Yoruwara
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He needs to know if Hannibal has ever spoken to another person the way he speaks to him, if Hannibal has ever looked at another person the way he looks at him. For all Hannibal talks about not having secrets between them anymore, no boundaries, the dam finally breaks and all the questions he has ever had spring forth and demand release. The words blurt out of his mouth before he can think them through.
“Were you in love with Alana?”
Or: it's about time these boys have an honest conversation.
Bookmarked by Yoruwara
13 Jan 2026
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Du Kartus. The Lithuanian word for twice.
Perhaps Hannibal can get it right the second time.
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- English
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- 15/15
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Bookmarked by Yoruwara
21 Oct 2025
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Gi-hun is completely folded over the desk. Cheek pressed to the cool glass, hands splayed out like he’s about to be arrested. Legs trembling. Back arched hard. And his skirt? Still technically on. Still wrapped around his waist—but it keeps riding up.
Because his ass—full, round, already red from how In-ho keeps grabbing it—is just too big to stay covered.
In-ho tries anyway.
One hand tugs at the fabric, attempting to pull it back down for a second like he wants the visual—his cock buried deep inside while that stupid little skirt clings to the curve of Gi-hun’s thighs.
But it just slides right back up.
When secretary Seong Gi-hun spills coffee on himself during a hectic workday, his intimidating boss Hwang In-ho offers him a “temporary fix.” One pencil skirt, several teasing comments, and a ruined desk later, Gi-hun finds himself in a position far outside his job description.
(He just wanted dry pants. He got manhandled instead.)
Series
- Part 1 of Office Hours, After Hours
Bookmarked by Yoruwara
12 Jul 2025
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Every pull and brush over him felt better than he could ever remember it feeling and he thrust up into the wonderful suction. Something held him in place and he squirmed, seeking more but he felt the grip of the water tighten and hold, almost like it was trying to pull him under. He reached down to push at it and woke with a gasp as his fingers encountered not liquid, but hair.
Bookmarked by Yoruwara
15 Jun 2025
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An Alpha.
Hannibal’s entire being lights up. The stranger smells of sickly-sweet nostalgia, almost nauseating in its intensity, yet Hannibal aches for it all the same. The stranger smells like freshly inked letters on weathered parchment, like the curl of incense and the leather of a worn saddle. Like home — not the one Hannibal resides in, but one he hasn't visited before. Until now.
Bookmarked by Yoruwara
12 May 2025