#i think a lot of the relationships i've been in i'm still To This Day not even sure if i actually liked them back in that way.

[billthedrake]

FAMILY BUSINESS

"You want another, son?" Frank Mazza asked as he and his son Anthony sat in the living room of Frank's townhouse. Thursdays after work were generally dad-and-son time, a chance to catch up outside of work. It was pretty much the same every week. Two beers before Tony went back to the "luxury apartment" he shared with his girlfriend Becky. The TV on mute as ESPN or some sports game played. Conversation drifting between small talk to serious matters and back to small talk.

Every Thursday Frank asked his son if he wanted a third beer, and every Thursday Tony declined. Frank gathered Tony wasn't pussy whipped or anything, but the two had shared enough guy talk to know the 24-year-old never liked to miss a day when it came to sex and if he came home too late, or too drunk, Becky wouldn't put out.

The Mazza men had shared a lot more guy talk lately.

Tony lifted up his bottle and gave it a glance before finishing it off with a final swig. The kid had the killer Mazza smile and those soulful brown eyes that made him a ladies man in high school and in his fraternity days at college. "Yeah, sound good, Dad," he said. "Though I'll have to take an Uber or something."

Frank cracked a grin and patted Tony's knee with his big mitt of a hand before he hoisted his beefy body up. "You're always welcome to crash in the spare room."

Tony grinned. "You ever gonna put away all my football trophies?" he laughed.

Frank chuckled. "It's still your room, Tone... I guess a father never gets over the empty nest thing."

Tony rolled his eyes some but didn't lose that Mazza smile. "Empty nest? Dad, we see each other practically every day. More than after the divorce."

Frank winced a little in the grimace. That had been tough. He still didn't know if he'd made the right move divorcing Janice when he did. It killed him to think he'd put his son through that and selfishly he knew it had made his relationship with Tone a lot tougher for a lot of years. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Come on, Dad," Anthony objected. "I didn't mean it like that."

Frank nodded and went to get two more beers. He felt relieved when he came back and indeed Tony was in one of his relaxed, happy go lucky moods.

"Long day," the son said as he took a sip.

"Now you know how I've felt all these years," Frank said. It wasn't that Frank Mazza didn't value being a family man, but he'd always been a workaholic. He loved being in the provider role, maybe, and certainly loved the satisfaction of an honest day's work, maybe it was more satisfying than the emotional connections he sometimes had a hard time with in marriage.

Anthony shrugged. "I don't mind the hours when I know I'm working for myself."

Frank grinned. He was 44 now and thick-muscular Italian looks were now more clearly handsome. Gray temples set off his tan face and his otherwise dark hair. And his clean-shaven scruff made his dark complexion more alluringly masculine. "You know... I didn't expect you'd come back and join the business," he said, opening up with that third beer.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Dad. I know. But I never had a doubt I wanted to... I mean... you worked hard to build the business up, I wanna do the Mazza name proud."

Frank worried he was going to get emotional. He and Tone had a rough patch when he was in high school, and he knew for sure that once the kid went off to college and got the degree his father never did... well, Frank expected Tony to never look back.

Instead, Mazza Contractors became Mazza and Son. They joked that Frank was the Brawn and Tony was the brains. It wasn't like his son wasn't muscular in his own right - a former tight end in high school and a regular devotee of the gym these days, Tony was downright buff. But he had a Bachelors in Business Administration and a good head for accounting. Tony was already the one interfacing with clients, generally well-to-do suburbanites looking for an upscale kitchen or bathroom remodel job. More than Frank, he knew how to talk those fuckers' language and how to placate demanding Karens. And when needed, Frank would show up to assure them of that blue-collar work ethic.

"So..." Frank said, changing the subject. "Becky not expecting you home?"

Tony shook his head. He had a look that was a mix of wounded and defiant. "Nah, we broke up."

"What?" the father said. Maybe because Tony had rekindled things with his high school sweetheart after graduation, he expected this one to last. "Sorry to hear, son."

Tony shrugged. "It's all right. It kind of sucks, but I was the one to call things off."

Frank leaned forward, his brown eyes showing that parental concern. "Can I ask what the problem was?"

Gone was that Mazza smile as Tony explained. "It's just... you know how Becky is very independent. You know, the career woman type... I don't know, Dad... I think I need someone more traditional."

"Traditional?" Frank questioned.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, you know, kind of like you and Mom. The wife staying home, taking care of things, the man being the bread winner. That kind of thing."

Frank patted Tony's shoulder in reassurance. "I know times have changed," he said. "But I'm pretty sure there are some traditional women out there."

Tony nodded. "Probably, yeah."

Frank leaned in and sais in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "Just be careful... some of the traditional girls... well, they sometimes expect to be spoiled some. Particularly if they're pretty."

Tony laughed. "I know Mom was a princess, Dad," he said. "You don't have to mince words."

Frank clapped Tone's firm shoulder and withdrew his hand. "Guess not. Look... I made a promise I was never gonna speak ill of your mother to ya. But I'll just say there were times I wish I'd been supported more at home. After a ten hour day, sometimes a man just wants to be pampered a little when he gets home, you know?"

Tony's eyes met his. "That's it in a nutshell, Dad. It's just us guys, right?" the son asked as a prelude to what he was about to say. Not all fathers and sons talked openly about sex, but Frank never seemed to have any hangups, and since Tony had first gone to college they reconnected almost like buddies as much as family.

"Yeah," Frank assured him. "Just us guys."

"Becky was nice and all... and in my way I loved her, Dad. Still do.. but, fuck... I'd get home from the office and she'd be yammering about all her work crap and I'd just want to kick back and get a fucking blowjob."

Tony's crude words didn't shock Frank. Just as Frank's never shocked Tony.

"I hear ya, son," the man said. "Your old man's not one to be handing out dating advice, but you should find a girl who likes giving head and doesn't mind giving it."

Tony grinned. "Had one girl in college who did. But she was a stuck up bitch," he said. "She thought she was slumming it by going out with an Italian dude... I guess we both used each other."

Frank grinned. He had a good idea which girl Tone was talking about.

But his son's train of thought had already moved on. "Well, it's a hell of a lot easier with guys."

Frank's eyes went wide. He'd had a couple experiences like that under his belt. But the father-son chats had never gone there, not even in their most buddy-buddy candidness. "You done that, Tone?"

His son took a sip of beer and nodded. "It's easy as ordering fucking takeout, Dad," he laughed. "You go on your phone, see what's on the menu, pick out a cocksucker... and then it's pick up or delivery." His accent was now half North Jersey, half generic college-bro, but as he talked crudely, his thicker Jersey side won out.

Frank laughed. His mind was going to where he tried not to let it go. To the idea of his own son's cock and some man servicing it. "Easier than when I was your age," the father blurted out.

Now it was Anthony's turn to be surprised. "You done that, too, Pop?"

Frank blushed, but he didn't want to seem like the shy one. "Well, maybe a little younger than you... before I married your mother... sure, but it was more buddies helping each other out, you know?"

Anthony gave a half-shrug, half-nod that said he'd never had that kind of arrangement with his friends. Then his lips curled into a naughty smile. "You, uh, interested in some fun, Dad?" he asked.

Frank gulped. His mind was definitely going somewhere it shouldn't. And at that moment he wished his only son wasn't so goddamn handsome.... "Whaddya mean?" he asked softly.

Tony pulled out his phone and swiped to open it. "There's one guy who always drops everything when I hit him up," he typed the phone screen a couple times and looked up. "He's really fucking good, Dad... my favorite lately... I'm sure he'd be up for taking care of you, too."

"I don't know, Tone," Frank said, caution kicking in.

But his son was undeterred. "Come on, Dad, it'll be fun..." Then leaning back, he flashed that Mazza smile to his father and asked, "when was the last time you got laid?"

Frank shook his head. "I'm not sure this is something a father discusses with his son."

"It's just us guys, Dad," Tony countered. "How long?"

Frank blushed again. "Eight months."

"Jesus fucking Christ," his son swore. He went back to messaging the online cocksucker. "You're definitely getting some head tonight."

The burly, blue collar man thought he'd be pissed at Tony for being bossy like this. But he was secretly glad. He needed to get out of his comfort zone. Maybe Tone was onto something, using guys until the right woman came along. And he even more secretly he felt a thrill at seeing his normally good-kid of a son have a naughty sexual side. A take charge side.

"There," Tony said with a laugh as he set down his phone. "Told ya. He'll be over in fifteen minutes."

Fear came again to the Dad. "Is he... um gonna do both of us? At the same time?" The idea thrilled Frank but scared the hell out of him too.

Tony shook his head. Eyes meeting his father's for that brief moment of illicit knowledge passed between them. Tony imagining that incestuous scenario but he laughed it off. "Fuck that would be wild... ha, no, we'll take turns. He knows you're my dad, though... I think that turns the fucker on... hope you don't mind."

"No," Frank replied quietly. Then looking into Tony's brown eyes, he asked, "He's good, you say?"

"The best," the son replied. He nudged Frank's arm. "Seriously, he's gonna put those high school buddies of yours to shame."

Frank was still nervous when the guy showed up. Ian was his name. Good looking, gym built gay dude in his late 30s. Surprisingly comfortable being led in by Tony.

"Ian... this is my Dad. Dad, this is Ian," Tony said. Weirdly confident and relaxed. "Ok, if I go first? I could fuck a hole in the wall I'm so horny."

Frank felt a tightness in his crotch. He'd shared guy talk with Tone, but never seen his boy quite like this. He just gave a nod and watched his son lead Ian down the hall.

The wait was interminable. But was really five minutes tops. Then Tony strutted in, face flushed, a smile showing. That recognizable just-got-laid relaxation on his face.

"Your turn, Dad. He's waiting in my room for ya."

"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. He considered backing out, but he was too turned on now. He wasn't as nearly self conscious as he should have been by the hardon his son could see or the smirk Tony flashed when he saw it.

Ian was waiting for him all right. Sitting on Tony's old bed, surrounded by his son's old stuff that Frank kept in that second bedroom, all the posters and the football trophies. The man was unzipped and had a cock in hand and a horny look on his face.

"God, I can't believe this," the cocksucker said.

Frank didn't know a lot of gay guys, but this guy was rearranging a lot of his hang ups fast. He looked at the guy's dick. The first he'd seen up close and personal in a long time. He shut the bedroom door and locked it. Then turned to Ian.

"Ok, if I suck you?" he asked. He was almost too chicken to ask, but he knew he'd never get a chance like this again.

Ian's eyes went wide in surprise for a second, then he let go of his prick, a solid tool nearing seven inches and standing ramrod straight as the man leaned back on his arms on Tony's bed. "Sure, man... go for it."

Frank Mazza was running on adrenaline. The way he crouched down and got in place. Like he'd seen chicks do in porn. He was like one of those bimbos, he thought, but the idea didn't scare him like he thought. It turned him the fuck on.

"God yes," Ian hissed as Frank started taking that dick into his mouth. "Suck me, Daddy."

Hell, this was fucking with Frank's mind. He bobbed faster and deeper. He choked some and Ian had to tell him to go slower. He did and gradually he got into a good rhythm, a nice balance between speed and depth.

THIS felt incredible, the father decided. Not like those truth-or-dare experiments or those BJ swaps with his high school buddies. This was raw intense sex between meen. Frank was 44 and just now discovering how right this felt for him. He sucked more furiously, happy his gag reflex was holding off. Barely but holding off.

Even as cum pulsed into his throat. Ian didn't bother to announce his orgasm. Didn't matter: Frank would have swallowed that load greedily. He almost didn't want to relinquish that prick, but Ian was getting sensitive.

"Damn... you should definitely treat your son to THAT," he laughed. "That's some great head."

Frank leaned up. He was beyond thinking straight, he was horny as hell and hard in his jeans. "What?" he asked.

Ian grinned. "Dude, you're both such pervs... Tony couldn't stop talking about you the whole time I blew him."

"For real?" Frank asked excitedly, not concealing what he wanted the answer to be.

"For real," the man assured him. Then reading the older man's face, he added, "That turns you on, doesn't it?"

Frank nodded, tears welling up a little, but his dick hard as steel.

Ian grinned and reached down to rub Frank's crotch and unbutton him. "I wanna suck you too, man... first son, then father... total fantasy on a silver platter."

Frank grunted and nodded. And then watched as an experienced cocksucker crouched down and slowly, expertly brought him off to a deep cum.

The two got straightened up and Ian got a suddenly sheepish look on his face. "If I give you my number, will you let me know if anything happens between you two?"

Frank could tell the incest thing was a big turn on for this guy. But was feeling less comfortable now. "I don't know, man."

"Come on... just take my number. You don't have to tell me anything too private. Hell if you just wanna hit me up for some no-strings fun, that's cool."

"Yeah," Frank relented. He had to admit that idea was appealing.

Ian gave a quick wave as he walked past Tony. "Later, man."

"Yep," Tony half waved and went back to watching sports.

Frank realized he had a similarly primal look of sexual satisfaction his son did a while ago. But as he sat down, he realized that maybe something more had transpired that evening. That maybe the genie was out of the bottle.

He looked over at his son. He had the Mazza nose and jaw line, along with some of his mother's good looks. Tony was a stunner, all right, just the kind of young stud that was just "nice" and approachable to get women to put out.

Frank thought about what it would be like to suck his son's cock.

Tony caught his father looking. He glanced over with a wink. "Ian's good, right, Dad?"

Frank blushed and nodded, turning his attention back to the TV and picking up the beer for a much needed gulp. It was half-warm but he didn't care. The man was parched now. "Yep, Tone," he finally replied. "Like you said... the best."

#drakestories

[missycolorful]

I'm on the fence about a lot of the "glass child" discussion because where I agree with some points that are made and enjoy the in depth analysis, I've come to severely disagree with others. Mostly because the internet is the internet, and the nuanced discussion has lost that nuance.

The reason this whole thing blew up (though it's been a concern for a while, certainly) was when Phil explained why he felt he needed to save Tallulah first before Chayanne. And you could tell Philza was trending cautious waters with his wording - he never wanted to say "oh, Chayanne's a chad, he'll get over it." With his wording, he recognized that neither were necessarily fine, but he still felt it necessary to prioritize one over the other because of one of his kid's big issues: Tallulah has abandonment issues. Maybe they're not as bad now since the "official adoption," but it certainly shouldn't be disregarded. But Phil remembers how much Tallulah hates being left alone, and wanted to make sure she wasn't in that situation long. Phil knew at the of the day, that Chayanne had no severe abandonment issues (that we are aware of), hence him saying he'd be okay "a bit longer." The prioritization is still there, and the Death family still has much to talk about, but the fandom's reactions felt a bit too... harsh, a bit too severe. They'd make it sound like Phil didn't consider Chayanne's feelings at all or that he thought Chayanne was totally going to be 100% okay with being alone forever and ever. When there's more to it than that, and ultimately, Phil was stuck making a decision in a lose-lose situation, and he knew that.

But a lot of people seem to focus solely on this moment, and let it epitomize the entirety of the Death Family's relationship and struggles. When, if anything, there's additional moments from yesterday's stream alone that I think show some slow growth in Philza's parenting when it comes to him being overprotective of Tallulah and him expecting a protector/warrior out of Chayanne.

Because if Phil really thought Chayanne was a ruthless warrior who can handle anything and be fine and get over it, he'd have let Chayanne immediately join them in their journey of saving Richarlyson. Like "If we've got Chayanne with us, nothing can hold us back" or something. But he didn't. He wanted both of his children to stay back, to stay safe. But his kids insisted on joining, even if just for emotional support. And if Phil really was completely stuck in his old ways, he'd say the old "Chayanne protect your sister" when the mobs starting showing up, or hell, even before that. But that never once happens. Both of his kids fight, and he trusted that they could both handle themselves since they insisted on coming along, though you can see him check on both of his kids once or twice during the fight. If this becomes a persistent thing, it shows great growth in Phil's character when it comes to being overprotective of his daughter and having his son prioritize her safety above all else. It's become more of "keep an eye on each other," which is definitely the preferrable kind of thinking!

And again, I emphasize that singular moments should not be the sole focus of these discussion. Rather, the overall actions throughout should be talked about. And honestly, Phil made sure that a lot of his focus was divided between both of his children throughout yesterday. When Chayanne decided to stay behind while the others went to the beach event to keep an eye on an AFK Tubbo, Phil decided to "hang about with you, kid, it's alright," even when Tallulah was long gone. Like, he wasn't going to let his kid sit alone like that waiting! Or when he got the llama plushie during the treasure hunt, I'd honestly have expected him to immediately give it to Tallulah because animals=Tallulah, I guess. But he asked them both which of them would have liked it more, a genuine attempt to make sure neither felt left out in receiving the gift. Yes, these, too, are small moments, but if we wanna have a discussion about these relationships, all these moments should at least be considered, not just the negatives.

And to me, the kind of consensus to make in these scenarios is that the situation at hand is... complicated. Like, Phil's parenting is flawed, I'd be a fool to say otherwise. All parenting is inherently flawed, that's basic psychology or... just how humans work. However, through his faults, he tries everything he is able to to do best by these kids. So, with all these moments and more, it never sat right with me to say Phil neglects Chayanne. I can almost see the case for "emotional neglect" a bit more, but even then, I find some fault in that thinking. Yes, qPhil is neurodivergent af, so he doesn't get emotional context clues and needs these discussion to be upfront in his face (which I already went into depth here regarding the relationship these two have). Put simply, any "emotional neglect" Chayanne feels isn't necessarily from Phil prioritizing Tallulah, but more so where Tallulah is more open with her feelings which makes it easier for Phil to talk to her about them, Chayanne has rarely ever been someone who opens up about feelings, and when you couple that with Phil's lack of emotional intelligence, these issues clash. However, it's important to note that a while ago, Chayanne had an open dialogue with Philza about Tubbo's death and how it affected him, and Phil was responsive to it. It'd be one thing if he told Chay to get over it, but no, he was very honest and kind to Chayanne during their talk. And afterward, Phil suggested for Chayanne that, if he ever needs to talk, to have them sit at the pier outside of their house. He extended an offering to Chayanne for emotional discussions. It was a great way for both of these people who are terrible at talking about their emotions to come together and talk. It highlights how Phil is very much okay with talking to Chayanne on an emotional level, and he has, and he will continue to be. They're just... both bad at it, sadly.

Finally, I think it's important to clarify what a glass child actually is, and if it fits the current narrative. A glass child is a child who is overlooked when their sibling is facing some sort of disability that makes the parent give the sibling their full attention, and often has the glass child help out a lot. Initially, Tallulah very much needed extra care due to her "asthma" and the fact she wasn't a great fighter who could protect herself. Hence why Phil and Chayanne were so overprotective of her and put a lot of focus on her. And for the longest time, Chayanne was okay with it, because she needed that help to survive on this hellish island. It's just that over time, things changed. These characters changed.

So it's not really like that for Tallulah now, is it? Her asthma is no longer as bad (it still happens, though!), and she's gained a lot of fighting experience over time. She can hold her own in a fight. And Phil no longer keeps that much of a paranoid eye on her; i.e. again, yesterday's stream where, even when they were fighting end monsters, he never shouted for her to get away or for Chayanne to protect her. In the early days, if Tallulah was even allowed to join, he'd have her stand back and ask Chayanne to keep an eye on her. But that doesn't happen here.

So nowadays? No, I don't think Chayanne could be considered a glass child. Because those disabilities aren't as much of a hindrance for Tallulah as they used to, and Phil isn't as paranoid about them as before. I think the effects are still there, in a way, but it doesn't fit where the characters currently stand. Ultimately, I think there are several reasons as to why things are as they are even if Chayanne may not be a glass child in the present. The big one being that Phil's not entirely adapted to the changes his children have gone through.

Especially after Purgatory, his children have gone through a lot and changed in the process; Tallulah became more independent, and Chayanne kind of being tired of being a warrior and needing more emotional support. And since he wasn't there to witness that change and only saw the aftermath, I think it's a struggle for him to come to terms with them. However, that doesn't mean he's entirely set in old ways. He's trained Tallulah on PVP, and again, he's allowed her to participate in fights without being super worried. And as I mentioned, he has extended a branch for Chayanne to be more open with his feelings. These are just starts, certainly, but it means that Phil is open to adapting and helping both of his kids in any way they need. He just has to figure out what they need.

And let me be clear: I'm not disregarding the flaws in q!Phil's parenting. They exist, and Chayanne really needs to have an open discussion about how his emotional needs haven't quite been met as of recent, and Phil needs to be more open to have emotional discussions with Chayanne, even if to them, that's like pulling teeth. There's changes and improvements that need to be made. However, in talking about the negatives, it just seems like people think that's all there is. No, these flaws in Phil's parenting doesn't make him a bad parent. Because there are plenty of positives, plenty of decent growth here. There's love and respect and everything in this family. q!Phil is genuinely doing his best in a very difficult scenario: living on an island that is set on killing the eggs, and being a parent of two while basically being a single parent all while struggling with your own traumas. that's going to come with obstacles, it's inevitable, but what's also inevitable is how this family will work through them, and come out of this better than before.

#qsmp #qsmp meta #philza #chayanne #tallulah #missy rambles #long post #sorry it's so long by god some things i was seeing made me so sad bc the initial discussions were so open-minded yet critical yet receptive #then it devolved into “he's neglectful and a bad dad” like ??? damn we were doing so well

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the April 2024 roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read over 100 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

A place you can never go by det395

Word Count: 84,596 Summary: When things don’t go according to plan, Hannibal makes a wish. He finds himself a year-and-a-half in the past and seemingly given another chance with Will. His feelings about the situation only get more complicated when he realizes he may not have completely lost access to his old timeline after all. A Digestivo canon divergence.

If you follow me, you probably saw me already raving about this fic. This was so fucking good, holy fucking shit. And also heartbreaking. Made me think a lot about the nature of reality and what does it mean for something to be "real." Plus, I really love fics that explore their shared mind palace because I genuinely think that is one of the more underexplored aspects of their relationship. Definitely heavy on the angst, but there is a happy ending!

even though our love is doomed by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 82,427 Summary: Hannibal solves the mystery of time travel and he and Will decide to go into the past and take opportunities previously missed along with rewriting the regrets they each hold. Changing the past does not effect the future and they have free reign to play as the please.

GIVE ME MORE THAN FIVE STARS PLEASE. I am obsessed with this fic. I've mostly stayed clear of time travel fics (aside from, you know, the one right above this) because the execution can be hit or miss, but let me fucking tell you. This was a god damn home run. There's a little bit of angst, but then there's also a chapter where Will challenges Hannibal that he wouldn't have been able to seduce him while Will was still working in Louisiana fixing boat motors. And obviously Hannibal decides to take that challenge.

Railroad Romance by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Word Count: 12,400 Summary: Hannibal is still Hannibal, and Will is still Will. Except Will is not part of the FBI and they meet on a two day train trip from New Orleans to Baltimore.

Dirty. Talk. In. FRENCH. Holy shit. Okay this was excellent. EXCELLENT. Perfect characterizations, and wonderful dialogue. Wow. Also, I love trains. Who doesn't love trains?

patroclus in furs by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 130,185 Summary: If Will and Hannibal hadn't gone into their respective careers, they would have become porn stars.

I had my doubts about a pornstar AU, but I've really enjoyed everything else by this author and it was over 100k, so I gave it a shot! And WOW. The characterizations of both Will and Hannibal were spot on and believable. A good mix of fluff and angst, and the author clearly put a lot of thought into the porn scenes. Tbh I'm probably going to reread this shortly.

Pavlova by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 33,369 Summary: It’s not like Hannibal didn’t know that Will was hiding something. It was after the third body drop a week ago that it became clear that Will had a secret that somehow involved the case, one he wasn’t willing to share yet, not even with Hannibal. At 6:43 AM, Will had texted Hannibal that a fourth body had been found and that he was on his way to the scene with Jack. At 8:06 PM, Will had stepped into Hannibal’s office, thirty-six minutes past his appointment time, and practically shouted “I used to be a stripper!” as loudly as his hoarse voice would allow him to. Hannibal Lecter, though not phased by much in life, has never been entirely able to predict Will Graham, but this is just… getting out of control. Alternatively, the FBI is hunting a serial killer targeting male strippers, and Will decides to throw himself into the fray. Hannibal is beyond pleased.

An AU where Will was a stripper in college and now he's working a case where he can be live bait as a stripper? Shut the fuck up. Mostly told from Hannibal's perspective, and it's just *chefs kiss*. Who knew Will giving Hannibal a lap dance would be so HOT. (I could have guessed.)

Lessons In Submission by wyldefire

Word Count: 5,173 Summary: Hannibal was stubborn, independent, and Will had always loved that about him, but there were times, times like these, in the midst of heat, in the midst of such a thorough breeding, when lessons in submission were necessary.

My only thought at the end of this was, "Shut the whole fuck up" in the best way possible. Smut. Just all smut.

A Very Special Guest by LesBeanBurrito

Word Count: 56,660 Summary: Season 1 AU in which Will stays for Hannibal’s dinner party after bringing the bottle of wine at the end of 1X07 Sorbet. Embarrassed and Sassy Will Graham meets Smitten Hannibal Lecter.

I LOVE a good season 1 AU and this was checking all of the boxes for me! There's a secret relationship, Hannibal actually gets Will treated for his encephalitis, Will finds out about Hannibal, etc. Very much loved the plot, and the characterizations were spot on.

lover to your nightmare (look what you made of me) by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee

Word Count: 123,367 Summary: Driving back home, it’s then he reflects on Hannibal asking him to run away that night. To forgo their plans altogether, to slip away. [Canon divergent. Will confesses his betrayal and asks Hannibal to run away with him, but Will has a plan of his own...]

You want dark!Will mixed in with some incredibly jealous and possessive Hannigram? Hooo boy do I have a fic for you! The ending was a little abrupt, but it was the perfect mix of gut-wrenching angst and toxicity + smoking hot smut. I genuinely had to stop and focus on my breathing more than once.

On the Lam by shotgun_sinner

Word Count: 63,992 Summary: Post-Fall (Hannibal)season 4Crack Treated SeriouslyOn the RunWill Graham Discovers FanfictionExplicit Sexual Contentsexual identity crisisThat's Not Really A CrisisWill Graham is HannisexualMurder HusbandsHomophobiaMurder of a HomophobeHannibal Lecter Loves Will GrahamWill Graham Loves Hannibal LecterPower Bottom Will Grahamthey love each other your honorvery meta

This was such a fun read – I love the implication that hannigram fanfiction exists and it's all there for Will to accidentally discover. I adore this author and just thoroughly enjoyed how Will learned a thing or two about himself by reading smutty fics (same dude).

Golden Promises by shotgun_sinner

Word Count: 68,488 Summary: Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 01Alternate Universe - Canon DivergenceEpisode: s01e07 SorbetHallucinations?Will Hopes SoLELOplugSexuality CrisisThat Ends Up Not Being A CrisisWill Graham Has EncephalitisHannibal Gets Will TreatmentDeveloping RelationshipWill Graham's Dogs - FreeformBonding over fooddoting hannibalEventual SmutHannibal Lecter Loves Will GrahamWill Graham Loves Hannibal LecterAlana DisapprovesRimmingOral SexBottom Hannibal LecterTop Will GrahamBottom Will GrahamTop Hannibal LecterWill Graham KnowsNon-Consensual Drug UseWill Gives Him Shit For ItMurder HusbandsCannibalismis that tag even necessary?Hannibal Lecter Loves Max

This was fluffier than I typically read, but I told y'all I love this author. Pretty much no angst, and the smut, as always, was next level. Also, the idea that Hannibal would wear a solid gold butt plug to his dinner parties had me laughing before I even started reading.

What Hatches by HotMolasses (@snazzymolasses here on tumblr)

Word Count: 107,847 Summary: There is a village, nestled on the edge of an ancient forest where it is always winter. Few of the townsfolk ever venture into it, except for one lonely hunter named Will Graham. A loner who makes his living selling stag meat and spends more time with dogs than people, he finds his life changing when he comes face-to-face with a magical beast, one that he cannot get away from, and isn’t even sure he really wants to.

What started out as a curiosity about the monsterfucking tag on AO3 brought me to one of the most unique and interesting hannigram AUs I've read??? I'm as surprised as you are, if not more. I adored this fic and I loved how both Will and Hannibal were characterized and the plot and the smut (oh my god, the smut) and the ending? Phew. Go read this.

lay like a flood spills away by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 35,733 Summary: Will starts going to a nude beach that happens to be for gay men, even though he considers himself straight.

This was highly enjoyable. I LOVE AUs that manage to keep the characters true to canon. Also nude beaches. Hannigram and nude beaches. Eating ass and public sex with some actual plot sprinkled in. Say LESS.

Now, What Should We Do Next? by HigherMagic

Word Count: 51,116 Summary: Kinktober 2018

Smut. All smut. I showed this fic to a friend who has literally never read fanfiction, let alone Hannigram, before and she is now hooked. So. Do with that what you will. And it's so clear that this author has actual, real-life experience with kink and it comes across so well! Bonus point: there is also an equally good sequel.

To Mend With Gold by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened

Word Count: 98,863 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been living as a gay married couple for three years, but they haven't slept in the same room let alone the same bed. Will Graham has a reckoning, one way or another.

THIS WAS TENDER. Fluffy, angsty, smutty, I loved it. Molly showed up with Will's dogs and decided she wasn't going to turn them in, which was a little weird, but I really loved this fic. Just them learning how to be with each other. Also EXCELLENT marathon smut scenes. Like yesssss, of course they can each cum like three times in a row.

A Clutch at Balance by Deverauxs_Disease

Word Count: 25,466 Summary: When Will Graham storms into Hannibal's house muttering about kissing Alana Bloom, the good doctor makes Will an offer: Pretend to date Hannibal in order to prove to Alana that Will is not only stable but capable of being in a relationship. When Alana is convinced Will is the man of her dreams, Hannibal will step aside and Will can get his girl.

Y'all know I love fake dating that all of a sudden, whoops! Isn't so fake anymore! Sprinkle in some jealous and possessive Hanni and Will? I'm sold. Say less.

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

#gracie reads hannigram #hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #nbc hannibal #hannibal tv show #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal nbc #hannigram fics #hannigram fic recs #hannigram fic rec

[levmada]

sequel to this post

[@dressycobra7 :3]

➥ c/w: gn!reader, some angst, oral (m!receiving), praise, subby Levi canonverse, established relationship, handjob, finger sucking?, turned into smut somehow

➥ wc: 1.8k

The boy appeared to you and Levi later to apologize profusely like that was the reason he'd been born. You didn't have the heart to turn him away, and filed inside the small recovery room behind him, with its half-exposed brick walls. The curtains were shut, but enough light penetrated. Levi looked too tired to stop him, and it took an arduous amount of time to get through, but his answer was short, to the effect of, If you're not court-marshaled, don't do it again. A slightly upper angle and I would've bled out. Then where would we be?

You're still thinking about that as you stock the closet with some of his clothes. Mandatory bedrest for at least a week, and after that, take it slow. Levi practically shriveled up when someone said 'wheelchair', and he preferred if hospital germs didn't get into his quarters.

You'll have his squad up there every day doing routine cleaning, "trouble" which Levi didn't need to exert his mind over. He's busy being stubborn.

You turn around when you hear porcelain clink. He's leaned over the dresser next to the bed, trying to take the tea.

"Levi," you scold.

"We don't need Hange to tell me my arms are in fine working condition," he grumbles, leaning back as you come over.

He's right, though. No one would even notice any arm wound because the bandages and plaster wrapping around his lower leg are bordering-on gaudy. It's propped up on a fat pillow, also white, the same as his soft-looking boxers and collared shirt (of which many buttons hang loose). In the glowing late afternoon, he looks ethereal, not quite of-this-world. A dove which is angry and stubborn and trapped.

"Still," you say quietly.

"I'm fine... I don't need anything."

Mikasa and Sasha had picked flowers, which you set in a watered glass jar atop the dresser. White again.

You watch him sip, and go over when he's done, laid propped up against pillows. A wooden bench at the side; you sat for hours while he slept through the day (the whole incident happened this morning). You sit on it now.

"I know... But why not want?" you repeat, quietly looking down at your hands.

"Who are we to want anything?"

You sharply look. "Why are you talking like this?"

He just watches you, shrewdly, but with a weakness not indicative of him. It might be exhaustion talking...

"We could always die. Titans could get in—"

"I'd kill them."

"Not like this..."

You said the wrong thing—the wrongest thing. His lips press into a thin line, barely-concealed contempt and clean daggers for eyes. The way he looks, like he believes if he tensed up enough, then he'd turn invisible and leave this argument in the dust.

You gesture slightly. "Because I would protect you. Even if I wasn't one of your comrades, or a soldier."

His lip twists in a unique disgust, which is the most you can see, his head turned towards the wall. Over his stomach, his hand tightens into a fist. "If you weren't, you'd die. Then I'd be dead anyway."

You swallow. You want to yell, and cry.

"I don't want that, either way. You didn't deserve to... see me like that. That seems to be why I'm talking like this."

The anger has left him. Delicately, you stand and seat yourself on the edge of the bed by his waist. "I've seen you be lots of things. 'Weak' is okay too. And I'm okay with seeing you like that as many time as I must, which is once so far."

He scoffs softly through his nose.

You lean forward more, and walk your fingers through his hair. Blacker than night, soft. There's a little piece you tuck behind his ear. His eyes flutter, letting out a deep breath. You can almost see the goosebumps.

"I know we'll die, and I know we belong to something much bigger, but can't I love you anyway?"

His breathing hitches a little, and his eyes open. It's a wonder what he's thinking, if he's even thinking about it, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Do whatever you want. I'm fine, if it's possible I can be with you."

It's your heart's turn to flutter, and just as soon, lean over awkwardly, your head resting on his chest and your arms around him (at least as much as they can be). You hear his heartbeat. The slowing, smooth rhythm of his choppy breathing carrying your upper half. His arm slips around your waist, content to rest his lips in your hair. As the time passes, he's more and more comfortable to hold you to tame the fear his anger betrayed. By that time, your arm's fallen asleep; you rub his side.

As tempting as it is to go down to the mess crowded for dinner, and contend with questions, you stay, just appreciating existing next to him.

"Your back," he mutters. You've been bent over a while.

"Mm." He's officially being ignored.

His hand slips over yours on his side, stopping you. His face doesn't give anything away, maybe purposefully so, and so you smile.

Leaning up, a fond kiss to his cheek. "You're cute when you make that face. Is your leg feeling okay?"

He clicks his tongue mildly with his head turned out, just showing you his cheek and one blue-grey eye. "'m fine," he says quietly.

Curious eyes search. Maybe he's downplaying something, but not lying. With nothing you'd rather do, you kiss down his jaw now, to the tender, pale column of his neck. His chest lifts suddenly against yours.

His question sounds like an afterthought. "What're you doing?"

"'m loving you," you lift your lips to say. (A little embarrassing to say out loud.)

"Yeah." His lips are still in your hair, but are stirring.

You remember he has your hand when he starts bringing them down. All across your upper half, you feel him breathing, and it's a little deeper.

You switch sides, putting you at an awkward angle to kiss him. He starts to move over towards the wall, but you stop him with a firm hum fast enough, and sit up. No walking, Moblit had told him firmly. What you kind of wish he'd said now is no moving his legs. For now you ignore it pushing snugly against the front of his boxers, but there's a wisp of a giggle in your chest.

You shift the pillow carefully, and he follows, until there's enough room for you there beside him. The mattress is only half-decent, but it's warm from his body.

He looks annoyed that you're smirking, if only he could come off the slightest bit intimidating blushing so hard like this. Pink warmth creeps down his neck and disappears beneath his open, rumpled collar.

"Tch." He just captures the nape of your neck and pulls your lips against his—a little slowly that comes with tiredness, but that much more passionately.

While you play with his lips, giving him away to you, your palm roams between his thighs. You pause there. Right as he shivers with his lip trapped between your teeth, you pull away and leer over him. "Don't move, baby. Move and I'll stop."

His eyes narrow in a bratty display.

"I mean it." You smile. "Even a touch" You stroke through his clothes slow and firm, immediately bringing a dreaming-like quality to his eyes. He almost can't look at you, especially as he huffs and it throbs under you.

"Baby?" You lick your thumb.

"I won't move." He huffs again, harsher this time. "Ugh, I won't fucking move, but you can't just—"

Your free hand, your thumb, falls against his jaw and stops his soft lips from flapping, so now a whole new quality of lust emerges in his expression. You're freeing his cock from his shorts as he instantly takes you in, so soft and sweet and giving. The heat that immediately consumes your thumb is melting, almost too intense to handle.

"Good boy, letting me."

His eyes flutter as you find where wetness has drooled from the tip of his stiff cock, spreading it around in your palm. It's easy to hold him, how he was made for you, and even easier to touch him to attract his hips, and the beginning of whispered whines he always always tries to suppress.

He hasn't forgotten, though. At the moment you send him a warning look, he relaxes, and his eyes are closed. You didn't notice him take hold of your wrist, holding just to hold, and gripping the front of his shirt with the other hand, since you're not close enough.

"Good boy," you murmur again. A moan vibrates round your thumb, his cock straining in your fist. "That's my good boy..."

It seems all the squirming he doesn't do has to go towards suckling and nipping your thumb instead. You watch his brows furrowed in deep focus as you build up your firm strokes. It's getting just as wet. He can't last.

You smile to yourself as your pumps rise to his tip, firm but quick flicks of your wrist. His back bows against the bed, the moan in his throat breaking apart into a whine. That aside, he stays perfectly still, so you let it slide.

"Does it feel that good when I touch you? Going to come, sweetheart?"

"Mm," his voice comes firm and tightly-wound. His eyes open into slight slits, see you watching shamelessly, and shut again. "Mm!"

Just as he throbs and tenses up. You bend over gripping down low, abruptly tearing your hand away from his mouth to sink his cock inside yours; pinning his hips, rubbing his heavy balls in your grasp.

"F-Fuck, fuckfuck!" He takes sudden, almost too-tight hold of your hair, gasping, and tearing the sheet, and shuddering. He moans all through it, broken whispers of your name, almost hummed at the top of his throat at the quietest, and always eagerly throbbing in the hot suction of your mouth. You take everything in deep swallows.

When finally, his hips are threatening to squirm to shy away and his cock softening, you pull off. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as he melts into the sheets. He has half of his bright red face hiding under his arm, catching his breath.

"Fuck, I don't know how you expected me to stay still. Come here." He lowers his arm.

"For the mess." You smile sweetly.

"Come here."

"You're not doing anything." But you do, and let him give you a kiss. He looks extremely unhappy about that, but for once, it looks like he'll listen when you say.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#mostly unedited :s #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman smut #aot smut #levi smut #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Please excuse the incoming rant.

Okay so like I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how in the Knuckles Series; Sonic still calls Maddie by her name and not “Mom” like he calls Tom “Dad”, but like to me it makes sense. For one; Sonic obviously has a closer relationship with Tom, culminating in him calling him “Dad” by the end of the second movie. Going by the fact the house is still under construction during the series, it’s clear not much time has passed since the end of the second movie, so going off of that, there hasn’t been much development time for Sonic to also grow comfortable calling Maddie “Mom”. After all, if it took him the months that occurred between the 1st and 2nd move to get there with Tom, he’d really be speed running it calling Maddie “Mom” by the series.

But think I it might be even deeper than that. Longclaw was Sonic’s first adoptive mother, who he blames himself for her loss. As far as we know, he never had a father figure before, so there’s no previous baggage with the term “Dad” like “Mom” would have. Sonic may still be calling Maddie by her name as a way to protect himself from future harm, from the possibility of potentially losing another mother figure. After all, you can’t lose something if you never acknowledge you have it in the first place, right?

Yes, to everything! This is something I've thought of a lot!

Time to answer with my own rant. 🤣

Yeah, I can definitely understand why Sonic would have more trouble calling Maddie "mom," because of Longclaw (even though he called Longclaw by her name as well, but the books confirmed that he saw her as his mother). It was easier for him to latch onto Tom, and even though it took what, eight ish months of living with the Wachowskis to actually call him "dad," he did eventually. I still think Sonic will start referring to Maddie as his mother eventually, but it totally makes sense why he hasn't yet.

I think it's a similar case with Knuckles, but it's the other way around. Knuckles's mother was never mentioned, but his father was heavily involved in his childhood. Everyone got the implication that he was going to be a mama's boy after the tidbits from the end of movie 2 and the short, "Sonic Drone Home." And I still think that will one day be the case. Since he's a bit older than Sonic, and is more independent, however, I think it'll take Knuckles a long while to be able to think of anyone as his parents. I still think it'll happen at some point, starting with Maddie, but I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a while. Even longer than it took Sonic.

I like how they did that arc in the second movie. It was mostly unspoken, but I liked the sort of parallel from the boat scene's "Stop trying to be my dad," to "I've got a lot more than that, Dad." 🥰 There are many implications that this is something Tom & Maddie have been wanting for a while. It's clear they love all three kids dearly, and Maddie herself referred to Knuckles as one of her kids. Sure, she got (rightfully) ticked at him for basically destroying the living room and the car, but there was zero implication that she was going to give up.

I'm very curious to see more of Tails's and Knuckles's relationships with Tom & Maddie in the third movie. Maybe there will be an arc similar to Sonic and Tom's in the second movie? Of the two, Tails would become more comfortable with calling them by such titles sooner, and I'm hoping to see some of that soon.

I have a lot of hopes for sure. Jeff Fowler has said a lot that he has a ton of plans for the Sonic Cinematic Universe, so we could easily get more spin offs and more content. 🥰 Our little space kids will get there eventually! I'm just so glad they have parents to care for them in this universe. 💙

#thanks for the ask! #anonymous asks #asks answered #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic wachowski #knuckles wachowski #longclaw #wachowski family #tails wachowski #maddie wachowski #tom wachowski #knuckles series #sonic cinematic universe #scu

[uncanny-tranny]

I don't necessarily buy into the idea of love languages, but I think figuring out how you show your love to others can be such a great idea.

I've learned that I show love through gift-giving and creating things with my loved ones in mind. While this won't be compatible with everyone, the core of why you like expressing your love in particular ways can help you explore how to expand on how you express it.

I think this is important because I think we should strive to be adaptable and to understand ourselves as deeply as we understand the people we love. By getting to know yourself, you can how to appreciate all these qualities about you

#advice #relationships #this goes for ANY TYPE OF RELATIONSHIP #i have always expressed my love in the same way no matter who it is - because i love them #i used to buy my friend flowers when i had no classes in high school #(funnily enough i'm not a huge fan of recieving gifts myself. i would rather be giving them) #inspired because i just gave my dad a gift the other day and i felt so fulfilled and happy #i've gone so long without giving a gift that i felt morose. and now i feel rejuvenated :3 #i'm thinking about what gift i could give next #i've been talking a lot about crochet to my dad so maybe after my next project i could find something to make him #after my hoodie i wanna make this freddie fazbear beanie. i thought it was HILARIOUS #bruh i took sewing classes as a youth and i made a stuffed bear and gave it to him. and the bear has no eyes and he STILL HAS IT 😭 #this bear is almost ten years old and he still has no eyes gd bless 😭💀💀

[sciderman]

i relate to peter parker because i’ve had six crushes this year alone

damn son save some for the rest of us!!

#sci speaks #i think i've only ever had one crush in my life. wilding. i wish i fell in love easier. it feels wonderful. #oh the people with hyperactive hearts... #i wish i had felt this way at some point when i was younger. it kind of felt like my heart wasn't fully developed yet. #holds my heart in my hands. why were you such a late bloomer. why didn't you feel more things earlier on. #i'm kind of sad that i didn't have teenage crushes or anything. i feel like i missed out. #is it because nobody around me was appealing. or is it because i was too busy on my own planet. #i think i wasn't really close with a lot of people when i was younger. i kind of never came out of my shell. #so nobody got close enough to me for me to like them. #not that it's necessarily how it works. but it takes a lot for me to get there with somebody i think. #i think a lot of the relationships i've been in i'm still To This Day not even sure if i actually liked them back in that way. #squeezes my heart in my hand. why are you so fussy. #i wish i had more experiences under my belt. i really do. but also i don't want to be in situations that are uncomfortable either. #and i don't want to just be there for the sake of it. #lies on the floor and stares at the ceiling. i don't know what i want. #is love the answer? #i don't know. sometimes i want it more than anything. but it's such a ball-ache to get. sometimes you think you're better off without it. #i wish i knew what i wanted. i think i just want to be brave enough to find out. #why do i ramble so much in my tags. it's like tumblr is my therapist or something. #i'm feeling weird about myself lately. just kind of a little tired. i don't feel bad. but kind of perpetually low-energy. #like i never have the time to do things that make me happy. and when i do get the time i don't have the energy. #is this what it's like to live in this world. i need like. a year's break from work. i think. #i need like a year-long vacation. i need a gap year. i need a year to live life. #i wonder if it's financially viable. i think i'd eat through everything i have if i did that. but. #you can get money back. you can't get your time back.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i could draw anything but i decided to draw this. carlo and rocco in 1932 aka my headache

#^ this isnt real ofc but its what happening inside their heads (well in carlo's at least) #mfs when their old friend doesn't break under manipulation #“Lift up the receiver I'll make you a believer” punching the wall with fist #rocco was the underboss not eddie can u hear me!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO!!!!!!!!! (capo henry situation in terms of complexity) #no m2 did smth to my brain and now im incapable of writing normal relationship between people #anyway. things that makes sense only to me rn unfortunately: #“AND YET ALAS I WELCOME YOU KNOWING ABOUT YOU” its carlo @ rocco but works both ways i think. RAHHHHHHHHH #YET YOU THINK WE'RE THE SAME RAHHHHHHHHH #youre not who u are to anyone these days im not who i am to anyone no not me at all these days not at all RAHHHHHHHHH #carlo who was afraid of rocco (for a reason) when he started to run the family rahhhhhhhhh #“That son of a bitch!.. I fuckin’ knew it!” <-watch me put a lot more meaning into a phrase that shouldn't make so much sense #2kczech need to pay me for developing rocco's character btw if u even care . and for writing this fucking falcone family backstory #“Холодный и острый осколок гранита; Смерть Голиафа в руке Давида” #<- “A cold and sharp shard of granite; Goliath's death in David's hand” #i've listened to this song too much it became certifed rocco song to me #let's say rocco helped carlo a lot w preparing moretti family for a new don. just bc i don't think it was this simple #“your capo killed your don lets all pretend that its cool and normal and it doesn't matter that he ran the family for 23 years😋😘” #avart #m2 #i wont tag this w fandom tags dear god this shit is so delusional #dear god rocco been a gap and a blank spot in this story for so long but now i genuinely like him #tho i'm still not done with his character yet but there's enough for me to like him #sorry. not normal bout them. not at all . #rocco & carlo

[billygoat26]

Guys- moots who know me well enough kind of-

I'm not simping solely for fictional characters anymore-

...

I hate this, it's weird, I wanna say something to them or at least one of my other irl friends but I'm too scared that 1: they'll judge me and 2: they'll TELL HIM. Dear god I do not need that-

BUT IT WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE (aka it's been on my mind for a few hours too long)

Yesterday, pool party with friends, right?

I knew that he did some workout stuff but I still was NOT prepared- (me, who was fully expecting him to wear some form of his normal outfit but for the pool- noooooope! Shirtless- very unprepared)

And listen, I knew I at least sort of like-liked him before cuz you know, personality and all that stuff, but come onnnn- like- what do I do now??

And then they were playing chicken fights in the pool or whatever the game is called, and after that they were standing on each other's shoulders and pretending to walk on water (We all had just endured a bible unit in our English classes)

He had offered for ME to stand on HIS shoulders- and for that to happen, you know, they gotta swim under, right? Well, we both have the dirtiest of minds (I also just have shitty balance so I was not about to try that anyways. That was the main reason on my mind but I thought of the other stuff after).

I don't even know if I have blushed since elementary school, but if I did then, then thank god for the sun because sunburnsssss

And then he couldn't find his shirt after we had all gotten out, and one of my other friends said that he didn't need the shirt (jokingly) and dear god I wanted to agree (verbally) but I'm too worried about my whole bullshit being too obvious if I did, so I just had to stay quiet. (He ended up not finding it and just having to leave cuz his parents were there)

But that- that day- just... that. It's not. Leaving. My. Mind. Alone.

#billygoat talks #Look ma- I'm not simping for only fictional characters! #I'm not adding him to the simp list tho- 1: not putting his name anyways and 2: that list is for fictional characters only #Wait- what day is it now? #Fuck- it's only Sunday... #Should I say something? Cuz I only know him because of the IB program but I'm not gonna be in it next school year #And I think the only time we would see each other is either during lunch and after school going to the buses or just buses #But I'm worried that- if I do say something and he doesn't feel the same- our friendship will be fucked up and awkward- I don't want that.. #Besides- I've never had good luck with these things #And at the start of the year I had come out to my friends as gay- mid-school-year one of my friends and I agreed I was pan #<- that was only one friend... and the one who made the joke I told y'all about #But he still thinks I am gay- we joke about it a lot- so how would I even start? #I've never been in a relationship- can't say I've never been kissed before only cuz of a weird thing in elementary school- #Believe it or not- even if I can give others advice- I don't know what to do for myself... #I guess I'm scared of rejection but I should be used to it by now- #Oh yeah! The other thing- we've only known each other for a whole one school year- his friends have known him for much longer- #I feel like it's wrong to even think like that after only one school year and say something about it- like it's too soon #Believe me- I do wanna say something but I'm just scared that our friendship will be ruined or he'll ask questions I don't have have answer #to- more than likely one of those would be about my sexuality #I feel like I have to stick to that- like a limitation- but I don't want to- #I have so many wants but I feel like I'm not exactly good enough for anybody and those wants will just be wishful thinking forever #Fuck- just bombarded y'all with my shower thoughts... sorry- #Ummmmmm- #Yeah-

[wherela]

one of those crying in the shower kind of days

#my 'best friend' stood me up today #and by stood me up i don't mean canceled last minute i mean didn't show up and only responded to my calls and texts after 45 min #why? she was hanging out with some guy (she met him last week. he's not a christian.) and lost track of time #she's also initiated no contact with me over the last few weeks #the explenation was she thought i was busy with my thesis. as if you can't check in on someone when they're busy #she also gosted me for 3 days (like a month ago??) cause she was asked to share at student group and i couldn't go CAUSE I WAS SICK #I'm just so tired of it at this point #but it's also made me realise i dont really have any close friends #i have lots of friends. sure. and i trust them too. but it's not the kind of close where i can write to them when I've got a problem #like maybe I'd tell them live if they asked me? but I wouldn't really write to them it would just be weird #and so who do I tell that I met S's parents yesterday and even though so many things have happened since then already thats the only one #I can think about???? or that he actually CALLED ME afterwards specifically to tell me what they thought of our church #or that his mom apparently asked him if our relationship was still weird and he said 'yes' and I've been overthinking it cause i thought we #were finally okay and normal and genuinely just friends? #or that his mom said my look is that i dress vintage and it made me SO HAPPY!! that's my look!!! that's how I'm recognisable!!! #the answer is nobody. i have no one to tell :( #mine #s #I'm sorry I guess I had to vent this prolly turned out really really long

[cactusdodes]

.

#my anxiety is having a flare up #i don't think you really use 'flare ups' in the context of anxiety bc it doesn't work that way really but that's what it feels like for me #lately #like i feel like in general my anxiety has gotten a lot better lately. i still have a slight hum of underlying anxiety but i've been pretty #good at ignoring it and getting over it the last yearish but sometimes it's harder to ignore and gets a lil worse for short periods #esp when it comes to my relationships/interactions with people #bc i have no reason to think that the person i'm seeing 'n' has lost interest in me #but they haven't been texting me as much as they usually do the last few days and my anxiety is picking up and ignoring all the #very logical explanations and very extremely likely reasons #they're moving this weekend and didn't really start packing until last week so i know they're busy with that #ontop of everything else they do and work and everything. i know they're super fucking busy rn #and i was also out of town on a trip and they're def the type of person that was probably thinking they don't want to pester me on my trip #(they wouldn't have been) #and also like. they stopped by my job the night before i left to bring me my contact lenses and they were so smiley and excited to see me #even though it was just for a couple minutes #and they facetimed me right before my friend and i left for our trip just to talk to me for a bit and see my face #and they were again so smiley and really seemed like they liked me #so yeah.. logically i know i'm overthinking it and they're not annoyed with me #i know it's just that they're busy. the few other times they've been a little dry with texting was when they #we're super busy/going through some shit #so like i know that's all it is realistically #but my stupid anxiety and self worth issues always automatically going to 'you annoyed them. you fucked something up. they finally realized #you're not actually cool or hot and hot over you but are too sweet to tell you' #which i know is dumb #it's also not fair to them to assume that #it's not fair to them to think that of them #i just like them so much 🥺 but i do know they like me back #they've told me and they act like it #i just get scared #blake says shit

[silverselfshippingchaos]

good morning! i just put a.khos on the f/o list!

#had to happen eventually hehe! I've fallen head over heels for my biggest enemy and i love him sooooo much!! #ash rambles 💚 #i had a pretty eventful weekend #went out of town and on a shopping spree! twas very fun and i ate lots of yummy food and the such #i'm home now but so.. tired... cant bring myself to get out of bed just yet BAHAHAHA #i keep thinking about a.khos' arms around me keeping me close to him #i had a kinda creepy interaction with a man in public the other day and although i'm ok and safe #it was the first time that had happened to me and i'm still sorta shaken up #im ok!!! but i keep thinking about f/o comfort and the such just to help some more. i'm completely safe and doing so much better than I was #you see... theres this character... i don't love him. i think he's a horrible man. but he's so hot i start questioning things about myself #and my s/i for that source is a known flirt- so i wouldnt put it past them to have gotten it on a few times #but i've been thinking... what if theyre actually bitter exes? maybe that's why my d.mc s/i hates serious relationships so much.. #but that aside. this character wears this heavy coat and i keep thinking abt using it as a weighted blanket!! it looks really really cozy #sir you're an asshole but... give me your coat!!!!! (grabby hands) #oh also! me being home means i got to see a.qua plushie!!! i missed her! #but yeah. that's what's up. so much goddamn a.khos brainrot. #he's stolen my heart #and don't tell anyone i said this but... #i love it. i love it so much. no better feeling than me being his and he being mine #also i've been thinking about my xb1 fankid a lot as of late.. but if i start rambling about Nalia we'll be here all day LMAO #but yeah! hope everyone is doing well! i'm doing okay too #ALSO AJDHWJEHW SO MUCH S.KYRIM ROT!! I LOVE R.UNE BY THE WAY AJDJAJS I #I HAVE BEEN DOING SO SO MUCH S/I WRITING FOR THEM #ALL OF THE THIEVES GUILD ARE MY BEST FRIENDS BTW #also did i mention i got to visit one of the largest bookstores in the world? goodness i love books soooo much!!!!!!!! #but also... reading next to a.khos.. enjoying that comfortable silence.. #(swoons) what a man

[noxtivagus]

hdkfjalskdf just thinking of. video games or wtvr stories in general n my heart is just so full of them :((

#🌙.rambles #thinking of hermes again T_T n then.. gbf oh my godddd wmtsb WHAT MAKES THE SKY BLUE #i wna write. like. original stories or idk stuff w characters i like or. idk really just anything ! #bcs everyday when i go through every single day there's just. so much in my mind that #last year managing all that was so tiring esp bcs my sleep was so messed up but this year is different #since i've been sleeping much better so i have more energy to manage it better but #it's still. very overwhelming but yeah basically i can manage it better #being productive w school or wtvr but at the same time idk! there's so much i want to do n so much i do at the same time #whenever i just go through my day normally i notice mundane things that give me inspo? n then everything in me or around me invokes like #idk i think a lot of stories n i really soar high w that but i'm also firmly rooted to the ground n #it's just confusing bcs it's overwhelming but i manage somehow wtf i think maybe i'm just more sensitive to all these things rn #i don't know how to write it properly bcs i can't relate myself to others that much bcs i don't. interact w a lot of kinds of people #mostly just observing n then even w the friends i have #i'm srs not very social i don't typically go out of my way to message ppl but it's not bcs i don't like it. nah i really genuinely like it #but. IDK HOW TO SAY IT BUT YK.. i'm introverted fr n also rlly shy n anxious at times :c #but honestly it also depends bcs ik i have apollo after all n i think our relationship as twins is. really special in this lonely world :^) #idk what i'm saying anymore but. i'm just overwhelmed oh my god #I SHOULD PROBABLY LET MYSELF REST PROPERLY EVEN FOR A BIT BCS THAT'S NECESSARY BUT #oh my god hdfjaksldfjsd when i think of how i cld always make better use of my time i can't let myself rest properly #it's not just. taking time off doing stuff that's rest. it's also resting the mind bcs i can't. goddamn rest. w my mind like this #most of the time when i do things i srs can't help but think of how i cld always improve or do better #stuff that r more.. creative? idk but like less than school assignments or. achievements in video games #while that gives me a sense of satisfaction i want to sort of 'complete' everything #thinking of stories n what they mean to me n only me comforts me more bcs there's no true right or wrong w them #just.. me. that sort of freedom n escape from those systems or wtvr that drain me so much #either way i still perform well enough BUT ITS SO DRAINING I SHLD STOP THO BCS I HAVE SMTH TO DO AAAAA #i'll fix myself later. i cld say that better bcs it's not like there's exactly smth 'wrong' with me? idk i'm not sure #tbf emotions r Irrational n human so all in all i'm being too harsh on myself but still hfkdajfklsdfj #life's just. so complex. its depth is so. yh. oh my god that said though i do have to do some school stuff rn so i'll put this away for now

[neverendingford]

.

#tag talk #I lie a lot. to other people. to myself. I don't really lie here (usually) because I don't have an image to maintain but like... #I don't always even recognize the lies in telling myself. I retell stories to make myself seem clever and smart #retell interactions to make people take my side in the matter. and it even works on me sometimes. #I've always wanted to be the hardboiled loner. independent and happily isolated from others. #and to an extent I am. it helps when you despise most people you meet. when you find them inane and simple. #but I play it off like I'm somehow cool and aloof when in reality I'm alone because I hurt so much around others. #I have such a hard time identifying with others. I genuinely feel estranged and alien. #it makes me immune to caring about their pain. which can be useful I guess. but that's still not great. #I think part of my desire to be- and questioning of being aroace is in part a desire for independence. #because I have been wildly romantic before. I was head over heals for my first boyfriend (still my best friend). #I wrote them poetry. left love notes around their house. cooked him food and went on dates. and I did enjoy it. felt natural and good. #I just... that happens so rarely. this is the first time in almost ten years that it's happened again. I have the capacity. I have the want. #but I just... I don't click with others. I don't get along with them. I interact with to know them and then I start to loathe them. #I've gotten too many followers here and I go through their blogs and I get an idea of who they are and there's at least five of you I hate. #and I'm getting awfully close to reaching the annoyance threshold because I don't mind you existing but I need it to happen somewhere else. #I don't get paid to exist in the same space as you so we don't even have a functional relationship. #anyway. I dislike being lonely but I constantly feel a visceral disconnect between myself and others and it aches every single day. #adhd meds and hrt are doing huge things to help me be happy with myself. which means I need people less. I can exist alone. #but it doesn't remove the need. doesn't fill the void. it remedies one problem but emphasizes another. #and I'm not used to wanting someone. I want things From people but I don't want Them. except now I do. I want this person. #and I'm so out of my depth because my play is usually to keep distance. engage politely. get the company I need and then retreat. #and I want more than that here. I was about to say “I'm afraid of fucking it up” but I'm not. that's a cliche that my mind auto filled. #I know I won't fuck it up because I understand her and I know my own abilities. but I'm afraid of what this means for me. #will this work loose something in my own mind? Will I become more painfully aware of my own needs? Will loneliness hurt more? #I know I'm moving again in a few years. I'm staying with my brother for the foreseeable future so I know this won't be long term. #so if I can figure this out in the next year or so then maybe I'll be more prepared the next time we settle somewhere. #idk. my mind has been in overdrive processing this for the last three weeks. I feel noticeably more tired because of it. #I'm just so preoccupied with trying to figure out this new part of me that's only shown up once before.

[newt-and-salamander]

I'm actually crying a bit rn because some if my uni friends just asked in our WhatsApp group if someone was going to CSD on Saturday. And I was super nervous because I haven't seen these guys in a bit (they are all writing their theses), but I always felt extremely comfortable with them (three of them are bi and we talked a lot and I actually considered for a few months last year if I am maybe bisexual too, because, yesss women are pretty.) Anyway. I said that I had already thought about going because I was curious, but that I also felt nervous because I've never been there before and I've only relatively recently discovered that asexuality exists and even more recently that I actually am, and that I was feeling a bit uncool.

And they immediately said "That's not uncool" and I hurried to say "Yes, of course being asexual isn't uncool, that's not what I meant", and then they said "No, you aren't uncool", and someone sent a picture of frogs in ace colours because they know I like frogs, and now they say I should just join them and I can leave if I get overwhelmed with the people and the noise (and now I'm crying again although I started typing this 30 mins ago).

Well, it looks like I'm going to my first Pride Event on Saturday. :)

#for the record I AM relatively uncool #I spend between 5 - 10 h a day at the library at least 6 days iof the week because i have no life and i take my studies RIDICULOUSLY sirious #I'm a terrible perfectionist and if that isn't uncool i don't know #but somehow they like me and they want me spend time with them :') #when that friend group formed last year i was so ELATED #i have friends but it's usual 1 to 1 relationships #I'm not usually a part of the group with the cool people #but i even celebrated my birthday with them and they think I'm funny and sometimes I'm just so confused because #of course my mum thinks I'm funny and the three nerdy friends i handpicked #but a whole group of people? wow #also they talk about sex a lot and whenever it came up and they asked me about my opinion I was like #Uhm honestly I don't know I've only been in one relationship so I guess I didn't have time to experiment or something #so I knew they are really liberal that way but paradoxically at the same time that made me even more nervous because #they are so interested in sex and i am not OH NO what if they think I'm boring #well there are many reasons to think me boring but they study with me so i guess they know about all these other reasons too #(i was the only one in the group who really enjoyed historical lectures) #okay ngl I'm still nervous #i rarely go to fairgrounds or demonstrations because of the noise and the people and this feels even more personal #but i think I will be alright :)) #huh #personal thoughts #asexuality

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

part one | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

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