Hannibal had smacked his palm down upon his buttock.

“Did you just-... spank me?” he asked, muffled through the hand still upon his mouth.

“You tell me, Will,” Hannibal responded curtly, before landing his hand down upon the other cheek, another slap penetrating the air of the office.

Will’s own air was stolen from his lungs in a gasp, his hand falling limply away from his face. Whilst not exactly painful, the sensation was a shock to the system.

“I believe you wanted a change of pace, did you not?” Another smack, this time with just a degree of increased intensity, which caused a nervousness to begin gathering in Will’s chest.

“We can do…” Another smack. “A change.” Smack. “Of.” Smack. “Pace.” Firmer still, his hands began to land slaps down upon Will’s barely covered buttocks with increasing speed and ferocity.

With each impact, the sting would increase, and Will’s gasps became louder, but something caused Hannibal to pause. Again he found his hands playing with the elasticated band of Will’s undergarments. “Is it uncomfortable, Will?”

“It-.. It’s fine…” Will replied breathlessly.

“I mean, this.” Hannibal gently pulled at the clothing. “I think that we would both benefit from this being out of the way.” Using both his hands, he pulled the boxers down over Will’s groin, carefully tugging the material over the erection pressing into his lap, over his rear, leaving them to sit on Will’s thighs, careful to not make contact with his exposed rigidity in the process. “There, much better.”

Will was speechless. A confused, almost upset sensation hit the back of his throat, a shame that, for a moment, threatened to consume him. He was so sorely embarrassed at his body’s betrayal, yet at the same time unable to ignore the unruly desire to feel more of what made him harder than he could ever remember being. For a second Will thought that he had felt a similarly longing firmness pressing up from Hannibal’s lap, but he soon had his ability to focus snatched away.

This time the slap was almost deafening, bare skin upon bare skin. Hannibal would allow himself a moment to slide his palm along Will’s rear, savouring the softness, his fingertips dancing across plump flesh to feel patches of soft hair, before he would strike down and spank the fawn in his lap.

What began as more of a surprise than a punishment, slowly began to reconstruct itself into an orderly, concise beating. Each smack was delivered with a precisely increased severity, always guaranteed to hit the exact spot where impact would be most effective. Will’s gasps metamorphosed in turn from shocked releases of air to cries of distress intermingled with a titillated longing.

“Is this more to your satisfaction, Will?” Hannibal asked in between thrashes, knowing full well that his treatment of the man’s tender flesh had rendered him unable to speak. He could only reply in moans and wails, though after a time his hips began to rise and fall to meet Hannibal’s hand, yearning for more.

Will felt delirious. The agony brought with it an intense sense of relief, as though the pent-up stress buried within his ribcage was being churned out of him with every assault. His pelvis bucked wildly, his mind so foggy with hysteria that he had not even noticed when the punishment stopped.

Hannibal kept a hand resting gently upon Will’s inflamed backside, his eyes dark with a lustful fervour, silently watching the mewling young man thrusting fiercely against his lap. His teeth sank down upon his bottom lip to stifle any sounds that threatened to emerge each time their mutual turgescence rubbed together.

This hadn’t exactly been Hannibal’s intention when he lured his patient into a game of sadomasochism. The kind of gratification on his mind was of a far more violent persuasion, but he couldn’t bring himself to awaken Will from his desperation. His irrational frenzy stirred a longing in Hannibal that he hadn’t expected to address until much later along the line.

A hand lifted to grasp onto Hannibal’s trousers tightly, Will’s digits clinging onto the fabric as he moved with irregularity, a blaze of white filling his vision as the intensity of orgasm governed his thoughts, or lack thereof. Luscious spasms of wet, thick heat radiated from his loins, a faint numbness filling the void in the aftermath of grinding sensitive skin against an expensive suit.

His body heaved as his lungs carelessly sought to replenish his body of oxygen, a heavy sense of exhaustion threatening to pull him under as he collapsed upon Hannibal’s lap, the Doctor’s hand making its way to warily stroke along Will’s back, but he didn’t remain dormant for long.

He fought against heavy eyelids, clutching for some semblance of sanity as reality began to dawn on him. Will shifted awkwardly, before stumbling from Hannibal’s seat, his legs threatening to give way. He felt around his thighs for his underwear, trying to pull his boxers up against his spent, naked form.

“Will—” Hannibal began to speak, but was quickly interrupted.

“No.” Will was stern, but his voice was weak, wrecked from the sordid cries that hailed from his frame. He didn’t want to look, yet for a moment he found himself staring at Dr Lecter’s body in the chair, staring at the mess that he had made, the shame. A lump formed in his throat, followed by a twinge of bile that threatened to ravage his raw larynx.

Wordlessly he began to gather at his clothes, wishing he could move faster, trying to make himself look presentable again as he pulled at materials and fastened buttons, none in even remotely the correct order.

Hannibal rose from his chair and attempted to reach for the other man’s shoulder, but Will stumbled away, grabbing at his glasses on the desk.

“Will, listen to me.” He spoke slowly but with authority, yet Will would not look in his direction. “There is a degree of aftercare that is very important here, and I cannot let you leave in this condition.”

“You offered me the door and I am taking it, Dr Lecter.” Will’s words spilled from his mouth haphazardly as he forced his glasses onto his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

Before Hannibal could reach for him again, the man who was even more unkempt than when he first entered the room had left and closed the door behind him, leaving Hannibal standing with a hand outstretched.

He closed his eyes, sucking air deep into his lungs, now quite uncomfortably aware of the wetness that stained his clothes, and the dull ache upon his palms. He simply stood, urging a calmness into his body with every breath. His fingers began to lift and dip, summoning melodies into his skull, but he could only muster a faint discordant cadence, before slamming his hands down onto his desk.

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wildlife4life · 9 months

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Fuck-it Friday

It is just past midnight where I reside, so that means its officially Friday. Normally I don't post till the sun is shining, but I am traveling today and visiting with family, so I won't have access to computer time till much much later.

Tagged by the always lovely @panbuckley, who posted a very steamy snippet. So I am going to continue this trend myself, or try to at least. Here is some very vague smut from NFL Buck.

Eddie is on the precipice of tipping over into orgasmic bliss, but a tight grip at the base of his cock, snaps him back. He cries out, "Buck please." Behind him with his own cock deep in Eddie's ass and lounging back on the dark blue sofa, Buck chuckles. Eddie feels the vibration of his delight more than he can hear it. "You didn't answer me." The younger man states. The hand not withholding Eddie's pleasure, hits the rewind button on a small black remote. The projected film in front of them reverses, pulling the figures of the players of the Chicago Bears and the Minnesota Vikings back to their pre-snap formations. "Two high safeties, 5 man rush, what should I call?" Buck repeats his earlier question with a swivel of his hips, grinding up against's Eddie's prostate. A whimper is pulled from him and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the stimulating euphoria mixed with the pain of being held at the edge. The warm plastic of the remote is dropped on his thigh and Eddie can't hold down a moan of appreciation as Buck grips his hair, yanking his head back. "I told you to keep your eyes open. Don't want to miss anything, now do we?" He growls in his ear, nipping at the cartilage. Fuck. Having his eyes on the footage of the Chicago Bears was the whole reason Eddie joined Buck in the first place. He liked to help his boyfriend with his studies, give advice, and his own opinion on what the defense is doing and how Evan should respond. The reward for doing so, usually came after pages of a notebook had been filled and several hours of film had been watched. But the first game of the Ram's season with their new shiny quarterback was just days away and Buck was a ball of nervous energy. Working out did little to take the edge off. Video games with Christopher (and losing horribly) just added to the problem. Not even a pep talk from his personal trainer Owen Strand could help. So Buck turned to film hoping that being over prepared would ease his mind just a little. Eddie ventured into the screening room wanting to give him some relief and Evan immediately showed him how he could. A sloppy blowjob lead to Eddie's first orgasm. A seat in Buck's lap, his chest pressed tight against Eddie's back, and stretched tight around Buck's cock, has Eddie on the edge of another. He just needed to focus. Give Buck a play to beat the scheme. He needed to open his eyes and see past his pleasure. Just for a moment and then Eddie can finally fall into the inferno, with Buck just behind him. The sharp trill of Eddie's phone breaks his focus and has his eyes opening for all the wrong reasons.

Never really written man on man smut before, so I hope I'm doing something sort of right? Idk. I just wanted to put the fuck in fuck-it friday lol. But this is a scene I've had in my notes for awhile for this fic. Hope you all enjoyed!

If you want to see more NFL Buck just search under the tag nfl on my page.

Tagging (no pressure): @prince-buck-diaz @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @bekkachaos @911onabc @911-on-abc @alyxmastershipper @brokenribsdiaz @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @lizzybizzyzzz @glorious-spoon @oliverstaark @cowboy-buck @starlingbite @housewifebuck @devirnis @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @forthewolves @transbuck @wikiangela @rogerzsteven @bigfootsmom @try-set-me-on-fire @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @heartbeatdiaz @barbiediaz @princessfbi

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ginnvngagap · 8 months

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watching the Little Mermaid live action remake, and I'm gonna make it your problem

oooh, shiny scales, I love it

Ariel's breathtaking, I love how her hair flows in the water

her sisters are also gorgeous and their designs are amazing

CGI sea creatures look realistic but still manage to be all magical and shxt, nice

Ursula's not a drag queen (a crime tbh), but her design is so coooool

aaah, Ariel's voice (I don't watch trailers, this is my first time hearing it)

Eric has a personality?!

they gave an actual reason as to why Ariel would be attracted to Eric aside from teenage girl hormones go brrr for pretty boy

oooh, they did the cliff thing

Eric has an I want song now and his voice is heavenly

did... did they just add generational trauma to the mermaid family? great addition, I approve (yes, I've seen the prequel)

had to Google Sebastian's accent, it's Jamaican, I love it, I think it suits him

so many pretty sea creatures dancing, oooh, jellyfish

why the fxck do they swim like that?

Poor Unfortunate Souls slaps, Ursula's voice is aaaah (very eloquent)

huh, Ariel still sings in her head (good decision imo, it would've been such a waste)

Ariel doesn't like high heels and corsets, completely understandable tbh

ooof, her meeting the prince and not being able to speak was so much more devastating with the added thought singing, my baby heart, noooo 😭

apparently Ursula put a spell on Ariel that made her forget her objective of kisskissfallinlove and I don't know how I feel about that (in hindsight it makes sense, this Ariel would've totally jumped Eric's bones, lmao)

Scuttle and Sebastian's banter is fxcking hysterical

roll credits, lmao

oooh, Eric has a stuff room too

Grimsby is best boi

Ariel breaks for goats but not humans, we stan

Anakin would flip his shxt if he saw this dance scene

aaaw, Ariel taught Eric her name

Shalalalalala... You Gotta Kiss The Girl~🎶

Ursula's growly voice 😩👌

I love how Ursula's appearance on shore feels even more sinister than in the animated movie

is... is Scuttle rapping? and she has mad flow?! SEBASTIAN TOO!? also it's actual genius how Scuttle's rap sounds how you'd expect a bird rapping

human Ursula's uuuh... huuuh... 🥵

Grimsbyyy you naughty boi

she's also fxcking terrifying, holy fxckaroni

Eric's waaay too chill about Ariel turning into a mermaid right in his arms, lmao

loving the ominous ink cloud

tentacle raaave

Triton's baaack, baby 👑

I love his character design btw, that clamshell armor is so cool and shiny ✨

mermaid dad sad 🥺😭

the send-off definitely didn't make me cry, shutup

neither did Howard Ashman's name in the credits

#the little mermaid #the little mermaid 2023

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beautification-tales · 4 months

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Ginny's heart skipped a beat as she crept down the creaky stairs of her parents' old house. The scent of freshly baked cookies and pine needles filled the air, reminding her of Christmas Eves long past. She'd been expecting this feeling, of course; she was still that same skinny college girl who used to believe in Santa Claus. But now, as she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure hunched over by the tree, she couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and nervousness course through her veins.

Her heart raced as she approached him, her breath hitching in her throat. Santa Claus, her Santa Claus, was putting the final touches on a pile of presents under the tree. "Santa?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "Santa, is that you?"

He turned around slowly, his eyes twinkling behind his snowy white beard. A warm smile spread across his rosy cheeks. "Ginny!" he exclaimed, his voice full of delight. "What a surprise! Why are you up?”

She felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and joy. "I-I couldn't sleep," she stammered. "I wanted to see if you needed any help."

He chuckled, his belly jiggling beneath his red suit. "Oh, you don't need to worry about that, my dear. I've been doing this for quite some time, you know." He motioned for her to sit beside him on the plush rug beside the tree. "But," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "I'm always glad for some company."

As they sat there, watching the fire dance and listening to the soft crackle of the wood, Ginny found herself opening up to Santa Claus in a way she never had before. She told him about her struggles in college, about how she missed the innocence of childhood and the joy of believing in magic. And when she confessed her secret crush on him, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

Santa Claus chuckled warmly, his eyes twinkling. "Why, Ginny," he said, "I've always known you were a special girl. And you know what? I think you might just be the perfect person to help me out this year."

Ginny felt her heart skip a beat. "Really?" she breathed.

"Yes, really," he replied, reaching into his red suit and pulling out a small, glistening object. "I've been searching for someone to take on this role for a very long time."

He placed the enchanted cookie into her hand. It felt warm and heavy, like it was imbued with magic. "This," he explained, "is an enchanted cookie. If you eat it, it will make you my special helper.”

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?" she breathed.

"Really and truly," Santa Claus assured her, his voice gentle and sincere. "It will give you the magic and power to help me all Christmas Eve.”

She looked down at the enchanted cookie in her hand, feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. She took a bite as the warm cookie tasted like cinnamon and chocolate.

As she chewed, she felt a strange sensation coursing through her body. At first, it was a tingling in her fingers and toes, like pins and needles. But then, it spread through her entire body, making her feel more alive and vibrant than she ever had before. Her breasts seemed to swell, growing larger and fuller beneath her sweater, and her hips widened, curving out in a way that made her feel incredibly feminine.

She glanced down at herself in shock, then back up at Santa Claus. He was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling with delight. "That," he said with a nod, "is the power of the enchanted cookie. It's giving you the body of a goddess.”

As she continued to stare at herself, her reflection in the tree, Ginny realized that her pajamas had completely morphed into a Santa Claus outfit. The once-plain pajama top had transformed into a tight red blouse with white plush cuffs. Her pajama pants were now a pair of shiny black panties that hugged her legs and shapely behind. She even had a pair of black boots on her feet.

Her hair, which had been tied back into a ponytail, now flowed freely around her shoulders in soft, wavy curls. She felt as if she had been transformed into a living, breathing version of one of Santa's elves. She couldn't help but smile, feeling a thrill of excitement and anticipation coursing through her.

Santa Claus chuckled, seeing the look of awe and wonder on her face. "Well, well, well," he said, clapping his hands together, "it seems my magic cookie has done its job. You look absolutely radiant, Ginny. I knew you'd make a perfect addition to my team."

He stood up and offered her a hand, helping her to her feet. She felt a newfound confidence and grace as she took his hand, their skin connecting in a warm, electric way that made her heart race. "Now then," he continued, "it's time for you to begin your training.”

Ginny looked at Santa with a hunger in her eyes. She had always loved Santa but now it seemed she wanted even more as she licked her lips. She felt the magic coursing through her but she also felt something that made her now heavy breasts tingle.

"Yes, sir," she breathed, her voice huskier than before. "I'm ready to help you, Santa."

He chuckled, his laugh filling the room. "Oh, Mrs Claus, you have no idea how much help you're going to be. You are going to make all the children happy this Christmas Eve."

#beautification #breast expansion #transformation #f2f transformation #mrs clause #bimboification #stepfordization

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meabh-mcinness · 1 year

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Peppermint

(Alternatively known as 'Pest Control')

Living in the human world had meant learning tips and tricks to keep pests at bay while still enjoying small luxuries. Such as using lavender to deter bed bugs the one time you bought and forgot to clean a comforter at a thrift store, or peppermint around windows and doors to keep spiders outside. You hadn't known, of course, that such tricks could apply to pests in the Netherworld too. You couldn't decide whether you were happy or not to discover they did in fact do so.

TW! There is technically a torture scene in here? A character gets a bottle full of peppermint oil to their face, which is known to cause skin irritation and rashes on humans when used too much, and does slightly worse due to him rather special heritage and lack of exposure to it. Also light descriptions of gore, or at least I think it falls under the gore category? Maybe?

Also, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY AND UNHOLY, DO NOT TAKE THE PLANT AND OTHER FACTS AT FACE VALUE!!! I am not a trained botanist nor biologist (I haven't even started my college courses yet!) and everything in here is based on research I've found in books, oral stories, online research, and personal findings. ALWAYS check in with professionals before using or consuming something you don't know about. I use some of the things in here because it's what I grew up with, BUT it does not mean it's actually true or safe. Please take caution in the things you use!

Also, the MC in this is a tad bit of a hater of insects, which in no way reflects my views. So if you're like me and actually find the bug world terribly fascinating, you may not like some of this. Hopefully, you enjoy the rest, though! Also, there's some Shiida X reader, and Balam x reader if you squint, really hard.

The taking down of one Atori had been both incredulous and laughably easy for you.

In hindsight, you supposed it wouldn't have been as easy if you hadn't known a little bit of basic human world biology and been a bit of a hoarder.

In the human world, spiders and other bugs are a bit of (read, incredibly) a hindrance. You understood they were needed for the ecosystem to thrive, and you did enjoy a fair few (snails in particular were very cute, for example), but for the most part, they were an annoyance in your daily life. When they weren't posing a danger, that is.

To keep such annoyances at bay, you had taken to making 'herbal potions' that smelt good to you, but that most bugs hated. Even taking to wearing it as hairsprays, body oils, and lotions to keep them away from your person while working your various jobs or just going out and about. The added health benefits you gained from soft, clear skin and full, shiny hair were merely a nice bonus you wouldn't complain about.

It had been incredibly easy to squirrel away unwanted seedlings from farming gigs or dumped herbs that had fallen on the floor from your serving jobs. The thrown-away herbs were the hardest to save, but you always felt so proud to see the cuttings growing tiny roots after a few weeks in water-filled cups. Such plants were then cleaned and went through various lengthy processes depending on what you wanted at the time.

Lavender oil to spray on and around your bed, because you failed to clean one comforter from a thrift store, basil lotion to repel mosquitoes, and large amounts of various types of mint along with others. The mints were mostly used to spray around the doors, windows, and the general perimeter of your tiny home, to keep bugs from invading in the first place. You even used the extra for your hair specifically, both to promote growth and just because it smelt nice.

You had even just finished a fresh batch, of newly sealed vials and bottles in your old, patched bag to transfer when Sullivan had invaded your home and essentially kidnapped you. Granted, you had willingly gone once he motioned to a bound Iruma, but still. You had been non-too-pleased when you discovered Iruma's parents had sold both of your souls to the demon, vowing revenge if it was the last thing you did.

Regardless, because you had this batch and no bugs to use them on (Opera did an excellent job of keeping the mansion pest free, and that was assuming the Netherworld even had those kinds of bugs, to begin with), they had been delegated to strictly hair product use until you ran out.

It had been rather surprising, and humorous, for you to find out that this world had a similar-smelling plant. That apparently only high-rankers and rich folk used, due to how difficult it was to grow and harvest, along with how volatile it was, and its rather fond taste for flesh.

A misunderstanding had eventually arisen that you were as, or at least close to, as powerful as Sullivan was and simply hiding your rank when Suzie-sensei had asked how you acquired the oils. Your confusion, briefly forgetting that you were not in the human world any more, led to you confessing that you simply used to grow them from cuttings before crushing them into oils and pastes yourself, and how you were quite sad that you no longer had access to them due to moving in with Sullivan. The awed and calculating looks everyone had given you had lasted for days until the Battler party, and Iruma took centre stage again with his "fireworks".

Although you could still hear the occasional whispers about how powerful you must be to have Sullivan as a father, and, the quickly rising through the ranks, Iruma as a son. You quite often wanted to bang your head on a wall when you heard those because of that one slip of a mistake. Especially when, for your birthday, after bemoaning the fact you were running low, the Babyls teachers had banded together to get you a couple of cuttings from the actual Netherworld peppermint plant counterpart, the Geagpian.

You had quickly understood why others feared it so much. Smelling almost disgustingly minty up close, it rather reminded you of a stinking corpse lily in looks. If a stinking corpse lily was far smaller, had sharp teeth surrounding the inside of its petals and sentient vines covered in sharp hollow thorns filled with paralysing venom and grew multiple flowers along a tall cactus-like stem. The three, foot-long cuttings they had given you had apparently almost eaten Robin and a couple of curious students in the few days they were hiding it from you. When one of the Geagpian tried to do so again, your rather firm smack on its creeping vines only cemented their ideals of you being powerful when it quickly drew back again. Despite your apprehensive feelings about having such a dangerous gift, you had almost cried that they had tried to be so thoughtful.

The Geagpians were then lovingly planted in a corner of the mansion's outer garden, far away from the other plants, where you happily took care of them. The nauseating in-your-face mint smell, a small comfort of your old home. Not that you wanted to go back.

Now, though, a year into your stay here in the Netherworld, hunched over Sabro and the first years, checking them for serious injuries, as Shichirou fought Atori, you were rather glad that you had a few of your original hair oils left. And even happier that you had a full bottle in your pocket thanks to Shiida.

(You glanced up when a sudden shadow crossed over the table you were sitting at in the teacher's break room. One of the newest teachers, Shiida, you thought her name was, staring at you before flumping down in the seat next to you. You blinked in surprise before internally shrugging and going back to the book you were reading.

It was as obvious as the two moons in the night sky that the girl was bad at social interactions, and as a fellow 'no social skills' person, you could understand how hard it could be to make friends with your new co-workers. If this was her attempt to break out of her mould and make new relationships, you were most certainly not going to stop her.

You sat together in relative silence, the occasional flipping of a page in your book, the sound of fabric as she shifted, or another teacher wandering in briefly to say hello, being the only sounds to interrupt your peace. Over the course of your break, however, her shifting increased. Hands wringing together, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she seemed to contemplate something. Taking pity on the poor girl, you slid a silk ribbon bookmark, a gift courtesy of Kalego who had been annoyed at the constant crinkling of the random papers you had shoved in between the pages, and closed your book.

"Is something bothering you, Shiida-sensei?" She startled, turning towards you with wide eyes and the slightest parting of lips. You gave her what you hoped was a comforting smile, "While I'm not certain I can help, I will certainly try."

"Your scent..." she said suddenly. You paused in surprise, not actually expecting an answer beyond 'I'm fine'.

Then your thoughts took over. Your scent? Had you forgotten your perfume today? You had been in a rush having woken up late, but no, you were certain Shichirou would have said something if you had when you joined him for a jointly taught class this morning. Or even one of the students, they weren't exactly known for keeping their mouths shut after all. (The one time you switched up scents just to try something new, everyone demanded to know if you were courting someone. That had taken forever to clear up, and you hadn't worn anything else sense.) Demons, it turned out, were especially blunt creatures by nature. Rarely talking with constant double-wording that humans so favoured unless they were especially manipulative, or a member of the succubus battler.

"It....smells good... What is...the scent?" A faint blush was appearing on her face, and she appeared to be about five seconds away from bolting. A giggle left you before you could stop it. She was actually very adorable, wasn't she?

"Oh, is that all? It's a Geagpian mixture. I grow and make it myself."

"I see... Atori-san hates it... I like it." She nodded to herself, "Where...can I find?" You blinked in surprise. Atori hated the scent of your hair oils? That explains why he always avoided you, even taking positions as far from you as possible when you had to share space in meetings. Your first meeting made exceptional sense now.

When you had first met, Atori had attempted to greet you from behind, only to get a face full of your hair when you turned around. You had assumed the rather violent reaction of his body jerking and entire face seizing up had been because of the surprise at a rather hearty amount of hair suddenly in his face.

You had long since wondered if you had offended him somehow with the hair slap, but everyone had drawn blanks because Momonoki had done the same thing only a few hours later, and much harder considering the absolute length of hair and speed she had done it with, and he was still perfectly fine with her. Though, you considered it a blessing in disguise the longer you watched him. There was just something about him that creeped you out, especially after Shichirou confessed that he was certain they were hiding something.

"I can give you some of mine to try if you would like. I have a couple of extras since it lasts for three-four years in a bottle, and I've just pruned mine to be able to make more." And hadn't that been a pain to try and figure out? You couldn't ask any of the teachers at Babyls what parts to make into the oils since they were under the impression you already knew, and most breeders were rather tight-lipped in their secrets in fear that you were a competitor.

Well until Opera decided to get involved, and then you had not only which parts were safe to use but also formulas for the best things to mix with them and brand-new equipment to get started.

"Although I'm surprised you would want to smell like me if your friend hates it."

"Friend...?" Ah, right, you had forgotten that was a human word.

"Friends are people who enjoy spending time together and help one another, but in a non-romantic or familial sense. Like how Iruma, Alice, and Clara do or Shichirou and Kalego. It's like allies but stronger, if that makes sense. If you want, we can be friends?" You held out your hand towards her and were rather reminded of the scene from the first Harry Potter film.

The longer she stared wide-eyed at your hand, the more you started to worry you would end up like Draco. Spurned before even being given a chance. Until slowly but surely her hand rose up and took yours. Eyes alight in wonder as she looks fixedly at your joined hands.

"Not friends...with Atori...forced...companionship....coworkers on various jobs...no one else....to really talk to..."

"Well, now you can talk to me!" You declared brightly, a large smile gracing your face. "Whenever you want to spend time together or need some help, just come to me and I'll be there."

"Can we...pet chicks...?"

"Of course! I'll even ask Shichirou if he knows of any petting zoos around here, and we can visit to pet lots of animals if so. And to cement this newfound friendship, how about I bring a bottle of my hair oil tomorrow to give you after the exam? As a way to celebrate our obvious winnings as well."

"I would...like that."

"Then it's a deal!")

Looking up from your position, fingering the bottle in your pocket, your mind racing with what to do. You had three terrified students, two of which were injured, and at least one deranged intruder. Potentially two if he and Shiida were working together. And wasn't that a sad thought? Your possible new friend could actually be an enemy in disguise.

Though as you watched Shichirou smack down Atori with a giant fist made of vines, you could at least be assured you wouldn't have to attempt to fight. Shichrou had it well in hand, and eveidently he thought so as well as he turned back and gave you a nod, hellphone already in hand to contact the others.

You started to turn back to the students to get them ready to be transferred when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. Whirling back around you saw it again. Thin shimmering strands of something were protruding out of where Atori's body lay before. You dared a glance at Shichirou who hadn't yet noticed, back still turned to the danger.

You cried out his name in panic, right before a multitude of the strands poured out and wrapped around the fallen demon. Shichirou whirled around and you both watched, stunned, as the strands seemed to undulate, as if something was moving underneath. Were...were they healing him? No, your eyes darted about the shapes, counting each one and cataloguing how they move.

It wasn't healing Atori, it was changing him.

You risked another glance at Shichirou who was still standing there surprised. He wasn't doing anything, why wasn't he doing anything? Strike, burn, crush, something before-!

The threads tore apart, and your gaze was forced back to the suddenly mutated body before you. Atori stood slowly, shakily rising, his body with that came equipped with two extra sets of limbs. He hadn't just changed slightly, he had metamorphised. Like....like a bug, you suddenly realized. A giant spider that had been humanized.

Your hands flexed around the bottle in your pocket again. Should you? Could you? There was no guarantee it would do anything, and even if it did, you only had one shot. One shot to make this work when you were lucky to throw something straight on your best days. But would it even work, or would you just be in the way?

Shiida's words rang in your mind, "Atori-san hates it". If that were true and really what reason would she have to lie about that of all things? If he really did hate it and that was before the change, then maybe...just maybe.

You forced yourself out of your thoughts right as Atori started to bring his hand up. Your hand clench around the bottle harder, bringing it out of your pocket as your body moved to exit the egg shaped shield Shichirou had thrown up in the beginning. All thoughts focused on your task, it never registered that you shouldn't have been able to leave it all, and yet your body flowed through like it wasn't even there.

You had seconds, Atori's hand already at his mouth, lips forming an o-shape as if blowing. You saw it in slow motion as more threads, webs, spurred out and flew at Shichirou’s face. Sliding past him, you ducked underneath, far from the splash zone, and continued on your way. You could already see Atori starting to turn to get away. You were so close, just a little more, and there! Hand whipping out, you felt the bottle leave you, flying in an arch right towards its target.

Smack!

The bottle struck the side of Atori's head, glass shards flying as the liquid poured out directly onto his skin. His loud screech of pain echoed across the courtyard, pausing in his retreat to use his multiple hands to scratch at his face. You watched horrified, scrambling backwards again to get towards safety, as Atori fell to his knees, screams never fading. You felt large hands grab at your arms and almost panicked until you saw the tale-tell sign of green gloves. Shichirou.

You let yourself be pulled against his chest as he jumped further away from the still screeching demon, more vines being produced to wrap around Atori's body once more. This time staying there to hold him in place. With Atori's arms held in place and no longer covering his face, you finally saw what damage you had done. The entire right side of his face was bright red and bulging, some areas far darker than others, an obvious sign of where the oils had hit first and stayed the longest. His left eye, that was still open, rolled about its socket manically as if he couldn't focus it at all.

Once a considerable distance away, Shichirou put you down, but still hovered about directly behind you. You stood frozen, still staring at the carnage you had wrought on the spider demon. Completely ignoring the gargoyle behind you as he tried to check you over, a rant about dangers spilling from his lips, your eyes stayed locked on Atori. Adrenaline making it, so you couldn’t take your eyes away from the possible danger. It wasn’t until Shichirou forced your head to look at him that you finally took your gaze away.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly. Were you? No, you were not alright. Your senses, still so high-strung, still screamed of danger. That turning your back was perilousness. All of your inner instincts clamouring and fighting to rip out of you and take care of the threat. Or at least run away.

To run...run? Run! Your entire body jerked forward instinctively, Shichirou's arms wrapping around you, his wings bursting forth in a flurry of feathers ready to block whatever was coming to your back as he lept away again. Your hands clutched his shirt tightly, eyes scrunching shut in fear at being so exposed and not being able to see the danger, much less attack back. Pulse racing, you waited for the attack to hit.

Only, it never did.

There was a loud cracking noise, that rather reminded you of bones snapping, and a pained yowl by the time Shichirou touched down again. Most of his body stayed tense, but the arms holding you loosened just enough that you could look to see what happened. Turning around, the first thing you noticed was Shiida, with a rather more exposed outfit than you remembered seeing her in this morning, lowering her leg back toward the ground. Stepping on top of a knocked-down Atori, a spray of web trailed from his mouth to fall only a few inches short of where you had been. She easily dug her heel into his back, exactly where you assumed his wing roots were...

"You will....not hurt....my friend," Shiida growled, digging her foot further into his back. His body spasmed out of instinct, but it was obvious to tell from the way his body had fallen, she had fully snapped his spine.

"Shiidaaaaa..." Atori growled out, "How… could you?!"

"Friends help...one another...when needed... You...threatened friend... I end...the threat," Shiida explained before locking eyes with you, "I help...my friend."

My allegiance lies with you.

Your eyes teared up from all the emotions stirring in you like a cyclone, the most prominent being relief and something akin to affection blooming across your chest. You understood her message and nodded at her with a watery smile.

A wall of fire surrounded the four of you, followed by what appeared to be a wall of flower guns crawling up the side of the building, Ifirit-sensei and Suzy-sensei. You heard the door to the side of you slam open and the pounding of footsteps as more and more teachers filed in as backup.

Your body almost collapsed from the amount of relief that flowed through you, and if Shichirou’s arms weren’t still holding you close, you probably would have. You and the others were safe, there was simply no way Atori could take on the entire staff of Babyls if he had issues with two, technically three, of you. When the heavy pressure of Sullivan’s aura arrived long before you saw his tall, lean form, it merely confirmed what you already knew.

Atori would not be getting away this day.

"Hey, Shichirou?" He hummed in response, Shiida walking closer to you guys after finally getting off of Atori’s battered body, and Sullivan got to work questioning him. "Do you know of any petting zoos around here? Specifically, one with chicks?"

The crazed look he gave you was more than worth the slightly hysterical laugh that left your throat as he went about checking your head for injuries.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3!

#mairimashita manga #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun #mairuma #welcome to demon school spoilers #welcome to the demon school #welcome to demon school! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #welcome to demon school #mairimashita iruma kun spoilers #mairimashita! iruma kun x reader #balam shichiro #balam sicirue #balam sensei #balam shichirou #balam #shiida #atori #welcome to demon school iruma x reader

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 10 months

Text

Prompt fill for the TES fanfic writers' discord weekly prompt.

1E414.

The first time they met Almalexia, she laughed them out of the room. Really, it had been quite marvelous-- the famously serious Almalexia, the grim Queen of Mournhold, the harsh leader of the free Chimeri who had greeted them with a bored scowl from her throne-- she had listened to Nerevar's tale first with a frown, then with a small up-turning of her mouth, a little crinkle of her eyes, and then, when Nerevar proposed to her, she had lost her composure and laughed. She laughed like royalty, clamping her hand over her mouth and turning her face away so that they couldn't see her mirth, though no decorum could hide the shaking of her shoulders. And when she asked her bodyguard to ensure they had lodging 'in payment for the wonderful tale they've entertained me with' she did it through giggles, and when she dismissed them, it was with a childish un-queenly grin.

Vivec was so captivated by the spectacle that he hardly noticed Nerevar-- Nerevar, blushing like a scolded child, Nerevar's mute indignant rage at the giggling girl. He marveled at the whiteness of her teeth, the glossy crimson of her hair, her fine robes, the bright scar that snaked over the high cheekbone beneath her left eye. He marveled until Nerevar dragged him out of the room and then he hung his head and stared very hard at the beautiful tiles they were walking on.

It was Vivec's first time meeting royalty, and being in a palace, and even being in Mournhold. It was Nerevar's first time speaking to the woman he intended to make his wife. When they were outside in the bright Mournhold sun they were glumly silent, Nerevar staring up at the sky and Vivec down at the ground, and they stood for a long time there in the heat.

It was Nerevar who spoke first: "She's a child!" he exclaimed with wroth. "She's a little girl on a throne, an arrogant little girl with a toy army!"

Vivec sucked on his teeth, pressed a bare toe into the corner of one of the courtyard tiles.

After a moment Nerevar added thoughtfully, "She's only naive. She's proud and we're new to her-- of course she doesn't yet believe in me! But I shall make her understand."

It was good that they'd made her laugh, Sotha Sil reassured them later. Their co-conspirator, the Queen's own court wizard, had joined them in the shabby inn they'd made their home. He perched awkwardly at the edge of Nerevar's bed, while Nerevar paced the room, stooping low to avoid hitting his head upon the rafters. Almalexia laughed rarely, Sotha Sil said. And Nerevar's optimism proved true: she could be persuaded.

Vivec crouched on top of the dresser of the corner and watched Sotha Sil carefully. He liked looking at Sotha Sil; Sotha Sil, constructed like a Dwemer spider, all angles and thin limbs and shiny brass artificial legs that somehow seemed more natural to him than his gangly arms. The first time he'd appeared to them it had been by accident, materializing right before them on the Mournhold steps, and this had delighted Vivec immensely. Sotha Sil spoke without looking at them, his wide blue eyes cast vaguely in the direction of Nerevar's pillow, and his little nervous hands fretted at a frayed corner of the blanket all the while.

"She holds no respect for me," Nerevar complained. "To laugh at my face-- after all I have done, after all I told her!-- if she were an older woman and wiser, she would see what a weapon I've brought to her." Here, he waved to Vivec. "She would fall to my feet in gratefulness."

Sotha Sil made a derisive sound. "If she thought you held a weapon that would aid her, she would throw you into a dungeon and take it from you at the point of a sword. Do not be fooled by the fact that her people call her mercy-- she was merciful once and it is a mistake she shan't repeat. No, the best thing you can be to her now is not a threat."

"A threat? How could I be a threat! I have come to protect her from all those that threaten her! Who else but me can lead her from her present peril? Certainly not you, wizard, or you would not be giving her to me on a platter."

Vivec watched a shudder go through Sotha Sil's narrow shoulders, then watched his eyes fall shut. Vivec adjusted himself on the dresser, letting one of his legs dangle, knock against an open drawer. Nerevar stopped to look from the window, ignorant of the blow he'd landed.

"Almalexia," Sotha Sil resumed presently, "Is all too aware of her hopeless situation. She is doomed and so she sees everything as a threat. When she comes to take you seriously, she will also see you as a threat. If for some reason you must insist on--" he paused again, drawing in a breath-- "I mean, if you fail at this… this quest of yours, she will become your enemy. You do understand that?"

"What if I were not a threat?" Nerevar asked, turning from the window. "I need not marry her! I could just offer myself to her as a general. I could join her Guild of Shouts. I could bind myself to her as a slave if it earned her support."

"Then you would become powerful anyways, and you would be a threat." Sotha Sil spoke very plainly. "She would have one eye on you, wondering at your motives, and she would notice the power you're accruing to yourself, and would notice how close behind her back you stand." Then he shrugged. "Of course, she will also think these things if you marry her, but maybe you'll achieve what you seek to before she puts a knife in you."

"You must be the king," Vivec added. He was chiding Nerevar, but his eyes remained on Sotha Sil's hands, which were methodically dismantling the weave of the blanket. "You have to be the Ruling King, that's how I saw it, that's how it must be. The Dwemer will never want to treat with you if you're only a servant-- you have to go to them as king. And to be the king--"

"I must marry her--"

"Or challenge her to a duel."

It was the first time the idea had been voiced between them. Nerevar spun around, regarding Vivec with wide, horrified eyes. Sotha Sil, too, raised his head-- he stared aghast at Vivec for a moment, then looked away, his mouth twisting into despair.

"Ah," Sotha Sil almost whispered, "So there's the stick behind the ash-yam. A duel. That damned duel!"

"Almalexia took her throne from Chemua in an honourable duel," Vivec addressed Nerevar again, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Sil. "By her own precedent you have the right to challenge her for her throne. Seht said that if she doesn't take your hand she'll be your enemy. So…"

"I would not kill her," Nerevar said quickly. Then he blushed, as if ashamed of even entertaining the idea. "I would not kill her," he said again, to Sotha Sil, though whether he was trying to reassure Sil or himself Vivec could not tell. "I know how to disarm an enemy. Or I could wound her in a limb."

"That would be even crueler," Sotha Sil muttered.

"It would not come to that!" Nerevar said frantically, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I can persuade her, I need only time to win her heart. Our Mother Ayem! She's wise despite her years and will see reason if only I can make her listen. And I will make her listen. She will concede to this willingly, I'll make her concede. I have no wish to… You can help me, right?" He asked Sotha Sil. "Surely you have some other means of persuading her? If she knew you were aiding us--"

"She would hate me," Sotha Sil stated. But he closed his eyes, then, and pressed his finger against his temple. "… There is a powerful Ra'athim woman who she keeps as paramour, who has been known to influence her. This noble has certain ambitions and could be persuaded to support you. I could arrange a meeting…"

Vivec settled back against the wall, content to slip out of the discourse and into the safety of the shadows. But he found Sotha Sil looking at him with a strange expression-- it was a familiar expression, the face of someone who had been surprised by an old friend's uncharacteristic behaviour. When Sotha Sil looked at him, on those rare occasions Sotha Sil seemed to look at anyone and not through them, Vivec felt strangely as if they'd met long before Mournhold, as if they'd known each other all their lives. It made his stomach twist. It made him want to look away. When their planning ended and Sotha Sil used a recall spell to vanish from their midst, it came as a relief.

Nerevar fell onto the bed and stared for a long time at the ceiling, and then he called Vivec over.

"I would abandon this quest you've given me," Nerevar murmured, as Vivec laid himself along that large warm body. "I would pick up a sword and spend my days hunting down every person who has ever harmed you. Every single product of what you call your marriages, I would find them and slay them, one by one. I would make them suffer… I would take so much pleasure in their suffering, I would make their dying very slow." His arms felt very heavy when he embraced Vivec, and his shoulder still smelt like the bug musk they had bought for him, an ugly clash with the caravaneer's odor that permeated him. "What do I wish to drive out the Nords for? It was not the Nords who hurt you. I should pick a different foe. I cannot be the one meant for this… I cannot believe she laughed at me."

"I've a better idea," Vivec replied, nuzzling into Nerevar's chest. "Go fight the moons with an axe, if you want a different enemy."

"Ha, ha. I would rather fight the moons than fight… her. I take no joy in… but there's no other way. There's no other way, Vivec. It must be this way. This is the only way to reach my goals."

"Reach heaven by violence, then." And they fell asleep together all the same.

There were many more firsts in the coming days: Vivec's first time trying a sweet roll, Alandro Sul's first time meeting a Nord. Nerevar held a meeting with the Ra'athim noble that Sotha Sil had referenced, who turned out to be distantly related to him, and schemes were hatched, and plans were laid, and each day seemed to grow a little shorter and darker. They learned Mournhold like learning a new instrument, becoming slowly acquainted with the subtle manipulations that made the Queen's court move. They changed so swiftly they hardly noticed the transformation.

One day they received a loan from the Ra'athim noble and went to the market to buy a gift for Nerevar's would-be betrothed. Vivec stared very hard at shelf of fine daggers and pretended not to hear Nerevar asking the clerk about Almalexia's first duel, her fighting styles, her armor, where one could buy a better sword in town. They came away with a splendid little ebony letter-knife, which Nerevar cheerfully joked his future fiancee could find some peace in keeping, lest she ever decide she need to stab him in the back.

Then finally there came another first: Vivec's first time seeing Almalexia cry. The day came to issue the ultimatum of the hand or the sword.

It was almost more jarring than seeing her laugh. Almalexia did or weep feminine tender tears of royalty; she wept in wroth, anger turning her face as bright as her hair, her brow furrowing, her hands clenching into tight fists as Nerevar once more laid out his grand scheme for the liberation of the Chimer. He presented the future: he, the King of Mournhold, using the authority of office to foster an alliance with the Dwemer. He, using the power and influence of her city and her legend to foster an alliance between all the Houses. A prophecy inevitable, her only choice to make in it between his side or her grave. She sat very still and very straight in her throne all the while, taut as a trapped nix-hound, mute tears running in tidy single-file down her reddening cheeks.

Once more, Vivec only watched her. He watched carefully the quiver of her shoulders, the glint of green in her narrowing eyes. He watched a tear get caught on the gnarl of the scar in her face-- she had earned it at her first duel, Sotha Sil had told them, she wore it like a badge of her own strength-- then he turned his gaze to Sotha Sil, who stood stonily behind her like an executioner. This time he did not hang his head.

So the ultimatum was delivered. Almalexia was silent for ten seconds, then thirty-- then she stood and, quite calmly despite the dampness of her face, she ordered Nerevar to be gone from her sight. Nerevar left with the confidence of a victor; Vivec, however, remained rooted to the spot.

It was then that Almalexia seemed to notice Vivec for the first time. She was trembling when she approached him, and her voice shook:

"I never thought I would see you again," she said to Vivec, who had never been addressed by her before. "Yes, Sotha Sil told me who you are. I believed I would never see you again."

Standing so close to him, Vivec could see that she was not much older than he was; aside from her jewelry and fine clothing, her face was very plain, her chin vaguely Nordic, her eyes more green than yellow and boring into him with the same intensity he sometimes caught in Sotha Sil. He watched her take a deep breath and caught her lip quivering, as if she were resisting the urge to yell at him, or strike him, or simply howl. Words escaped her. She could find nothing to say to Vivec for a long time.

"Do you know me?" she finally demanded.

"I've never met you," replied Vivec, and it was the first time he ever lied to her, too.

#i am so out of practice lol #tw coerced marriage #almalexia #vivec #indoril nerevar #fic #sotha sil

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spideyanakin · 2 years

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hihi can I request a angsty-fluff fic with Eddie?

Cheerleader!popular!reader and Eddie are friends, he always makes her laugh and smile 24/7 , and Eddie is inlove with her (let’s say since first year of high school) when he was about to confess his feelings for her, he saw her talking to a jock and that made him realize he wasn’t enough for her so he backed off

Reader noticed this, and confronted him. And he confessed his feelings about her and with something along the lines “your a queen, and I’m just your joker.” Then obv reader says she also likes him and they date :D

Let me be your Harley (archived version)

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader + popular!reader

Author's note - for the sake of this fic let's pretend Harley Quinn appeared earlier in the DC universe :)

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Eddie Munson masterlist 🌻

Find the rewritten version here

Eddie Munson never thought he could have a friend like you.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined being best friends with the prettiest girl in school, let alone someone who also happens to be a cheerleader.

But there he was, on a random Tuesday evening, a joint dancing back and forth between his fingers and yours, babbling about lord of the rings.

"What do you mean Legolas is an asshole?" You chuckled as you took a new puff, Eddie watching as your cheeks hallowed and you half exhaled by your nose before making the rest of the smoke come out of your mouth, stealing a new drag before handing it to Eddie.

"You don't remember that moment in the two towers where he legit let Aragorn bend down to listen to the earth and struggle and stuff and waited for him to come to the conclusion that indeed a whole ass army was headed towards them, and Legolas was just 'oh yeah I can see them from here, I've known about them for ages."

"Oh yeah, I remember" You laughed. "But he's not an asshole for this. Legolas is one of my favorite characters" you frowned a little.

"He's a good character, but elves can be assholes in general in lord of the rings"

"Don't shit on the elves, Munson" You hit his chest with the back of your hand, a new fit of laughter escaping you both.

At this moment Eddie couldn't help but stare at you. You had this giddy high smile on your lips and shiny eyes. Your hair was loose and you were still in your cheer uniform. You made eye contact and Eddie thought he was going to pass out.

His heart leaped in his chest and somehow he knew, he knew that he couldn't keep his feelings to himself for much longer.

He had already been head over heels for you since the first time he saw you in that high school cafeteria. He knew he would die for you the second you exchanged words for the first time and he had struggled to let the words 'thanks' and 'bye' in the same sentence, causing him to mumble something in between.

He had to pinch himself every day since the moment Mrs. Smith had paired the two of you for a school project and you had decided Eddie was a worthy friend.

He didn't even know how in the world you had anything in common in the first place.

But you always took him by surprise. He didn't even think it was possible for someone like you to feel so familiar with what was in his room the first time you stepped in it. And he certainly didn't expect you to look at all his tape collection with wide eyes and watch as you excitedly pointed to almost all of them adding an 'oh my god you listen to that too?', or 'this is one of my favorites!' and he'd watch as you'd ask permission to put said tape in his player and turn up the volume.

Needless to say, Eddie knew you had been sent from heaven right this moment.

Or maybe you were sent from hell, destined to torment him. For him to fall helplessly in love with you just to never get a chance.

But you liked him back right?

right?

"God, I wish I could join hellfire." You blinked and turned to him. "I wish I could play an elf too. I have so many ideas for my character..."

"I wish you could too, princess"

And that marked the end of a perfect evening with you.

You would go back to your house, take a shower and wash your uniform in poor attempt to hide that you had been smoking. You would make yourself something to eat and do your homework, reminiscing of how off being in the cheer squad started to feel.

Your friends felt faker and faker by the second, dancing in a green skirt and pom poms didn't feel right anymore, it didn't feel like you.

That morning, Eddie came to school with his intention set. A poorly written speech of what he wanted to tell you crumpled in his jacket pocket.

He felt nervous ever since he woke up with the thought that this was the day. This was it. He would ask you on a date today, and he would jump into the potential abyss of ruining your perfect friendship or finally being able to call you his.

It took him some serious pep talk and maybe even a bit of weed for courage. But he was determined to meet with you in the woods like you usually did if you wanted to talk during school hours. He would sit you down and offer you half of his Twix bar 'how romantic' he thought, and once a comfortable silence had fallen between you, he would try and see if his mouth would let him let the words out.

He would try to tell you how wonderful you made him feel, or every little detail about you that made him go crazy. Explain to you how his heart did flips and butterflies flew into his stomach when he was with you. He would ask you out, maybe even let it slip out that Hellfire needed a queen.

But exactly when he was heading to your locker to slip in the small 'meet me in the woods at lunch' note: he saw you.

His face fell.

Your hair was tied with a green ribbon, a bright smile plastered on your face as you spoke with Chad.

He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose as his world began to crumble around him.

He was the real-life version of a Ken doll. Perfect brown hair that would make Steve jealous if he was still in school, a pearly white grin that made Eddie's stomach twist, and crystal blue eyes.

He was everything Eddie wasn't. He was a jock, probably had perfect grades, money, and everything else Eddie hadn't. Everything he lacked that you deserved in someone.

The way you smiled as your conversation went on was enough for him to back away and throw the poor little piece of paper in the trash. He tried to burn out of his mind the image of him leaning in towards you, his arm leaning on the wall beside you, blatantly flirting with you.

He walked in the opposite direction, realizing that he didn't deserve you. You were far too high in the Hawkins High food chain to even consider dating a guy like him. How could he have been so stupid?

But you made him high on love. High on the hope that you could be an item. So lost in his love for you that he was brought back to reality the harsh way.

You needed someone like Chad. Someone with a good reputation and who don't take rides in the back of police cars on regular basis.

You might have similar taste in music and common interests, but that was about it. The only reason you were even friends with Eddie in the first place was because of your similar tastes in music, but your social circles weren't compatible. He felt like a fool to even think he could have a chance.

He felt enough like a fool, he didn't need the pain in his heart to become worst by having you around, even if the look in your eyes every time he canceled your plans only stung worst.

Three weeks into his poor cover-ups and attempts to push you away and he only felt miserable. No amount of Ozzy or Dio was enough to forget the pain. No amount of times he would attempt to drown himself in the new Metallica album as he tried to learn the chords on his guitar could attempt to heal the you shaped hole in his heart.

He watched from the far end of the hellfire table. You looked perfect as always, but what he hadn't realized was that something was off. You had trouble eating and didn't find sleep easily lately. The thoughts of what you could have potentially done wrong for Eddie to act so distant with you munching at your stomach.

But obviously, he didn't see it. He couldn't see it. You would hide behind your perfect cheer uniform and constant fake smiles.

But even if someone could see the pain hidden behind these smiles, Eddie would refuse to believe he had been the cause. In his mind, he was simply a useless passing villager in your game of life. He thought of himself to be like one of the background characters he invented for his campaigns.

Boy if only he knew how wrong he was...

On the second day of the third week, you decided you had enough.

If Eddie was going to ignore you, you at least needed a reason. Something to justify the pang in your heart each time your eyes landed on him.

So you held your books a little tighter in your hand, your pink nails gripping them tighter as you made your way out of the cafeteria. You watched from a distance as Eddie spoke with one of his fellow hellfire member while walking towards his locker.

The bell rang and as usual, Eddie didn't move. He took his time, stuffing his drug-filled lunch box into his locker before trying to sort out through the mess of stray paper and notes he might need for the afternoon.

You closed your own locker, telling your friend that you needed to do something before class so she'd leave you alone.

The hallway fell empty apart from Eddie who hadn't noticed your presence. If he hadn't ignored you, maybe you would have smiled at the way he was figuring out what his own handwriting was saying. You would have cracked a joke about how he was muttering to himself. Something about this not being the note he was searching for before tucking it back behind the mass of unorganized notebooks.

Eddie didn't expect to see your face when he closed his locker. You had made your way to him right as he pocketed the scribbling he had done for history and tucked his 4 colored pen behind his ear.

"You're ignoring me" You stated.

He was staring right at you with his big brown eyes, mouth half opened.

God, he wanted to run away. You being so close to him while he was trying to bury his feelings felt intoxicating.

"No I haven't"

"Yes, you have." He watched as your face fell a little, more pieces of his heart shattering in the process. "Have I done something wrong?" The way you frowned was overwhelming. "I promise I didn't mean to."

He had to close his eyes to stop himself from wanting to rip his hair out or cry.

You were blaming yourself, for something that was all him.

"Y/n, of course not- you could never do anything wrong-"

"Then why are you ignoring me" Your tone might have seemed firm but he could tell the way your voice wavered.

You were hurt.

And it was all his fault.

He sighed and managed to meet your eyes again.

"Because I'm not good enough for you Y/n." You blinked.

"What?"

"I'm not good enough for you!" He lifted his voice a bit. "Y/n- you're- you're perfect. It's as if god had taken everything that's just perfect and made you- and then there's me, who is everything but perfect. A freak who was apparently meant to fall for someone he cannot have." He rambled. "Because Y/n" He looked into your eyes, a look so intense it almost gave you chills. "You're a queen, and I’m just your joker. And The Joker cannot fall in love with the queen of Gotham, she deserves Batman, the handsome Bruce Wayne. Not the madman."

You swallowed as you realized this was a love confession. Eddie was rambling on about how he reciprocated your feelings but thought you could never. How low he was talking about himself made your heart ache and anger bubble at the pit of your stomach for all those bullies at Hawkins high. Because your Eddie deserved the world, and he most definitely deserved someone like you. He even deserved the entire of Gotham to be at his feet.

"Harley Quinn is his queen." You took a step closer to him. "Her and the Joker made a pretty good pair the last time I checked."

Eddie felt the air pull out of his lungs as you spoke, his brain attempting to comprehend.

"What do you mean?" He breathed out, watching you get even closer to him.

"Let me be your Harley." You brushed his hand, making goosebumps travel up his arm. His fingers slowly interlaced with yours, eyes getting glossy. "I might be the Queen of Gotham, but I'm far from wanting a Batman."

Before he could blink again, you were already on your tip toes leaning in for a kiss. You were already lowering yourself back to your normal height before Eddie registered what happened.

But when he did, his lips were on yours again - chasing for the kiss he had been dying to steal from you.

Eddie thought his brain was overheating. Not even 10 minutes ago he thought every chance he had with you had been long gone, sunk deep into lovers lake with the other broken romances and unrequited loves.

But there he was, kissing the girl of his dreams in the middle of a school hallway.

"So, I'm really perfect?" You smirked as you pulled away from the kiss just for Eddie to chase your lips again, muttering 'Yes' in between kisses.

Eddie finally pulled away when the information had fully registered

"How in the world do you like me back?" He blinked in disbelief.

"Because you're perfect?" He shook his head no. "your perfect for me Eddie." you leaned in again. "Even if you don't believe it- you are"

Be added to my taglist

@lepologannie @marsbars09 @lyn07 @aprorios

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #stranger things imagine #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things

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troublefemme · 5 months

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How’d you get your nails to grow so long and healthy?

so, sorry in advance, this is gonna be a bit long.

First thing would be to avoid acrylics and other nail extensions that involve filing the nail bed. That fucks up your nails so much, even if your nail tech says it doesn't, it really does, they can become extremely weak. And I'm saying this from personal experience, I've only ever gotten acrylics once and it took me about a year and a half, perhaps more, after that and a lot of patience to get back to where my natural nails were before that. And the only way out once you've done that is cutting and starting from 0.

I think press ons are fine as long as you or your nail tech are really careful with how you do them. I mention this mostly because I understand how frustrating it can be to wait for your nails to grow, so press ons can help with that frustration without messing up your nails in the same way extensions do.

Oiling your nails helps a lot too, I use coconut oil on my nails, but I know jojoba oil is also really good.

The shape is kind of important as well, in my experience square shaped nails are more likely to break, I think it puts more stress on the nails, so I like to go for a nice almond shape as soon as they get long enough to shape.

I'm very careful with my manicuring, I change my nail polish multiple times a week and I can't guarantee mine is the best way to do it, but this is what works for me:

- I always start with removing the nail polish, washing my hands and cleaning my nails and then oiling them all over (and on the back of the nail) for at least 30 minutes before wiping off the oil;

- then I apply a base coat and mine is supposed to help keep the nails strong and help them grow (I don't know how much of that is true, but it works for me). Overall start with a good base coat.

- next is my colour, I apply no less than 3 coats of colour, every single time, no matter how sheer or how pigmented. I also don't use gel varnish, I use one that's a two step kind, so there's the colour -step 1- and the top coat -step 2-, the top coat helps it dry (it dries so quickly!! And stays shiny the whole time). *

- I'd keep your manicuring to 5 to 7 layers, 5 works just fine for me (1 of base coat, 3 of colour, 1 of the top coat). It gives me some security with using my hands (adding a little strength to my nails, because of the amount of layers, so it kind of protects them a bit from impact) and it lasts a decent amount of time. **

Oiling your nails at least once a day. I do it before I go to bed and it helps a bunch because I don't like the feeling of the oil on my skin.

Now, taking a "from the inside to the outside" approach:

if you can, check which vitamins your body might be needing, that might be in the way of your nails growing and making them weak. My body is always low on iron, vitamin d and vitamin c, so I've been adding them to my diet through supplements. If you can't be specific like that (I mostly am, because I have to see my endocrinologist for my diabetes regularly and he always asks for blood tests), there are supplements that are more general for nail and hair growth.

I hate saying this, but my diet has also been significantly better along with exercising, so that might have contributed to it.*** Which is to say:

eat some veggies if you can, drink your water, you know, keep it simple so it doesn't become overwhelming and don't restrict yourself (that can be a slippery slope), baby steps are already good enough.

Oh, also avoid opening things with your nails, like soda cans etc, use a spoon or something like that.

Also, if you can, leave your cuticles alone.

I think that's it and if I remember something else I'll add, sending you so much love ♥️

*this two step situation is slightly pricier than classic/regular polish, but way way way cheaper than nail extensions and even gel. So overall, maybe more steps, but also cheaper and I really enjoy having a "me time" doing my nails and use it as self care, so I think it's fun.

**I don't do my layers too thick, so they don't look weird, just enough to cover the nail.

*** I didn't start exercising and eating better for the nails, I'm just aware that that might have helped.

#femme hands #ask

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kaitoujokerscans · 10 months

Text

Get Back Hachi’s Memories! CH1

Notice!!

"Tonight, I'll come to take the diamond 'The Monster's Heart' from the Harmony Theater's performance of the play 'The Tragic Monster'!

Phantom Thief Joker"

<1> Getting Along (?)

A round moon hung in the night sky. The silence of the night was broken by a loud yell which rang through the living room of the airship Sky Joker.

"I'VE HAD IT! I won't forgive you for this, EVER!"

The yell came from a boy of short stature. An aqua-colored hood covered his head, and the ninja outfit he wore was of a similar aqua color. Below his shiny metal headband were two round, shiny yellow eyes. Yet those cute round eyes were presently filled with flames of rage.

"Enough! You've absolutely crossed the line this time! Please apologize, Joker-san!" The boy pointed emphatically at a young man in a red suit.

Tufts of silver hair spiked out from under his azure silk hat, and his cool cobalt eyes sparkled. Atop his red suit, blue dress shirt, and yellow tie ensemble, a brilliant letter "J" shone on his lapel. The young man's name: Phantom Thief Joker!

Joker flapped the purple cape that hung off his back and, raising his gloved hands up to shoulder height, jeered at the ninja boy in front of him.

"Nooooo way! There's absolutely no chance I'm gonna apologize to you, Hachi!"

"Why not!? It was your fault, Joker-san!"

The boy called Hachi kept a hostile tone as he glared at Joker. Hachi was Joker's assistant in phantom thieving and was a descendant of the Fuuma ninjas.

"Hmph, it wasn't just me though! Besides, why have I always gotta apologize to you anyway!?"

"Excuse me!? It's because you always do things that merit an apology in the first place, Joker-san!"

"I'm sick of bowing my head to you all the time. Oh, I've got it! I'll apologize for everything at once at the end of the year, so just let me off the hook 'till then."

Joker's suggestion only added fuel to the fire of Hachi's anger. "HAAAAAAAAH!? That doesn't make any sense! I just want you to apologize for what happened today! And you're not being repentant about it at all, either!"

"Then I'll come up with some repentance at the end of the year too."

"'Come up' with it!? You really don't feel guilty at all, do you!? There's no point in receiving an apology if you're going to be like that!"

"There, see what I mean? Then there's no point in me apologizing now."

"ARRRRGH! You're constantly twisting my words like that... Joker-san, you have no empathy for other people whatsoever!"

"Yeah I do. At least, I can tell that you're angry. I just think that there's no reason for you to be that angry."

"Joker-san, that's not a good excuse! One day you're going to regret hurting people's feelings like that!"

"No I won't."

"No! You're definitely going to regret it one day!"

Hachi kicked and swayed his legs and arms as he argued. In front of him, Joker just scratched his own cheek with a weary expression.

"Sheesh... would you give it a rest already? It's almost time to get to work... If you keep whining at me, I won't bring you along."

"Mrrgh... I'm not going!" said Hachi, puffing up his cheeks and turning around. Then he picked up the round green creature which had been watching the argument.

"Hosshi, have some konpeito." He opened up a jar filled with candy and gave it some. Hosshi was Joker and Hachi's pet.

"Hosshi♪" Hosshi seemed to have no interest in the argument. With an adorable smile, it started to chow down on the konpeito which Hosshi had offered.

With a stunned look, Joker asked Hachi, "What? You're not tagging along to my job?"

"I'm not going! Do whatever!"

"Oh, so that's how it is."

"Go ahead by yourself and get yourself into some awful mess! Don't come crying to me—" Hachi turned around, only to find that Joker had vanished. "Huh...? Joker-san?"

Hachi looked all around. Then he heard Joker's voice from the transmitter in the living room.

"Then I'm headed off on my own!"

"Wha-!?" Shocked, Hachi looked out the window. There, against the darkness of night, Joker was holding a large balloon overhead and floating in midair.

"Heh heh, looks like it'll be smooth sailing tonight! 'Cause there's nothing weighing me down!" Joker taunted with a devilish smile on his face, then began his gentle descent downward.

As Joker shrank into the distance, Hachi puffed up his cheeks and squeezed Hosshi tight.

"H-Hosshi!" Hosshi squirmed around in discomfort.

Hachi yelled out at the top of his lungs. "FINE, BE THAT WAY!"

Joker lightly descended through the cold night air. The "Balloon Gum" which he was hanging onto was one of his phantom thief tools. When chewed, it would fill with a gas lighter than air and form a bubble just like gum. If held up high, this bubble could float up carrying the weight of one person or so. It was an essential tool for approaching a treasure's hiding place by air.

Yes, Joker was about to steal a certain treasure. Usually he'd be filled with excitement before a job, but this time he was annoyed.

"Tch, what's Hachi's problem!?"

Joker had acted carefree earlier, but to tell the truth, he was angry inside. The reason for this was, naturally, the argument they'd had.

It all started about an hour ago.

Joker had just cleared Stage 7 of the recently-released video game Big Brawl Battle Smasher 3 after an all-night session and proceeded to knock out cold. He woke up again after noon and, still bleary, wobbled into the living room. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the table set for lunch, when suddenly he caught sight of "Stage 8" on the console screen and couldn't tear his gaze away. Even stepping away for a little while meant that he might be missing out on something. The first few days after a game's launch were crucial. He couldn't risk getting spoiled during the hype.

"Joker-san, at least put the game away during meals, please," reproached Hachi as he prepared more side dishes to go with the omelette rice.

"Oh quiet, I'm at a good part."

"Geez... I put all the effort into making this and now it's going cold. Is there anything else you want to eat?"

"No, I'm good. Could you stop bothering me?"

"Good grief..." Hachi wearily sat down and quietly started to eat his lunch. Next to the table, Hosshi eagerly munched its konpeito just as quietly.

His eyes still glued to the screen, Joker finally reached out to grab his spoon... over five minutes later. His omelette rice had already cooled off.

"Hm... ah, there's an item over here too..."

Deftly using his left hand to continue playing, he lifted a spoonful to his lips. He mechanically deposited the sustenance into his mouth. It was obvious that he hadn't registered the taste at all. Seeing this, Hachi sighed.

Then Joker seemed to realize something and abruptly said, "Hachi, soy sauce."

"Soy sauce?"

Looking again, Joker had a deep-fried fillet left over from last night's dinner held with his chopsticks. The soy sauce dispenser in front of him was empty. Apparently it had just run out.

"Joker-san, I thought you liked worcestershire sauce with your fillets?"

"I'm in the mood for soy sauce right now. Hurry it up."

Predictably, Hachi was offended by this attitude. "No. If you want soy sauce, please get it yourself."

Hearing this, Joker took his eyes off the screen and scowled at Hachi. When he saw that Hachi was ignoring him and eating his own food, he threw out a "Hmph. You're mean." Then he stood up, game console still in hand.

"Sheesh, where is it..." Glancing back at his game regularly, he opened up each of the cupboards in turn and at last found a soy sauce dispenser on an upper shelf. "Finally, there it is."

Joker set the game down to the side and stretched on his toes to get the dispenser. Just as his hand touched the dispenser way in the back...

A ding came from the console. It was an alert that let him know he'd found a new item.

"Oh, a new item!"

Prize in hand, Joker got off his toes too quickly and the dispenser brushed up against something. A moment later, there was a loud CRASH! of something smashing against the ground right where he was standing. He looked down and saw that that "something" was a small wooden box. The box had been hit by the dispenser and fell down. Whatever was inside had been broken.

"Oh, oops..." Joker stared at the box with a guilty look. Hearing the noise, Hachi and Hosshi ran in.

"Hosshi?"

"What was that sound!? ...AAAAAAAAH!" When he caught sight of the wooden box, Hachi rushed over to pick it up. The rattle of broken pieces came from inside. Hachi gently opened the lid to reveal the shattered pieces of some kind of tableware. It was a light brown color, and judging by the size, it had probably been a cup. It looked like it had something written on it, but the shattered pieces were small enough that deciphering the words would be difficult.

"Aaah..." Hachi was crestfallen. He picked up the shards with his small hands and sighed deeply. His shoulders dropped with disappointment.

Beside him, Joker blithely said, "Sorry about that! It got nudged."

"Uuhrm..."

"I was trying to get the soy sauce, but then I got a new item, and when I pulled the dispenser out, the box must've gotten pulled along with it."

"......" Hachi didn't seem to hear. He just stared at the shards inside the box.

"But it's not totally my fault, y'know?"

"Huh...?" These unexpected words from Joker made Hachi turn around.

"'Cause that was a pretty dumb place for you to put the soy sauce in the first place, yeah? And if whatever that is is that important, then you shouldn't've put it so high up. No wonder it fell."

"What...? You mean it's my fault for putting them there?" Hachi asked back, hardly believing his ears.

"Not exactly, but I'm just saying it wasn't just my fault. Oh, another new item!" The game console had dinged again. Eyes glued to the screen, Joker started back for the living room.

"Ah, bring the soy sauce, would you?" Joker didn't even spare a glance as he moved away.

Hachi screamed at him. "JOKER-SAN!"

"? ..." Joker stopped in his tracks and turned around to see Hachi standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips and a terrible fire in his eyes.

"Say you're sorry!"

His menacing stance was enough to startle Joker. "Eh...? I already did, right? I told you 'sorry'."

"That's not good enough! Please give me a genuine apology!"

"Huh? Whaddaya mean?" Something about Hachi's forceful tone set Joker off too. "I said it. And it's not entirely my fault. Don't get so up in arms over a crummy old teacup."

"Wha... Excuse me? What is with your attitude!? Say you're sorry! I'll have you know that teacup meant a lot to me!"

"Well, I can pay you back for it right away. I could steal you an even better one sometime if you prefer." Joker tried to grin at Hachi.

"That's not the issue! You broke something important to me, so it's only polite to give a proper apology first! Or is even that beyond you?"

"Say what? Don't talk to me about politeness. Anyway, I'm busy. Save it for later," said Joker, switching his attention back to his game and walking towards the living room. Hachi ran after him and cut him off, blocking his way.

"Apologize!"

"Sheesh, you're stubborn. Will you drop it already?"

"No, I won't!"

"Ohhh, fine. 'I'm sorry.' Does that work?"

Joker's patronizing tone made Hachi boil over with anger. He wrenched the game console out of Joker's hands and hurled it at the living room sofa.

"Are you crazy!?"

"I'VE HAD IT! I won't forgive you for this, EVER!" Hachi yelled, louder than he had ever heard him before...

That was what had led to the current situation.

As he observed the neon lights of the city sprawled out below, Joker clicked his tongue. Okay, maybe it was my fault a little, but he didn't need to get so angry about it...

Well...... maybe I was a little too caught up in my game...

This wasn't the first time that Hachi had nagged at him. Usually he was so uptight about the smallest things that Joker just backtalked on impulse. Maybe the pent-up frustration from all those times had made Hachi stand his ground and speak up this time. And that made the blood rush to Joker's head too.

It had devolved into a back-and-forth after that. Joker had ended up raising his voice too and was now stubbornly determined to not apologize.

In retrospect, maybe he was to blame for everything after all. He could turn back and go apologize, but he just wasn't feeling up to it right now...

"Well, whatever. Hachi'll be in a better mood if I have a good story to tell when I get back," Joker said out loud to himself. Then he twisted around and leaned his body in to descend. Up ahead was the Harmony Theater, the recipient of his latest notice, illuminated with dazzling spotlights as tonight's audience was admitted inside.

...But this time, Joker should have called it off. If he had gone back immediately and apologized to Hachi, disaster wouldn't have struck. At this moment, Joker had no idea that something terrible had just happened to Hachi back at the airship...

#kaitou joker #light novel

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