Jocar
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Hannibal first meets Death when he's 11. He decides then and there that Death is the most beautiful monster in the world and he's in love. The thing is, Death is rather smitten too. Can Hannibal woo death? Probably, because he murders people and all that...
Twisted fluff, basically.- Language:
- English
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- 17,093
- Chapters:
- 5/5
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- 1
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Bookmarked by Jocar
06 Jul 2026
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From this prompt: Imagine Hannibal Lecter shaving Will’s stubble with an old school straight razor.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,521
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 3
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Bookmarked by Jocar
09 Jun 2026
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"Ye sure yer ready for this?" His voice is rough, rumbling; the quality of it evolved to raise hairs on the back of any mammal's neck. MacTavish makes a habit out of being intimidating, every move, look, noise primed to remind everyone in the room that he's capable of slaughtering them all.
Riley rolls his eyes, snorts behind his mask. "Like you'd stop if I changed my mind."
Bookmarked by Jocar
24 May 2026
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Minigun Purr (the Cat Hybrid Ghost fic) by JessieMay
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
13 Jun 2026
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Gaz knows a lot about hybrids. So when the new feline hybrid lieutenant takes a liking to Soap, he can immediately read the signs. Soap, who doesn’t know anything about hybrids, thinks it’s all just harmless fun.
Bookmarked by Jocar
20 May 2026
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Excerpt:
“C’mon then, Johnny. All yours,” Ghost grinned, fully prepared to shove him back there if he was going to be a fucking bitch about it. Soap glared at him, fists clenching. Ghost gave him ten seconds, and then he was going to push and see if Soap would actually swing or would do what he was told.
Soap closed the distance between them without further prompting, sliding one hand around Ghost’s raised bicep and the other around his waist, a disconcertingly intimate embrace that left Ghost stunned for the brief moment it took for Soap to get himself where he needed to be. Then Soap was shoving his face into Ghost’s armpit and inhaling again, long and slow. The hand at the centre of Ghost’s back scrabbled at him, fisting in his shirt; the one on his bicep squeezed tight, tugging his arm down and adjusting its position so that Soap’s mouth and nose were well and truly wedged in with no access to clean air. Soap’s hips hitched, just a bit, brushing his crotch against Ghost’s leg.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Bookmarked by Jocar
10 May 2026