To celebrate the good. To mourn the bad. Moments of when it seemed thoughts were spiraling, an anchor to the present and how far everything has come. And there had been many reasons to get them it seemed.
The newest addition being one to celebrate. After months of planning, budgeting, repairs, and handling everything necessary and beyond- it was time to reopen an old favorite.
Old checkered flooring had been replenished with a near perfect match, forming the patterns perfect to how old pictures showed it to be in the shop's once youthful glory. Chairs tucked neatly against the tables decorated the drawings young children left behind, sealed and coated to ever preserve the memory of those that loved so much they left traces behind.
No longer were there cracks in the corners of the walls, the ceiling didn’t hold the stains left from years of weathering storms and shelter. But those things didn’t seem to matter, so long as the memory still held in its wake. To provide for those that couldn’t and bring a space of comfort to those that need.
Machinery came to life with a lull hum, lights flickering on abovehead with a soft hue in the early morning. It was far too early for anyone sane. But some people weren’t and that’s what the world needed at times- after all, bread still needed time to rise before it was ready.
By the time the sun had begun to rise, people were already near the door. Some, excited to see what had become of the old place, others, with the preconceived thoughts that it could never live to the past history and certain things should have never changed. Much rather, they’d ideally be forgotten.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen it like this,” One customer spoke in a hushed voice. Shaky with age as bright eyes caught the writings amongst the tables edge, brushing a hand against the glossy surface as if it might break once it was made aware it was a table, indeed, marked by history. “You kept them.”
It wasn’t a question, but more so something said as an affirmation to themselves.
“Your usual tea?”
“Please.”
Words didn’t need to be shared with broken memories. There were no words needed to show the love and care that brought life into the building. No need to dredge the past when one can mend a bridge that would never be crossed again rather than burning it.
— — —
Time always seemed to go by faster than it did the day before, the older one gets, the more the realization becomes a truth.
From the early morning rays of the sun rising to it casting a serene glow through the windows of the cafe. Bathing the painted walls with hues of golden light, streaks of rainbow catching from the prisms shielding those from the world- if only even temporarily.
Locking the doors came as second-nature, helping everyone that made the cafe what it was, cleaning the machines and sweeping crumbs that made home beneath the tables. Even the most meticulous and tedious tasks needed to be done, even if it was through hatred and spite of cleaning rather than going home.
But going straight to bed wasn’t in the plan for today just yet.
The tattoo shop had become a familiar third space at a certain point for you. Hearing the buzz of the tattoo machine running, it never failed to draw anxiety first. The subtle shakiness in the nerves, yet it never failed to be exciting at the same time. To gain another piece to the story that would only end when fate chose.
“You’re early, like always.” The receptionist behind the decorated desk smiled, looking up from the computer, “Give him around ten minutes to finish up.”
“Sounds good.”
Waiting. The perfect thing to feed anxious thoughts from the voices of others, why were you doing this again? Why start getting them? What was the point if it didn’t mean something to you, was it just a waste of money?
There was a justification though.
Just one that not many seemed to be willing to listen to.
Yet again, not many were ever willing to listen when given the chance or told to.
“Hey-” His voice breaking through your thoughts as steps echoed against the wood floor quietly, “We’re gonna go over the design, make sure it looks good then I’ll get set up. You know the process by now.”
His words ending with a soft chuckle as he made the light joke, Romero had been your artist for nearly a decade at this point. The man himself having been in the industry for longer than he’d have ever thought would work as well. By now, it was near routine for him to be the one to be the one to design and allow the art to come to life.
“Always, Romeo.”
Giving a teasing look to the older man as he gave a gruff, half-hearted, laugh at the misname given through years of either people misreading or spell-check simply hating the name given to him. Keeping the ipad balanced against his palm as the screen flicked on, plain background being swiped away as he pulled up the design.
Dark lines curved neatly together, thin and bold coming together to form the body as the pattern formed perfectly into a small skull. A death’s head hawkmoth.
To some, an omen of death due to its markings. Others believing it to be rather spiritual, perhaps a loved one using a bridge to say they were still there watching over. But for this particular meaning.. It was growth. Change is something inevitable, unpredictable even, such is life- Life was something everyone was learning every day.
“It looks perfect. Always do amazing work.”
“Ready then?”
“Ready as I can to get stabbed by a professional.” The dry response brought a laugh from the other as he shook his head at the dark humor. Boots catching against the floor as he turned, moving his head as a silent motion to follow to his room.
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If someone were to ask about Doctor Lecter, most would think of certain words. The man himself always keeping a calm and poised composure. Taking all his work with a serious tone, whether it be listening to the worries and concerns of a patient crying on the couch of his office and leaving crumpled tissues with no regards other than their own. Kept between doctor and patient confidentiality, what was there to share?
Wherever the man went, keeping his clothes neatly pressed and fitted to his stature, the familiar composure always covering his true thoughts. Much like a child dresses as a favored hero to shield themselves from the harm of the world; only there were no heroes in the real world.
None to come flying through the air and rescue those from destroyed buildings or to help a stranger from otherworldly dangers. Heroes didn't exist in that sense, no.
Many will deem to argue that heroes do in fact exist. They hold the belief that service workers such as policemen and fire fighters are the heroes of the real world. That it takes great strength and effort to do those jobs, to risk their lives for others and willfully continue to do so every day.
Those are the same kinds of people that ignorantly believe that those very same ‘heroes’ wouldn't take another's life if it were innocent. When, in fact, they do. They are the same who wear a sheep’s skin as a wolf, feeding on the attention and adoration of others to gain a quick sense of satisfaction only to go to a shared bed at the end of the night.
Hannibal Lecter was no hero, and he never saw himself as one either.
But there were certain days, moments where a small warmth formed in his chest as measured footsteps walked through the coffee shop. He despised the smell of the ground beans, sugary sweet syrups that others adored. But today, the smell had changed.
A bitter, caustic, taste forming first in his throat rather than his tongue making him hesitantly force himself to take another breath. The air causing his throat to close sharply rather than releasing the air. Something had gone wrong, sour even. And the smell wasn't coming from something, no, it was from someone.
The doctor was used to odorous scents, whether it be from one at a dinner party he served who may have overdosed on cologne or perfume to mask a more regal sense to those who were more desensitized to their own smell. Everyone carried their own scent after all, just as they carried stripes on their skin.
But this was not one he was accustomed to.
This smell was coming from someone he preferred to hold a high favor towards.
“Have you been overworking yourself?”
Hannibal had quickly become a favorited regular at the coffee place, his order never straying from the usual tea. He always somehow found a way to make even the most unmanageable of people understand how to act as a decent being rather than taking out on the workers, the money he left behind in the tip jar being a generous bonus to the coins most discarded after the process.
As always, he arrived in his usual suit with his tie neatly done and tucked against the buttoned collar of his shirt. Not a hair out of place. He always preferred to come in the early hours of the morning, patiently waiting with an understanding nod that it was still dawn and not many were willing to carry banter or a polite conversation at such inconvenient hours.
The sun was just beginning to rise when he met you on the other side of the counter. His eyes holding a mask of indifference, as does his voice with its usual calm tone, he was never one to pry into others when he was not working in his office.
“You seem more tired than usual,” He continued calmly. Moving one of his hands to produce the familiar payment for his tea as you shook your head slightly. Whether it was in denial of his question or not, he was unsure of as you grabbed the paper cups.
“It’s on the house today, you’re good.”
You stated back in return before turning to grab the tea bags for his drink.
A small pause made way to his face for a momentary second before disappearing just as quickly, shaking his head slightly before taking the cash out from his pocket to pay for his drink. “I couldn’t.”
“Can and will. Besides,” you gave a dry smile, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “we can’t take cash. Apparently someone lost the key to access where it’s kept, we haven’t gotten it yet.”
Hannibal gave a small nod, watching your hands carefully take the tea bag out of it's plastic holder with the tongs before tucking the string between the curved rims. The idea of not paying for tea would seem like such a simple concept to most, eager to take it and leave for the day without spending money, but it didn't sit right in the ever building pit of the doctor's stomach.
His fingers tucking the bill into the tip jar, hiding his payment along with his usual tip beneath the single bills that curved around the walls of the decorated jar. His hands finding purchase at his sides as his eyes looked over the half-empty case of cooled items, overpriced bars labeled for nutrition, carbonated beverages that sat neatly facing the world. And yet there was still that smell.
"You seem to be here quite often when I come in."
It was an observation, his words carefully posed to make conversation as he watched you hold back a reaction to the hot water bouncing out of the paper cup, catching against your fingers with a small sting.
"I work a lot of morning shifts." Was the answer he was given in return, followed by the small shrug of your shoulders as you grabbed the plastic lid to seal the drink.
Hannibal hummed lowly, letting you set the cup in front of him on the counter before taking it from its spot as he gave a small nod. "Do you enjoy it?“ A simple question, truly, yet it held the air like a double-edged sword. Sharpened edge dangling just above a thread akin to how a pendulum can swing a hair's length away from someone. “Working so early that is."
Forming questions that allowed for the man to learn whoever was in front of him without forcefully being seen as 'invasive’ was a specialty of Doctor Lecter’s. And yet, this would never be the first nor last that he would use his skills not for bettering someone, but to perhaps use them to help himself.
Curling his fingers around the paper cup, just barely brushing his fingers against your own as a feigned accidental touch. Eyes catching the hidden swipe of that very hand against your clothing- you didn't enjoy physical touch it seemed- Corners of his mouth ticking imperceptibly upwards, hidden just as quickly as he brings the cup to his lips. It was nothing compared to the tea that Hannibal knew was tucked away in his kitchen, but if it meant being able to help aid in making the biting scent that only he knew about fade ever slightly.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, I assume."
"We'll see.” Was the answer given to him in return, just as always.
That was how he rationalized his thoughts. Thoughts, yearning, for more. Fighting for a home, for a place to be seen. He knew himself to be vain – spending meticulous moments fixing the twisted strands of hair that becomes undone during his sleep. Adorning his skin with jewelry from what was once his home, no matter, Ithaca will be his new home soon enough. Along with the queen, that is.
He was just a man. A man with a never-ending hunger that pitted in his stomach. Akin to a little voice whispering in a stoic man's ear, urging to do the right thing. Only, Antinous’ voice spoke of what he deserved. He's been a patient man after all, it's been twenty years, Odysseus was most likely left to the gods and their thoughts of mercy. Antinous has been, what he deems, more than patient in allowing for the queen to weave her shroud rather than take what he wished. Allowing for the hushed words of the old king when he'd rather cut off the tongues of whomever spoke of the man.
He’d be a better king. A better man. One who wouldn't abandon his wife for so long, what a fool Odysseus was.
His time was dwindling, the other suitors gaining his own impatience. The prince was still away from the kingdom, his prize was simply waiting to be claimed. Yet there was still the chance that she would accept him– as her new king, as her husband – Antinous would still give her the olive branch if she learned to just give in to him.
But if she wasn't willing, well, desperate times come along with desperate measures. Of course.
He was just a man, after all. His patience could only strain so much before the thread snapped. Was he ever truly become good enough to become king? Of course. That was what he deserved. What he was rightfully owed and one Antinous planned to take, no matter the lost. Eventually she could grow to love a monster, he wouldn't give her a choice otherwise.
The feeling of buzzing underneath his skin was something Secondo had become accustomed to through the years. At first, it scared him. A stinging itch crossing its way over his skin in precise lines, lifting every few seconds before returning to deliver its path. Secondo thought he was dying. Or cursed, more likely.
The first time the pain begun, Secondo was well already into his adult years. He had long stopped the idea of an anima gemella, a soul mate. Who was it to say he had no say nor choice in who he was destined to be with? To say there is a chance person meant exactly for him, to love and to worship, to desire? Or, at least, that’s how it sounded in his ears when those squawked over his brazen lack of care.
Secondo was someone who knew what he enjoyed and what he didn’t. He watched over as his brother performed for crowds as their father did, giving words of seldom advice and ways to understand their questions of the unholy. He himself gladly engaged in celebrating the sins. He was a man of pride, after all.
So when the stinging sensation shot through the course of his arm, he simply ignored it.
The quick, piercing, buzz burning across his skin where there was nothing to disturb it made him think he was losing his mind. So, Secondo went to the one person who he’d knew have an answer… even if it would grate his damned soul to hear it.
“I think I am dying.”
“Che?”
“I am having a heart attack.” The words were clear, ever slightly clipped that gave way to the infamous ‘Secondo Emeritus Temper’ - or so his brothers called it- “It certainly feels like that.”
Primo could only give his brother the most withering of fatherly looks before shaking his head, bringing his hand up to motion for the other to sit down across from him. One day, he swore, these brothers he cared for would kill him somehow. Giving his heart a moment to return to its pace after the near pause of hearing his brother’s words.
“Why are you not going to get help then?” The question making a scowl form on the younger ones face, upturning the corners of his lips in distaste in admitting it may not be that bad.
“So it is not a heart attack then?” Primo mused, looking at his brother with a small nod. He didn’t need to further press the metaphorical knife it seemed Secondo had impaled himself on rather than to say what they both knew. ”When did it start?”
Secondo wanted to move. To scratch at the itch forming across his arm as the phantom sensations made his fingers twitch. How in the hell was it still continuing? The look on his face said it all as he pressed the bared skin of his forearm against the counter they sat against, the coolness barely easing the burning realization.
“Nearly half of an hour ago.”
Primo gave an understanding nod, to some that was the end and for others it was only the beginning. “You know what I am going to say, no?”
Descriptions of appearance, (I.e. tattoos, piercings) -Don’t Like Don’t Read-
Questions always welcome
Secondo wished he could ignore the phantom sensations. The jolt that never failed to make him want to jump out of his skin, curling his fingers to his palm as he felt the line draw across his shoulder without a hint of warning. The lights flashing over his skin as the lyrics left him from memory.
Memory of seeing his brother do the same, working himself to be the next Papa, to follow in the path of the Ministry. The sting of sweat reaching past his eyelashes, misting over his eyes as he blinked, looking over the few lines of faces he could see before darkness encompassed the edges of the crowd. This was where he belonged, who he was.
He is Papa.
Papa was him. And Papa’s didn’t have time to hold distraction such as soulmates.
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|Degradation| |Four Armed! Sukuna| |Cruel! Sukuna| Afab! Reader| +18 Only
Minors will be blocked- Don't like, Don't Read
Thinking about True Form! Sukuna-
Wrecking havoc on your village, everyone knew that the king of curses was cruel- sadistic at least, demonic at the worst.
He was a selfish creature, thinking of no one but himself. Yet when he took another to join the other concubines, it was either that or the risk of death- you’d rather choose death. And when you refused to listen- that just made him want to break you even further..
“A-Ah!-” A wrecked gasp left your throat, thighs burning as you straddled his waist. Large hands preventing you from moving as his thumbs pressed against your hips, bringing them back and forth with a lazy performance as red irises watched.
The mouth on his stomach wide open, tongue lapping at your folds before burying itself into your cunt once again. A satisfied growl leaving his chest as he watched that fiery defiance breaking inside you with each and every orgasm that wrecked your body. “That’s it, such a pathetic whore. Thinking you could defy me?”
A cruel smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his head propped up by his free right arm, tucked behind his head as he watched. His other hand moving, nails ghosting up your sternum before his palm pressed against the column of your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat as he pressed on the sides with just enough pressure to bring you to light-headedness. Tilting your head up to look at the cracked mirror hanging above the ruined sheets of the bed.
“Watch yourself as I ruin you.” He murmured lowly, no hint of affection in his commanding tone as he hummed lowly. “Watch as I take wring every last pleasurable noise from you and make you beg me for more.”
A choked whine leaving as your eyes met the mirrored gaze. Face flushed as you panted, the mouth on his stomach never stopping as the tongue circled your clit with a vicious precision before drawing away just when you neared the edge. Your chest heaving as he laid sprawled underneath you, even in this position, he still held all the power..
“So pathetic, begging for more when I’ve barely done a thing to you.”
“Beg me.” He let out a low laugh, one of his hands leaving your hips as a shiver ran up your spine at the feeling of something wet traced the curve of your spin. A mouth forming on the palm of his hand as he trailed it down to your ass, a cruel smirk decorating his face. “Beg me to let you cum before I make you scream my name and show everyone who you belong to.”
Warning- Hold Them Down inspired | Dark Themes Involved | 18+ Only
credits to @saradika-graphics for divider
Antinous loved the feeling of eyes on him.
Whether it be the other suitors that stood no chance of vying for the queen’s hand and the throne, or the wandering gazes of women and men alike. Some days, he would gladly indulge in his own satisfaction and pleasure. A minor distraction between plotting and grazing through the palace walls.
But there was one set of eyes that always caught his own and set a fire burning in his chest. A sly grin forming with a devilish glimmer, his footsteps setting a quick pace. The edge of his sandals catching against the stone as he stumbles before quickly catching himself against the wall. “Already falling for yourself?”
Antinous didn’t want to look up from his gaze that met the stones. The tips of his ears warming as he knew exactly who he had stumbled into, and yet, as the gods humor him, it was the very same person he was on the hunt for.
“I have been looking for you,” He quickly took a second to recompose himself before meeting your gaze. His hair meeting the edges of his eyes in loose curls from the tight coils his hair was twisted in. The length was beginning to annoy him once more and so he deemed it time to find his favorited spirit and demand assistance.
If he hadn’t deemed his main purpose to gain the throne and garter the queen’s hand, Antinous is certain that he would have taken his chances a long time ago. Dark thoughts edging at the back of his mind of sharing his bed with you, to hear every weep and moan, to make you scream his name for all to hear. He would make sure to truly mark you as his.
Shaking his head to clear away the thoughts before giving a charming smile, “It seems that my hair needs to be fixed once again. Would you care to share your skilled touch in taming these unruly strands?”
"You mean to simply ask if I have the moments time to help fix your hair?" Your words rang in his ears as the man leant against the cold stone of the wall. His arms crossing over his chest as dark eyes peered down the bridge of his nose. Even now, he could feel the familiar ache in his chest.
The fire burning inside him.
Demanding him to take what is rightfully his.
But now wasn't the time to stray from his plans… And once he was truly in control- then, he could truly do as he wished.
"When you put it that way, yes."
He spoke with an expectant tone, looking over the chiton that covered your skin. The simple cloth folded over carefully with extra fabric tied against your waist to keep from dragging across the floors. Even in such simple fabric compared to the jewelry Antinous adorned on his wrists, the gold bands shining against tanned skin.
Antinous knew he of his status. He knew how so many looked at him. And yet, the same being that held the fire in his soul never looked at him as he did to the item of his affections.
He would never truly stop vying for the crown. To hold the place of king of Ithaca instead of the old king that had long since disappeared. But who would truly be next to him on the throne?
Would he ever truly be satisfied with the queen at his side, willing or not, when his chest ached during long nights. Ghostly touches brushing through his hair, twisting and braiding away the coiled strands with practiced touches. The low hum leaving his throat out of gentle pleasures, one sound he would forever deny to escape him.
Could a warrior like him truly be satisfied by the thought of such meager touches when he was getting closer to completing his plan with every day that passed…
Content Warning. Drug Usage (Aphrodisiac), Boot Riding, AFAB! Reader, Drugged! Reader, degradtion. Dabi is not nice in this
Read at your own risk. This is 18+ only, minors/ageless blogs will be blocked
To say that Dabi liked what he saw would be an understatement.
Villains always came and went when it came to the league, most just being brought in for a mission or two before either leaving or getting killed. That was just what it cost to be a villain.
When Shigaraki told him that there’d be a newcomer on the mission with him, Dabi wanted to roll his eyes. Great. Just great. He’d have to babysit some newbie and have to get the job done. At least this time it was going to be somewhat easy compared to the other missions he’s done.
To be on the fair side, the only good thing was that the boss had at least given the scarred man a few days notice to prepare. Maybe the newbie might even be someone decent to look at. Give him something new to think about when he couldn’t sleep at night, his hand keeping fairly decent company.
The day of the mission was slow, it felt like it was dragging on waiting for the newbie. Toga and Twice were babbling on about something, Shigaraki was wearing Father as he itched at his already-irritated neck, Spinner was watching Compress perform some magic trick. And Dabi, well he was stuck until the other got there, and they were already fucking late.
“Why do I have to wait here? This is stupid having to wait on someone that we don’t even know.” Dabi spoke to the pale-haired man, eyes watching as Kurogiri cleaned off a chipped glass before putting it away. “I can handle doing this thing on my own.”
”You know the rules, Dabi. No one goes on missions alone, not with the rise in heroes.” Shigaraki responded, eyeing the other from behind his father’s hand. As much as Dabi hated it, the younger one was right. Stupid heroes.
The door to the base opened with a creak, catching Dabi’s eye as he rose an eyebrow at the sound. Bored gaze watching your meek form enter the. Bar, sheepishly rubbing your hands together. Well, this should be interesting. Dabi snickered to himself, his eyes flicking over your body, what in the hell was a little thing like you doing in a place like this?
Who in their right mind would wear a dress to the league of fucking villains?
Even if that dress hugged your every curve. The black and white lines kept Dabi’s attention as his eyes raked over the curve of your ass, moving up to your tits as he hummed quietly to himself. Definitely a good piece of eye candy.
“Um- Is this the league of villains?” No, this is just where a group of villains stay.
Dabi wanted to roll his eyes, jeez, how could you be this naive?
”You’re late.” Shigaraki responded, turning his attention to you. His voice held no room to attempt to plead your case as you bit the inside of your cheek. Great, such a wonderful start to this new group. “Dabi will tell you what to do, try not to mess up too much on the mission.”
You gave a small nod, moving your hands down before spotting the scarred man at the bar. The news had shown him enough times for you to know who Dabi was, or rather what he looked. Like. Dark purple and black scars covered the lower half of his face, staples holding the skin together, and his eyes- god, his eyes were so blue. Those articles could never truly do the villain proper justice.
“Gonna keep staring all day, princess?” Dabi remarked, moving off the worn-down stool as he fixed his ripped jacket. “Either get moving or I’m leaving you behind. We don’t have time to wait on princesses to move when you feel like it.”
You nodded slightly, quickly moving to follow the dark-haired man out from the hideout. His footsteps were silent as he walked through the dirty alley, making sure to stay out of sight of the public. Dabi wasn’t much of a talker, huh? Maybe he was just trying to focus on getting the mission done. Yeah… that was probably it.
Ten minutes passed by as the both of you kept walking, occasionally glancing back at the scarred man, looking at the rips of his jacket, and the worn-down soles of his boots. Was that- were there white strands in his hair? You tilted your head slightly, knitting your eyebrows together as you looked at the man’s head.
“Oi, princess. I asked you something.” Dabi’s voice broke through your thoughts as he looked at you. “Keep staring at me and I’ll charge.”
You shook your head slightly, flicking your view from his hair to his eyes as you swallowed lightly. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
”No shit. It doesn’t take a hero to figure that out.” He spoke lowly, looking down at you. How in the hell were you so small compared to him? For fucks sake, your head barely reached his shoulder. “I asked you what your quirk is.”
”It’s a healing quir-“ you responded, almost a little too quickly, “I can transfer wounds to myself, any wounds I get tend to heal quicker than someone else’s healing factors.”
Dabi hummed lowly, his eyes flicking down your body once more before taking another step as he gave a small nod. At least that was something useful. Maybe if you survived this mission, Shigaraki might find a use for you. The league did need a healer.
“I doubt you know how to fight well enough so just stick by me. Got it, princess?” He questioned, pausing his steps as he stopped at a locked building. The interior lights turned off as Dabi grabbed something from his jacket before leaning against the door.
You nodded slightly, fixing the sides of your dress as you felt it begin to ride up your thighs. “I know how to fight,” You muttered slightly, “I’ll stay by your side though.”
Dabi could only roll his eyes at the naivety of what you sounded like. Being a villain meant you can’t trust people. Let alone, say you’ll follow them into a random, locked, building and go into what’s going to be uncertain injury or doom.
After a minute of silence, Dabi managed to unlock the door with a click as he pushed it open. The interior of the building slowly lighting up from the moon’s light bleeding through. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as he held the door open with his forearm. “Ladies first.”
You swallowed, looking into the building before stepping into the doorway. Making only a few feet into the building before you felt a warm palm clasp against the front of your neck, pulling you forcefully into Dabi’s chest as you gasped.
Wide eyes stared up at the man as he kept his palm cupped against your throat, your voice dying against the touch.
“The alarm system is on. Watch your step.”
Dabi spoke gruffly, his eyes trained on the flooring in front of you. And he was right. Security cameras were positioned in the far corners of the room, watching over the entirety of the room, invisible lines criss-crossing against the floor. How in the world was he able to see that so quickly?
Goosebumps pricked at your skin as Dabi removed his hand, cold air taking its place as you swallowed. Now was not the time to think about those things- You had to focus.
You blinked once, twice- watching the man in front of you walk over the ines, staying within the blind spots of the cameras. His strength was deceiving with the scars. The silver cuffs of his jacket and black leather covering his biceps, the deep v of his shirt exposed a decent portion of his chest. All of it made you wonder what was hidden beneath, just how far did the scar bleed down his skin?
You shook your head slightly, following his footsteps with caution as the man moved into the stairwell, climbing up the floors to the top of the building. Tense silence grew between the two of you,thoughts racing through your head as you followed him.
What were you even doing here? Why the league of villains, out of everything, you just had to choose this? Sure- Heroes weren’t always the most reliable when it came to protecting civilians but everyone had their flaws. Even the one you knew, as often as you did want to smack him in his face, sometimes it was nice to just share a bed for a few minutes after sex. Yet again… He wasn’t one to stay for long, he never did.
“Still with me, princess?” Dabi rose an eyebrow, looking at your form as he reached the top of the stair, “Stay here.” He spoke the word as if it were a near command before slipping through the door as he shut it behind himself.
You nodded slightly, eyes flitting down to look at the man’s ass as you swallowed. Just how far did those scars go?
“—What are we?” The man in question rose an eyebrow, pulling on his clothes as he fixed his uniform. Your naked body covered in the thin sheet as your held it to your chest for some form of modesty, the latest meet-up with the hero proved to be something of wonder. “—What are we?” You repeated the question, looking at the tall man.
His fixed his shirt, making sure everything was properly in place before casting a stony look towards you. A glint laid in his eyes, one you could never figure out, as he loosely clenched his fist before releasing it.
“You are nothing but a stress relief to me. This arrangement is all that it shall ever be.” His words stung as you stayed quiet, looking down at the tussled sheets of your bed as you fought the tears climbing against your waterline. “Don’t start that.”
His voice was low, back turned to your body as he gripped the handle of the door. “If you cannot handle the truth, then don’t ask for it.”
And he was right… the band on his left finger proved that much.
—- —- —-
Snap Snap Snap
Dabi looked down at your form, pupils dilated as your head stayed lost in thought, his fingers snapping in front of your face as he kept one hand in his jacket pocket. At least you seemed to listen well enough- Wait. Were those tears? He didn’t sign up to deal with fucking crybabies.
He left you alone for not even ten minutes and you’re fucking crying. Goddamn.
“Let’s go.” Dabi spoke, brushing past you as he began the descent down the stairs.
You swallowed, blinking once more as you wiped a hand across your eyes before nodding as you followed him once more. The past was in the past. It was time to move on and what better way than dealing with a known group of villains?
Man… What did you get yourself into?
The trek back to the base was a quiet one. You stayed lost in your thoughts, Dabi had never been much for small talk. Wind pushed against the both of you, cold whipping past your exposed skin as you bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the quirked man. Fire quirks always tended to make the user’s body temperature higher than normal, and it didn’t seem like the cold weather was affecting the man whatsoever.
Questions floated through your head as you loosely crossed your arms against your body for warmth. God- you would kill for a fire quirk when it came to winter. Goosebumps covered your body like a blanket, if only it gave you that same amount of warmth that one would. Were his scars warm? Your eyes looked at the stapled skin, pale skin meeting the patches of purple and near-black.
How far did those scars go? Maybe it was just on the skin that he showed, but that wouldn’t make any sense… Right? His chest didn’t seem to have that many scars from what you saw. Dabi definitely never seemed like the type to shy away from a needle, if the piercings in his nose were anything to go off of. Would he be the type to even go that far?
”I can feel you staring holes into my back, princess.”
”S-sorry.” You mumbled, glancing away from the scarred man before looking around. Where even were you? This wasn’t the route you took to the hideout, right? “Where are we?” You spoke up, looking up at the man who continued walking. Sky getting dark as the minutes ticked by, cold weather sucked this time of year in Japan.
Dabi rose an eyebrow at your shaking form, fixing his jacket as he snickered slightly. “Relax, princess, I’m just getting something I need. Don’t get too scared, these people smell fear.” You couldn’t tell whether or not he was teasing or serious.
You swallowed, moving behind the villain as he walked into an alley. Voices could be heard as Dabi carried the conversation, rustling could be heard as Dabi brought something out from his pocket. Was he doing a drug deal? How was this even allowed?
”Alright, princess, let’s get you back to the hideout before Shigaraki has my ass for scaring you off.” Dabi looked at you, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket. “League’s around the corner.”
So you weren’t that far from it… Maybe he just lead you a different way from the base.
Yeah, that had to be it. Heroes were patrolling the streets nearly every hour in the cities, especially with the rise in crime.
—The first time you had met the hero was at a gala, the blond man laughing about something as he passed on a charismatic smile, drink resting against his palm. It was Hawks’ idea to bring you to it in the first place. The scandalous view of Hawks bringing his assistant to a hero gala, the next morning would be a pr’s worst nightmare. At least the view was nice.
That was pretty much the only benefit. Idle chatter passed between the highly-ranked heroes, this was never your scene. In a best-case scenario, there might be a decent menu served if the higher-ups didn’t decide on alcohol instead. Chilled glass in your hand, the sun was barely beginning to set during the summer days, making parties like this seem to go on forever.
“Not enjoying the party?” A deep voice broke the silent air, the hero stepping out onto the balcony where you stood.
“Not my particular setting to be in.” You hummed in response, swirling the ice around the glass. “Too many people, alcohol, everything and all.” You mused, raising your glass before taking a sip from the pink liquid.
“Not a drinker then.” It wasn’t a question, no, he knew just by a glance that you weren’t drinking. But yet again, neither was he. “My daughter pushed me to come here, she said that it would be a good thing.” You raised an eyebrow, looking at the taller man, at least he was dressed for the occasion. White shirt fitted to his muscles, tie slightly crooked from his movements. Maybe. this party was interesting after all.
Dabi couldn’t believe that it was this easy to get you to trust him, if that’s what it could be called, he truly wasn’t sure. The simple powder was such a fun aphrodisiac, supposed to bring out the darkest wants of whoever took it. Whether snorted or just mixed with a drink, it’d have the same effect on a person. And to see you just squirming in that tight dress of yours sent a lovely heat to his pants.
And for you to take the glass so willingly, wrapping your fingers around it as Toga kept talking. Red liquid swirling in the chipped glass, staining your lips a nice little pink tint. Turquoise irises watched from the bar, his eyes flitted from your chest, down to your thighs as he a smirked toyed at the corners of his lips.
The red fabric of your dress hugged every single curve as Dabi raked his eyes over, god- he couldn’t wait to rip that dress off your needy body. He hummed quietly, leaning back against the worn-down bar as he watched the conversation continue.
You swallowed, taking a sip from your glass as you gave a small nod to Toga. The teen talking about someone named Deku, it was getting hard to focus- Maybe it was just the day catching up to you. But that wouldn’t explain the tingling against your legs, heat slowly coiling inside your stomach. Throat dry as you took another few sips of your drink, finishing it off.
“I’m gonna get a refill- I’ll be right back, Toga.” You gave a smile to the blonde, moving out from your seat, making your way to where the scarred villain sat.
Each step caused friction between your thighs as you swallowed.
Fuck- it definitely wasn’t exhaustion.
“Need a refill, princess?” Dabi hummed, looking at you as he took a shot, letting the amber-colored liquid soothe the burning in his throat. He snickered softly, watching the small nod you gave before he leaned over to grab the plastic container. His shirt raised as it uncovered the pale skin of his torso, a soft v-line guiding down to the waistband of his jeans.
“No comment?” He mused, taking the glass from your hand as his shirt fell back. down, “Eyes up here, princess.”
You swallowed, looking at him, “I’ve got a name…” You mumbled, looking at him before pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the growing heat between your legs.
“So you’ve said.” He retorted, his eyes glancing up and down your body. The drug was definitely working, he smirked, just a little longer and it’ll be like toying with putty in his hands. “Feeling alright there, princess? Not looking so good there.”
You chewed on your lip, drawing it between your teeth as you messed with the glass in your hand. Maybe you should lie down… try to sleep it off or something- you haven’t taken anything, right? This just had to be something passing. You set the half-finished glass onto the bar, taking a small breath. “I’m use gonna get some rest, I’ll see you later, Dabi.”
The man gave a non-committal hum, looking at you with a sly grin hidden behind the whiskey, a devious glint in his eyes. Everything was going according to plan.
Dabi let a minute pass as he watched you leave the old bar before following your path as he chuckled. His footsteps tapped against the wet concrete as he lit a cigarette, the smoke leaking out from the owners of his mouth before leaving in a cloud as he exhaled. Ears pricked at the sound of a quiet whimper, his eyes grazing over the dimly lit area.
Oh what a perfect joy, Dabi could swear he’d purr in amusement if he could. His eyes raked over your shaking form pressed against the bricked wall. Hand shoved between your legs, eyes screwed together as pitiful whines passed from your lips.
“What a sight to see,” The man whistled amusedly, a shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned against the wall. “You trying to shove your poor little hand into your needy cunt to get your rocks off.”
You whined slightly, rutting your hips against your hand, red erupting across your face. Why- Why out of everyone did it have to be him? Wearing that teasing grin on his face. He was such an asshole- But fuck, you needed something, anything, to help make the heat go away.
Dabi smirked, offering his hand to your shaking form as a pout made its way to your face. Everything was going according to plan and Dabi would love every single minute that the drug stayed in your system. Your eyes raked over his form, white strands blended together with the black, stapled skin hidden beneath the leather jacket and dark jeans. Bright eyes shone with amusement as he rose an eyebrow, “C’mon princess.”
”Make me-“ The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them making you swallow instead at the chuckled that left Dabi’s throat. “Make you?” He questioned, looking down at your shaky form. “Oh princess, all you had to do was ask me.”
His eyes raked over your form as he cupped his palm against your throat, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his thumb, such a nervous thing, a nervous “-little mouse.”
You swallowed against his palm, looking up at the man as you wrapped a hand around the man’s wrist. This was wrong— “A-ah.” A gasp left your mouth as Dabi pressed his thigh against your clothed cunt, the cold denim seeped through the thin fabric of your panties, knee catching against your clit.
“What’s the matter, little mouse? Can’t take a little pressure against that needy pussy of yours.” Dabi chuckled lowly, forefinger curling beneath your chin as you looked at the man who held your chin. “Use your words, princess, otherwise I won’t touch you.”
His words spoke with a small growl as he watched you try to move your hips against his thigh in need. This drug was definitely a good one, more potent than he would’ve thought, but nothing he could complain about. Your mind cloudy with need, all you can feel is the rough denim from his jeans pricking at your inner thighs, squeezing his thigh to keep it in place.
Dabi let out a small laugh, feeling your movements as he gave a squeeze to your throat in return. His eyes lit up with amusement, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Please- Dabi, please-“ “Please, what?” He questioned, looking at you as he hummed. “‘M need it-“ Your words mumbled, hands pawing at Dabi’s cock in need as you looked at him.
“Aw, such a needy slut. Already pawing at my cock and I’ve barely even done a damn thing to you.” He hummed lowly, pressing his thigh against you before drawing his thigh away. “If you need it so badly, ride my boot.”
You whined at the loss of stimulation, looking up at the villain with a pout on your lips before blushing as your attempted to move against his thigh. Hands toying with the button of his jeans, undoing them as your hands moved to the zipper.
“Ah ah ah~” Dabi chuckled, watching as he took a step away from your reach. “On your fucking knees if you are so goddamn needy, princess.” He smirked slightly, guiding your movements down as he kept his hand clasped around your throat, “Now you are gonna be a good girl for me and ride my boot until you cum.”
You gave a small nod, hiking the bottom of your dress up before pressing your clothed cunt against the toe of his boot, eyes fluttering at the sensation of something helping. Dabi let out a small chuckle, moving his foot teasingly as he listened to the sounds and mewls fall past your lips.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Whines and moans tumbling past your lips, hips frantically chasing after a high that seemed to evade you with every chance.
“C’mon, little mouse, such a needy thing. A needy, little, slut humping my boot. Look at you, almost fucking drooling and I haven’t even lifted a finger.” Dabi smirked, teasingly lifting the toe of his worn and broken boot to press against your clit, listening the the whine that broke past your throat.
Such a starved thing you were. Who knew that a little powdered aphrodisiac would have this effect? Oh yeah- He did.
Just a little dash in your drink, watching you take it so happily from the scarred villain. Didn’t you know to never take a drink from a stranger? Let alone a villain adorning a smirk as he watched you press your thighs together, shifting on your spot as a warmth grew inside you. Clit twitching against your scanty little panties, begging for just a small amount of friction.
“P-please?” The words whimpered as you looked up at the man, your breaths uneven. You wanted- needed to cum.
Dabi chuckled amusedly, shifting his boot once more as he listened to the whines and moans spill past your lips. Maybe. He’d have to do this more if it meant you begging him to fuck your needy little cunt, drooling for his cock.
Content warning: -Six Hundred Strike —Vengeance Saga— spoilers | Blood Descriptions Used | Bodily | Blood (Ichor) | Death / Mentions of Death | 18+ Only
The waters that formed the seas had turned to gold.
Ichor dripped from the edges of the rafts, flowing and spilling into the dark seas as the golden liquid swirled across the waters. His breath leaving his chest with every pull and tug from the trident. Sharpened edges bruising and cutting jagged lines into the god’s chest. Golden lines following down each crevice and edge that formed the god’s human-sized form.
The dark sky casting eery shadows over the two enemies. Malice covering Odysseus’ eyes, veins pushing at the surface of the king's skin, strength over-powering the weariness that lived in his bones. His lips turned upwards in a sneer as his shoulders ached at the weight of the trident in his hands. Screams of howling winds turned to a dull ring as he dug the tips of the weapon in between the gaps of the other's ribs. Pained moans echoing through Odysseus’ skull as a part of the man grinned at the pain and fear covering the god’s voice.
Stories of when stardust had mixed with the waters had been told for years. Yellow strands weaving through even the darkest parts of the seas. The storm that had torn against the sea not even moments before, gone without a single trace. Some would say that those who had woken in the middle of the darkest night, long had past the flame that would light the dark corners. Those whose minds were lost amongst their own seas; Fighting the very same waves as their king once did—
Those were who spoke in hushed whispers of the night they heard them.. The longed for voices of those they had loved and lost to war. Whispered hymns that were nearly indistinguishable floating in their minds, helping guide those the fallen warriors had lost back to where they were safe. To help those complete the travel they wished to for one final time.
Words translated through heavy years, elders continued to pass the tales down. What had once been told in secreted tones, as if afraid to anger those they spoke of, turned to warnings. Cold tones speaking of the wrath that could be reaped if others were not cautious. Icy voices merging into some using the story as a way to bring naughty children to bed and for others to read from inked pages in a worn-down textbook along with other peers.
“You know… my grandfather used to tell me stories.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, moving to sit herself up with shaky arms as you moved to help. Gently sitting her up as you brought the straw floating against the styrofoam cup closer.
Miss Penelope was the oldest in the rehabilitation building, her birthday cresting on the 29th of February — technically making her one of the youngest residents as well — as the elderly woman would say when someone would make a comment. Penelope was a lively woman despite having lived for nearly a full century, one hundred full circles around the moon. Her voice forever carrying pieces of her home, of the life she once held before making it her own. Tanned skin marked with a clash of ancient, traditional, lines and brightly colored thorns with heads of roses cut down. Tinted and worn with age, Miss Penelope always held joy in most things.
Talking about some parts of her past, a ‘story’ as some would call it, the old woman would form a scoff and ask for liquor –or rather candy, if children were present– before slowly talking about her life.
One day you had asked her why she continued to talk about her history if she always seemed to dislike it. The sweet woman laughed softly, bringing a hand to your own as she gave a gentle pat to the skin. “If I don’t share my story, who will know? I’m over death’s head at this point, there are many things I can say that some will believe. Venomous snakes look the same as others, but they will bite at any moment they get.
“These people do not care what I have to say, but perhaps there is someone else listening to you and they will care. I am the last of my blood, no one shall come after me and stories will be buried along with me if I do not speak.” She calmly answered, greying irises looking towards you as she moved to stand herself up. A soft sound leaving her throat as her eyes instinctively followed the sounds of the other’s footsteps. “Always look in their eyes, you can see it.”
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You've been doing so well for me; my cute, little, Prince
I know you can feel the touches. The soft brushes vibrating up to your ribs and into the muscle. Every touch and brush against that sensitive chest of yours. You can't hide your reactions from me, darling. I know your body better than you think, how to break cute brats like you.
That familiar feeling of stretching my fingers inside you, crooking them at the perfect second to make you squirm. Draw my nails down that little spot on the back of your head, all the way down your back before tracing them back up to make you squirm and shudder from my touch. Kissing at every little spot I can reach on that sensitive neck of yours.
Don't think I'm being mean for teasing when all I want to do is spoil my little prince.
Hannibal wasn’t sure when his obsession first started.
Hannibal Lecter was a man who knew himself better than most. He was a man of many titles. A psychiatrist, a cannibal, a helper to the FBI, the Chesapeake Ripper; All of which he knew and wore each title with precision, aiming to do what he did best and what suited him the best.
Whether that came down to helping attempt to catch an unknown serial killer, watching as a man cried talking of his life and where he didn’t know what could have possibly gone wrong despite Hannibal picking apart each word and coming up with an answer mentally, his mask never slipping from the facade.
He was a man known for his refined taste, hosting elaborate dinner parties with exquisite food and drink to pair, dressing himself in tailored clothing that held to his standard. Choosing a specific wine to join with a meal he cooked for himself, allowing for the flavours to blend against his tastebuds and savoring his own creations. For more socially-acceptable times, he would choose a tea blend carefully amongst given selections during times of weather or talking.
A coffee-drinker, he was not.
The smell of the roasted beans making him mask the urge to twitch his nose at the scent invading his space, hands placed perfectly at his sides as he stepped into the forsaken place. The noise of the grinder being used going through his ears as he attempted to keep his persona up, of exactly what he wanted to be seen as whilst his eyes scanned across the people behind the counter mindlessly talking or scrolling on their cellphones.
There was, of course, little to no one entering the place as early as the sun slowly rising on the horizon. What had possessed him to walk into this petrifying place again? Of course, Will -The man having asked Hannibal to pick up an order he had placed ahead of time after another sleepless night-
But Hannibal supposed he could see what this place had to offer if Will was seemingly eager to gain any form of caffeine from such a place when he could have made the other something much better given time to learn the man’s tastes and what blends he preferred. Even if Hannibal couldn’t stand the smell of coffee himself.
His quiet footsteps led him to the edge of the counter as his eyes glanced at the side where pastries and baked items sat in a glass case, neatly arranged to garter attention from potential customers. “-sir.”
The barista’s voice broke him out from his thoughts as he looked across the counter, there was truly nothing much that he would choose to eat from here. “Do you need help with anything? Any suggestions?” The barista offered, looking at him from their place behind the register.
“What is your selection of tea?” He asked, his voice a practiced calm as he took the small menu that the barista handed from the side of the register. His eyes looking down at the small lettering, glancing over the small selection. Once again there was nothing truly that eye catching or that he would personally choose in his own life.
“Give me a small earl grey.”
Hannibal watched as the barista gave a small nod in return, taking back the menu before entering the selection onto their screen as the price showed. His eyes passing over the form of another one as he watched, their eyes glancing over the title before gathering the cup as they made the drink.
He enjoyed someone being quick at their job depending on the circumstances, allowing for the least amount of interaction needed so he could get out of this wretched building. His hand carefully avoiding the barista’s as he took the paper cup, feeling the heat from the water seep against his palm before making his way to the other end of the counter to grab Will’s order as quickly as he could.
The words being spoken between the workers half-mindedly going through his ears as he read over the label to make sure he took the correct order. Passing comments of one being told they need to not drink energy drinks so early in the morning while the other just shouldered off the comment with a different one, saying they were in life for a fun time but not a long one.
That would be an interesting being to study under the guise of helping.. Maybe he would just have to deal with the bitter taste in his mouth from the tea to learn more about that barista.
The thoughts of laying on your side in bed, the edges of sleep just slowly starting to creep inside. It had been a long day, you hadn't seen him since before the early hours of light.
Boots echoed quietly against the wood before stopping, slowly opening the door that closed off your own little world from everything else.
"Hello love," Their words softly spoken, edges of exhaustion twisting the edges.
Clothes rustled slightly before they moved to the other side of the bed. Living where you did, always traveling, it was best to always have something close just in case. You shifted against the bed slightly, goosebumps raising the skin as a cold touch brushed against the back of your shoulders.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth before you turned to press your face against their chest. At least this was perfect..
+++++++
"Fuck- sweetheart." The word leaving his mouth with a soft growl as he slowly moved his hips against you. His forearms caging your head between them as the muscles twitched and the veins pop against the skin.
His breath leaving him in soft gasps and moans, his head twitching inside you as he tried not to lose it in the first two minutes. God- your pussy was clenching around him so sweetly, just barely able to take him fully without whining.
Scars crossed parts of his skin, mapping stories permanently. Unknown words etched into unsaid memories, but they were all him. The one you knew. Nothing could ever change the way you looked at him when the glaze covers your eyes so cutely.
Nails brushing against his back, wrapping loosely over the back of his neck and pressing into his shoulder when he helps angle his movements perfectly to hit that sweet spot that makes you practically squeak.
"That's it- That's my good girl."
++++++++
Having Secondo in bed with you and getting high-
It's not the first time he's done with you, getting high and watching movies just to cuddle in the end of it. Lounging across the plush blankets and pillows, snacks on a nearby table so they don't fall off.
Secondo knows when the biggest point of your high hits as you brush your head against his chest, nudging against the loose fabric. "Amore? Do you want me to give you a massage, make you feel even better?"
His lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he tilts his head to look at you instead of the screen. He doesn't miss the subtle nod of your head as he leads you down against your stomach gently. He doesn't want you to accidentally get hurt.
His hands brush against your back, trailing down your clothed spine as he sits next to your outstretched legs. Pressing his thumbs expertly against the base of your spine as he works out knots, readjusting your body ever so slightly.
Listening to the moans and sounds leaving your mouth at the buzzing touch of his hands, the motions echoing through your nervous system. Feeling his hands slip near the arm holes of your shirt as he trails his touch up your ribs, working every knot out of your body like a worshipper giving tribute to their patron...
+++++++++
Having a partner that always wears dark glasses to cover their eyes no matter where they are, they don't let anyone see their eyes. Not in public, not even in privacy-
But one day after staying the night with them, you wake up in their bed with them sleeping on the couch- And there's nothing covering their eyes.
Putting the glasses back on them to let them do it themselves when they want to as a way to show trust and comfort-
But your partner took them off last night and you never realized it.
“—I‘ll have seven of the new iced blueberry with popping pearls. Medium size.”
“ Seven?”
“ Never had that big of an order before?" The man questioned, looking across the counter as Hannibal took his spot behind, waiting patiently for his turn to order. “Better yet let's do three iced lattes with vanilla and make it with blonde shots. Three regular coffees, three order of the newest bakery item with two chocolate and two cookies and cream pops.”
Hannibal could see the confusion and stress forming on you and your coworker’s faces as you all attempted to figure out what the man was ordering as a drink and the multiple food items. The way the man spoke was quite confusing, not to mention the other drinks he kept rambling off as your coworkers questioned if the man still wanted the first seven drinks.
Hannibal glanced at your face before tapping the man on the back of his shoulder, garnering his attention away from the menu.
“ Perhaps it would be easier if you wrote down all of what you would like to order so then they may have an easier time putting it onto your order.” He spoke with an eerily calm tone, looking at the other man as his words gave no room for misinterpretation. “As you can see, there is a line forming behind you.”
The man looked at Hannibal before biting the inside of his cheek, looking past the psychiatrist and at the line of customers forming. “Fine-“ he conceded before taking the pen you offered as he wrote down the list of items, flicking it onto the counter haphazardly.
You gave a small, thankful, look towards the regular customer that you had come to call Dr. Lecter before putting the list of drinks and food into the computer screen, finally allowing the man to pay after wanting to get his rewards scanned and a number of bags for his items.
“ Thank you for that,” you muttered to Hannibal as he stepped forward, “Your usual tea?”
Hannibal gave a soft nod, handing you the cash he knew would cover for his black tea. “I could tell it was overwhelming all of you, I don't understand how some can think that any order like that would be easy to understand.”
You laughed softly, handing back the change as he set a fifty dollar bill into the tip jar, “For your troubles.” Hannibal spoke softly before taking the paper cup from your hand as he moved aside to allow the rest of the customers to order.
Maybe he would have to plan his next meal sooner rather than later…
You are responsible for your own consumption of media, this is purely fictional
Brought across their lap with one hand splayed across your lower back, the other one is running up and down the backs of your bare thighs. The skin was already turning pink, blood rushing to the surface of the skin as they feel you squirm against their lap
Their voice was calm, they were speaking to you- “How many was that, darling?”
Fuck- how were you supposed to remember how many it was? Your mind was too busy focusing between the stinging sensation and how they would adjust your body across your lap each time you tried squirming against them
“I’m waiting for an answer, love.” And they could just as stubbornly wait all night if it would take so
“…ten?..” you mumbled with a guess, trying to think of a number that could possibly be close enough
They hummed in a small tone of disapproval, shaking their head slowly as they tapped their fingers against the backs of your thighs. “It was fourteen, my love. And with each time you forget, I am going to remember and put an additional two more.”
Their hand returned to the small of your back, bringing you back properly against their lap as their hips met yours. This was a punishment on one end, and a test of restraint on the other
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—18+, AFAB, drug mention, smut, teasing, begging, toys
Dabi loves seeing his favorite toy all tied up and begging for him to “Please- fuck me! Jus’ touch me, daddy, please!”
He's chuckling and laughing to himself as he watches you squirm and try to press your hips into the bed. The pretty blue ropes were digging into your thighs, raising the trapped flesh as he raked his eyes over every little part of you with a devilish grin on his lips
Poor, little, princess… stuck with your legs wide open, arms tied behind your back. What was he going to do to you..
“What's the matter, doll face? You were being a brat all of ten minutes ago, now you're practically begging for me. Can't make up your mind, princess? Or did the drugs finally get to that pretty, little head of yours? Told you to wait for me, and you didn't want to listen.”
Dabi sucks a small breath between his teeth, one hand resting on his chin as the other trails between your open thighs and the different toys that were spread out on the tussled sheets. He knew how much teasing normally made you act out, but in this state?
With your head all fuzzy from the cannabis in your system, there wasn't much you could do to stop him, even if you wanted to.. Which your body betrayed yourself as you felt the ever-constant heat growing between your legs as you felt the small silicone of your bullet pressing against your clit, pressing his thumb against the button
Oh this was definitely going to be a long night for you..
Yandere!Hannibal meeting his new favorite obsession
—18+ Only! By reading this, you are choosing to read possibly dark fiction —
Just— catching Hannibals attention when you’re working, taking his order with the usual, practiced faked voice used to make customers think that you actually enjoy working there
The first time you take his order, he paid no mind to hearing your coworkers asking about something as you were talking back to them as he approached the register. He could see the change in your face, a mask settling over your face, it was the same he looked at some of his patients when they arrive
“What can I get for ya’?”
Your voice surprised him as Hannibal glanced behind you to the teas, it wouldn’t be very good but it would have to do. “Just a small, black tea. Thank you.”
Hannibal gave a light nod, giving the cash needed as he stepped aside to wait.
The second time he comes back, he sees you making a drink before putting it down as he listens to the name being called. He can't help but wonder how his name would sound from your mouth as he stalks closer, eyes hunting over your shaking for…. Just like a predator stalks prey
He orders the same thing, waiting aside for his drink, his arms resting against his chest as he watches... Maybe he'd just have to keep coming back if it meant he could watch you working when he wasn't busy with his other jobs
After all, it wouldn't be odd to become a regular at your job... He was sure you'd already dealt with worse orders or customer… it'd be such a shame for the one who chose to nearly spit on you for a different order that wasn't her own to just- disappear for good
