lovelylockley - Tumblr blog

lovelylockley · 2 months ago

Text

Hummingbird - Part: I

Summary: In the quiet town of Jackson, Joel becomes consumed by a dark and overpowering obsession with his new neighbor. What begins as fascination quickly spirals into something much darker as he loses control over his desires.

3,6k

Warnings: +18, MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, obsessive!Joel, stalking, voyeurism, dark themes, explicit sexual content, masturbation, age gap (not specified), unprotected PIV, noncon, sexual obsession, power imbalance, dark!Joel, inappropriate behavior

Part: I

Here’s Part II.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

In the quiet of Jackson, where the rhythm of daily life had settled into a predictable monotony, something delicate and strange began to intrude upon Joel Miller’s routine. It was a morning like any other, with the sun rising lazily over the horizon, casting a gentle golden hue across the town. Joel was out on his usual run, his steps methodical and unhurried as he made his way back to the his house, his mind occupied with mundane thoughts.

It was then, amidst the usual rustle of leaves and distant hum of the town awakening, that he first heard it. At first, it was barely perceptible—a faint, ethereal sound drifting through the air like a whisper from another world. Joel paused, his attention momentarily snagged by the delicate melody that seemed to dance just at the edge of his hearing. It was as if the air itself had taken on a subtle, musical quality, a softness that contrasted starkly with the rough edges of his usual environment.

He turned his head, his gaze searching for the source of this unexpected serenade. It was coming from the house next door, a modest structure that had always seemed unremarkable, shrouded in vines and surrounded by the casual chaos of overgrown greenery. The sound was so incongruous with the house’s unassuming exterior that it felt like a secret whisper from within, something hidden and precious.

Joel’s curiosity was piqued. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch the essence of the melody. It was a hum—a soft, resonant tone that seemed to rise and fall with a natural, almost instinctual grace. The notes were like tendrils of mist, curling through the air and slipping past his defenses. He could only imagine the source, but it was enough to make him linger longer than usual, his gaze drawn toward the window of the house.

He paused, listening, his gaze instinctively drawn toward her house. Through the window, all he could make out was a fleeting shadow, a delicate form moving gracefully inside.

At first, Joel thought nothing of it, dismissing the moment as an odd distraction. But as the days passed, something began to shift in him. He found himself increasingly drawn to that house, his curiosity growing with every glimpse of her. It started innocently enough, with stolen glances as he passed by, but soon it became more deliberate. His steps slowed near her house, his eyes straying toward her window, searching for even the slightest sign of her. He was fascinated by the way she moved, by the way her hands gently tended to the garden, her fingers brushing over the petals of flowers she grew with such care. Each sight sent a strange rush through him, something that made his pulse quicken.

· · ─────

The first time Joel saw your face, it struck him with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He had been watching, hidden behind the blinds of his window, when you stepped outside. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath as your eyes met his, just for a brief, charged moment. Your wide, innocent eyes framed by long lashes, and the natural rosy glow of your cheeks, made Joel’s chest tighten. You smiled softly, the gentle curve of your lips triggering something deep inside him. He felt it immediately—a need so intense it nearly overwhelmed him.

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a relentless pressure building in his pants. His body reacted violently to the sight of you—his cock hardening painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to approach you, to bridge the gap that separated you.

That was when the obsession began.

He started to hear your voice more clearly, each utterance a sweet murmur that resonated deep within him. Even the simplest exchanges—casual hellos, friendly greetings—were like a siren’s call, drawing him deeper into his obsession. Your voice was a melody that seemed to play directly to his most primal desires. Every word you spoke, every laugh, every soft-spoken sentence made his resolve crumble.

As he observed you from a distance, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way your clothes clung to your body—how your sundress gently swayed with each movement, exposing just enough to tease. The sight of your legs, bare and inviting, only served to fuel his obsession. His cock often grew hard and throbbing whenever he caught sight of you, straining painfully against his pants. The thought of you, so close yet so out of reach, drove him to the brink of madness.

One evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, Joel found himself standing by his window, peering out at your house. His breath came in ragged gasps as he saw you stepping outside, your form illuminated by the fading light. You looked ethereal, your face soft and angelic in the warm glow. The sight of you made his cock pulse with need. He gripped the edge of the windowsill, trying to steady himself, but the pressure in his pants became almost unbearable.

He watched, nearly paralyzed with desire, as you walked to your mailbox, your hips swaying with each step. The way your dress clung to your curves made his mouth go dry. His hand instinctively moved to his aching cock, and he found himself pressing against it through his pants, trying to relieve some of the intense pressure. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of dirty fantasies—images of you, your soft lips wrapped around him, your body arching beneath him.

“Goddammit, baby” he cursed, his voice low and strained. “I need you so bad… fuckin’ want you so much…” His hand moved under his pants to his aching cock as he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. He imagined how you’d look at him with your pretty eyes as you took him between your soft pillowy lips. fuck.

The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

With every stroke, he imagined you moaning his name, your body shuddering with pleasure as he took you, over and over again. Pounding into your little cunt. He could almost feel the warmth of your body against his, the way your skin would feel under his hands.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, eyes locked onto your unknowing frame as he stroked himself, his mind filled with filthy fantasies of you. “I bet you’d feel so good wrapped around me, fuck…”

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind filled with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Later, when Joel finally mustered the courage to approach you, he was a bundle of conflicting emotions—nervousness and raw, unfiltered desire coiling tightly within him.

The encounter had been a fantasy that had played out in his mind countless times, and now it was happening in reality. Every step toward your porch felt monumental, his heart pounding with a frenetic rhythm that echoed in his ears. His palms were slick with sweat, making his grip on the porch railing shaky as he approached.

He could barely contain the tremors that coursed through his hands and legs, the anticipation making his entire body vibrate with a desperate urgency.

You were seated gracefully on your porch, a book resting lightly in your lap, your legs crossed in a demure manner that only accentuated the delicate curve of your soft thighs.

The evening light painted you in a soft, almost ethereal glow, casting shadows that highlighted the gentle curve of your silhouette. Joel couldn’t believe how one could look so… pretty.

When you looked up and saw him standing there, your eyes widened with surprise, and a radiant, innocent smile spread across your face—a sight so pure and captivating that it made Joel’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hello,” Joel managed to say, his voice coming out rough and gravelly, betraying the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.

He struggled to keep his tone steady, forcing himself to act casual despite the intense craving gnawing at his insides.

Your smile only widened further, and your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and warmth.

“Oh, hi! You must be Mr. Miller. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Joel’s gaze fell to your hand as you extended it in greeting.

Immediately his thoughts slipped to your delicate fingers gripping his throbbing member while he called you his goodgirl. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock, which was now straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

Every move you made seemed to amplify his arousal, and he fought to maintain control as he forced himself to look up at your face.

The sight of you, so effortlessly charming and engaging, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed again with an urgent need that he could hardly contain, and he struggled to keep his composure as he looked at you. Do you know, what you’re doing to him?

“Call me Joel,” he said, his voice low and strained, barely above a whisper. His hands were clammy, and he had to clench them into fists to keep them from reaching out and taking you right on the floor.

You continued to speak, your voice a soft, inviting murmur that wrapped around him like a velvet glove, soothing yet igniting.

“I was just out here enjoying the evening. How are you?”

Joel’s eyes traced every movement you made, every subtle shift of your body.

The way you leaned forward slightly, the way your pretty pink lips parted in a soft, engaging smile—all of it was a tantalizing display that made his cock strain even harder.

He could feel the wetness seeping from the tip of his cock, staining the fabric of his pants, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to discreetly adjust himself while maintaining a semblance of normal conversation.

“I’m doin’ fine,” he said, his voice barely audible.

All he could focus on was the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with an innocent curiosity that heightened his yearning.

His mind was consumed by a storm of lustful thoughts, barely registering the actual conversation. Do you feel this pull, too?

The more you spoke, the more his body betrayed him.

Every smile you flashed, every soft laugh that escaped your lips, was like a provocative tease that made his cock twitch with uncontrollable arousal.

His fantasies grew darker with each passing second, imagining what it would be like to press you against the wall, to feel your body writhing beneath him, to hear your moans of pleasure while he sucked your perfect clit into his mouth and doing that, and more, for hours.

The thought made him shudder with a mix of desire and frustration, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Each accidental brush of your body against his was like a jolt of electricity. You’re talking, but he only grasps half of it.

When you leaned in to grab something from the table, your soft, intoxicating scent enveloped him, making his cock nearly explode with a desperate need.

He could barely keep himself together, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of dirty fantasies.

You, looking up at him while sucking on his twitching balls. Licking between them and going lower-

He interrupted himself before he would go actually insane.

You laughed at something he said, and the sound of your laughter—sweet and melodic—was like a siren’s call that fueled his desire further.

He envisioned your eyes filled with innocent curiosity as you took him in. The thought made his cock leak uncontrollably, the wet stain spreading on his pants a testament to his arousal.

Look down, baby. Look what you’re doing to me. Give me a fuckin’ reason.

· · ─────

As the evening drew to a close and you finally excused yourself, Joel was left standing there, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire.

He watched you walk back inside, your silhouette framed by the warm light of your home, and the sight only deepened his obsession.

He retreated to his own house, barely able to contain the need that simmered just beneath the surface.

Later, as he lay in bed, his thoughts were consumed by you. Every moment, every touch, every word you had spoken replayed in his mind with relentless intensity.

His hand moved to his aching cock, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. My goodgirl. You’ll be such a good fuckin’ girl.

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he groaned, each stroke of his hand sending waves of pleasure through him.

I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me, hear you scream my name. I need to make you mine.

With each stroke, he envisioned you moaning his name, calling out to him. Daddy, sir, master, anything - as long as it’s you.

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind flooded with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Joel knew his obsession with you was consuming him, but he couldn’t stop.

Every sight, every sound, only deepened his fixation. He was trapped in a cycle of desire and denial, the more he saw of you, the more intense his obsession became.

The twisted desire that had taken root in him was growing stronger, and he knew there was no escaping the dark, perverse longing that now ruled his every thought.

“I have to have her,” Joel whispered into the darkness, the words a promise and a curse. His mind was set on claiming you, making you his in every way. The thought of finally having you, of making you his possession, consumed him completely. He was lost in his obsession, and the only thing that mattered now was the need to make you his, no matter the cost.

Soon, we’ll be together - my sweet little hummingbird.

928 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 3 months ago

Photo

DANIEL BRÜHL as Fredrick Zoller Inglourious Basterds | dir. Quentin Tarantino (2009)

276 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 4 months ago

Text

MAN I'D LIKE TO RIDE AND WHY

(I don't know why I'm doing it, I just wanted to tell someone)

Smut content down below please be careful while reading it.

Also, I made this list based on my personal view so the "reader" (if it can be called like this) is female, since I use the pronounce she/her.

1) LASZLO KREIZLER

First of all, I don't believe this man is a total sub, for me he's definitely a switch, so... To me it would be much more fun, cause he may have an attitude while letting me ride him anyway. Another good reason that must not be left out is the fact that this man has a certified DAD BOD and a literal a fat cock (see the fact he likes to eat), and in my cracked mind, people with a Dad body are unbreakable, that means that I can bounce on them without breaking them... (being curvy and definitely chubby myself, that last point is really important to me), CERTIFIED TURN ON.

2) DONNY DONOWITZ

Just look at him...

BIG DICK ENERGY

He manages to have a dad bod and be fit at the same time...

He definitely satisfies my size kink.

Again my cracked mind says he would definitely NOT BREAK

Also, I don't know but he gives vibes of switch with sub tendencies, so it would be so enjoyable to be on top of a so feared man, makes me feel empowered.

Also he has the most mesmerizing eyes, it would be so intense to look at them while doing it.

3) FRANKIE MORALES

CERTIFIED DILF

Again... DAD BOD (I don't know if consider it a kink of mine at this point...)

But I have to admit it, this case is the exact opposite.

I'd like to ride him to see him break, cause in my head this man would just "explode" of pleasure if a woman ever rides him... I volunteer as a tribute.

He would be all sweaty, hands lingering on your hips unable to grasp at them anymore, mouth slightly open and eyes closed... Cause it's just way too much.

4) LETO ATREIDES

CERTIFIED DILF AND CERTIFIED DAD BOD

Time to explain another cracked reasoning of my mind: when a man has kids, that's the proof that his balls work right.

I don't know why I find that hot, I don't even wanna have kids, it's my head that is demaged.

BIG DICK ENERGY.

Also, the idea of riding a so powerful man thrills me way too much.

5) CRISTOPH WALTZ

DILF ENERGY

I don't know... He's definitely not the youngest in the list, so I think it would be kind of nice and slow, just really intimate and SO INTENSE.

I figure intense gazes, light touches, soft breaths and whimpers while his arm is wrapped around my waist.

JUST WOW

And...

I FIRMLY BELIEVE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO IS DEFINITELY CONVINCED THIS MAN HAS A HUGE DICK.

p.s.

He speaks german that is a sort of a sweet tooth for me.

6) HELMUT ZEMO

CERTIFIED DILF (I hit a nerve though)

CERTIFIED DAD BOD

CERTIFIED CHEST HAIR

He has everything...

Even though I see him as someone who could use sex as a simple way to blow off some steam without being romantically involved, he gives the vibes of someone that if is really in love, is all for the intimacy.

He gives me similar vibes to Christoph Waltz, just a little rougher, maybe a tug at the hair or a tighter grip on the waist, but just really intense and even more intimate.

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK TODAY, IF YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE END OF THE POST, BE AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I WANT TO RIDE YOU TOO.

688 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 4 months ago

Text

he is so skibidi toilet

what are we gonna do with him

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑝

31 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Text

Replacement Therapy

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

In a desperate attempt to save your marriage, you begin to attend counseling with the famed Doctor Lecter but soon enough, things begin to take a turn. Based on prompt by @queenstarlight2

Warnings: mention of cheating, VERY INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP, reader has defined married name (let me know if you recognise it), reader is ever so slightly naive and easy to manipulate, insecurity (not explicitly mentioned what they are), murder, blood, little bit of humping and making out, implied smut, nudity

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice!!

Minors DNI

It was embarrassing, truly. Your husband said it was a disgrace too. But here you were, attending marriage counseling alone. There was no one else in the luxurious waiting room and you were grateful for that small reprieve, you don’t think you could have handled any more humiliation today.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter came highly regarded as the best (and most expensive) therapist in the state. So, foolishly, you had signed yourself and your husband of three years up for a session to see if you could fix your marriage. After all, it had been your fault that he cheated on you with his secretary, you were the one that selfishly denied him.

“Mrs Hansen?” You looked up to see a very well dressed older man standing in the doorway. His yellow eyes were fixated on you like a predator watching their prey but it didn’t scare you. You nodded and he shifted so his lean body was side on, gesturing for you to enter his office. Gathering up your coat and purse, you walked in.

The office was really quite lovely, walls covered in books, beautiful leather chairs and an ornate desk made you feel as if you had stepped into someone’s home rather than a psychiatrist’s practice. “Can I take your coat Mrs Hansen?” Dr Lecter stepped closer, offering his large hand to you.

“Um yes, thank you.” Your hands brushed as you gave him the expensive coat Lloyd bought for you. He smiled kindly at you before he turned his back so he could hang the garment up on the rack next to his own. You noted his suit, it was similar to the suits associates of your husband’s wore: expensive, exclusive.

“Take a seat and we can begin.” The smooth leather squeaked against the bare skin of your legs as you sat, the sound filling the otherwise silent office. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly tugged down the hem of your dress over the expanse of your plump thighs.

The doctor soon found his own seat opposite you. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did, taking on a relaxed air, as if he were about to watch television or read a book. It put you immediately at ease. “So tell me, why do you believe you are in need of counseling?” His voice was smooth and rich like an aged whiskey.

“Well, recently, my husband and I have been going through a rough patch and I thought-“ You started, nervously playing with the gaudy wedding ring on your finger when Doctor Lecter stopped you.

“I asked why you needed counseling, not your husband. I do not doubt that he is in need of it but I make it a habit not to diagnose in absentia. So Mrs Hansen, I ask again; why do you need help?” The silence was deafening as his words sunk in. When was the last time someone offered to help? You were lost in your own mind, the questions consuming you.

But the doctor was patient, simply letting you experience your thoughts without any interruption. Too lost in your spiraling mind, you didn’t see how his eyes trailed down the length of your plump body, taking in each and every detail like you were some rare and beautiful creature. “I-I don’t know Doctor Lecter. I feel like I can’t be fixed but maybe my marriage can.”

“And why is it so important that you fix the marriage that is obviously making you unhappy?” Your head shot up with such a force your neck clicked.

“I’m not unhappy, I love my husband.” He tsked and leaned back in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Now now Mrs Hansen, I don’t tolerate liars in this office. I respect you enough to tell you to tell the truth and I expect the same respect from you.” You felt like a scolded child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the tears fell onto your folded hands, rolling down onto your dress. “I love my husband.” You emphasised half-heartedly. Your voice thickened as more tears welled up, making your vision swim.

“And I do not doubt that my dear. But those we love can make us unhappy. And it is in your best interest to recognise that.” A box of tissues appeared before you, you took the whole thing. “How about we start at what makes you happy, do you have any hobbies?”

——————

Your sessions with Doctor Lecter, Hannibal as he insisted you call him, were the highlight of your week. Everything was getting better! Lloyd had even stopped pestering you about it, just sending you out the door with his black card to pay for it.

Hannibal had been wonderful, he helped you rediscover old passions and find new ones to keep your mind occupied during the day since Lloyd insisted you become a housewife after you were married. You felt lighter and truly happier.

But the only downside to this whole thing was your unfortunate crush on the older man. Who could blame you? He was sauve and sophisticated but not condescending. He was kind but not a roll over. He was handsome but not unobtainable. He knew your soul better than Lloyd, he always seemed to know what you needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with you. He recommended wines and getaways, museums and art galleries, he had even picked out a new perfume for you that had made your husband go absolutely feral for you.

A part of you wished you had met the doctor before Lloyd. You often wondered what your life would have been like if he was the one that swept you off your feet first.

“How have you been this week? Have you been journalling like I asked you to?” You nodded, a large smile on your face. You pulled the beautiful leather-bound journal from your bag and handed it over to the good doctor without hesitation.

“Yep! Just like you told me to! One entry in the morning as soon as I get up and one at night right before I go to bed.” Hannibal winked at you from over his glasses.

“Very good girl." He purred before opening the book and beginning to read. It had been a strange request, to write down all your thoughts and actions through the day, including, well more like emphasising anything sexual that happened, especially if you pleasured yourself. But you trusted Hannibal and knew that he would do whatever was best for you.

“I see you and Mr Hansen had intercourse this week.” Your breath caught in your throat at his tone and the sudden frown marring his perfect face. Shamefully, you looked down at your lap.

“Yes we did.”

“But you write that you didn’t enjoy it. Can you tell me why?” Because I was thinking about you the whole time and what you would feel like inside of me instead of him. But you couldn’t say that to your therapist.

So you just shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.” But like all lies you told him, Hannibal saw right through it, although, this time, he didn’t make any comment.

“I hope you were able to take care of yourself after then, I would hate to think that he left you feeling vulnerable and unsafe.” You most certainly had. A quick trip to the bathroom after he fell asleep with your waterproof vibrator and a tub full of hot soapy water and fixed the ache between your thighs. Especially when you called out Hannibal’s name when you climaxed.

“I took a hot bath and drank a glass of that red wine you recommended last week.” He nodded approvingly, the smile returning to his lips as he placed the book on the side table next to him. His legs spread slightly and you could not help but sneak a quick glance at the sizeable bulge hidden by his navy pinstripe pants.

Your eyes snapped back up to his own as he began to speak again. “Now this is a strange question but I find it useful to ask my patients this sometimes. How many times do you think you have had sex with your husband?”

“What?” You breathed, legitimately shocked by the question. How could he even ask that? But like he could read your mind, Hannibal explained himself.

“I only ask because to a woman such as yourself who values intimacy and physical connection, sex is a very important and healthy part of a relationship. Knowing how often you and Mr Hansen engaged in such acts, and by focusing on how often it used to occur versus now can give me a better idea as to the state of your marriage.”

Sceptically, you withdrew slightly, thinking about the many times you had been intimate with Lloyd. It hurt to reminisce on the times before your marriage when he was your whole world and you were his. When did it change? Or was it ever like that? “We dated for three months before we got married. We used to have sex at least twice a day. And then on the honeymoon it was pretty much a 12 hour affair every day. But about a month after we got back, the sex stopped. Since then it’s maybe been 10 or 20 times.” Hannibal slumped forward, his scruffy chin coming to rest on his intertwined fingers as he did the math in his head.

“It isn’t unusual for couples to stop being intimate but it is certainly questionable for the sex to stop so quickly after it frequently occurred. Is there any reason you believe this has happened?” And like you couldn’t stop it, you started spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to him, just like all the times before.

——————

Fridays were reserved for Hannibal, you made that very clear to your life partner and apparently, he had taken full advantage of that. You stared at his computer in complete disbelief. There were thousands of messages from hundreds of women, each detailing the dirty and almost borderline illegal acts he committed with them.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, only wanting to find your mother’s pie recipe to give to Hannibal for today’s session but the logs were right there! Like he wanted you to find them. In a haze, you printed out as many of the chats as you could and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hmm.” Hannibal hummed as he looked over the various sheets of paper. His face remained neutral but inside he was seething. You had already confided in him about your husband's past ‘indiscretions’ and your insecurity about pleasing him sexually. “I won’t ask you how you feel about these chats because that would be unhelpful so instead I’m going to ask about what you wish to do about it.”

You had his undivided attention, his amber eyes locked on you as he awaited your decision. “I want to leave him.” Hannibal’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “B-but I can’t afford the divorce. All of our money is his.”

Slipping from his seat, he knelt before you as if in worship. Your legs squeezed together, both to sate your arousal from his close proximity and to prevent him catching sight of your soaked panties. “You needn’t worry my flower, I have more than enough money to buy your freedom.”

“I can’t let you do that Hannibal. You’ve done so much for me already and I’ll forever be grateful but this is something I need to do on my own.” His eyes grew softer, filled with swirling emotion. Palms skated up your leg, cupping the side of your knee in a grip far too tight to be friendly.

The doctor was close enough now you could study the details of his face far more than you ever could before. Your gaze followed the lines of his wrinkles, going from the crows feet by his eyes to the smile lines on his cheeks. Then to his lips. “I would do anything for you, my flower, you never have to ask.” Slowly, his hands moved higher and his lean body closer. His broad shoulders forced your legs apart so he could rest between them. “If I cannot give you financial support, let me offer you my home, at least until you are on your own two feet.”

You could not speak, too lost in the idea of surging forward and finally kissing him. “Ok.” You murmured, conceding to his wishes.

“Wonderful. Then how about we wrap up this session early so we can get you home and fed.” You whined low in your throat as he slipped away but thankfully, he didn’t hear you. He helped you to your feet and then turned to fetch your coats

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” You said jokingly. He laughed but you missed the truly wicked grin spreading over his face. Oh yes, whatever he wants indeed.

——————

You were truly beautiful when you slept. It was like all of your worries and stresses washed away, leaving you almost fae-like in appearance. Hannibal had lost count of the amount of times he had snuck into your home to catch a glimpse of your resting form. He had drawn you each time, and each time, he took something of yours. A lock of your hair, a piece of jewelry, even several panties from your hamper., things you wouldn’t really notice if they went missing.

But now, you were here, in his home and in his bed. You were his.

He had hoped that you would have come to your senses months ago and realised that he would be a better lover than this worm of a man could ever be. But it seems that you needed a bit more of a push to fall into his arms.

The messages had been easy to fake. He knew you wanted a hero to come and save you from your husband, the chats had been the perfect excuse to come to him.

You shifted in your sleep and the dark sheets pooled around your wide hips, exposing the way his own shirt stretched across your large body. He could even see how your nipples pebbled in the chilly air of the room. “Absolutely divine.” He could not help himself.

As quietly as he could, Hannibal slipped into the bed beside you, not caring that he was staining the bedding with the still wet blood that covered his naked skin. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to crawl up your body, taking his rightful place above you.

Red began to seep through your white shirt, blooming like a flower. “My beautiful, perfect flower.” He nosed along your pulse point, inhaling your alluring scent like he needed it to live. You were so soft and warm, he had no doubt you would be absolutely delectable but he was far far too selfish to let you go.

His hips nudged into your own, unable to keep himself from seeking out the warmth of your core. “H-Hannibal?” Your eyes were barely open but they were dark with lust, almost as if you had been expecting him like this.

“I am sorry to have woken you my flower but you were far too alluring for me to just walk away.” He returned to your neck, now licking at your slightly salty skin.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hips canting upwards, bumping into his cock. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Is this a dream?”

Hannibal planted his forearm by your head so he could guide your shapely leg over his waist. “If it is, I hope we never wake because I have lots I must do with you.” Your fingers tangled in his silvery hair, overcome with electricity in your veins.

“You have slept with your idiotic husband almost 400 times and I must scrub away his touch from your heavenly body.”

“Should we get started then?” You asked coyly and Hannibal couldn’t help but oblige you.

Prompt: Imagine yandere Hannibal asking how often you and your husband have had sex during a therapy session, saying it might be making you unhappy. When the reason he asked was that he wanted to know how many times he was going to have to fuck you to make you forget about your husband

Hannibal Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @km-ffluv

Hannibal

@andreasworlsboring101

2K notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Photo

mr. sandman (bung, bung, bung, bung) ♬

2K notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Text

Happy pride month <3

I’m aroace btw

3 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Text

I may or may not write a fic inspired by this

Doctor Hannibal Lecter hired private investigators to find you. it took months. Now, he knows where you live. And let's just say, the doctor drank and danced in a crazed state.

195 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Photo

Hannibal 1x10 - “Buffet Froid”

3K notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Text

leaving green sleeves by leonard cohen / digestivo by bryan fuller & steve lighfoot.

69 notes · View notes

lovelylockley · 2 years ago

Note

Shiiiit i love this and i want more 🥹

Does Hannibal Lector count as a slasher? Because this is an intense fantasy, momma.

Can't help but wonder how he would be with a darling he initially kidnapped for food. Being knocked out only to wake up naked with my legs tied together, wrists tied, laying on a literal baking tray like a turkey with an apple shoved in my mouth as he stands nearby sharpening his knives and warming the oven. Letting out terrified noises as he realizes I'm awake and walks over slowly, panicking even more as he rubs cooking oil over me only to become rather fascinated and interested in my soft pussy, slowly setting down his basting tools and talking to me even though I can't respond.

"Such a lovely little lamb. It is a shame to know you won't be around much longer..."

Crying in confusion and fear as he slowly starts to rub and finger me, his pupils blown wide as he hums and ads another finger, watching my legs shake and jolt from the sensation even though I'm horrified and crying.

"I don't typically play with my food..."

He stares for a moment before suddenly latching his mouth onto my pussy, licking and sucking like a feral animal, growling lowly in his chest as he shoves his tongue in me, slurping and smacking his lips. Me crying out loudly from the stimulation even with the apple gagging me as I cum several times before he pulls away, seeming even more feral, clearly not interested in eating me anymore now that he's harder than stone.

Fishing out his cock and shoving it in me, pulling the apple from my mouth so he can hear me scream as he pounds into me and huffs, praising me and telling me what an adorable lamb I am. Such a poor thing getting caught by a lion that seeks to devour me. Me whining and drooling with my eyes rolled back in my skull, forced to cum again and again as I feel him fill me up with his cock and cum, fucking it deeper into me as he chuckles.

"Didn't think I was going to be putting stuffing in you..."

Me sobbing from over stimulation and fear before he finally has his fill, stepping back for a moment to watch his cum slowly drip out of my pussy as I mewl and whine, too fucked out to care. Not noticing how he licks his lips at the sight, stunned as he unties my binds, picking up my spent body and carrying me to a bathtub, not minding as he gets cooking oil on his shirt and arms. Me completely unable to move due to the intense fucking as he gently washes the oil off and scrubs with soap, being oh so soft now that I was off the baking tray and too exhausted to do anything. Hearing him talk softly to me and threaten me with cooking me if I misbehave even though he would never do that now that he's become hooked on me.

"How could I eat a sweet lamb like you? No, you, my delicious darling, will be staying here with me. Behave, or I may have to change my mind about letting you live."

Him using his thumb to rub against my lips, slowly sliding his finger into my mouth as I deliriously blink, slowly beginning to pass out from my lost energy. Hearing him talk to himself softly all while he makes sure I am nice and clean as he dries me off, carrying me to his bed and combing my hair before laying me down. Mostly unconscious as I feel his lips press over mine, tongue sliding in to claim my mouth before he pulls away, tucking me in sweetly.

"Don't worry, my lamb, this lion isn't going to eat you."

Passing out as he goes back to the kitchen and prepares some other unfortunate soul for his meal now that he has another mouth to feed and care for. Treating me like his little wife and fucking me senseless like a good husband, only chuckling when anyone comments on the 'lamb' nickname, like an inside joke only you two know. Behaving in fear not knowing he refused to kill me now, protecting me as fiercely as a lion would from any harm...

Hannibal would take such good care of you. Head to toe would be cleaned, trimmed, and exfoliated. You’ll be forced to let him care for you, having to obey his every order under the threat of becoming the next meal.

His fingers would always be toying with you in one way or another. Playing with your lip, feeling the pitter of your heart as he holds your throat, raking through your hair as he holds you, no matter what he always has his hold on you.

You’re the most divine treat he could’ve asked for. Your taste is one that has to be savored, truly appreciated and understood. His tongue has to know every crevice of you, every inch of your skin, nothing is off limits. It’s rather cute how shy you become when he gets like this, embarrassed and modest, trying to hide yourself as if he couldn’t simply truss you up like a turkey and gorge himself.

“A little lamb hiding from the hungry lion…how precious. You can never escape me, or my hunger, love”.

He’ll slowly pump his fingers inside of you, stretching and scissoring them while your hips jut up and beg for him to go deeper. The pads of his fingers rub tightly against your walls and cause your toes to curl, your fingers scrambling for purchase as he continues to abuse those nerves. Drool will be dripping down your chin after the first few orgasms, muscles practically melted and turned to liquid as you’re splayed out on the bed and inviting him for a special taste.

His cock teases your entrance, catching on your hole and sending little shocks up your spine. Your gut is warm, coiling and tightening once again as another orgasm is built up and reaching its peak. The stretch of his cock makes your body heat up even more, every slap of his skin against yours only heightens the sensations Hannibal was giving you. You can hardly hear his taunting words and praise as he buries himself to the hilt with every thrust, humping into you while his teeth sink into your shoulder.

He’ll lift your legs to rest on his shoulder, hammering deeper into you, balls slapping against your ass with each hard pump of his cock. It reaches so deep, hitting every spot that makes you go near brain dead with bliss, and soon your sobbing out and pleading as an orgasm is once again forced from your body and making your nails dig into his skin.

Hannibal only snarls with a smile, stilling his hips as he pumps you full of his cum, cock twitching inside of your heavenly walls and painting them white. Every breath of relief is drowned out as he watches his seed drip from your cute, abused little hole.

“Catch your breath my little lamb” he’ll reassure, hands rubbing up and down your shaking, sweat covered calves “I’ll clean you up…just allow me to indulge in a second helping. I must say I’ve worked up such an appetite”.

He’ll only chuckle deeply at your whimpers as his tongue gets to work cleaning you out, fingers holding you open and allowing his tongue to reach the deepest parts of you. Suckling, nibbling, and slurping up the mess of your juices while commenting about how delicious you taste.

Then of course there’s the clean up. You’ll practically have a fever with how intense things become, so he doesn’t mind cleaning you up and cooling you down. If anything he seems to love it, having a helpless little lamb needing his care and his protection. He’ll wash you up and remind you of just how horrifying he can be when he casually leaves out bloodied utensils, just to subtly remind you he could hurt you at any given moment.

Not that he wants too, but a little fear never hurt to keep you in check.

“Rest up. I have dinner marinating and soon it’ll be cooked to perfection. I’m excited to see how you like the wine I chose to go with it”.

(-Mommabean, I hope my smut is alright ^_^;; please comment!)

1K notes · View notes