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hiddenlife-manager · 1 month

Note

I beg i beg i beg, i’ve read your latest Carlos fic repeatedly, PLEASE give me a part two, please please please i know it isn’t everyone’s taste but ITS MINE PLEASE

Carlos Sainz Jr Anal x femReader

cw... raw, cock, nsfw, anal sex, slight praise kink, creampie in ass, plot, hair gripping, hair pulling, simple sex due to injury, soft dom carlos, overstimulation, lube usage, lack of female pronouns, and lack of breast mentions, etc

notepad... hehe you ask and you recieve I wanted to go with a slight softer point of view in this due to his appendix being removed. I am like down for an anal series cause when i tell you I HAVE A LIST OF POSITONS. Anyway one down of the two stories I am writing for this month.

Part One

“He did it again. Carlos Sainz has won the Australian Grand Prix.” You heard an announcer state through the monitors hung on the walls in the Ferrari garage. You shook your head and placed your hands on your head to breathe for a moment. This race left you stressed, your mind worrying only about Carlos's current condition. What comforted you was seeing his car cross the checkered line, which allowed you to see Carlos was perfectly fine. You fanned yourself off rather quickly and rushed off with the rest of the Ferrari team to join the crowd.

Carlos drove his car into the garage and got out slowly, with the help of others, due to his inability to move rather quickly. He pumped his arm up in the air, walking to the crowd of all his team members; they hugged and cheered his name for this amazing win. The group high-fived or hugged him to celebrate. He eventually reached you, hugging you tightly, not letting you go for even a second, still wearing his helmet. Your lips kissed his hemelt, saying goodbye. He took his helmet and neck support off and celebrated with Lando and Charles before heading to the podium while you clapped the entire time.

The entire day was filled with interviews that he had to participate in. Carlos's win was important for multiple reasons; it showed his worth as a driver and also made him the only person so far to break current world champion Max Verstappen's streak. Yet he finally arrived back at the garage and walked slowly, his one hand resting on his side, where his appendix was and where the bandages currently are. He embraced you, allowing you to give extra support by placing your arm behind his muscular back.

“Another win for Carlos Sainz Jr., and right after getting his appendix removed, it is quite impressive.” You spoke with nothing but a joking tone. He looked down at you and kissed your lips quickly. “Amor, cállate.” He laughed while the two of you walked to the car. You helped him in carefully and couldn’t help but laugh just a bit.

“I am simply stating a fact. Perhaps all drivers should get their appendices removed. Well, except for Alex, his appendix is gone.” You two sat beside each other in the car, his hand slowly going up your leg. He didn’t care if he had his appendix removed or just raced; he wanted his part of the deal. Ever since the first time he made it to the podium, he wanted his gift. It had been four times in total, and now he wanted it again. “Recuerda el trato.” He whispered in your ear; he knew speaking in English risked the driver hearing it, and you had learned the saying, so you knew what he was saying.

Your lips were on his the moment the both of you entered the hotel room. The door shut behind you two, but you made sure to be careful with Carlos. You were well aware he was still recovering and was feeling slight lingering pain. You grabbed his hand the second you two stopped kissing and slowly walked him to a chair. You sat on his lap, being careful.

"Carlito, I will never forget,” you smirked, kissing his neck and slowly going down his body. “Besides, I have been planning the best way to do this.” Your hands reached his zipper and slid it down. His cock came out, and it was clear he was worked up. You heard him let out a gentle breath, but no moan. You wanted to take your time, but knowing Carlos, he just wanted to be with you. You sat up, walked over to the luggage, and pulled out the lube. You tossed it to him, and even if he was recovering, Carlos never missed it and caught it with ease.

“Amor, you are truly rushing.” Carlos paused but chuckled, shaking his head and running his hand through his dark and soft hair. He opened the bottle and squeezed it onto his cock. You walked over to him. You were still standing, and Carlos was sitting staring up at you with his signature smile on his lips. Your hands touched his cock and began to spread a generous amount of lube. “I don't mind, eres mia after all.” He groaned and threw his head back. Your hands were working around his cock, and smirked.

“You love this, Carlos. I know you're sad. You can’t fuck my ass every single day.” He placed the bottle to the side and grabbed your hair, pulling you up and kissing your lips. He let go of your hair and placed his hands on your hips, rolling through your dips. He helped you onto his lap so you didn’t hurt him. You decided to just rely on the lube his cock had, knowing it would take longer for you to get him in you.

You slowly lowered your ass onto his cock and groaned as you gripped his shoulders and fell forward. He didn't care; he loved how weak you got. You moaned as you slowly made him enter and stretch you out. You were clearly struggling to take him in. You got him half way into you, but you had to stop. You pulled yourself off of him and were breathing heavily.

“You can take it.” He whispered in your ear, caressing your hips, and you fully put yourself on his cock and moaned loudly. You couldn’t believe how good it always felt. You were out of breath from him being inside of you. Slowly, you started to go up and down, moving the way you knew he liked it. You rolled your hips each time you went down on him, and you could hear his soft grunts. “Perfecta…” He groaned as you were slow.

“Love being on the podium, Carlito?" He smirked as he kissed your lips and held your hips to go up and down at a faster pace. You were a mess from the way he was softly praising you; he loved your body so much that he desired this more than any man. His hips slightly buckled up into your ass, and he was able to pull out a louder moan from you. Your hips went faster while moans began to slip from your lips, and he continued to kiss you, attempting to disguise the moans through kissing. It was clear he was feeling just as weak as you were; the feeling of tightness was overwhelming, and he loved your thighs against his.

“Si, si asi!” He groaned as you went faster and faster on his cock. You were grabbed onto his shoulder with one hand, and your other pulled at his hair, gently snaking up from behind his neck. He smirked as you were being very vocal through moans but no words. He may have just gotten out of surgery, but he needed this; he needed you and your ass. You had everything he wanted. He continued to praise you in Spanish.

“Me vengo!” You moaned. He loved you using the Spanish that he taught you. He placed his lips on your neck and began to suck as he took over, fucking your ass. You were clearly slowing down, and he would continue as you shook. Your orgasm hit you hard, and he cared very little, his cock ramming into your ass, your arms holding onto him weakly. “So much…” You moaned, but you were nothing but a mess, moaning and crying out loud. He loved the noise you made. It was clear you were perfect for him. He eventually felt himself get closer and closer, ramming harsher into your ass until he came inside your ass. You let out one last sigh of pleasure as you fell on him weakly.

“I need to teach you more Spanish words.” He pulled out of you, and he helped you off him as you leaked his cum, and he kissed your neck. “Estoy cansado y tu.” You nodded, and he was still weak from his surgery, but he sat there, hugging you tightly and brushing your hair with his hands.

#fanfic #x reader #oneshot #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #ferrari carlos #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz jr #cs55 x reader #cs55 smut

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missmeinyourbones · 5 months

Text

HOOKED ON HER FLESH

cw: afab!reader, fingering, pussy job, penetrative sex, pet names used (pretty girl, baby, etc), suckin and fuckin in the bath, raw fucking but this is not real so practice safe sex my friends

The click of the front door is dull, and Rintaro can feel the burn in his calves when he bends down to place his gym bag beside the few pairs of tossed shoes by the entryway.

If you were on the couch like he'd half expected you to be, you'd scold him for leaving it there knowing one of you always trips over it. But you're not.

It's late, almost 11 PM when he returns home from a long day of training. The apartment is dim and oddly still when he weakly calls out to address his presence. With still no answer, he makes his way down the dark hallway with nothing but the kitchen light illuminating the space.

The second place he checks is the bedroom.

Weirdly enough, you're not there either. But before he even gets the opportunity to worry, he spots an outline of light shining through the closed bathroom door in his peripheral.

Quietly entering the bathroom, he's not all that surprised to find you sponging in the water, eyes closed and hair carelessly clipped up.

You're not asleep—he can tell by your breathing. He notes the glass of red slightly sipped on as it balances on the back ledge of the toilet.

He leans against the door frame, admiring you while he can before you shy away and refuse to let him. It's somewhat muggy in the room from the steam, and he gathers that you've been marinating for a while based on the drops of sweat beading in your supple creases and cleavage.

When the nippy draft of the open door finally makes its way to you, you crack your eyes open and jump a bit at the unexpected figure in the doorway.

Your face cushions a bit when you realize it's him, "God, you scared me. When did you get home?"

"Just now," he placates, making his way over to kneel beside you at the edge of the tub. That singeing ache returns in his calves, but he doesn't seem to care when he's this close to you, counting the steam droplets adorning your cheeks and eyelashes.

You're heavy with sleep when you reach for him, "How was practice?"

He hums in acknowledgment, letting his thumb trace your jaw in a gentle touch.

"Nothin' special," he shakes his head before smiling a bit at your drowsy murmurs. "Tired, baby?"

You nod along against his hand, "A little, yeah."

Opening your eyes, you admire your lover; he's tired too, the subtle lines of worry and fatigue marking his handsome face. Your eyes flicker to his blunt bangs, damp and sticking to his forehead.

Your fingers find them easily, brushing them off of his eyebrows and causing him to crinkle his nose. "You already showered?"

"Yeah," it's his turn to close his eyes. "Took a quick one before I left. Figured it was easier."

You seem pleased with his answer as you relax further into the water. "Good, 'cause I really didn't wanna have to get out."

He shakes his head in amusement, fingertips gently caressing your eyebrows and lids when he asks, "Why're you even in here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You only take baths if you're like, stressed or something."

"Not really stressed," you breathe, though the sigh entwined in your words betrays your point, "just wanted to relax a bit. Feel like I've been a bit wound up these past few days."

Rintaro nods but bites his tongue. His mind filters through the handful of times you've been a bit snippy with him this week. When he forgot to take out the trash and you called him annoying. When his shower went on just a few minutes too long, leaving the hot water merely lukewarm and you cursing at him. Just this morning, when the two of you were buzzing around the kitchen preparing for your days—he used the last of the milk in his coffee and didn't write it down on the grocery list, resulting in a glare from you and a passive-aggressive nudge towards the notepad on the counter.

As if noting the gears turning in his head, you whisper above the sound of water gently sloshing beneath you as you readjust your legs over the side of the tub.

"I'm sorry I've been kind of a bitch."

Rintaro chuckles and it sounds like love. His tone is light and airy when he squeezes your hand in solidarity, "I like you a little bitchy."

You roll your eyes, though both of you know it's harmless, and a warming silence comfortably overtakes your tiny apartment bathroom.

Rintaro thinks he's subtle, and maybe he is to anyone who isn't you, but you know him, and you know that his tender touches trailing from your hand to your leg are filled with both love and something a bit more desperate.

"So," his hand slowly caresses your damp leg as it dangles outside of the water, "wound up, huh?"

A glare is sent his way but the smiling pulling at your lips encourages him.

"Can I help?" His thumb applies some pressure to your calf, rubbing slow circles to the tender muscle and ears perking up at your soft sighs.

"You don't have to, you're probably tired and—”

He interrupts your weak restraint with a rough whisper against your cold ankle, "I'm never too tired to make you cum, let's get that straight."

He hears you kiss your teeth as his vulgarity, "I'm just saying, I'm okay."

And Rintaro does what he does best, and doesn't take no for an answer.

"Well, what if I want to?" he purrs against your skin, "What about my needs?"

"Your needs of making me cum?" you scoff behind a smirk.

"Exactly."

Sitting up a bit to better see you, he prompts you to uncross your legs with a gentle pry of his hand. You obey and spread yourself against the front of the bath, heels against the sides of the cold ceramic as he slips a sluggish hand between your thighs.

He can feel the slick already forming submerged in the water as he teases an experimental finger through your folds. Taking his sweet time, he brings his thumb to brush against your untouched clit, and grins like a wolf when you whimper and jolt at the slight friction.

You hear Rintaro laugh through his nose. "Yeah, you're okay?" he smugly prompts.

You close your eyes at the feeling, too needy to care about his mocking, "Shut up."

You can't see his smirk but you know it's there all the same. He plays with you without any urgency, mindlessly enjoying rolling your nub between his pointer and thumb, greedily inhaling each and every one of your gasps and mewls.

Once he's pleased with his mess of you, he allows a fingertip to just barely dip inside of your heat. Painfully slow and deliberate, he lets it barely sink into you before it pulls itself out, repeating the movement slowly.

He's fucking with you openly, giving you a sinful taste of the feeling you're addicted to without any actual benefits of it. You know he wants you to break, and you can't even bring yourself to put up a fight with your dwindling restraint slipping through your pruney fingers.

With a prod of his finger that goes just slightly deeper than the rest, you whine in frustration and reach for his arm.

"Rin," your hand wraps around his flexed bicep, to both steady yourself and prompt him to do more.

He ignores your pleas, continuing to give you just enough to squirm and thrash at his repeated actions. He knows your lack of patience at his hand—if he hadn't made you so greedy, you'd just take what he gives you.

But Rintaro learned long ago that he's a weak man when it comes to you. He's always going to give you exactly what you want—he's just going to be annoying about it first.

He lets it continue for a bit longer before you finally whine and dig your nails into his bicep.

"Stop—fucking doing that…need—” your words falter into tiny little whimpers as he continues a steady pulse on your clit.

"Need?" his eyebrows raise in a delight that mimics the devil.

You go to close your legs in instinct, but Rintaro's free hand uses its palm to hold you open. The still water in the bath splashes against your movements as your chest heaves with a need that he's not even close to giving you.

Somewhere between mocking and comforting, he tuts and coos at your frustration. His fingers stay steady as he kisses your neck, licking the sweat mixed with citrus-scented salt from your relaxation.

He taunts, "Gotta use your words, pretty."

"Need you," crawls pathetically from your throat, "you asshole."

Rintaro smiles, baring fangs you're not one hundred percent sure are actually there or not. For once, he says nothing as he finally sinks a full finger into your eager cunt.

You gasp at the pressure and he follows suit, almost mimicking your hiccups and whimpers as if he too feels what you feel. With every exhale of yours, he's unashamed in inhaling the sweet sounds, trying to savor them by tasting them for his own.

One finger turns to two, and time doesn't exist as you're rocking against his palm and losing yourself between the splashing water and his mouth on your neck.

"Look at you," he presses kisses anywhere he can, "my pretty baby."

I'm—fuck," your legs try to jostle shut again but they're unsuccessful as Rintaro continues his pace.

"It's okay," he sweetly mocks your shaky attempts to reach your high. His teeth move to sink into the outside of your thigh when he tells you, "Just relax for me."

Feeling you clench around him in a manner that's far too familiar, he changes his movements in a way he knows gets you there every time. Curling his fingertips upwards and lingering a bit too long against that spongey ribbed spot inside of you, you nearly jump out of the water at the harsh sensation.

Suna laughs, holding you down as your nails sink into his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself.

He continues against your feeble tries, mentally checking all of the boxes for when he knows you're about to lose it. When you get to the babbling nonsense and begging for quite literally nothing stage, he decides it's time.

A gentle kiss prods against your temple, "Talk to me, pretty."

"Feels good—so fucking good, I—” Your back arches and flexes against the water, desperately trying to reach your approaching high.

"You gonna cum for me?" he breathes through a smile.

You can't speak, nodding furiously and mindlessly as you feel yourself reach your peak. The churning inside of you unravels like a wave, and you can feel your hips bucking themselves upwards without meaning to for the sake of release.

Your lover doesn't let up, rubbing and curling and cooing you through your high. You don't even hear him, can barely feel him anymore as he milks you for all he can before giving you a break and moving his loving touches to your legs and neck.

"Feelin' good?" he's out of breath from watching you perform for him.

Between how tired you were before, let alone how hard he'd just fucked you on his fingers, he expects you to be spent. He's undeniably hard—only human, after all—but with the way your eyes can barely stay open, he mentally plans to get you settled in bed before leaving himself quickly and joining you.

But he's never been more willing to be wrong when you whisper against his bicep, planting wet and messy kisses across his skin in an attempt (as if one was even needed) to persuade him.

He can feel you beam against his skin when you mewl and pant, "Think I need the real thing now."

"The real thing?" his voice octaves in a condescending sweetness.

You're pulling at his cloth-covered torso when you groan, "You know what I mean."

"That wasn't real? You left fucking crescents on my wrist—”

"Rin," you cut him off with a groan, looking up at him all teary and needy and so fucking pretty he thinks he could cry. "Please?"

You watch his chest inflate with a sharp inhale as his eyes rake over your malleable form. His tongue skims his canine when he chuckles and shakes his head.

"Fuck you."

He's undressed and on top of you in the water within seconds.

"Condom?" he heaves into your neck, practically swallowing you whole between breathy groans.

He feels you shake your head and he kisses his teeth in aggravation. "What'd I say about words, baby?"

"No," you nearly hiss, before following it up with a velvety, "just wanna feel you this time, please."

Rintaro groans into your chest and subconsciously bucks his hips against you, "Fuck, okay. Okay, baby."

He takes his time when lining himself up with you, letting his pink tip acquaint itself with your puffy folds like it's the first time. He feels a pull inside of him that egnites when he realizes, it's not the first time, and over his dead body will there ever be a last.

He watches beneath the water as his pre-cum smears itself all over your pussy, sticky and webbed as it dissolves under the water. He flicks himself across your clit, tapping heavily against you when you softly cry at the sensitivity. He lets out sounds of amusement at your feeble protests.

"Don't—” you hiccup as he runs his shaft between your folds, "—be a dick."

"Shut up," he quickly kisses your lips, "I got you—"

As he breathes, he unhurriedly sinks himself into you, relishing in the way you both inhale one another at the stretch. Breathing in one another's gasps and shivers, he lets himself ease in and out of you until he's completely bottomed out and pressing his weight onto your abdomen to hear you shiver.

It's all sweaty kisses and desperate licks as you meet his movements, pulling as he pushes and taking everything one another can offer. And it is everything—you'd never give anything less.

You can tell he's slowly losing his composure, but he does a good job of keeping up with his long and intentional strokes. He means to leave no inch of you untouched, wants you to remember the feeling every time he's away and you find your hand snaking its way between your legs.

"I love you," falls from your lips like the wine you neglected from the untouched glass that sits a few feet from you. And Rintaro swallows it greedily, tastes its rich red and white and pink before spewing it right back for you to keep as your own.

His thrusts become more sloppy and frantic as he feels himself reaching the brink of his climax. "I love you, shit—love you, I love you."

He comes in bursts of heat and desperation, and with a few more needy strokes and circles on your clit, you follow suit behind him. Spent and sticky with cramping limbs in your tiny tub, Rintaro coddles you through shaky whimpers and sore muscles.

"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes between kisses, to you or himself, he doesn't think he'll ever know the difference. "My baby."

Touches turn lazy and tender, and breathing is now slow and steady when Rintaro adjusts himself with a groan and sits upwards. He reaches for your unattended wine glass, taking a strong swig and raising his eyebrows in jest when you roll your eyes and laugh at him.

He then holds it to your lips, gently leaning your jaw back as you take a sip of your own. You swear that his eyes have stars in them, and while you don't know it, yours gape the same right back at him.

Sinking into the water on the opposite end of the cramped bathtub, he grabs your leg and hooks it upon his shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss to your ankle before letting his head loll to the side.

"This water's fucking freezing now," he mumbles, eyes closed.

But his spirits lift when he hears you giggle at his declaration, opening his eyes and smiling behind a scowl to catch you lazily tossing your head back in amusement.

"It was nice before you got in," you shrug, rubbing your ankle against his ear just to watch him whine at the motion, "so it must just be you."

Rintaro hums in faux agreement, turning to weakly gnaw on your calf before kissing the crescents indented from his front teeth.

"Keep it up and I'll keep your pruney ass right here all night."

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x you #suna smut #suna rintaro smut #suna haikyuu #suna hq #suna fic #suna rintaro fic

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cinnbar-bun · 5 months

Text

Together (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Summary: As the "mom" and "dad" of the Red-Hair Pirates, you and Beckman have a lot of work on your plates. (Un)Luckily for you two, your crew decides to meddle with your relationship (again).

A/n: A gift for my friend, @fanaticsnail . Enjoy the first mate, darling <3.

Notes: F!Reader, kinda of a will they-won't they type thing. Everyone is shipping it just Beck and Reader lowkey refuse to admit it. Lots of fluff and teasing. Reader is referred to as 'mom' and Beck as 'dad'.

Word Count: ~3k

You can read on my AO3 here!

“Dad! Mom’s being mean to me again!” Shanks loudly yelled while he was chugging more bottles of rum. The first mate sighed at the nickname but didn’t even bother to turn around and face his captain.

“(Y/n)?” Beckman called out.

“Yes?” You replied, the other members of the crew staring at you both with wide smiles and bated breath.

“Smack him for me,” Beckman chuckled. Shanks let out a faux-offended gasp as the deck erupted with laughter.

“You’re so mean to me! How could my own first mate do this to me?!” Shanks whined as you pat your poor captain’s head. He pouted like a little kid before he took another swig of his alcohol.

“That’s just what you get, Captain!” Lucky Roux laughed. “You know Beck won’t ever disagree with (Y/n)!”

“Well some of us need to be the adults around here,” Beckman retorted. He held two mugs in his hand, one filled with his coffee, the other prepared just for you. For the first mate, it was practically routine to make your morning drinks for you. He silently handed off your mug to you, and you took it with a hushed ‘thank you’. “Are you still making the list?”

You nodded while going over the notepad in your hand. “Tomatoes, potatoes, onions…”

“Don’t forget to add some carrots, since someone,” Beckman’s eyes narrowed at Limejuice, “burned them all.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault! I thought you eat them if they were black!” Limejuice tries to explain.

“They’re carrots, you can eat them raw!” Beckman shouted in exasperation. “You guys are going to kill me one day!”

“Oh, don’t be too harsh on them, Beck,” you try to soothe the first mate. “I can always take care of cooking duties, anyways.”

The men nodded, eager to have your cooking as a guarantee instead of whatever slop they would make in their often drunken stupor.

“Thanks, mom!” Yasopp cheered. “You know we love your cooking!”

“Not happening,” Beckman deadpanned. The men slunk their shoulders and groaned.

“Why not? (Y/n) makes the best food!”

Beckman rested a hand on his hips. “Because (Y/n) is already busy taking care of a majority of the duties on this ship. I’m not having her overwork herself because you guys couldn’t figure out that carrots are edible.”

Shanks put down his drink and nodded. “I have to admit, it’s pretty true. Beck has a point.”

“Thanks, Capta-”

“So I guess if you want (Y/n) to cook, you need to start picking up the slack!” Shanks proclaimed. “That’s a good compromise, right?”

You shrugged. “I-I mean, it’s really not necessary, I can cook, too.”

Beckman placed a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “(Y/n), they’re grown men, they can do their own laundry and dishes. You don’t need to do everything.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you chuckle. “‘Dad’.”

“Not you, too,” he groaned. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“I know, but it fits you.”

“‘Mom’ fits you as well.”

“Okay, you two, get a room!” Shanks laughed. Beckman glared while Shanks waved him off. “Anyways, why don’t you two take care of the shopping today? The men and I will handle things back here.”

“Are you sure? But Yasopp was saying-”

“Bah!” Shanks laughs off your concern before rummaging for a bag of coins. “Yasopp wasn’t planning on doing anything. Just take your time and get whatever you guys want. I better see you two relaxed and having fun when you get back!”

Beckman made a puzzled face as he took the bag of money. “You’re not slick, Shanks.”

“What’re ya talking about, Beck! I’m just saying, you two should take it easy today. You guys keep this ship and crew running. As captain, it’s only natural I let my best mateys have a day off every once in a while. I’m not some tyrant, you know?”

You stifle the laughter in your throat and and close your notepad. “Well, we really can’t complain, Beck. Let’s enjoy shopping for a bit.”

“Sure thing,” Beckman relented. He made sure his pistol was strapped to his belt and put the money into his pocket. “You got the list?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. I heard this island is supposedly famous for their bread. If we’re early enough, we might be able to snag some right from the oven,” Beckman comments. Your eyes widen.

“Really? We gotta hurry then.”

“Bye mom, bye dad!” Shanks waves with his remaining arm, causing the other members to rush back to the deck to see you off.

“Bye, you two!” Lucky Roux waves his stick of meat. “Don’t have too much fun!”

“Don’t stay out too late, lovebirds!” Yasopp jokes.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll not bring any rum back,” Beckman threatens.

“Aghhhhh! MOM! Do something about him!” The men whine to you while some of them boo and chide Beckman.

“Bad, Beckman, bad,” you chuckle as you and Beck begin to walk down the ship.

“You’re right,” Beckman plays along. “I’m just a horrible, terrible first mate.”

“The cruelest first mate around.”

“Mhm. And what does that make you? Just as bad?”

“Probably.”

You two go through the streets of the island, taking in the sights. It isn’t long before the sweet smell of bread begins wafting through the air and taking hold of the both of you.

“Oh man, they weren’t kidding,” Beckman mumbled after inhaling the smell.

“I think that means we came just in time,” you grin, excitedly walking up to the door of the bakery. You marveled at the selections within the store, as well as some of the bakers making the bread behind the counter.

“Wow…” you tap your chin. “Maybe we should get some brioche.”

“They do have flatbreads, too. We could get those for a meal,” Beckman hums thoughtfully.

“With tuna?” “Now you’re cooking. Add that to the list for our next stop,” he commented, and you nodded before writing ‘tuna’ on your list.

“I’ll add some rice as well,” you say.

Soon, it is you and Beckman’s turn to order, and you two greet the old woman working at the counter.

“And what can I get you two?” You begin to place your order, before turning to Beckman.

“Do you think we should get anything else?” You ask, glancing back toward the display of pastries. Of course the first mate caught that and nodded.

“Two pastries,” he added. “You want that one, right?” Beckman pointed at your favorite pastry and you smile bashfully at the fact he knew what you liked without you having to say a thing.

“Yep, that one,” you confirm. The old woman grins at you two and begins to package your bread. Beck takes the box of it to carry, and promptly thanks the woman. Afterwards, she puts your two pastries in a small, wax paper bag and hands it to you. She sighs contentedly and has a nostalgic look on her face.

“Oh, you two remind me of the good ol’ days. May your love stay with you forever,” she wishes. The sentiment catches you off-guard for a brief moment. “Sorry, we’re actually-”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Beckman thanks her. Your eyes widen as he smiles at you, and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips, either. You wave goodbye to the woman and exit the bakery with Beckman.

“Why’d you say that?” You ask, curious of his intentions. He shrugs, but there’s still a playful grin on his face.

“Felt natural,” is all he says as you two continue down the street. You rummage through the paper bag and get out the pastry he ordered for himself, one made with figs, and hold it to his lips. He stops his mindless chattering about things to get and leans down to take a bite.

“Mm, that’s so good. They got good figs,” he mumbles with a mouth full of pastry. You laugh at his silly behavior and wipe some of the crumbs off his chin.

“Let me try mine.” You take out yours and bite into it, melting at the exquisite taste of the pastry. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

“Right?” He says enthusiastically. ��We have to come back here again and get some more another day.”

“We should bring some back for the crew next time.”

“Nah. Let’s keep this one our little secret,” he winks at you.

“You’re a very cruel first mate, Beck,” you tease.

“Well, can you blame me? They won’t taste as good without you eating them with me.”

“I think I have to agree.”

The day continues on like this, with you two continuing to shop and cart around box after box of supplies for the ship. Beckman and you have practically inspected every item for the freshest produce, meat, and fruits for the crew. Thankfully, you two are the most organized and efficient members of the crew and are practically finished before lunch.

“Did we grab coffee beans?” You ask, looking at your list again.

“Right here, dear,” he answers, showing you one of the bags.

“Okay, good,” you check off another box. “Is that really it?”

Beckman looks over your shoulder to see the list and the boxes all around you. “Would you look at that… guess we really did get everything.”

“I mean, this looks like all we need, but we did it so quick,” you say, admittedly wanting to spend more time with the first mate.

“We did. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t send Roux and Yasopp to do the shopping.” You laugh as you remember the time when those two went to get the supplies, only to come back near midnight with only the most expensive of alcohols and hardly any food. From then on, Beckman had set a rule that if anyone messed up that bad again, they’d have to pay with their own coin.

“Should we head back, then?” You ask.

“If you want. I have no problems walking around the town with you,” he replies.

“Considering you’re pushing that cart, I think we should go back and drop the supplies off.”

“It’s not a problem, (Y/n). This is pretty easy to pull,” Beckman assures you.

“Still, I-” you begin, before Beckman places a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay,” he states. “I’m happy to keep walking with you. After all, even our captain said we should enjoy ourselves. I don’t see any issue with us taking a bit longer to go back.”

“You really mean it?” Beckman nods.

“I do mean it. I enjoy our time together, and it’s rare we get the time to just do as we please.”

You hesitate for a moment then nod at him. It is true, as a pirate, especially in the crew of a notorious Yonko, moments of peace are rather rare and fleeting. Not having to fight for your life or the world is a nice change of pace every once in a while.

“Okay. Where to next?” You ask as Beckman leads you deeper into the city. The shops are more refined compared to the street markets near the port, leading your eyes to wander. You gasp and stop in front of a display window when you see a gorgeous selection of bracelets. Some are made with gold, others silver, and another with a shiny, black material. Beckman notices you frozen at the display and makes his way to you.

“Come on, let’s go in.”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just looking.”

“Don’t be so modest, (Y/n),” Beckman urges. “Go try one on.”

“I don’t have the-”

“Nope. No more excuses,” he shakes his head as he opens the door to let you in. You step into the store, amazed at the beautiful jewelry surrounding you. A salesperson greeted you and chatted with you about the bracelets you saw on display. They pulled out the displays for you to try on and you debated which one to pick.

“Hm…I think I want to try that one on,” you point at the gold bracelet. The salesperson clasps the bracelet gently on your wrist and you marvel how it sparkles under the light. “Beck, what do you think?”

You show off the bracelet to him and he stares at it with a surprised expression before he composes himself. “It looks great on you.”

The excited look on your face makes his heart beat faster as you tell the salesperson you want to buy it.

“Good choice. I do want to let you know we are currently doing a promotion for this particular set. If you buy another one, it’s 50% off.”

You turn to Beckman expectantly. “Do you want to get one then, Beck? We can match!”

He examines the bracelets. “I don’t know, I don’t think they’d look that good on me.”

“Hey, you can’t pull that trick on me after you made me come in here!”

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles. “I think I’ll try this one.” He picks out the black bracelet and puts it on. He looks impressed with the jewelry and his face softens as he looks into your eyes.

“Well? Does it look alright on me? Definitely doesn’t look as good as it does on you,” he jokes.

“It looks great,” you look back into his eyes as you press your wrists next to his. “I think this should be another of our little secrets.”

“I’m starting to think my bad behavior is rubbing off on you,” he smirks, as he goes to pay for the jewelry.

“Maybe it is, Beck,” you respond as your eyes are locked on your matching bracelets.

The afternoon is spent wandering aimlessly in this town. You two visit nearly every shop, walking and chatting about everything under the sun. Things like memories, what the crew was possibly up to, to even the most mundane topics like sweets and how you like your eggs prepared.

It feels simultaneously too short and like an eternity between the two of you. He continues to lug around the cart of supplies and other things you two bought in your impromptu shopping trip, never looking any worse for wear. He doesn’t care to focus on something like that when he’s with you.

The sky is beginning to turn a bright orange and pink as the two of you finally manage to get back to the ship.

“Wahhh! Mom and dad are back!” Roux yells as the men cheer. Shanks leans over the edge and smiles at you two.

“Well, well, I didn’t think either of you had it in you to take a break!” Shanks admits. “We all started placing bets on if you would be back by noon.”

“I was saying midnight, for the record,” Yasopp shouted.

“You guys are so immature,” Beck chuckles while shaking his head. “We just explored some of the shops. Got a few things.”

“Anything fun~?” Limejuice says.

“Bowls?” You lift a few of the new bowls you bought at a store.

The men throw their hands up and groan. “Really? Nothing else?”

“Nope,” Beck lies, making them all quiet. He scans the deck and notices it’s rather clean compared to the smelly and alcohol-ridden floor. “So, you guys actually did clean up, hm?”

“Yeah! Course we did!” Shanks proudly exclaims. “I told you we’d handle it. Now where’s the rum-”

“When we have dinner.”

“Ugh… why are you the worst?”

“Don’t be like that, Shanks,” Beck crosses his arms. “(Y/n) and I won’t be around all the time to handle everything. It’s good for you guys to learn to take care of the ship.”

Yasopp sighs. “Always so mature and level-headed, I tell you.”

“You’re so lame, Beck! How does (Y/n) put up with you?” Limejuice whines.

“Mom, tell Beck he’s boring and needs to be cooler!” Hongo cries.

“Enough complaining, help put these supplies away,” Beckman points to the boxes. The crew begins to do as told while you and Beck start unloading some of the supplies. As you do so, Shanks calls your name.

“Hey, gorgeous bracelet. Where’d you get it?” He asks, loving the gold on it. You jump when he mentions it and look at Beckman, who gives a simple nod.

“Just got it from the shops. It was on sale.”

Shanks nods and lifts your wrist closer to inspect the bracelet. “Wow, it really looks great on you.”

“She would hardly step into the shop until I made her. She was eyeing that the whole time,” Beck teases you.

“Not the whole time, exactly,” you try to explain. “It just was pretty, is all.”

Beckman lifts a box up to a shelf and Roux loudly gasps, surprising everyone.

“Beck!”

“What? What’s wrong?” You and Beck say at the same time. Roux has a knowing smirk on his face as he points to Beckman.

“You got a matching bracelet, too!” Roux shouts. Shanks and the other men gasp and move in closer to look at it. As Roux said, the black bracelet on Beck’s wrist matches yours perfectly, and the men howl in laughter. Some even begin to exchange money as you and Beck are mortified at their behavior.

“You guys seriously made bets?!” You cried.

“It was just a simple one!” Hongo admitted.

“And who was the one who said they were doing more than just shopping for food?” Yasopp rhetorically asks.

“You were also the guy who said they’d return at midnight. You lose half,” Roux retorts as he takes the money in Yasopp’s hand. Shanks huffs as he also gives some money to Roux.

“So like, did you two confess?” Shanks asks hopefully.

“For the last time- we’re not dating!” You and Beck shout in unison.

“Could’ve fooled me. You guys act like you’re married.”

“You guys are in so much trouble,” Beck sternly tells the men as he steps closer to them.

Some of the men begin to scream in horror. “Whaaaaa! Mom! Save us!”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #x reader #reader insert #shanks and the red hair pirates look at reader and beck like “mama y papa. mama y papa.”

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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 1 year

Text

All I Wanted - Part 1

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence

Part 2

A/N: this is like my first fanfic in a while, and first on tumblr (yay!) any tips and tricks would be so helpful!

this also plans to be a series but posting might and will be inconsistent, thank you in advance!

You always had a difficult life. Being abused by your parents up until you ran away at 13. After you ran away, you got in with the wrong type of people, promises of hope and money, food and validation was all they needed to say to get you hooked in their business of organised crime. Some good came out of it however, they gave you a home and how to defend yourself. They taught you how to shoot a gun and the best place to make someone bleed. They taught you nothing else mattered except them, they became your new family.

You were 15 when you were tasked with transporting a couple crates of weaponry and drugs. The organisation you joined knew you well enough and practically raised you to be the strongest you were. So one cargo ship to Amsterdam later, you find yourself in a rotting, metal warehouse, wearing pink apparel, pink puffy skirt and a white hello-kitty shirt. A baby pink cardigan is draped over your shoulders and over-the-knee white knitted socks. A chrome covered knife strapped to your thigh.

“Zus, how much for it all?” he stood across from you, a cigarette lit between his lips taking a long drag as you assessed his question. His black, slicked back hair elongated his face and the three piece suit almost made this deal professional.

“How much are you offering?” was all you said as a small smile graced your lips, ‘the higher the offer, the better’ you remember being told before you left. They weren’t the best weapons but they were definitely worth at least a couple K.

“25”

a grimace, “80”

a growl, “40”

a hum, “55”

“65. Final offer,” his teeth were bared, almost like he was sweating already.

A sinister, sweet smile stretched across your face, “Wonderful, and how are you wanting to transfer that?” out of seemingly nowhere you pulled out a notepad and pen, writing down the bank details before you gave him a pointed look, “You have one week to transfer the money, or I will have your head.”

His face paled, almost embarrassingly so. For how innocent you appeared to be, you knew how to handle yourself in these situations. You turned to walk away, the sound of baby pink mary janes clacking against the concrete as you bounced towards the rusted metal doors, sliding them open as you looked back at the man one final time, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” and leaving.

You were good at your job. It was easy, for the most part. Gather intel, pass forward that intel. Transfer somewhat illegal items from one holder to another. So it comes to you as a bit of a surprise when you exit through the dusty doors when a bullet wizzes past your face, luckily just missing you. Swiftly pulling out the hand-gun out your waistband and shooting in their direction. You wish you had your sniper, but it was left in the hotel room you managed to stay at.

As you shot in the direction of the fire, you failed to notice someone sneaking out behind you, kicking your knees in. Dirt caked your socks as the grip on your gun became loose. Acting as quick as possible, you flipped onto your back, retching the knife from its holster. Before you could act, black invaded your vision as you felt pain shoot from your head. Shit.

White light invaded your vision, a grumbled swear leaving your dry lips at the pounding in your head. "Jesus Christ," your wrists hurt, rubbed raw by the shitty metal handcuffs they strapped you in, "Whose bedroom did you get these out of? Couldn't even afford good quality cuffs?" fell out of your mouth before you could think to stop it. No one reacted.

It was a van, you could tell that much. The interior white with small wooden benches lining it. Two men sat on either side of you whilst the other two sat across. From what you could make out, another pair sat at the front, driving to this unknown destination.

Maybe you should have been more scared. More begging for them not to hurt you. Four big, burly military men could definitely kill you much easier than you kill them.

They studied you like you studied them. The one on your left was most likely the oldest, a fisherman's hat upon his head and mutton chops-moustache combo was the dead give away. He had his eyes closed and arms crossed across his chest, legs spread wide.

You couldn't make out the one on your right quite as well. A black balaclava with painted white skeletal teeth paired well with the upper half of the skull mask he wore. He seemed to be in a similar position as grandpa, although he had an ankle resting on his knee instead, head tilted back against the cool metal of the van.

The two across from you seemed younger. One had a darker complexion, his eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression. He was smaller than the rest but no doubtfully as strong.

Lastly was the man with a mohawk. His eyes bore into you the most, not so angry and more trying to figure out who you were. Breaking you apart and putting you back together with his eyes. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. His face morphed into one of slight surprise before rolling his eyes and looking towards the front.

It was quiet. The hum from the light ticking like a clock in your ear. Trying to gauge where you were and how much time had passed, your foot started tapping on the floor.

"Stop," A gruff voice said suddenly making you jump before mumbling a sorry at the skull-faced man. It was quiet again. It numbed your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Gravel sounded under the tires before voices outside sounded, signalling your arrival.

The doors pulled open, sunlight shining in. As mohawk and shorty left, skully pulled your arm to tug you along out with him, a short yelp escaping past your lips at the action.

You tripped over your feet, pins and needles shooting up your legs from sitting for so long. "Can you be gentle?" you spoke as you found your footing, "Please?" it was tacked on at the end for at least the tiniest bit of sympathy.

Skully looked down at you as he continued to drag you towards what you hoped was a five-star hotel with bed and breakfast. At least your death would be a quick one.

The halls blurred together until you were sitting in a leather chair in someone's office, back to the door, although you felt the looming presence of the men behind you. Mutters were heard outside before the door clicked opened, footsteps and a click again.

Gramps stood in front of you, leaning over the dark stained oak table. He had a file in his hand, putting it on the desk before sliding it over to you. "What do you know of El Sin Nombre?" it wasn't as much of a question than you'd like but an order for information.

Your mouth was so dry it felt like you swallowed cotton. As much as you wished to answer him, you look at him with furrowed brows and a confused expression. It took you a couple minutes before words formed in your throat, "Who?".

He didn't enjoy that answer. One of his hands slapping on the desk as he seethed, repeating the question again as if that would change your answer.

"I don't know who that is! I can't help you," you felt that burning sensation under your eyes as you desperately tried to convey your emotions. Tears meant weakness, and that's the one thing you didn't want to show to your captors right now.

Pairs of eyes hammered into your head. You felt like a child again, staring down at your toes being told off for not doing the dishes or not being quick enough to grab a beer. You braced for the hits, the punches to your ribs as you made promises that fell on the deaf ears of your mother and father.

"Price," A voice sounded behind you, soft and comforting. An accent coated the words that flowed through the air you didn't pick up on. The more time passed the more your eyes stung, tears slipping past your defences. Shoulders shaking as you try to curl into yourself, strings of "I don't know" and "I'm sorry" being nothing more than mumbles.

The room grew cold and quiet as you sobbed. Footsteps couldn't be heard over your own cries, so when an arm wrapped around your shoulders, you jolted. Expecting this is where you get hit. Bracing for the impact and sting they usually brought with them.

Instead, the arm pulled you into their chest, hugging you close and stroking your hair, along with shushing you softly. It only made you sob harder. When was the last time someone hugged you like this? Sure, you got the occasional pat on the back for a job well done, but never an embrace like this.

Time passed through your fingers like sand, not knowing how long you sat there for before you calmed down. The arms didn't pull away until you did, cringing at the wet patch you left on the man's shirt. Speaking of, you looked up to see mohawk looking down at you, eyes soft and an equally soft smile. "Y're alright now lass?" his accent leaked into the words, a curt nod allowing him to pull away and stand up again.

A heavy sigh sounded above you as you dragged your eyes up to meet who you presumed was this 'Price' figure. "What’s your name?"

Gears turned over the question in your head, thinking of an answer. Technically, you lost your name when you left home, gaining a couple new names at the gang.

Your silence was taken for an answer. "What are you doing in Amsterdam?" this you could answer.

"A business exchange. I'm just the messenger, I don't know any of the customers - I promise! - I just get the money and dip. I promise I can't help you-" you were hyperventilating at this point.

"It's alright sweetheart, deep breaths, calm down for me, yeah?" Price's voice was gentle now, seemingly not wanting the same thing to happen.

"Can you tell us where you're from? Who you work for?" He asked once he saw you calm down.

"Uhm- I'm from England. And I don't really work for them but I'm a doberman. They're some organisation that took me in," you weren't really interested in going into full depths of your life with these complete strangers.

Although, you felt the gazes lift off you and onto Price, his own eyes looking back at his men, a million silent conversations happening right above your head. Price inhaled sharply before he asked his last question, "How old are?"

"15." The air knocked out of his lungs.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty fanfic #x reader

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luveline · 9 months

Note

okay this is so specific but!! 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 with remus and shy!r who has bad hand eczema? mine’s flared up today cos I’ve been washing my hands too much and it’s so awful </3 maybe r is shy about it and doesn’t want to tell remus but he notices anyway and then insists on looking after her 🤍🤍🤍

weirdly enough, I also get eczema on my hands so this was really fun for me! tysm ♡

"Could we share? I've forgotten mine," Remus asks, nodding to your textbook.

You push it in the middle of your desk. Remus was a friend before he became a lecture mate, but something about sitting next to him in such close proximity sets your nerves on end. He can see every line and wrinkle, all the details. Like your sore hands.

You tuck them between your legs. You and Remus follow along as the lecturer reads from the textbook, glancing up when she shows a diagram in more detail on her huge projector screen.

"I've been meaning to ask you, are you okay? You're quiet today," Remus whispers, his gaze on the screen.

You sneak a look at his nice jaw and the triangles of his eyelashes. "I'm okay," you whisper.

He meets your eyes. "You sure?"

"Fine. Sorry for being quiet," you say, turning a page of your textbook. Eczema, especially on your hands and fingers, feels raw sometimes, itchy, a platter of bad feelings, and even something as simple as turning a page hurts.

"Oh, is this why you're unhappy?" Remus asks, sliding his hand under yours. He holds your pink with his thumb to display your palm. "It's getting sore again?"

You hate for him to see, but you're too shy to take your hand back. "It's not that bad."

"It looks painful," he says sympathetically.

Remus doesn't touch the disturbed skin lining your palms, the pad of his thumb running carefully down the side of it.

"It's disgusting, I know," you mumble.

"It's not disgusting." He puts your hand down gently, reaching under the desk for his bag. You freeze as his face ducks down. "Your hands are tired, that's all."

You bring your hand back to your chest. Remus digs for something, and when he sits back up, he asks, "Sorry, can I see?"

"There's nothing you can do," you say.

"I brought you something." Remus pushes you're textbook and notepad back to place a round object on the table. It looks like stick deodorant. "That's what I use when the scars on my stomach get dry. It's a new one, though. Didn't think you'd want to share." He smiles at you tentatively. "It really helps me, it might help. There's no harsh chemicals I promise."

You don't know what to say. In silence, you read the label for irritants (just in case) before you uncap the balm and rub it over your palm, dabbing so as not to drag the skin. It doesn't feel nice to touch but the balm helps soothe the itch, which is enough to ease the pinch from between your brows.

"That's for you to keep," he says, giving your elbow a friendly shake. "If you hate it, chuck it away. But I can get you another one if it works, angel. Okay? Let me know."

You swallow around a lump. It's nice to have someone care so much. "Thank you very much, Remus," you say quietly.

"Don't, 'cos I'll want to give you a cwtch," he admonishes in a whisper. "I'll owe you one after. Shit, don't have a pencil, do you?"

Only later do you realise that, despite how ill-organised Remus was that morning, he remembered to bring you the balm he bought especially for you. When he offers you the owed hug, you wrap your arms around him and melt.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

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qvrcll · 6 months

Text

fluff, mention of alcohol + ib @sourcherryandsprinkles (check out their fic 🫶🏽)

coriolanus snow feels the sweltering heat of the hob reach up to him. he’s barely made it in two steps past the entrance, when sejanus takes off to a darker part of the activities. snow swivels his head, taking a mental note of where sejanus perches himself against a bar, but chooses against joining him.

no, he would much rather lie back here, where the music could reach him just fine. like waves.

he picks up a glass that seems full enough to the eye: the liquid swishes violently when he shoots it down his mouth and he needs a minute to savour the taste. he’s not inclined to remembering much of the academy here, choosing to focus on only getting out, but something feels familiar. an act he is piecing together carefully, meticulously, as bodies rush past him to join onto the dance floor. he feels himself already getting light with the facade he’s wringing raw. bloody, even, between his fingers.

would they believe him? would they let him go home? let him see trigris and grand’maam one more time? would a class act ever profess to the same standards twice?

amongst his own, rotting worries, is when he sees you. not much quieter than the covey band on stage, not much louder than the crowd that followed - no, he could have lost you easily to the ruffles and the swills and the laughter. a mere stranger, much too adjusted with her tongue. but he’s curious as you approach his table.

“hi, boys. what can i get you for today?” you click your tongue, inserting a pen between your fingers and jotting down what the other men present as options of drinks. he tries to focus, clears his throat and nods along some common choice of beverage and ah, there’s polish on your nails. scarlet and running dark, a noteworthy shade amongst that of other district folk. were you like lucy gray, a performer? or were you much like what he ran from, a class act?

but he’s far too taken to knowing who exactly you are when he sees you cut a smirk in his direction. it’s subtle and over in quick succession, but it makes him oddly glad for the shift.

“what?” he asks with a charm rebuilt, barely concealed fortitude crumbling when you play with your notepad. the edges of the papers you taunt with your fingernail are frayed and tearing slightly, but you still work a quick smile that sets his alarms and worries for the brighter horizon that will surely come tomorrow. really, your pretty face has him forgetting all of the quells for a minute and, instead, scope out what exactly you want from him.

you shift your garments about, meeting his eye with some supposed challenge, “haven’t seen someone like you around these parts of the district. you new?”

he nods, “yeah, i’m… new to this peacekeeper business.”

“you been to the hob before?”

“no… not exactly, no.”

“not exactly?”

he plays with his fingers, itching the skin softly, “just heard a lot about this place. it’s nice.”

“more than nice, just you see,” your pen clips to the notepad and you hark a smile at him, working your way around the men and onto the next table. your eyes beat with a play he isn’t familiar with, one that makes him follow you with his eyes alone, “you have a good time now, mr. peacekeeper.”

“it’s snow. coriolanus snow.”

“coriolanus,” you seem to taste the name beneath your teeth, testing it tolerably and nicely, “has a nice ring to it.”

it’s the rest of the sickly sweet night that he’s thinking of you. you’ve got a sweet demeanour, a smart mouth - something worth thinking about over a drink. the hob is not quiet but not bustling either, with patrons filtering out one after another. some drunk, warm faces sit still at tables, some dance to a slow rhythm up front. sejanus leaves for a while, but snow leaves it as unnoticed. what he does notice is you in his peripheral.

you’re wiping tables, which strikes him suddenly as odd. odd that he still has the chance to catch you whilst you’re on hours. surely, you still remember him? he’d told you his name, but never breathed so much as yours. would you be freaked by his interference?

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” your voice is suddenly closer. you’d crossed across the bar whilst he was meandering between freakish and urbanity, and now stood smiling at him, a rag clutched at the hip. he swears his breath catches against a row in his throat, but snow catches himself quickly.

“me? must’ve overestimated my ability to drink,” he smiles, genuine since his days of relegation and spite, missing and borrowing, “are you still working?”

“hm, but i got a few minutes on the clock. then, i’m free as a bird” when he hears you say this, his ears redden with attention. you’d be off in a few minutes?

“why, you wanna take me on a date?” you ask. and he spirals. and you let out a bark as he goes red from head to feet, his fingers itching his temple as he smiles. all polite and bucking at the seams, “i’m only joking, coriolanus. coriolanus - did i say it right?”

he finds your chatter endearing, meaning in every bit of movement between the two of you, “you say it just perfect.”

he could’ve sworn he saw a flush work up those cheeks of yours, but then again, he could be losing more than just his mind. some level of sensibility, too, maybe. still, he rises to a level of action he has never been since the poor tributes, the days of reaping - maybe its initiative. maybe its the want. maybe its you between his fingers like gold.

he licks his lips, feels the wet of them against each other, “can you i have a drink? two, actually.”

“two? the other…?”

he smiles, tries to imitate your sweetness and only lets it come off half baked, “for you.”

but really, he couldn’t care less. the smile that tears across your face is warm, your laugh hearty.

“mr. snow, you’ve got your tricks,” the smile spills into your words, he can hear it, “well, i’ve got mine.”

and he needs to ask, what are they? can i see? am i allowed? when you kiss his cheek. nothing vehement or raunchy in the least, a thing recounted as a peck, but as you swivel towards the bar in a confident front-step, snow touches the warm part of his cheek like he’d been burnt. like he was burning still, under the pustule of the soft, flaxen light the hob had to offer. burning still, when he smiles under his hand, grinning under the gap of his fingers.

burning, still, in the grasp of wanting you beneath two drinks and a kiss.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

#coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas x reader

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annoyinglandmagazine · 11 months

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‘more dangerous and less wise’ I’m sorry WHAT!? Is Tolkien seriously trying to tell us that the freaking Sindar are the feral ones out of all the Elven races? After the entire First Age? As for more dangerous, Galadriel is still here. You know, Feanor 2.0 the only one that actually survived. Using the Elven metric for being batshit insane yes, Mirkwood is weird, but not swearing blood oaths, setting everything on fire, murdering everyone in sight, telling the gods to go fuck themselves, challenging gods to one on one combat insane.

The line of Oropher isn’t even Thingol levels of mental. They’ve never even touched a silmaril or a ring of power! They’re downright sensible by first age standards! They’re arrogant sure, they have low self preservation instincts and seem pretty xenophobic (dwarf stuff). Also depending on your point of view there might be colonist undertones. All of which is just toned down versions of the First Age Sindar. They probably have developed weird customs from living in the murder forest so long and being pretty isolated but there’s nothing to indicate they’re all that bad. I mean they’re still alive and they’re holding on to their kings at a relatively steady rate.

I absolutely agree with takes going around that this is some sort of deliberate protection technique they have to ward off trespassers and that Thranduil is sitting there in his cave coming up with rumours to spread about all the messed up things they do to people. Because in the book they seem kind of chill? And this becomes a million times more funny to me if he bases the rumours off stuff he heard about from Elrond.

As in ‘Yeah we totally eat giant spider meat, that’s definitely a thing we do,’ and everyone’s reacting as horrified and scared or not falling for it while Elrond’s believing every word and just looks sympathetic, ‘Aww you guys have food shortages? I hear you, supplies were pretty shit during all that destruction of an entire continent in the War of Wrath. You know if you wanted more options I wouldn’t recommend raw orc meat before you build up a tolerance but I can defo show you how to butcher them properly!’ Thranduil just staring back at him like ‘Fuck you. I was trying to make up some story to scare children at night with, you guys actually did this shit? How hard is it to come up with something you fucking Noldor haven’t done already?!’

And also: Thranduil proceeds to take out a notepad, ‘Ok so tell me again about what the kinslayers did to interrogate those prisoners?’ And Elrond replies, ‘Oh, that wasn’t Maglor and Maedhros, that was a story about Gil Galad’s army in the War of Wrath.’ Thranduil ‘I’m sorry WHAT the actual fuck.’ Elrond nodding understandingly ‘Too much for the Third Age?’ Thranduil rapidly taking notes ‘No it’s perfect keep it coming.’

#silmarillion #tolkien #thranduil #mirkwood #feral elrond #feral elves #elrond peredhel #feral Noldor #Lotr #the hobbit #Meta

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mustainegf · 14 days

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do you know that interview in argentina where dave is really flirty with that interviewer?

PLS WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THE READER BEING THAT INTERVIEWER

and like yk some things happen backstage after the interview 😜😜

THEY WAY I INSTANTLY KNEW WHICH INTERVIEW 😍😍😍

The energy in the backstage area was busy. The show had just ended, and the roar of the crowd still echoed in the corridors. I made my way through the sea of roadies, stage tech and band members, clutching my notepad and microphone.

I was here to interview Dave Mustaine, the lead singer and guitarist of Megadeth. The opportunity was a big one, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Not only because he was pretty important in the metal world, but any girl could see how handsome he was.

I found Dave in the, speaking with some of the backstage tech. He was still sweaty and shirtless from the performance, his chest glistening under the harsh lighting. His long hair was damp, framing his face in wild waves. When he saw me, he grinned, his hazel eyes shining with mischief.

“Hey you,” he said, his voice a low, seductive drawl. “You must be here for the interview.”

I nodded, trying to keep my composure despite the sudden heat spreading through my body. “Yes, that’s right. I’m a huge fan, by the way. Your performance tonight was incredible.”

“Thanks,” he replied, leaning back and stretching out his legs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Why don’t settle in and we can get started?”

I stood next to him, trying to ignore the way his proximity made my heart race. The interview began smoothly enough. I asked him about the tour, the new album, and his experiences over the years. But as the minutes passed, the conversation grew more relaxed and personal.

“So, tell me,” Dave said, a playful glint in his eye. “What do you like most about our music?”

I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks flush. “Well, it’s powerful. Raw. There’s so much emotion in it.”

“Emotion, huh?” He smirked, leaning closer. “What kind of emotion are we talking about?”

I laughed nervously, my pulse quickening. “All kinds. Anger, passion, sometimes even desire.”

“Desire, huh?” His voice dropped an octave, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Interesting choice of words.”

The interview wrapped up soon after, along with a quick kiss on the cheek from Dave.

I tried to ignore how hot my cheeks were.

The camera crew began packing up, and I gathered my notes, trying to steady my breathing. Dave shifted, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Hey, you, can I talk to you for a second? In private,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes still twinkling with lust.

I nodded with a gulp, following him to a small, dimly lit room off the main hallway. As soon as the door closed behind us, he turned, his gaze intense.

“I couldn’t help but notice how you were looking at me during the interview,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “Is it just my imagination, or were you getting turned on sweetheart?”

Holy shit, I knew this was Dave Mustaine, but I never expected him to be this confident.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a flush of heat spread through my body. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Maybe I was feeling it too.”

Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, capturing them in a heated kiss. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he pressed me against the wall.

His body was hot and hard against mine, the scent of sweat and cologne intoxicating.

“Dave,” I gasped as he kissed his way down my neck, his hands roaming over my body. “We shouldn’t…” I tried to protest.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips finding mine again. “Just let it happen.”

His hands slipped under my shirt, and I arched into his touch, a moan escaping my lips. He pulled back long enough to strip off my shirt and bra, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands cupping my breasts. “I want you so bad.”

“Then take me,” I whispered, my own desire threatening to consume me.

With a growl, he lifted me and carried me to a small couch in the corner of the room. He laid me down gently, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of my skin. I writhed beneath him, the pleasure building with every touch.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Dave demanded, sucking dark circles onto my collarbone.

“S-so bad!” I whined. “Quick, Dave, or we’ll get caught,” I gasped softly, watching as he tore off his tight pants, tugging his boxers along with them.

My breath hitched at the sight of his cock, holy fuck he was big. Probably 8 inches, cut, a thick vein running up its length.

When he finally pumped into me, it was with a slow, teasing thrust that made me whimper out. He moved within me, his rhythm strong and steady, each stroke driving me closer than any man ever had before.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he drove deeper. “So tight… so wet…”

Dave Mustaine was an enigma, and now, knowing he was this good in bed, I wondered if there was a better man on the planet then him.

I could see why he was a star now. The man could lay down the sweetest, most melodic notes, but when he was inside of me, all I could think about was how rough and hard he played that instrument.

It felt like he'd been making love to me for years instead of minutes.

I arched my back, silently pleading with him to go faster. "Please," I whispered, a plea that wasn't only directed at him. "Oh god... please..."

"I want to cum inside you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. He sounded almost broken, like he was begging for something from me, and I wanted to give it to him.

"Only if you buy the plan B," I chuckled between moans.

Dave hummed, latching his lips to my neck.

"Mmm, deal." he groaned,

“Dave,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his back. “I’m gonna…”

“Me too,” he panted, his movements growing more urgent. “Cum with me, baby.”

With a final, powerful thrust, we both tumbled over the edge, our cries mingling as we found our release.

I felt him shoot his load deep inside me, his cock shuddering as my hole twitched around his length.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat.

After a few moments, he lifted his head and kissed me tenderly. “How about another interview?” He teased.

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waves-against-a-cliff · 5 months

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A New Face - Gaz x Reader Bakery AU

Content Warnings - Masterbation and shame. AFAB reader

Part two

A/N - Thank you @groguspicklejar for being a massive inspiration and letting me bounce ideas off of you <3

Gaz dabs away the last of the water on his brow away with a towel before throwing it into the duffel bag. The locker room was steamy from his rather long hot shower to loosen up his joints after the work out he had just endured. He nods politely to the woman who sits at the front desk of the gym a few blocks from his flat and a block away from his favorite post workout stop. The London winter wind bites at his cheeks as he walks down the street with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he wonders if the older lady would be delighted to see him again seeing as he had disappeared for three months. His shoulder was still stiff from the fresh scar and aches in the cold weather which is why stepping into the warm shop was a blessing. Gaz saunters over to his usual spot in the corner of the bakery and cafe.

He looks up when he hears the small clicks of heels coming towards him and feels his heart stutter to a stop when he sees you. You smile at him and ask him what he would like while bating your eyelashes. “Two muffins, a cinnamon roll and a coffee with six sugars and creamer.” he finally says after pulling himself from your eyes.

“And a name for that order?” your smile grows and you write down the order on a little notepad after repeating his name back to him then saunter off behind the counter.Gaz feels his soul dirty as his eyes wander to your ass perfectly hugged by the pants.

He sips on his coffee at home with the three sweet items he ordered sitting in a brown bag on his counter. The flat was unremarkable and a bit too big for just himself, a fact he lamented each time he returned to his flat after each deployment. Two bedrooms was just too much for him but the kitchen and living area was nice at least. He looks over at the brown bag that has his name written on it and recalls the way his name sounded coming from you.

Gaz groans as his cock chubs up within his sweatpants as his mind floods with images of you. A sweet girl who worked at the bakery right down the street who had no idea what thoughts were tumbling through his head. He rushes to his shower and only turns the cold on to keep the hard on at bay.

It's night when he returns from his quick grocery trip that took longer than he wanted. Long lines and his own indecisiveness on what he was going to make himself was what to blame. Gaz fishes his keys from his pocket and curses when he fumbles them onto the ground.

“Let me help you.” a familiar voice chirps and he feels his stomach do flips as he watches you bend down to grab his keys.Your fingers barely graze his but it felt like he was being shocked. “Oh, Kyle right?” you ask, recognizing those brown eyes of his and giggling a little. “I guess we’re neighbors.” you grin and he glances at the flat door next to his. When he doesn’t respond you continue to speak anyways, “I got these cupcakes that my boss let me take home but uh, there's a lot. Do you like cupcakes?”

“Huh? I do.” Gaz says and just about collapses in on himself when you tell him to wait right there and run into your apartment. You come back out with three cupcakes expertly frosted on a paper plate.

“Here you go.” you place the plate into his hands as he stares a little dumbfounded at you and the cupcakes. “Think of it as a neighbor's gift.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one giving you cupcakes then?” you roll yours eyes at his comment before turning and going into your apartment. Gaz doesn’t want to admit that he stroked his cock that night thinking of you or the way he scrubbed himself raw afterwards.

#gaz x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz x female reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick

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theunaveragepsychoticbitch · 8 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 2: SEMI PUBLIC

Yall why tf I forgot to schedule this post. I just woke up and was like wtf. Anyways a year later yall gettin the finished version of this.

The waitress, innocent in her unawareness, made her way over far quicker than Barbatos wished.

Your fingers didn't stutter once in their rhythm as she approached. When she spoke, "Yes? How may I help you?", you felt his cunt squeeze around you, arousal drizzling down the thoroughly-soaked digits.

From where the waitress stood, all she saw was your hand in your boyfriend's lap. He was tomato red, a strange glazed look in his eyes that suggested illness of some sort. Oh dear, was there a problem with the tea?

"Ah, was the tea not to your liking? Our deepest apologies–"

You slide your thumb across his clit, making him jump. Cold tea sloshed over the side onto the table.

You and the waitress both gasp, hers coming out significantly more genuine.

"Please, let me clean that for you!"

In the second it takes to retrieve a towel from her uniform pocket, your thumb moves to his clit in true, rubbing mind numbingly slow circles as your fingers sped up.

Barbatos wasn't sure he could breathe. The woman was bent over the table, dutifully cleaning up his mess, occasional glancing up in confusion at the forced stoicism on his face. She was so close. Close enough that if she looked down right now, she'd see you. Close enough that if she listened in, the bustle of the busy Cafe would fade to the wet gush of arousal leaking into his (thankfully dark) pants, forced from his cunt by your skilled fingers.

God, why was it taking so long to clean such a small spill?

"Once again, um, our apologies sir. May we help you with anything else? A refill, perhaps?"

He hoped he didn't sound too breathy. "It’s f-f…" he closes his eyes against beading tears as you switch your pace again, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms as his hands fisted in his lap. "Fine. May I… hah, may I please have a refill?" He shoves the words out, fighting the urge to fuck himself on your fingers the whole time.

Wearing a slightly befuddled expression, she nods, absentmindedly scribbling on her little notepad and backing away.

Barbatos pants, relaxing onto your fingers and allowing them just a little farther inside. The squelch of his own arousal meets his ears and manages to further warm his face.

"You're amazing," You lean in, whispering into his ear and basking in the shiver that ran through him. The sun was going down, and it's rays were hitting him perfectly, making his hair and eyes glow with a special sorta brilliance that drove you insane. His lips, bitten raw by this point, were red and puffy, begging to be kissed. Hot, flushed skin looked soft to the touch, was soft to the touch, begging to be caressed and cared for.

You smile, your own lust like a beast that'd caught its prey in your eyes. Barbatos was quick to catch the change in mood; quick to realize he was extremely fucked.

To outsiders, you look like a couple on a rather awkward first date, or perhaps like one on their umpteenth. A teasing lover and a shy one.

Oh, how Barbatos wishes it was that simple.

"Do you wanna cum?" There was a barely leashed excitement in your voice. Never had a whispering seemed so loud, loud enough to drown out everything else all at once.

There was only one answer, really.

"Yes."

Your smirk was devilish. "Then beg the waitress for it."

...

....

.....

What?

Pretty green eyes filled with tears as they widened to saucers. Beg... the waitress?

The last woman he wanted to see at the moment appeared behind the counter, chatting it up with a coworker as his drink cooled on its platter. He had a few minutes at most.

"What do you mean? How can I... what would I say?"

Your smile gets no less evil, a dark chuckle leaving you as your fingers stopped all movement. He whines automatically at the loss, just managing to stop his hips from grinding down when he catches your look.

"You of all people are acting like you don't know how to beg?" How he managed to blush even more, only the devil knows.

You roll your eyes at the helplessness on his face. "Figure out, and quickly, she's coming back."

In one fluid movement you retrieve your hand, earning a gasp as you wrap your arm around his waist, slide back into his pants and pose your middle finger right over his clit.

"Anything else?" The lady says, setting down the tray and dutifully moving the cup and it's little plate infront of Barbatos.

You smiled, nodding your head to Barbatos. He inhaled, hoping his expression was polite and simple, despite the watery eyes and rosey cheeks.

"Yes, please..." You tap his clit, making his eyes flutter. "Please, may I– fuck– I mean, please can," Steady breathes began to break as your tantalizingly slow circles broke his focus. He was almost there, so sensitive, so close. Please, please, please...

She smiled, but it was... different, this time. She leaned down, hugging her notepad and pen to her chest.

"Go ahead and cum, pretty boy."

And he did. He came hard as you pinched his clit, jaw dropping open as nothing but a shocked exhale left him, a single, thankful tear falling down his cheek as his orgasm shook him to his soul.

When it was over, two sets of hands were upon him. One was yours, the other was the waitress'. You both smirk at him, twin whispers of "Good Boy," meeting his ears.

#obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #sub barbatos #barbatos x reader #shall we date barbatos #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #unaveragewrites #barbatos #UNPSYCHOTIC KINKTOBER23

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shujohajohaminnie · 8 months

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I've been watching you

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count:3140

Summary: Crushes were something everyone experienced right, but how could someone explain something more obsessive?

Afab!reader, Profanity, Degrading, Possessive behavior, Stalker, Obsessive behavior, pet names (Baby, Pretty, Honey, Good Girl), Raw Sex.

Felix was tired…he was so frustrated, all he wanted to do was go home and wrap his fist around his cock, getting off to yet again another picture of you. You were the only thing that could make him feel better. Just seeing you was like the medicine his body needed craved. He loved to hear your voice, he loved to hear you laugh, he loved to watch as you concentrated on your work while sipping your coffee, just seeing you in such a state of peace made him feel at peace. You were the only reason he continued to put up with this stupid job. He still had six hours left of shift and he honestly felt like he couldn’t do it anymore. He heard the bell that was attached to the door ring, and he rolled his eyes. Yet another customer he had to deal with.

“Hey, Y/n” Felix’s head whipped up at the mention of your name. He wasn’t expecting you at all, it was Tuesday, you didn’t have classes on Tuesday. “It’s crazy out there” You smiled taking off your sweater beginning to talk with Chan, Felix’s co-worker. That fucking smile. Oh, how you lit up the place with that smile alone. Felix took you in analyzing how drenched you were due to the heavy rainstorm outside. His mind drifting off to where else you were wet. Why would you come here when you could've just stayed in your apartment? “What are you doing here” Chan asked, almost as if he had read Felix’s mind. “Oh, I was studying in the park… I have a big test tomorrow but then it started to rain and I didn’t wanna go home yet so I just figured I’d finish studying here” “Well you know you’re always welcome here… Felix will help you at the counter” Felix ears perked up at the mention of his name. “You can help her right Felix?” “Uh, I-” “I would do it but I have to go clean up the mess Jisung made in the back”. Felix nodded quickly approaching the counter with a nervous smile. You approached him moving slowly, in his point of view it was like those scenes in the movies where the pretty girls would move slowly towards the camera. “Hey… I like your bracelet” You spoke softly trying to break the tension. That was the first sentence you’ve ever said to him directly. “T-thanks” He cleared his throat coming back to earth. He looked down at his notepad noticing the emptyness. “Oh OH what could I get for you” “Coffee…black please” “Okay…could I interest you in some pastries” “What do you have?” “Cookies. Muffins, Brownies, and Cake pops” “ How fresh are they” “I made them this morning” “You made them?!” “Yeah” he blushed scratching the back of his neck. “Are they as sweet as you are” You joked, your hand laying on top of his as you looked at his face. “Oh uhhh” “I’m just playing with you Felix… Could I get a brownie please” “Of course” He smiled putting in your order. “How much is it” “On the house” “Really” “Mhmm” “Are you sure” “Positive”. Felix walked away to prepare your order, he was on cloud nine, his crush was talking to him, and in his delusional head, you asked him if he was sweet implying that you wanted to taste him.

You made your way to your usual table hid away in the corner where it was silent, where you could really concentrate. You pulled out your computer and textbooks continuing where you left off before you were interrupted by the weather. “Y/n” He spoke softly pulling you out of your daze, looking up at his beautiful face you smiled pulling out your headphones. “Sorry I didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to warn you that this was really hot, so you wouldn’t burn yourself” “Thank you” You reached out pulling the cup out of his hands bushing your fingers against his. “H-how are your Psychology studies” He stuttered at the contact. Fuck, you never told him you were going to school, much less what you studied. He sold himself- “ Y-You’ve been watching me?” “I-I saw your psych textbook one of the times you were here” “I get it… I like to watch people too… It’s interesting” Was he normal in his watching, was this something everyone did? “Watching their routines… I mean I do study people for school so… it’s not in a creepy way”. So it wasn’t normal. “But my Psych studies are going good thank you”

“Alright” You mumbled closing your laptop and putting away your papers. You felt a headache from the intense light emitting from your computer and decided to call it a night content on your study session and confident about tomorrow's test. “Leaving already” Chan smiled wiping the table in front of you. “Yeah I gotta go to bed early or else I’ll be too tired and all that time spent studying would’ve been for nothing… but I’m just gonna go to the restroom really quick before I leave” “Go ahead I’ll clean up your table while your off don’t worry about it”

“Chan please” “Felix you can’t just leave early who’s going to cover for you” “Han said he’ll stay for me please please please” “Why do you wanna leave early anyways” “I- I have something I have to do” Chan sighed pinching the top of his nose as he thought about the sudden request.

“Fine” He sighed waving off Felix as he continued cleaning the counter. “Thank you thank you thank you” Felix smiled running to the back to clock out and grab his stuff quickly before Chan could change his mind. “Oh leaving already?” He asked you opening the door to the cafe for you. You nodded walking by him. Oh that perfume, how it drove him absolutely insane. “Yeah, I have to rest up for my-” “Test?... I heard you tell Chan when you walked in” “Yeah” “I could walk you” “I’m sorry?” “I could walk you to your place… you know it’s dark out, and you're alone. I don’t want nothing to happen to you” “No no it’s okay I don’t want you to go out of your way” “I won’t swear my place is in that direction as well” “Are you sure” “Positive” Liar

The both of you walked side by side under the pouring rain in a comfortable silence. Bumping into each other occasionally followed with a toothy grin. The both of you were completely drenched but what was there to do? Finally, you stopped in front of your apartment building looking at Felix. “This is me” he knows “Okay well I hope you have a good night and good luck on your test tomorrow” He smiled walking away waiting for you to say the word. “Wait” There it was. “Felix… you should come inside… wait out the rain, you’ll get sick” “Are you sure” “Yeah come inside and dry off, I’ll make you a hot tea to warm you up” He smiled following you to your front door, and here it was. He looked around your apartment it was the first time he was in here with your permission. The first time he’d seen it with the light on. The other times he had to get by with the light off to not draw attention to himself.

“I’m just going to go change really quick” You spoke in a whisper no need to speak too loudly due to the close proximity of you two. Bringing Felix to realize that he was in here with you. You smiled placing the hot cup of tea in front of him and walking away into your bedroom. He looked at your walls. He hadn’t noticed the art that hung on them, they were hard to see in the darkness that overcame your home at night. You walked out of your room in a long white shirt that hid the tiny shorts you were wearing underneath. Drying your hair with your towel you went into the kitchen like he wasn’t in front of you. Was he looking through the window again? “Do you want something else to drink?” You asked noticing he finished his tea already. “Just water please” He cleared his throat, bouncing his leg nervously at the sight of you with minimal clothing. “Didn’t get enough water outside” You laughed as you handed him a glass of water. His eyes looked up at your body stopping when he noticed your nipples poking from under the shirt. “Felix you should get out of your clothes… you gonna get sick… I can throw them in the dryer for you” “But I don’t have any other clothes” “It’s fine” you stuck out your hand. He looked at you to make sure you were serious. You were. He quickly peeled off his clothes sitting back down on the couch. “You can cover yourself with that blanket if you want” You said taking his clothes and walking in the direction of your laundry room.

You returned to see him snuggled up underneath the blanket watching the movie you put on. “You know… just to make things even” You smiled taking off your shirt and shorts leaving you as naked as he was. “Uhm” “Kinda cold in here isn’t it?” You whispered sitting down next to him. Very close to him. You lifted the blanket covering yourself as well. He froze feeling your bare skin against his own. You turned your attention to the TV not fazed by what was happening as if this was a normal occurrence for you. You turned back to look at him and giggled at his face of confusion. “You okay” “Y-You’re naked” he stated saying it more so to himself. “Nothing you haven't seen before" "What" "I know you’ve been watching me” “You do” “Why do you think I touch myself over the covers… it’s so you can see just how wet you make me…You can touch me” You whispered running your nail on top of his hand that was sitting politely on top of his thigh. “I can?” “Mhmm”

Little did Felix know that you knew he was there. You knew he was watching you. You noticed how some of your underwear went missing. You noticed the camera flashing every single time he took a picture of you when he thought you were sleeping. You noticed his eyes watching you through your bedroom window. That's why you openly walked around naked around your apartment. It was for his peeping eyes to see you. To see what was his. He didn’t move so you took it upon yourself to take his hand and put it on your pleading core. “Y-your still wet from the rain?” You shook your head biting your lip. “No lixie… this is for you. You did this to me. You do this to me” You whispered into his ear kissing his jaw down to his neck. He still didn’t move not believing this was actually happening right now. “Please Lixie touch me… please” You begged leaving hot wet kisses on his neck causing his skin to burn underneath. “Please tell me this is real” “It’s real Felix” You got closer your lips ghosting over his own. “Please” You whined before kissing him. The switch flipped as he grabbed you placing you in his lap the blanket shielding the two of you as if hiding from the world, but the reality was that you always touched yourself above the blanket for him to see but now that he was here with you, you didn’t need to show anyone anything. Quickly he kissed your collarbone sucking on your skin leaving behind marks. His marks.

One thing that drove Felix mad was the fact that he couldn’t show the world that you were his. He knew men around you were constantly hitting on you, he seen it. He so badly wanted to fuck you in front of them, all of them to show them who you belonged to. These hickies will show them, show them all that you are not to be hit on. His finger trailed down your body as his mouth kissed lower, placing butterfly kisses on your tits. “Your mine” he mumbled against your skin as his fingers drew slow circles on your clit teasing you. “Felix” You gasped your fingers tugging his hair slightly. “Say it. Say it” “I’m yours… I’m all yours” You cried at his motions begging for more. “And don't you forget it” he whispered kissing your lips before his fingers slipped into your sopping cunt. His thumb continued to draw those slow damn circles as he fingered you. You moaned throwing your head back at the sudden pleasure. Your hands dragged down his abs down to his throbbing dick. You teased the tip by spreading the precum that was already oozing out. “Fuck Y/n I need you” “Not yet” You smiled getting off his lap and kneeling in front of him. He groaned from the sight alone. You in front of him sitting pretty on your knees ready to suck him off. It was like a scene plucked directly from his dreams. “Is this okay” “This is more than okay baby” He moaned feeling your hand wap around his dick not being able to grasp the whole thing from how girthy he was. His cock was singlehandedly the prettiest yet scariest dick you’ve ever seen. Scary, intimidating the way you analyzed the length and girth knowing he was going to wreck you, and you honestly couldn't wait. You licked the tip noticing the way his eyes rolled back and more precum oozed out. He could cum from the sight of you alone but he had to wait, he had to wait for you. You licked from the base to the tip before you took him into your mouth fitting as much as you could.

He felt tears forming in his eyes at the intense pleasure he was feeling at this moment. The way the tip of his dick touched the back of our throat. The way you hallowed your cheeks around him. The warmth he felt from your mouth. The way you sent vibrations through his dick when you moaned or giggled around him. He grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail guiding you up and down his cock. He noticed the tears streaming down your face and that only drove him to go faster. “You like that baby… Do you like me treating you like a cock slut… cry on my dick… cry on my dick pretty” he grunted thrusting into your mouth feeling his orgasm draw close.

“Fuck y/n” he moaned throwing his head back as he painted the inside of your mouth white with his cum. You pulled away swallowing while wiping your tears. He pulled you up quickly kissing your lips. He needed to taste himself on your lips. “You taste so good Felix… but you’d taste better mixed with me” You smiled, positioning yourself over his cock. He put his hands on your waist looking into your eyes. “Are you sure?” “Positive”. He smiled, pulling you down onto him. You felt such a beautifully painful stretch as he filled you up. You both moaned at the feeling. You wrapped your arms around his neck hugging him close. “Y-you feel so good” He moaned, hugging you tightly, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your back as you adjusted around him. “Felix” You moaned trying to go up and down, against his hold on your waist. “You ready” He spoke in his deep voice sending chills down your spine. You nodded, placing your head in the crook of his neck.

He guided you up and down on his dick both of your moans filling up the space of your apartment. Not really caring for your poor neighbors who had to bear witness to the erotic noises the both of you were making. He flipped you both over him taking control of the speed he would thrust in and out of you. The new position driving you insane the way the tip of his dick grazed your G-Spot perfectly. “Felix please” You didn’t even know what you were asking for you had everything you could possibly want already in your possession. “I know baby I know” “Felix whispered resting his hand on your cheek, comforting you while continuing to thrust into you at just the right pace. Just how you like it. Almost as if you guys had slept together before. But really he was just micking the way you would thrust your dildo in and out of you. He learned how to read your body cues.

“Felix I’m close” “Can you hold it, baby, Can you hold it for me” You nodded tightening around him while scratching at his back, he groaned at the slight sting and pleasure of your actions. “Fuck honey you're gripping me so good… your holding it for me” “Mhmm” “Such a good girl” “Felix I- I can’t” “Cum for me baby… cum on my cock baby” You moaned throwing your head back at his dirty words, doing exactly what he told you to do. He cummed in you filling you up, not worried too much about getting you pregnant. You take birth control, he’s seen it. He pulled out without warning placing himself between your thighs seeing yours and his cum leak out of you. He lapped his tongue on your entrance collecting your mixed juices. “You were right baby… we do taste good together” “Lemme taste” You smiled bringing him up to your lips. You did, the both of you together on his tongue was something you could experience all the time.

He sighed contently laying down beside you in your bed. He took you again and again and again on every surface he ever fantasized of. Whispering more details about his dirty little obsession with you. “You need to go to bed, You have a test tomorrow” “Did you know about my test before I told Chan today” “No pftt what do you take me for, a stalker?” You laughed cuddling into his chest your eyes slowly shutting at the sound of his heartbeat. Yeah, he imagined fucking you like crazy but this, Him holding you close as you fell asleep to his voice is what he wanted the most. “So I wasn’t sneaky” “Not at all” You whispered letting sleep take over your body.

Okay, so maybe it isn't October anymore, SUE ME. But anyway I will post the others I promise it's just my stupid fault for deciding to do Kinktober so late it's my red flag I know. I will definitely do better next year, swear. HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

#skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz x you #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz felix smut #lee felix #stray kids felix #skz felix #felix #lee yongbok

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theredofoctober · 5 months

Text

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

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

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Ann Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fic #yandere hannibal lecter #manna fic #tw eating disorders #tw fatphobia #tw self harm #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #hannibal darkfic

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mrwavellswaps · 1 year

Text

Aftermath of The Homo-Bomb (Jack)

(Make sure to read the ➡️ Prologue ⬅️ first!)

Having just left the apartment of one of the men affected by the homo bomb, Wavell closed his eyes and sensed the area. He was sensing specifically for human life signatures that’d been doused in his magic as those were the people that’d been affected in some way by his spell. The closest one seemed to be just a couple doors down from where he was. He walked along the corridor until he reached the apartment where the signature was coming from. Room 204. According to the information he’d pulled out of the Landlord’s memories, the resident that lived here was an older man in his mid 40’s, Jack Rivers.

The warlock gave a swift knock to the door, waiting a couple seconds before hearing the shuffling movement coming from behind. There was a small ‘kerchunk’ sound as the lock came undone before the door opened a crack. “Who are you? What do you want?” A voice asked from behind the door.

“My name is Christopher Wavell sir. I’m here gathering intel on the strange event that’s taken place in this town by interviewing those affected so we may be able to figure what exactly caused all this.” Of course Wavell was bending the truth a little but it was more fun that way. “I was wondering if I could come in and have a chat with you if that’s alright...” He looked down at a notepad he was holding before looking back up to seem more authentic. “Jack is it?”

The door opened a little wider, revealing a middle aged and very handsome man. He had a very rugged and raw masculine energy about him. He adorned a very thick and full beard but in exchange he seemed to be completely bald underneath that cap he was wearing. He wore a tight t-shirt which showed off his strong arms, both covered by a full sleeve of tattoos. He definitely had an ex-jock dad type of build. Very strong and firm muscle being consistent across his body which showed dedication to either the gym or hard labour while also deciding not to take his dieting as seriously as he used to resulting in a thick belly hidden beneath his shirt. Long story short, he was a total dream from anyone who liked hot hairy daddies.

“Yeah that’s my name…” Even his voice was deep and husky. “But that only happened last night. How do you already know about it?” Jack questioned, just as most other people Wavell had visited had.

The warlock gave Jack a warm smile as his eyes glowed purple. His smile seemed so reassuring. So inviting. So trustworthy. Making Jack feel as though he could trust this stranger with his life! “Don’t worry about that. All that matters is that you tell me your story so we can figure this all out.”

Jack didn’t hesitate after that. He opened the door wide and offered Wavell inside without a second thought. He asked Wavell if he could grab him a drink, offering beer, coffee, juice and whatever else he had. Wavell took a coffee which didn’t take Jack long to whip up before the burly man grabbed a couple beers for himself. Wavell couldn’t help but find it amusing to see this man who’d been so hesitant about him mere moments ago suddenly acting so friendly.

Once they were both settled in Jack’s living room, Wavell got right down to business. “Okay so I want to start by asking you to give me your name, age and occupation.”

Jack took a quick swig of his beer. “Well my full name is Jack Ivory Rivers, I’m 43 years old and I’m a carpenter. I work at the little shop down the street. You might’ve seen it”

“I actually did. Nice workplace you’ve got.” Wavell replied as he wrote down a few notes before looking up again and continuing his questions. “Now tell me, how would you describe yourself as a person?”

The burly man thought for a moment. “Well… I suppose some would say I’m stoic and a little headstrong but I take a lot of care and pride in the work I do. I like to make sure everything I make at my shop is to the highest standard it can be and that’s exactly what I promise everyone who wants to buy from me.”

“Yup, that’s perfect.” Wavell muttered, scribbling down a few more things before glancing up again with a small smirk. “Now the formalities are out of the way, time for the real questions.” His eyes glows that same deep purple as before, causing Jack's eyes to briefly glow as well as he fell deeper into the arms of Mr Wavell's alluring aura. “First I want you to tell me what’s changed about you. I can tell you’ve been affected by the recent events somehow just by the way you carry yourself. As if your very identity has been shaken. What did that purple mist do to you Jack?”

Jack shuffled lightly in his seat, seeming a little uncomfortable with the idea of unveiling what's happened to a total stranger… but he could trust Mr Wavell right? He just wants to help. He would never judge. “Well… okay I guess I’ll start from the beginning.” Jack took a deep breath and another swig of his beer before casting his mind back to the previous night.

“I was working late at my shop. Being a carpenter is my life you know. It’s what I love and always have loved. So much so that I frequently stay overnight to continue my projects. I’ve been told before that my love for the craft is obsessive, perhaps even unhealthy. Hell they’re probably right, it’s half the reason my marriage fell apart years ago. My now ex-wife thought I cared more about my work than I did her. But they just didn’t understand…” Jack took a large gulp of his beer, now halfway through the first bottle. “Mike though. He understood. So much so he spent almost as much time in the shop as I do.”

Wavell thought for a moment, scanning back through some of his notes from previous people he’d spoken to. “Mike huh? I don’t believe I’ve spoken to a ‘Mike’ who works in carpentry yet. Is he a work partner of yours? Your son perhaps?”

Jack chuckled a little. “No, he's my apprentice. I’ve been teaching him for a couple years now. He isn’t my son but at times I wished he was with the amount of passion he has. Always eager to learn more from me.”

“Can you describe Mike for me?” Wavell asked curiously before tasting his coffee, nodding a little in satisfaction after.

It was subtle but the warlock couldn’t help noticing the slight blush that crossed Jack’s face when he heard that question. He tried to hide it by downing the rest of his first beer before letting out a small belch. “S’cuse me.” He pardoned. “Well uhhh… sure I guess I could.” Jack gulped slightly while leaning back a little in his chair. “I suppose he’s a fine looking young man. 25 years old so he’s still very much in his prime. Quite short brown hair and usually has some stubble. He has these deep green eyes that I couldn’t stop staring at after…” He stopped himself before having to slightly readjust how he was sitting again. “He has a ummm… very nice body. Clearly works out a lot outside of work and it looks like it pays off. He has pretty large biceps like me and some great shoulders. He usually wears these tight t-shirts or tank tops that show off his pecs really well and…” as Jack continued to describe his youthful apprentice a tent began to pitch itself in his tan cargo shorts, growing larger by the second. Jack tried to hide it by discreetly placing a hand on his crotch but it was still so obvious. “…He usually wears shorts like me that show off his very well built lower body you know.”

“This Mike sounds like quite the stud doesn’t he?” Wavell couldn’t help teasing a little.

Jack doesn’t reply to the comment but the telling look on his face was all the agreement Wavell needed. Instead he popped open his second beer and continued his story. “Anyway. As I said, I stayed late last night. I told Mike he could head home but he said he’d rather keep working. I don’t usually fight him on it when he wants to work late with me. I’d be a hypocrite if I did. Plus the amount of dedication he has reminds me so much of myself.” He drinks again as he prepares for the next part. “But then as the two of us were working, there was some kind of silent explosion outside. We looked out of the windows to see a massive cloud of purple smoke quickly making its way over the town.”

Wavell another took a sip of coffee. He’d already heard so many variations of this part from people that’d been awake when he threw the Homo-Bomb. “And what happened after that?”

The burly man hesitated for a second but once again the calming aura of the handsome silver haired man before him gave him the encouragement he needed. “Before we knew it the mist was seeping its way into the shop. Coming in from any entrance it could find. Under the doors, through any open windows. And once it was inside it felt as though it followed me and Mike wherever we went until we had nowhere left to go…” Jack took a large sip of his second beer. “I remember we were back to back when it surrounded us. It was like it was forcing itself into our lungs. Invading our bodies almost. And it didn’t just enter through our mouths either. It felt as though it entered through every entrance it could find on our bodies. Even my asshole! Part of me thought I was gonna die for a moment but… I didn’t. I just felt frozen in place for a good few minutes as I breathed in the mist until finally it dispersed.” Jack stopped. He knew what came after that but could he really share that…

“And what did it do to you Jack?” Wavell pried. “You can tell me anything. You can tell me everything. In detail. I want to hear it Jack and I know you’re just dying to tell me as well.” Wavell’s words ironed themselves onto Jack’s subconscious, pressing so deep until they became his truth. He wanted to tell Wavell what happened next. He wanted to so badly!

“The first thing I did was turn around to see if Mike was okay but the moment I did I felt something I’d never felt before. Mike was… gorgeous. Everything about him was hot. The way his muscles pressed against his clothes. How young and handsome his face was. How he just had this masculine air about him despite being so youthful at the same time. God just looking at him made me feel so hot and horny. Hornier than I’ve felt in years!” By this point Jack wasn’t even using his spare hand to cover his crotch anymore but rather to rub his ever growing erection through his shorts. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I’d been completely straight my whole life. I’d never even so much as looked at a guy sexually before last night. Hell, back in college they used to call me the pussy destroyer! Not just because of how many chicks I pulled but also for how most of them couldn’t handle how big my cock is… But now I can’t even get hard for women!” He shouted, spilling some beer down his shirt.

By this point Wavell was having to hide his own growing erection just hearing about all this. “So, if I may pry a little further, what happened between you and Mike after this event took place. Did you simply go home?”

Jack’s eyes darted away for a moment, hardly being able to look at the man sitting before him. “N-no. Not exactly.” Ordinary he wouldn’t have dreamed of divulging any further to anyone else. And yet… “The more I looked at him, the harder my dick got. I just couldn’t bring myself to look away either. And I could tell by the way he looked back at me and by the growing bulge in his shorts as well that he must’ve been feeling the same thing. It was like there was an invisible force pulling us together in so many ways. Before I knew it my face was inches away from his as we stared into each other's eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more intimate. And then… we kissed.” Jack’s mind rushed back to that very memory, recounting it in great detail. Remembering how it felt to press his own bearded lips against Mike’s. Remembering just how good and right it felt in that moment. “I placed a hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer and as he did I remember feeling his hands run across my body. One rubbing along my back while the other grabbed at my chest…” The erection in his shorts was painfully hard as he imagined himself back in that very moment.

“I don’t mind if you want to get your cock out and jerk a little Jack. If you’ll be more comfortable that way of course.” Wavell suggested devilishly.

Jack didn’t think twice about it. The moment Wavell made the suggestion he whipped his cock out and started jerking it as he continued his story. It was huge and thick. Probably one of the biggest Wavell had seen on a natural man. Hell it rivaled his own cock! “I have no idea how long we made out. I was just so drawn in by Mike and everything about him. Soon I started groping his body just like he was groping mine. Grabbing at his muscles, his ass and even his crotch. I never would’ve done something like that in a million years before now. Don’t get me wrong Mr Wavell, I have nothing against the gays. I have tons of friends that are gay!… but I ain’t a homo! And Mike isn’t either! He was always telling me about the different girls he’d slept with… Neither of us are gay… or at least we weren’t.” He glanced down, watching himself jerk off to his apprentice before taking another large gulp of beer followed by another belch.

There was a slight pause as Jack gathered his thoughts, allowing Wavell a moment to drink some more coffee before picking his notepad back up. “Keep going Jack. This is good.”

“Well… next thing I knew we were taking off each other’s clothes until we were completely naked. Cocks touching and everything. I told him how much I loved his young, muscular body and he told me how much of a hot daddy I was with how hairy and strong I was.” He blushed a little, more obviously this time, as he remembered to compliment. “We kept saying things like that back and forth between kissing and feeling each other up. And eventually I realised something. I wanted him. I wanted Mike so badly. And so I took his hand and guided him to the back room where I sometimes slept after pulling all nighters.” He was jerking off furiously now, his thick giant daddy cock just barely contained by his hand..

“And what did the two of you do in the back room Jack”

The hairy man bit his lip slightly before continuing. “We uhh… we… we fucked!” He admitted, much to the warlock's delight. “M-my first instinct was to fuck him. To throw him on the couch-bed and slam my cock inside him. But before I even had a chance Mike turned me around, knelt down, and shoved his face into my ass! He dug his tongue deep into and around my hole while telling me that he loved how hairy and juicy my ass was. Mmmhh god! Why did it feel so gooood!” Jack grunted a little as he squirted a little precum at the memory. “After that he was the one tossing me on the couch-bed, face down so he could keep worshipping my ass. My hole just felt so needy and he was the only thing that could satisfy it…” He kept going, taking yet another swig of beer. “After that he began slowly kissing his way up my back until his lips reached my neck. As they did I felt his dick slide between my cheeks, practically rubbing against my hole. His dick isn’t as big as mine but it was big enough. Around 6 inches maybe?”

“Wow. You must’ve really enjoyed yourself last night to remember all these details.”

Once again Jack was too embarrassed to reply. Instead finishing off the rest of his second beer before tossing the bottle to the side so he could focus on his dick and the story. “At first I was a little worried. I’d never even considered putting anything up my ass before so the idea of having a dick shoved up there was daunting. But at the same time so damn hot! And so despite my worries it didn’t take long for me to start begging Mike to fuck me. To shove that young cock of his inside my hairy dad ass… fuck.”

“And did he?”

“Oh fuck yeah he did. He lubed himself up with some spit and the next thing I know I feel the tip of dick pressing inside me. I expected it to be extremely painful, or least rather sore, but I felt nothing but pure pleasure. It was like my asshole just opened up to him, as if it’d been waiting for a dick to fill it all my life.” Jack hardly paid any mind to the stream of precum flowing from the tip of his cock, coating his hand. “You know all my life I’d been the one dominating women in bed. But now, I was the one having my face pressed into the cushion below as another man slammed his cock inside me. A man I’d been teaching for years. A man who’s 18 years my junior dominating me in every sense. And I loved it. The feeling of his dick sliding in and out of my ass like it belonged. The feeling of his balls smacking against me. Even the way he told me how sexy I was as he destroyed my hole.”

By this point Wavell wasn’t even bothering to hide his own arousal anymore, having unzipped his pants and slowing his own fat cock to spring out. He gave it a light stroke between writing notes. “You know I wouldn’t have taken such a manly guy like yourself to be a submissive bottom Jack. Guess it just goes to show we shouldn’t judge by appearance.” Wavell added with a smirk. “Anyway, please continue”

“There isn’t whole lot left to say… he fucked my brains out and I loved every second of it. He kept saying I was his hot hairy daddy now and all I could do was moan. I think he meant in a way like he owned me or something. He just kept fucking me and fucking me. Then at some point he got me to turn over and put my legs over his shoulders so we could look at each other. After that it wasn’t long before he let out a deep guttural moan, the kind I’d never heard from him. Then I felt it. His load filling me up and breeding my ass for the first time. In that moment it was like a switch flipped in my mind and suddenly I blew a load all over myself. Some of it even shot up onto my face and in my beard.” Jack seemed as though he was trying his best not to blow another load right here and now as he described it. “After that we were both so exhausted that we ended up cuddling together and falling asleep at the shop. I only got home a couple hours before you arrived…”

Wavell scribbled down a few more notes before looking back up at Jack again. “Wow. That's quite the story you’ve got there Jack. I think it’s fair for me to assume that your sexuality seems to have been altered by the mist but I wanted to ask if you’ve noticed anything else. Like any other mental or physical changes about yourself since last night?”

The husky man stopped jerking for a moment to think. “Uhhh… I don’t think so. I still feel like myself… except I just can’t stop thinking about dick now.” His eyes then settled on Wavell’s exposed cock. Never having seen another cock anywhere near the same size as his own.

“Well then I suppose it’s safe to say that you’re a common case Mr Rivers. The majority of formerly straight men like yourself have reported no longer feeling anything towards women and instead feeling elevated levels of sexual attraction for other men.” Wavell confirmed… except Jack didn’t seem to hear a word he said. Instead the hairy daddy could only focus on the giant cock between Wavell’s legs. “Jack, if I may ask, are you attracted to me as well.”

Not being capable of lying to the warlock, Jack answered truthfully. “Y-yes!” He admitted, jerking himself again to Wavell. “I’ve been trying to ignore it but since the moment I opened the door I’ve wanted to kiss you. And your cock it’s just so… fuuuck.”

Wavell’s expression turned playful. Without a word he beckoned Jack to come closer. The bear of a man did so without a second thought, practically leaping out of his chair. Once he stood before Wavell, the warlock once again beckoned him to lean down, to get even closer. Jack complied until their faces were almost touching. Then, with a gentle smile, Wavell leant forwards a little and kissed the newly gay daddy. Wavell’s short, groomed beard colliding with Jack’s thick and slightly bushy one. This kiss must’ve lasted a good 10 seconds or so before Wavell pulled them apart. “There. Wish granted.” He chuckled. “Now I do have one little thing I want to give you which might help… but it’ll cost ya.” Seemingly out of thin air Wavell summoned a small pill. “This pill will help make some adjustments to fit your new situation. Buuut if you want it then you’ll have to suck me off.” Wavell might’ve been a bit more classy when he was in this form but that didn’t stop him from being a perv from time to time.

Some might’ve taken a moment to think about it but not Jack. He was on his knees in seconds before trying to swallow every inch of Wavell’s giant cock, wrapping his bearded lips around as much of it as possible. As Jack had already found out, the magic had actually done slightly more than just make him gay. It’d also loosened his asshole and reduced his gag reflex. Despite that Jack still found himself sputtering a little as he tried to take all of Wavell. As he did Wavell couldn’t help holding the other man’s head down, enjoying every second. Jack sucked him off vigorously, using his tongue, lips and hands perfectly to give as much pleasure as possible. It was almost hard to believe he used to be a straight man before all this. Now all he wanted was to suck dick have his hairy ass bred with as much cum as could be stuffed up there. Wavell couldn’t help but notice how Jack arched his back slightly, showing off said hairy ass a little in hopes Wavell would fuck him no doubt. He considered it but decided to focus on his ‘interviews’ for now. Maybe he’d come back for a visit sometime though…

After a while Jack seemed to adjust to Wavell’s cock and had no problem taking the entire length down his throat. He sucked it happily as if it were something he was always born to do. Being a slutty cock sucking daddy. The more he thought about it, the more passion he put into the blowjob. Servicing the dick before like nothing else mattered. He’d tuned out from the world around him so much that he didn’t even register Wavell’s groans until Jack felt a flood of thick cum pouring down his throat. The taste was nothing short of divine. He made sure to suck out every last drop before pulling off and falling onto his back. He used both hands to jack his cock furiously while savouring the taste of Wavell’s load until he busted his nut all over himself once again.

As Jack was blowing his load, Wavell had already tucked his dick away and zipped up his pants. “Welp, I suppose I owe you this.” He placed the pill on the small coffee table next to his empty cup. He waited a few moments for Jack to refocus before explaining. “It’s a magic pill I designed. It’s capable of swapping the cocks of two men. All you have to do is break it half, you take one half and the other guy you’re swapping with takes the other. I suggest you bring it up to Mike the next time you see him. After all I’m sure you’re curious what it might feel like to have that monster dick of yours inside you.”

Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing and yet he couldn’t help believing it. A pill that would allow him to swap dicks with Mike? He glanced down at the softening cock between his legs. It’d always been a huge source of pride for him knowing how giant it was… but just the thought of Mike swinging it between his legs instead sounded so hot. Maybe it was the right thing to do. After all he couldn’t see himself ever being a top again now he’d gotten a taste for bottoming so maybe he didn’t deserve a cock this big if he wasn’t gonna use it properly…

“I’ll leave you to think about it. For now I’ve got some more people to interview for my research. I hope things between you and Mike go well though. Perhaps I’ll come back some time to see how you’re getting.” With that though Wavell said his goodbyes to which Jack was only just able to reciprocate in the cum-covered state he was in.

The warlock stepped outside of the apartment and took a deep breath with a satisfied smile knowing he took plenty of notes and had fun doing it. “Alright. Who’s next.”

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