slitherthroughyourveins-blog

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

With a sigh of annoyance, he waved a hand. "Open it." He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't dare tell anyone else about the contents of the letter, lest she be thoroughly punished for it. "Read what it says."

"I’m not sure who it is from, my Lord. I did not open it and it does not say upon the envelope. The wax holds no sigil. Mr. Malfoy said to give it directly to you." She remained in the doorway, eyes glued to the floor. "I would assume it holds great importance."

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"A letter? From whom?" Tom sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Was it so urgent that you could not have left it on my desk?"

"—— Apologies, my Lord. I had not meant to disturb you. I was asked to give you this letter."

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"You had better be in here for a good reason."

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

// Going forward, this blog is only going to be for Tom Riddle. Ignore all the old stuff that I'm too lazy to delete.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

Bruce wasn't planning on staying behind, either. He figured that most of the people at the meeting weren't interested in talking to the freak who could barely hold himself together. He had overheard a couple of them talking about him once, saying that he should be institutionalized because he was a danger to society  and Bruce agreed. The only reason he was still letting himself wander around was because his therapist didn't think it was time for that. After all, he hadn't killed anyone, and that's what mattered, right?

He grabbed his coat and headed outside, happy to feel the cold air on his skin once he was out. It was then that he saw Clint rushing by. "Where's the fire?" 

Clint looked up from his lap when Bruce started to speak. The foot resting on his knee stopped twitching for only a second before it started bouncing again. He had talked to Bruce a couple times after the meetings. He was a quiet guy. Well, he was quiet when he was a raging lunatic. A couple weeks ago, Clint and the woman sitting to Bruce’s left were the ones to calm Bruce down when he had an incident right in that very room. It was the first time in a long time that Clint had pushed his own illness aside. Didn’t even think about it. But of course when he got home that night, he jacked off thinking about that very same guy, tossing him around his bedroom and fucking him senseless in every position possible until Clint would pass out.

Clint’s addiction, or illness, as his sponsor liked to call it, knew no bounds, but when Clint’s sexual appetite was under control, he tended to lean more toward the same gender. Bruce wasn’t exactly his type, but there was something about his quiet nature that intrigued Clint. At first he thought maybe it was Bruce’s other self that he was attracted to. But when he found himself longing to hold Bruce and comfort him, he knew that wasn’t true. He was just attracted to Bruce in general. 

When the meeting was over, Clint all but bolted off of his chair, almost knocking it over in the process. The thought of staying after to enjoy the coffee and donuts were a distant memory as he reached for his jacket to pull on.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"Stop?" He reached around as he moved his hips against her, his fingers delving between her wet folds. "Seems to me that you don't want me to stop at all." He rubbed her clit for a moment before he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her cunt with a moan. "I knew that you would be sweet." 

John took his cock into his hand, and ran the tip of it between her wet folds, smirking. "You don't want me to stop, truly. You wouldn't be so eager if you did." He didn't wait any longer before he lined himself up, not even bothering with a condom, and pushed into her sex.

[Dinner Plans]

Her body turned and twisted against the island, trying to find any angle she could to throw her hands at him. When she felt the rigid shaft of his cock pressing between the cheeks of her pert rear, she gasped at the length and girth of him. She may have even moaned a bit at feeling the warm flesh.

"No, stop," she protested halfheartedly. It was useless to even try, really. He could easily slip a hand between her thighs and feel how wet she was for him. At the mention of her father, it only made her more excited. So, he knew. She figured her mother would have told him. He knew and yet he was still treating her like his own personal slut. Maybe her mother had finally found the man they had both been yearning for. "No..”

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

John reached down to unzip his trousers and tug his cock from the hole. He wasn't going to bother undressing either of them all the way. After all, he needed release as soon as he could get it, and if her mother got home, it would take less than a couple seconds for them to pull themselves together. 

He placed his hands on either side of her hips, his grasp remaining firm so she wouldn't move away. His cock was set perfectly between the cheeks of her bottom, and he thrust his hips for the small amount of friction. He wasn't a small man in any sense of the word, and he wanted her to feel just how big he was. "I bet you've been aching for my cock, haven't you? Ever since your daddy left, you've needed it."

[Dinner Plans]

This had been what she was going for. When her body was forced to bend over the island, her heart started to race, her flushed body wriggled like a helpless victim that she played so well. The hand on her back kept her from moving. He wasn’t putting that much pressure, but it was enough to keep her from standing. Small hands reached back to try and pull her panties back up, pushing at his arm and torso with the limited amount that she could reach in that position.

"Let me go!" Her voice turned into a whine, like a sulking child not getting their way, though she really was. Which a small move bakc, she could feel the hard line of his arousal pressed against his trousers and by the feel of him, he could probably tear her apart if he really wanted to. "You sick fucking bastard."

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"Fuck-toy? Shall I tell you about this woman?" He knew that she still had some empathy within. She wasn't like him, in that way. Grabbing her chin in one of his hands, he forced her to keep eye contact. "She was a recovering sex addict. Before you moved in, she made an effort to sleep with me, but I did not. It would ruin her progress. She is still liberal with her hands, but it was in no way an invitation to fuck her." 

Hannibal hoped that he got the point across. She was wrong to do this. He only chose people who deserved it. "Will would never be in this situation, because he thinks about his actions before he actively disappoints me." He let go of her face. 

We mustn't touch what isn't ours.

"Not my concern?" Her voice was quiet, but it held a twinge of insanity, and her blue eyes shone with the adrenaline from her kill; cheeks flushed a bright pink under her freckles and her lips parted the slightest bit. "As if you wouldn’t have done the same if some guy had put his hands on me. You wouldn’t have acted this way if it was Will, and not me! You’re just jealous that I got to her first. You probably wanted to fuck her since, obviously, you didn’t mind when she put her hands all over you." 

Her head tilted to the side a bit, her words were unabashed, feigning sadness, “Is that it, Hannibal? Are you mad that I killed your potential fuck-toy? Here I thought I was enough for you.”

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"If you didn't want me to touch, then you wouldn't dress like a call girl." He didn't miss how she arched into his touch. It only proved to him how badly she wanted him to have his way, and he was going to be sure that she got what she wanted. After all, he was a gracious man. Despite knowing her history, after being warned by Layla's mother, he didn't feel the need to stop.

John's strong hands grabbed onto her slender hips, and tugged her away from the counter where the hot lasagna sat, and pressed her, instead, against the island. He bent her against it, with one hand on the middle of her back, the other pulling down the back of her panties. "Always knew you'd have a perfect little ass."

[Dinner Plans]

She felt the cool air swooping up the back of her dress and instinct had Layla spinning around and yanking the fabric down to cover herself up. Her cheeks were flushed a light pink at his proximity and small fits made a feeble attempt at pushing him away. “Get away from me, and don’t ever touch me again or I’ll tell my mother.”

Her threat held little conviction. Her body ached for his touch, so much that the heat between her thighs pulsed painfully. What she needed, was for him to take what he wanted. What they both wanted, but would never admit to anyone but themselves.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"You'd think I was the only person alive in this house, considering how quiet it has been." 

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

"If you're going to dress like that, you're going to have to deal with the consequences." John glanced to the clock. There was plenty of time until her mother will be home. "You can't tell me that you're wearing this dress around the house just because it's comfortable. If you can even call it a dress, it's so short."

Though he knew he would probably have to deal with some consequences later on, he reached down and lifted the back of the dress. "And those panties... Aren't you too young for panties like that?" 

[Dinner Plans]

As she set the two plates on the counter she felt him step up behind her. More importantly, she felt the hard line of his cock press against her bottom. It almost pulled a satisfied smirk onto her face, but she kept her face a neutral expression as she cut into the lasagna.

"You really shouldn’t be pressing against me like that." She replied as she scooped some saucy pasta onto one plate. Despite her words, though making it seem like an accident, her ass pressed back against his lap as she shifted a bit to place the filled plate aside to fill the next one.

"And I’ll dress however I want to dress. You’re not my father, you can’t tell me what to do." Provoking. That’s all she was doing. Provoking him even further than she already was.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

Bruce was the last to speak. The meetings always put things into perspective for him. At least, they were meant to show him that sometimes, things are worse. That's what his therapist had said, but he still came out of the meetings feeling just as terrible, just as lost as he felt when he was coming out of a blackout. 

His blackouts were when his alternate personality took over completely. He liked to call him "Hyde" to himself, based off of the literary character. His therapist suggested that othering the voice might help to distance himself from it. Still, he heard the persistent voice day in and out, threatening to take over, threatening to never let him back.

"Uh, Hi. I'm Bruce," he started, though he was sure most of the people knew the name of the freak who, not two weeks ago, went on a rampage during their meeting. "It has been two days since an outbreak for me, but the voice is still telling me that he's going to ruin something else. See, I lost my job this week. He took over and blew up the lab." His arms were wrapped tightly around himself and he frowned, looking at the floor. "I was a liability." He didn't know what else to say. "I.. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm feeling helpless." He knew that they were supposed to say that they were feeling better, that they were positive, but he just couldn't lie anymore. "I guess we'll see how things are next week."

The person to his left - a recovering meth addict with skeletal hands - reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze. She was a nice lady who sometimes brought him casseroles when she heard about his outbursts. 

"Thanks."

It had been 23 hours for him. Actually, 23 hours - 45 minutes - 17 seconds since his last… unloading, for lack of a cleaner word. Legs crossed, foot twitching restlessly, Clint listened to his sponsor’s speech at the end of his support group meeting. He was just itching to get out of there, and go home to relieve himself. The ride over on the subway had been hard. Literally. He had been standing and a woman standing in front of him had accidentally brushed back against his lap, sending a shock wave of desire shooting from his brain, right down to his groin. He’d been sporting a semi in his trousers ever since.

Five more minutes, Barton. Five more minutes, you’ll be outta here and on your way home to bust a nut in front of your computer screen. But wait, he couldn’t do that. Not because he felt it wasn’t right, but because his sponsor had taken his computer away, as well as his tv. He was living in sobriety. His hands were starting to shake. Jesus fucking Christ, he was going to die. This is how he dies. Sexual frustration. He was sure of it

“Great," He muttered quietly to himself.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

Standing there, so enticingly, he couldn't help but move to stand right behind her, looking over her shoulder at the lasagna. His cock was hard, without even having to be touched, and he was sure to let her know about it as he pressed against her bottom. 

"It doesn't look too bad."

All that was on his mind was sex. He didn't care if he didn't eat at all tonight, he just wanted to take her, and she was clearly trying to seduce him into it.  "You really shouldn't dress like that."

[Dinner Plans]

"I suppose that’s right," Layla gave a small shrug and stood up straight to place the cooked pasta dish on top of the stove, leaning down again to shut the oven door. She looked down at the food before her and wrinkled her nose before moving over to the cupboards where the plates were located, reaching up, she had to stand on her toes to reach them.

"But if you get food poisoning, don’t say I didn’t warn you." She joked and grinned teasingly at him over her shoulder.

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

God. He could barely contain himself. Her mother wasn't neglectful in the bedroom, but he still found himself sexually frustrated most of the time. Maybe it was because she was very traditional and seemed to only like one position, or maybe it was because he was around her daughter more often than her, thanks to their conflicting work schedules. She was beautiful, with the perfect amount of naughtiness that he liked. Plus, he had a thing for silk stockings.

With his eyes on her ass as she bent over, he leaned against the island, just a foot away. "At least she makes an effort. That's what matters, isn't it." 

[Dinner Plans]

"No," she answered simply as she stood by the stove. Perhaps her dress was a little revealing. Thanks to the push-up bra beneath, her cleavage was on show and the hem of the shirt barely covered her thighs. Layla was sure to wait until John was in sight before she bent over to check the food in the over. Her dress rode up in the back to reveal the clips attached to her silk stockings.

"Don’t get your hopes up," she said with a laugh. "Mother never was the best chef when it came to homemade recipes. I told her she should take cooking lessons, but you know how stubborn she is."

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

[slitherthroughyourveins-blog]

Hey. I thought it was fitting.

"Just because I like to call Bruce ‘daddy' in bed, does not mean that I'm his little bitch-boy. So whoever changed all my ringtones to 'Boy Is A Bottom' can eat me, because he takes it up the ass just as much as I do.”