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lulu-lux · 5 days ago

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Halloween special: Red riding hood finds her wolves

Werewolf x werewolf x chubby fem!reader || breeding, predator/prey, breeding, size kink, sharing is caring, mating, oversimulation, spit-roast, cum inflation

Your friend invited you to the party, so you decided it was her fault that you didn’t know what it was it all about. She didn’t say (or maybe you weren’t listening), so that you were chased down the woods was totally her fault and nothing to do with you… Right. That’s it.

When she mentioned a costume party you started to make arrangements in your head and thinking how slutty could you dress, how much you could show without being too in your face… Okay, maybe you didn’t care for that and you were only thinking what dress would make you look hotter. Not two seconds later you decided red riding hood would be your best choice, you had a red cape that you used for a similar costume a couple years back, and a tiny dress you bought on a sad day. Your fat tummy and thick thighs would look killer in that red short dress, and if every inch of that fabric molded to your chubby body, that was a plus.

The problem was you didn’t know the party was at the pack land and there would be wolves assisting. And you also didn’t know wolves were more dangerous than a bull when you moved red fabric in front of them. But it was your friend’s fault, remember? All on her…

When you arrived in your short dress and high boots all eyes were on you, you looked fire and you knew it, and you did nothing but to enjoy the attention and the stares everyone around you were sending your way, your body tingling with excitement as they devoured you with their eyes. You were high on dopamine and excitement as you walked to the bar and saw a couple of very hot dudes making out. You shivered, your thighs clenching as your thong got wet. What was about two dudes making out that made them so fucking hot? Maybe it wasn’t the dudes, though, because if you saw two girls that would have made you dripping wet, too. Maybe it was you and your attention whore pussy. Yeah, most likely.

As soon as you walked in, they stopped kissing, their noses twitching as they turned around and focused their eyes on you, a growl escaping their mouths as you giggled. One of them was tall and bear-like, his face rough and his hair dark, and the other one was the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. They both towered over you, and you felt almost tiny in comparison, even thought your frame was big enough not to be missed anywhere. They looked flushed, but you bet you were even more red than them. Their hair was messy, and just then you understood their costume: no costume at all. They were in their half shifted form as they looked at you intently.

You stepped into the kitchen to get yourself a glass, but you didn’t get enough time before one of them grunted: “mate”. And the other one turned to look at him and growled: “mine”.

You knew enough wolves in your life to know what that meant. It meant that either you ran or you’d be fucked in the middle of that kitchen and everyone who entered would be able to see you being fucked against any surface available. And even though that was a fun thought, and maybe made your pussy hot as fuck, you knew it wasn’t the best way to start a mating bond. And if you were to be claimed, you wanted them to chase you (the kinky side of you already screaming giddily).

So you did what you had to: you took off your shoes and bolted out the back door.

You heard the howls behind you before you heard footsteps following close behind. You knew they had all the chances to catch you, but you also knew they wanted to play with their prey before they enjoyed your body. You screamed joyfully as you ran ahead of them, their grunts and yelps making you giddy with excitement. Your pussy was completely soaked as you ran, and you bet they could smell it behind you if their howls were any indication. Your thighs were rubbing in the worst possible way, and you were sure you’d have the worst case of friction burn in the morning, but at that moment, with your heart beating fast and hard and your future mates following behind you, you couldn’t care less.

“Come on little bunny, are you going to keep running?” One of them screamed behind you, making you giggle as you pushed yourself further.

“I’m going to fuck you as a reward, little mate, your pussy is going to be destroyed!” The other one warned, as if it was some kind of threat.

You giggled and kept running until your lungs couldn’t hold the air anymore and your feet started to hurt from the dirt under them. And when a nasty root appeared out of nowhere and made you trip, a strong arm caught you by the middle, leaving you suspended in the air as you breathed hard and they chuckled.

“Caught you!” The bearded one exclaimed as he ripped your dress of your body in one fast movement, making you gasp as you were left wearing nothing but the tiny thong and your red cape. “What do we do with our little bunny?” He was massive next to you, holding you up with just one arm, his hand almost covered your whole side.

Your body was vibrating with energy, the starts of the mating urge making themselves known as they touched your body freely. There was a traveling hand touching your exposed ass, some other hand pinching your nipple and groping your big tummy. They were everywhere at once, and they were making the mating frenzy even worse.

They lowered you to the dirt and you didn’t care. You only cared about their bodies and the deep need inside of you. You stared at them as they took off their clothes over you, their bodies being exposed fast, not allowing you to process before they were falling to their knees next to your body.

“Dibs on her pussy!” The redhead called out, making the other grunt as you giggled

The beard one grunted and complained. “Fuck. That’s low, man.”

“I’ll suck your dick later,” he promised with a teasing tone, making you whine at the image.

You’d give part of your left kidney to be able to see them fuck. And then you realized: you would see them. You were their mate, you’d be able to see them fuck all the times you wanted. You groaned at the realization, and they looked at you questioning. You couldn’t process your fast thoughts fast enough to tell them what was in your mind, but they didn’t seem to care anymore when they started caressing and touching your body again.

The bearded one grabbed your hair and pulled so you were looking at his face. “Okay little bunny, we’re going to fuck you until you are cum-drunk and bred. And then we are going to take you to our house and do it all over again. And again… And again.” He was kneeling next to your head and when you noticed his dick your breath got caught in your throat. There was no way…

“I- I don’t know if that will…” You tried to explain, the words coming slower and harder. Your brain was taking too much energy concentrating on sending you wave after wave of lust as the mating frenzy began.

“It will, honey, you are made for us, remember? Our mate. Are you okay with that, do you want us little mate?” The redhead asked, making you moan under his body weight as he laid over your back, his huge dick nesting between your ass cheeks and rubbing in a way that made your brain short-circuit. “I think that’s a yes,” he said amused, his clawed fingers finding your center, already wet and needy. “She’s soaked, good goddess,” he groaned, his tone getting low and making you moan again, pushing your ass against the front of his pants again.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged. You didn’t even know how they were taking so long, humans felt the mating urge a lot less intense than wolves and you were already dying to be fucked.

“Okay, little bunny, we can claim you know,” the bearded one said as he grabbed your face and used his thumbs to collect the tears that escaped your eyes. “Open your pretty mouth to take me,” his voice was softer now, and you preened under his attention as he grabbed your hair and opened his pants.

His dick sprung free and hit your lower lip at the same time you felt the tip of the redhead’s dick against your aching core. And that’s all you felt with a clear head before your brain was took over completely by lust. They grunted in unison, one pushed in your mouth and the other in your pussy, your brain shut off and any thought not regarding dick escaped your mind.

They started a frantic pace, fucking your holes in tandem as they howled to the moon. You could only moan and groan, the combined sensation making you ascend into a roller-coaster of pleasure that left you breathless as you sucked around the dick in your mouth. He grunted over you and the redhead answered with another grunt, their combined sounds were making you go as feral as they were, their dicks hitting every part of your insides as you cried around the dick in your mouth when the redhead grabbed your hips and rutted against your G-spot.

You felt the build up of an orgasm as you felt the first shoot of cum hitting the back of your throat. He screamed your name as he pushed as far as he could go and you swallowed as fast as possible. It wasn’t fast enough. He pulled out and painted your face with the last spurs of his dick as you panted and fell into pleasure yourself, your pussy contracting around his shaft as he buried himself deep and screamed your name. You felt the telltale stretch of his knot as he locked himself in you. You cried out when a second orgasm rushed over you and he filled you over and over, so much of it you could feel your stomach distending under your body as the bearded one caressed and pinched your nipples, making you cry out and come again. You were so oversensitive every single touch felt like ecstasy.

When the knot deflated, they didn’t let you catch your breath, switching places and making you lick all your juices off the redhead dick as the bearded one fucked right into your well used hole, pushing all the cum trying to escape back inside. The sounds of it was like a filthy symphony that made your brain get mushy and desperate with each passing second. You needed his knot like you needed air.

The second round was as intense as the first, but your oversensitivity only added to the feel of the dick thrusting into you as you came and came and came… At some point your brain disconnected. And connected again when his knot expanded inside of you, filling you again with so much come you could feel it gushing out of you around his knot. It was filthy and dirty, it was lust and desire personified, it was like your whole body now became theirs, and theirs became yours… It was like nothing you could ever imagine and more.

You almost dozed off when the redhead pushed back and jerked his dick right in front of you, he came right over your face, making it even more messy as he groaned at the sight. You sighed, licking all you could as another orgasm rushed through your body.

By the time he was done and the beard one pulled out, you felt the river of come leaving your body and making a pool under your tired body. They laid next to your tired body, caressing your skin lightly until you stopped trembling in aftershocks, kissing your back and neck, your face and basically every part of you they could reach.

When you three were half recovered, they picked you up, your eyes almost falling shut. One of them carried you bridal style across the forest, your red dress forgotten someplace and your tiny cape covering nothing at all. But his body heat was enough to keep you warm in the freezing Halloween night.

“So… What’s your name?” You let out, and they both laughed.

Maybe not everything was your friend’s fault.

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lulu-lux · 6 days ago

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Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around.

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question.

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying.

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon.

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out.

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom.

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!”

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in.

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed.

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow.

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home.

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent.

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent.

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection.

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: Coming Soon

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lulu-lux · 11 days ago

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Leather and Chains (Main Cenobites/Reader)

Author’s Note: Finally posting my most popular oneshot from Wattpad on here because why not? This was requested.

Honestly this is nothing special.

CW: Mentions of stalking, mention of canon typical Hellraiser violence

Also I don’t know why there are such big gaps between some of the paragraphs. No matter how much I tried to backspace Tumblr wouldn’t let me?? I don’t know what’s going on.

Crossposted on Wattpad (_queenofthefandoms_) and AO3 (leztrangem) . Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Being in a poly relationship with four demons was not the easiest thing. Being in a relationship with one human being was hard enough.

I admit, when I solved that puzzle box years ago, I did not understand what I was getting into. At the time, I had hoped that solving it would solve my problems. I knew what it held. I knew that if the demons that the box called to me didn't think I was worthy to become a cenobite, they'd kill me.

At the time, that didn't seem so bad.

But when I opened that box, that other world, it didn't go as planned. The Hell Priest and his posse believed I was worthy, yes, but in a way that didn't involve me becoming a deformed demon in servitude of Hell. I was worthy of something that they didn't offer any other human. I was worthy of their love.

That was many years ago.

I remember that night that the four of them appeared in my room. I was horrified at the time. The only reason I had initially accepted their offer of a relationship was out of fear. If I had declined, I probably would've died that night. But now, no fear lived in me when it came to them. Well, I didn't fear for myself.

There were four cenobites.

There was Butterball. He was an extremely large demon and had no hair and pale skin, much like the others. When I say large, I mean it. Butterball had multiple neck rolls and a large protruding stomach. Round sunglasses had been deeply embedded into his eye sockets and his eyes underneath, from my understanding, were sewn shut. I knew he couldn't see, but I never asked to what extent. His large belly was often exposed. Much like the other cenobites, he had an open wound. His was located on his stomach, pulled apart by hooks that were attached to his leather outfit.

Then there was Chatterer. Out of all the deformities of the cenobites, Chatterer was the more gruesome. Any other person would immediately run after seeing him. His skin appeared to be burned, and it twisted up his head. His eyes were nonexistent, or at least they appeared to be. Instead of eyes, there were two holes on his face where I imagine his eyes once were. His skin was not as pale as the others, and it was red and irritated in a lot of places. And let's not forget his mouth. His teeth were exposed and his lips were drawn back with metal hooks and wire. His lips were almost in the shape of a square. His gums glistened with blood all the time, much like the open wound on the back of his head. I had gotten used to kissing him on the cheek for obvious reasons. He didn't mind either. He could understand the reluctance.

DP was the third cenobite of the group. Over the years I had started to refer to her as DP. The initial name that she had been given in hell was nothing short of gross. Not to mention the fact that she didn't like to be addressed by it. So instead, I used the initials of the name she had been given. I understood why she didn't like her name, but I could also understand why it was given to her. Take one look at her throat and you'd understand. It was cut open. Pulled apart by a contraption that pushed out of her cheeks. Much like the others, she felt no pain from this laceration. Pain for them was entirely different from the pain that humans experienced. She also felt no pain when it came to the long screw that was pierced through the bridge of her nose. In an odd way, DP was extremely beautiful. Her skin was paper white with hints of blue in the lowest parts of her face. Her temples were deep and so were her eyes. For the most part, she was bald, but a couple of strands of blonde hair had survived her transformation in Hell. She looked the most human out of all of them. She definitely was more approachable at times. She was almost always the first one I went to when something was wrong.

Last but not least, there was Pinhead, the Hell Priest. His name was pretty much self-explanatory. Rows of small-headed pins were set deep in his head, sticking out pretty much everywhere. There were also rows of cuts that lined the nails. He was bald, much like the rest. And much like the rest, especially him, he was protective.

Honestly, protective is an understatement.

I had been in relationships before the cenobites where my partners were protective. The cenobites weren't just protective. They were rage-filled. If they suspected anyone even showed a slight interest in me, that person would be dead the next day. At first, it just seemed like a coincidence, but now it was obvious why they ended up dead.

That knowledge has been ringing in the back of my head for days as I approached my final year of college.

Normally, I just quietly worked through the school year. I barely talked to people unless I had to, I didn't go to parties, and I attempted to not draw any attention to myself. That was how college had gone until now. Now there's this guy. I can't even think of his name. Maybe it was Jacob? Jack? Who knows?

At first, I thought this guy in my advanced journalism class was just being friendly. But now, every day, this guy would come up with an excuse to sit near me in class and talk with me. Now he would show up to the same shop where I'd get lunch or seemingly be in the local library when I went to get books. The flirting had escalated to what I considered stalking. It was bad enough having my demonic partners breathing down my necks, but now I had this stranger from a class following me around everywhere. And it was only a matter of time before the demons would find out.

I drove down the long driveway. My house was tucked away in the woods, surrounded by towering pine trees and the faint chirps of birds. The scenery was beautiful, which completely contrasted what was inside the house. I pulled the car up to the front of the house.

I sighed as I turned the car off. It had been such a long, tiresome day. My thoughts were completely scattered. All I wanted to do was go get into some pajamas and sleep for the rest of the weekend.

I silently got out of the car, taking in a deep breath of the cool, crisp autumn air. I opened the back door to get my belongings out of the backseat. As I knelt down to grab my backpack, I felt eyes on me. My head shot up quickly, scanning the surrounding woods. I slowly pulled my backpack out of the car, lifting it up and letting it droop over my shoulder. I closed the car doors and walked towards the house. Stopping in my tracks, I looked up at the house. The windows in the dining room were open. And there sat the source of the eyes I had felt watching me. DP sat at the dining room table, looking out at me. I small nervous smile sprouted on my face as I walked up the stairs of the front porch.

Turning the knob of the front door, I pushed myself in the house, closing the door behind me and dropping my backpack and purse by near the door. The house was much more warm and cozy than the contrasting atmosphere outside. I took off my jacket and laid it on the back of the living room sofa, which was occupied by a sleeping Butterball. I glanced towards the kitchen. DP was still sitting at the dining room table, staring outside. She seemed to be deep in thought. It was either that or she was patiently waiting for me to come to greet her.

I leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Butterball's forehead, which caused him to stir in his sleep but not wake.

I walked out of the living room and into the dining room, which was an open, shared room with the kitchen. DP stared out the window, seemingly deep in thought. The sunlight from outside lit up the room and caused a dramatic shadow to carve out the features on her chiseled face. I sighed as I made my way to the refrigerator.

"I wonder if she knows about the guy from my class," I thought as I leaned down and grabbed a bottle of water, "If she does, then they all know. And if they all know, then that guy is doomed."

I pulled out the chair across from DP and sat down, slumping in the chair as I opened my bottle of water. She didn't move, didn't even acknowledge the fact that I was sitting across from her. Instead, she faced away from me, towards the window, just watching the outside world. I took a sip of water and stared at the back of DP's head. I closed the water bottle and pushed it aside.

"Something must be wrong," I thought.

Anything could have been wrong, who knows? She could have just been plotting on how to rip that guy's throat out. For all I knew, one of them had probably read my mind if that was even possible. Maybe she knew.

I sighed loudly, hoping to get her attention. She didn't move.

Sigh.

Nothing.

Sigh.

Not even a flinch.

"Maybe she's trying to remember when she wasn't a demon. I know that's hard for her to remember. Or maybe she's messing with me."

SIGH.

"Are you okay?" DP asked suddenly causing my mouth to twist into a small smirk. She continued to look outside. Her shoulders seemed to lower, as if she had finally relaxed.

"Yes, I just had a rough day. What about you?" I questioned, trying to figure out why she had been silently staring out of the window. She knew what I was trying to ask, and she definitely wasn't planning on answering.

"A rough day? May I ask what caused it?" she asked, ignoring my question from before. She slowly turned around in her seat to face me, causing her leather-clad clothes to squeak.

"Just...things haven't been going my way," I answered as I stood up and made my way to the refrigerator once again. I leaned down and opened it, looking for a small snack.

"That's very vague, my love," DP stated. I shrugged my shoulders, although she couldn't see me because of the refrigerator door being in the way.

"Vague, indeed," a deep voice said, making me stand up quickly.

Pinhead stood at the large door frame, leaning on the wood. My mind went into a small panic as I shut the fridge door. I glanced over at DP, who was partially watching Pinhead. She seemed distracted once again, as if she couldn't get something off her mind. They both knew something.

"Have you been enjoying the house?" I asked Pinhead, walking over to him and placing my hands on his shoulder. His eyes scanned over my face.

"Don't try to change the subject," he said.

I sighed, slipping my hands off his shoulders and walking past him.

"It was a genuine question. You guys did just move in. I'm curious," I said as I entered the living room, plopping down on the couch.

Butterball, who was on the other side of the large couch, sat up. He looked at Pinhead and then at me, not sure what was going on. Chatterer also entered the living room, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I couldn't tell if it was in a protective way or a comforting way.

"You're trying to change the subject," Pinhead said as he walked behind the couch, leaning on the cushions. I huffed as I stared at him.

"Can you make him stop?" I asked quietly, looking up at Chatterer.

He shook his head and clicked his teeth together a couple of times. DP emerged from the kitchen, walking towards the couch.

"He's just-we're just concerned," DP explained, standing behind Pinhead who hadn't taken his eyes off of me. I tapped my fingers on my leg, impatiently.

"I know you're concerned, but every time you guys get concerned about something you go...off the hinges," I explained.

And it wasn't an understatement. One time a girl got too handsy with me one day. The next day a news report was on the TV about how she had been murdered. Her skin had been ripped off by hooks and chains. If that didn't scream "my partners are jealous, murdering demons" then I don't know what will.

"Oh," Pinhead said, pausing and standing up straight, "so that's the problem."

"I didn't tell you what the problem was. Hell, there is no problem!" I exclaimed.

But there was a problem. I was being stalked. There was no denying it. The guy from my class was stalking me. But that didn't mean that Pinhead should have his way with the poor guy. He just needed to be confronted.

"I believe you, love," DP said, trying to calm me down.

She sat down on the opposite side of me and placed a hand on my knee. "If you don't see him as a problem then we won't do anything," she whispered.

"Wait...so you guys knew? About the guy from my class?" I questioned.

DP nodded.

"Your thoughts are loud, my love. I could hear your mind as you slept last night," she said, putting her hand up to my face, "It was only a matter of time before we found out. His name...is Jackson," she said.

"And we will happily get rid of him," Pinhead butted in.

"ONLY if you want us to," DP snapped back, almost hissing at the Hell Priest for interrupting.

I took her hand and put it into mine. "Please don't. I love the fact that the four of you care so much, but not everything needs to be solved by violence," I pleaded, patting her hand gently.

Chatterer nuzzled his head into my neck.

"I agree," DP said.

She looked over at Pinhead, waiting for him to say something.

"Not everything has to be violent," he said. He knelt down to my ear. "The option is still there though," he whispered, purposely poking the side of my face with his pins, causing me to laugh.

At the end of the day, I guess being in a relationship with four demons isn't all that bad.

___________________________________________

Author's Note: And that's it! Hope you guys enjoyed! 🖤

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lulu-lux · 12 days ago

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Hellraiser model kit with Cenobite lore pamphlets ⛓️ From u/damagedgoodz99824 on reddit.

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lulu-lux · 12 days ago

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Yandere!Fairy x Reader

“Ack! You scared me!” you exclaim as Cot suddenly appears in front of your face. His laugh sounds like twinkling bells as he settles himself on your shoulder. “Seriously… How do you keep popping out of nowhere?”

Cot tries to talk to you, he does, but all you hear is the sound of bells as he chatters on. Though you’re insanely curious to know what he’s saying, it looks like you won’t be able to know how he’s able to appear everywhere you are.

With a small huff of laughter, you ruffle his hair with your fingers. “At least give me a warning the next time you appear. I swear you’re going to make me go into cardiac arrest.”

Cot lets out a series of chimes that sound like an apology as he nuzzles your hand. You can’t help but smile – your little fairy friend is adorable.

Your days continue rather peacefully, your most frequent company being Cot. Though you can’t talk to him, just having him around is fun.

On a particularly sunny day, you’re picking strawberries from your garden, which Cot is assisting you with. You thank him as he hands you a glass of water (he’s only a little bigger than the cup, which is such a cute sight). Once you’re done drinking your water, you let out a small sigh of contentment. “Seriously, thanks, Cot. I don’t know how you knew when to appear, but I couldn’t have harvested all these strawberries without you.”

“It’s no problem!”

You freeze, eyes widening. “...Did you just… speak?”

He smiles, eyes twinkling. “Mhm!”

Your mind is unable to process your little fairy friend’s voice, making you stumble over your words. “H–how?!”

With a small hum that sounds like bells, he says, “Hm… I guess you can say that I cast a spell on you!”

(And by spell, he means that he’s slowly given you food from the Fae Realm, eager to whisk you away once you’re more fae than human. But until then, the only real spell he’s cast on you is one that allows him to know exactly where you are. After all, he needs to make sure you’re safe until he can take you to his home.)

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lulu-lux · 16 days ago

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Imagine an entire bird colony of all male Bird Hybrids where you are their dancing instructor.

Every bird in the colony is absolutely feral over you. They desire you so much to the point where they started taking your class to learn how to woo possible mates but now they only wanna use what they learn on you.

They’ll do the steps wrong on purpose so that they can feel your soft hands on them when you correct it. Wishing you’d slip your hands further down till your thick fingers wrap around their aching cocks. You just smell so good and consume all their senses. Their adorable chirps fill the air whenever you give them any attention, their minds spinning with you.

Sometimes they’ll act like they aren’t getting it no matter what. You all know what’s going on and you’re not too shy to admit you love the attention they give you back. Your panties gushing with arousal as their eyes are trained on your every move.

So you tease them further. Inviting them to grab your hips and feel the way you move into the step, grinding against them every now and then. Loving the way their faces always drop, staring down at your wide hips and round bottom. Their feathers ruffling and wings flapping as they get more turned on. They try not to make it obvious but it makes you so hot to see how deeply you affect them.

By the end of every class all the bird hybrid’s cocks are rock hard and they’re in desperate need of you. They try anything they can think of to get you to stay after class with them. Showering you in affection they now want to drown in you in unimaginable pleasure. Stuffing your tight cunt over and over again with their cocks. Filling you up with all their cum till your belly bulges with it.

You always look so pretty underneath them. Especially as a handful of them always seemed to get you to agree to stay after. One after the other they take you hard, each of them coming inside of you until you’re all fucked out and cum is leaking into a puddle between your thick thighs. Of course they take the best care of you after.

After months of this you had realized that this colony was the only one you were teaching. And the bird hybrids make sure to keep it that way as they fill up all your available slots. Anyone can be competition and they don’t want your attention on another colony. Not that it ever would. You’re more than happy with the affection they constantly show you.

You always have more mating gifts than you know what to do with. Sometimes they give you pretty pebbles or other brightly covered objects. Other times they give you adorable little twigs and materials for a nest you don’t have. But they wanna help take care of you anyway. Then some give you food, wanting to keep your plump body healthy by making sure you’re eating good.

But the feathers that fall off their wings throughout class are your favorite. You put them up on the walls for decoration. The bird hybrids preen whenever they see their feather on the wall, viewing it as their claim on you. They boast to the other birds but then others point out that their feather is up there too and they turn playful as they try and say their feather is longer or fluffier.

Eventually they go to you, thinking that if they can’t prove they’re the better mate through their feathers, they can see which one can make you cum harder. It takes hours for them to come to any sort of agreement as they each use their fingers, tongues, and cocks to make you explode around them long past till you’re seeing stars.

They come from a place of love above all. Wanting to please you, their mate, more than anything. They’d do whatever they could to make that happen as caring for you is what they enjoy most.

I will literally beg for asks about them!! They’ve been a brainrot for me just about all week now. I’d love to see others expand on them and the idea. Or even just to join in the freak out and gush about the fluffy guys together!

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lulu-lux · 18 days ago

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“WHATT? NEVER SEEN A GHOSTT..”

summary: next time be respectful for gojo’s memorial. . .

tags: ghost!gojo x fem!reader, smut, threesome (ig ..?), use of clone techniques, jjk spoilers, mean gojo, ōral sex (f!recieving), size difference,belly bulging, full nelson, degrading, dumbification, etc, mdni.

w.c: 4k . . .

a/n: GUYSSS WE GOIN UPPP ☝🏽 TYY FOR 1,7K MWAAAAA

+ sorry for the errors

kinktober masterlist

the halloween theme park buzzes with screams from rollercoasters and actors in horror costumes that look almost too real. you walk arm in arm with your friends, all of you decked out in matching monster high costumes. at first, you weren’t into it, but after enough pestering, you caved and ordered clawdeen’s full outfit.

the crowd can’t stop complimenting the four of you. from the boots to the hair, everything is spot-on. but gosh these platform boots are killing you. you can already feel tomorrow’s regret setting in.

“ooo, let’s try this ride before we leave,” one of your friends says through the fake fangs she’s wearing as draculaura. you all turn your heads to see what she’s pointing at. a sign reads infinity maze, with eerie, glowing blue eyes blinking on and off. it’s famous, mostly because the guy who designed it—gojo satoru—died a few years ago, turning it into some kind of attraction with ghost stories attached.

you scoff. people are suchwimps.

as you approach, you’re grateful for your speed passes because the line is insane. “okay, how about we make a bet?” your cleo-dressed friend suggests. “slowest time pays for dinner.”

you grin at the challenge, nodding along with everyone else.

as you wait, something catches your eye—a giant memorial statue of gojo satoru, standing tall near the maze entrance. his cocky grin is frozen in stone, and beneath it, the descriptiom reads,

in loving memory of satoru gojo. forever lovable and the strongest.

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “who gives a fuck about him?” you say, loud enough for your friends to hear. they giggle, and you continue, “seriously, they’re doing the most with this memorial. it’s not that deep.”

one of your friends shakes her head, trying not to laugh too hard. “it’s haunted, remember?” she says mockingly, to which you just snicker.

“haunted, my ass.”

your first friend goes into the maze, and you start timing her on your phone. almost three minutes later, she comes out breathless, claiming the only scary part was a worker grabbing her ankle at the end.

next up are the others, who all manage to escape in under two minutes. the pressure’s on now, but you refuse to be the one paying for dinner. with a quick glance at your friends, you flash your speed pass to the coordinator, ready to sprint through this lame maze and leave them all in the dust.

your platform boots thud heavily against the creaking wooden floor, each step echoing in the suffocating silence. the door slams shut behind you with a sharp clack, sealing you inside. a deep breath fills your lungs, but the air feels heavy, thick. the faint glow of flickering lights ahead barely cuts through the darkness, revealing the first room—a classroom?

it’s an old, japanese-style classroom, but something feels off. chairs are scattered across the floor like a struggle took place, and bloody handprints—too real for comfort—smear the walls. your heart races as a sudden crack of thunder rips through the air, making the weak lights above you flicker wildly. it feels like you’ve been transported, as if this isn’t a theme park anymore... like you’re somewhere else, somewhere you shouldn’t be.

you inch forward, boots sinking into the floorboards with each loud creakk. you can’t shake the feeling that the room is watching you. the chalkboard looms at the front, with jagged, uneven writing smeared across it

look behind you

your stomach twists. your mind fights to stay rational—it’s just part of the maze, it’s not real. but your hands are trembling as you slowly turn. nothing. just scattered desks and the harsh, stuttering light overhead. thunder crashes again, timed too perfectly.

your heart rate slows a bit, but you mutter under your breath, stupid maze, trying to shake off the unease as you head toward the next door. the sign above it reads, hall of mirrors,

the knob feels cold in your hand as you twist it, stepping into the next room. pitch-black darkness swallows you whole, except for the mirrors that tower from floor to ceiling. hundreds of them, endless reflections stretching out in every direction. your eyes adjust to the faint, flickering light—just enough to see yourself, but not much else.

“fuck,” you whisper, hating mirror mazes with a passion. you move cautiously, knowing you’ll bump into a dead end at some point. your reflection multiplies with every turn, making it feel like you’re being watched from all angles. you stop in front of one mirror, catching your breath, and take a moment to adjust your costume.

you smooth down the sheer purple mini skirt, making sure your wolf ears are straight on your head. you shift slightly, checking out your ass in the reflection, appreciating how well the outfit hugs your body. you’re about to laugh at yourself when your eyes catch something—a shadow

a figure. behind you.

your breath stops cold. your friends hadn’t mentioned anyone being in here with you. you freeze, heart pounding as you stare into the reflection, too terrified to turn around.

“o-oh um, did I come in the room too early?” you stammer, your voice barely steady, assuming he’s the worker who grabbed your friend’s foot earlier. you swallow hard, trying to make sense of the tension creeping up your spine. the lights flicker again, casting shadows that stretch too long. your eyes twitch as you stare into the mirror—he’s still there, standing so still it sends a chill down your spine.

the lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness. your pulse races. you can feel his presence behind you, closer now, even though you haven’t turned around. every hair on your body stands on end, anticipation mingling with fear. when the lights finally come back, your breath catches in your throat.

gojo satoru.

he stands right behind you, towering over your smaller frame, his eyes glowing like cold fire through the mirror. his presence is overwhelming, suffocating, andelectrifying. his ocean-blue gaze locks onto yours through the reflection, freezing you in place. you can’t move, can’t breathe, as his lips curl into a slow, dark smile.

“nahhh, you came at a good time,” he drags out, voice low, rough, as it echoes through the room. the sound of it, mixed with the flickering lights, makes your knees weak. he steps closer, his icy fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, sending a shiver down your spine. your breath hitches as you feel his touch, subtle yet possessive.

“and who are you supposed to be?” his voice is condescending, almost mocking, as his hand continues to toy with the fabric, lifting it just slightly. the way he says it makes your heart race faster, your skin prickling with a mixture of fear and something else—something darker.

you glance up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, tears forming in your eyes. this can’t be real. his white hair falls messily around his face, his long lashes shadowing those dangerously beautiful eyes.

“h-how? y-you’re dead,” you blurt out, ignoring his question as panic takes over. but his chuckle—low, dark—vibrates against the back of your neck, making you shudder. you’re trapped between the mirror and him, his breath warm and taunting against your skin.

“that i am,” he murmurs, his lips so close to your ear, “but you know what they say… energy never dies. you brought me here.” his words wrap around you, suffocating, intoxicating. your mind spins, trying to comprehend. you brought him here? how could you possibly—?

“h-how?” your voice is barely a whisper, trembling as you try to make sense of his words. it feels like the room is shrinking, like the walls are closing in, the air too thick to breathe.

“don’t play dumb now,” he chides, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. the heat of his palm sends sparks through your body. you shouldn’t want this, but the way his fingers tease your skin, the slow drag of his hand, has you clenching your thighs together.

suddenly, it hits you. images of you mocking his memorial, laughing at his statue, flashing through your mind. his low chuckle tells you he knows exactly what you’re remembering.

“i-i didn’t mean-”

“didn’t mean it? nahh, pretty, you fuckin’ meant it.” his plush lips press against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak. fuck, you shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, by a ghost. yet, your body betrays you, burning up under his touch.

he leans into you, his teeth grazing your exposed skin, making you flinch. fangs? you tremble as he brushes his fingers under your chin, lifting your face so your wide, glossy eyes meet his through the mirror.

“all that nasty energy you have within you… mmm, that’s why.” his voice drops as he nibbles on your earlobe, tugging lightly on your hoop earrings, making you wince.

“‘m sorry, j-just don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything,” you stammer, your voice shaky as his grip on your chin tightens. his movements still, and the way he smirks behind you makes your heart sink. you’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—like you just handed him your dignity on a silver platter.

without a word, he pushes your back down, forcing you to brace yourself against the mirror, your fingertips smudging the glass as you struggle to keep steady. glancing to another mirror, you see him crouching down, eyeing your clothed cunt with dangerous curiosity.

“anything, she says”, gojo quietly says, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you arch your back just right for him. his eyes darken when he notices how soaked your panties are, the fabric clinging to your folds, sucked in by the wet heat between your thighs. of course, the lights choose now not to flicker—how fucking embarrassing.

with a quick, rough tug, gojo hooks his finger into your panties, pulling them side to side, watching how your chubby folds swallow the fabric before yanking them aside, fully exposing your dripping cunt. you clench hard at the sudden cool breeze against your exposed skin, and he pauses, mesmerized.

“you like this, huh? getting off to a dead man… ohh, you’re disgusting,” he mocks, his voice low and sinister.

“‘m going to make sure you live your dirty fantasies,” he growls, his tone laced with intent.

and he really is.

gojo has been diving into your cunt for what felt like hours, his impossibly slimy tongue lapping up your juices as your gummy walls snugly embrace him. your hands grip the sides of the mirror for dear life, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. you’re moaning like a bitch in heat, your desperation rising as his spare hand mercilessly toys with your clit, not in cute circles, but pinching and pulling on your sensitive nub with no mercy whatsoever.

your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably as he pushes you to your third orgasm, broken moans escaping your glossed lips. your pussy slowly feels numb, overwhelmed by how hungrily he’s eating you out. do they not feed him in his world?

“ngh—‘toru, it’s too m-much,” you hiccup, and he growls behind you, the sound vibrating through your body. at this point, you’ve completely forgotten about your friends, about the stupid bet—you’re lost in the most toe-curling head of your life.

your stomach churns unexpectedly as you cum again, your brain so fuzzy that you can’t even comprehend it. he loudly slurps up your mess, not wasting a single drop as he licks you clean, your cunt twitching around his tongue. when he pulls his tongue from your gaping hole, your swollen folds throb in response as he grins at your state.

“heh, look at you—just a slut for a ghost!” he taunts, now standing behind you, grinding his achy bulge against your exposed cunt. his eyes never leave your face in the mirror.

“let’s see how much dick she can take,” he mutters to himself, cupping your pussy, clearly addressing her rather than you. as you catch onto his words, a wave of confusion and excitement hits you. how much? there’s more than one?

before you can process anything, you blink once and find yourself in the most insane position you’ve ever been in—full nelson. gojo has you completely at his mercy, holding your legs high above your head with a firm grip, locking you in place like a ragdoll. your tall platform boots dangle helplessly in the air, the sensation thrilling and humiliating as you stare at your reflection in the endless mirrors surrounding you. your stomach twists at the sheer size difference between your body and his, your eyes widening as you see your slick, swollen cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

your miniskirt is now so short that it’s bunched up around your waist, exposing more skin than you’d ever intended. your eyes drop lower, and you gulp as you take in the sight of his cock, standing proudly upright. the base is a tan colour, thick and powerful, with mean veins decorating the sides that pulse with each heartbeat. the bulbous tip is a deep pink, glistening with droplets of cum that catch the dim light.

with one hand firmly securing your legs, gojo uses his other to tease you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, the sensation sending electric jolts through your body. you bite your lip at the girth of his shaft, feeling a mix of excitement and horror. he’s definitely bigger than all your previous exes, and with every second you spend in this position, he brings undeniable shame onto them.

“can you handle it, baby?” he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension as he revels in your predicament.

“yes, I can-”

without lettint you finish, he thrusts into you, burying himself deep within your slick warmth. the suddenness takes your breath away, and you let out a gasp as he fills you completely. his girth stretches you in a way you’ve never experienced before, almost burning as your gummy walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size. each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, a delicious blend of pain and ecstasy as you realize you can only take it.

gojo holds you firmly in place, using this ruthless position to keep you utterly at his mercy, revelling in your helplessness. with each powerful thrust, he drives deeper, hitting spots inside you that make your vision blur and your legs tremble. you can’t escape, all you can do is take what he gives you, your body completely surrendered to the pleasure.

“look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he watches your reflection in the mirror. your moans fill the room, echoing off the glass, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. the sweat glistens on his body, making his white hair stick to his forehead, adding to the rawness of the moment. “you’re nothing but a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

you can only whimper in response, your head spinning as his relentless rhythm pushes you closer to the edge. your thighs shake uncontrollably as he hits that sweet spot, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust. you’ve completely forgotten everything but the way he stretches you out, your body fitting around him perfectly as if you were made for him.

as gojo thrusts into you relentlessly, your collar jingles with every powerful movement, a stark reminder of your current position. each chime echoes in the room, amplifying your vulnerability as he drinks in the sight of your pretty, disheveled form. he watches how your eyes flutter in bliss, how your lips part with each thrust, and how your reflection reflects the pure ecstasy etched across your face.

“what happened to all that toughness?” he sneers, his breath hot against your ear as he quickens his pace. “wanna tell me how stupid this is?” his laughter reverberates through the air, as he reminds you of your sly comment.

the humiliation of his words ignites a flame deep within you, and despite the embarrassment, your body craves more. your jewelry clinks and jingles as he pounds up into you, each sound mingling with the echoes of your moans. the sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your mind hazy as pleasure clouds your thoughts.

as you struggle to keep your eyes open, the world around you blurs and spins. you can’t tell if it’s the overwhelming pleasure or the way he’s wrecking you, but you swear you see multiple gojos swarming around the two of you in the mirrors. they grin wickedly, each one reflecting the same smug confidence, but you’re too lost in ecstasy to process it completely.

am I seeing things? you wonder,

your mind foggy from the pleasure coursing through your body. each thrust sends you spiral deeper into submission, heat pooling in your core, ready to explode.

then, without warning, you feel another hand, another gojo, playing with your pussy. your eyes shoot open, panic flooding your senses as you choke back a gasp.

he can clone himself!

your body responds eagerly to the dual sensations, the original gojo still jack hammerinh relentlessly inside you while his clone teasingly rubs your clit, heightening your pleasure to unimaginable heights. as if sensing your need, the clone moves closer, rubbing his chubby tip along your widened folds. you scream internally, panic flashing through your mind as he presses against you, the overwhelming stretch igniting both fear and pleasure.

there’s no fucking way.

the clone pushes in slowly, stretching you beyond your limits, sending shockwaves through your body. you cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain, tears brimming in your eyes. he’s moulding himself deep within your walls as you feel every inch of your velvety walls being re-designed for him.

the original gojo leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “c’mon, big baaaad wolf, can you handle both of us?” he taunts the nickname referring to your costume, as his thrusts becoming more forceful as the clone fills you. “i thought you were a big girl.”

you can only moan in response, the sound mingling with the jingle of your jewelry as they continue to drive you wild. the mirrors reflect your state—multiple gojos swarming around you, each one more enticing than the last. their mocking smiles deepen your humiliation, but the pleasure they bring you makes it impossible to care. both their cock heads rushing as if it were a race to reach your cervix as you squeak at the brutal thrusts.

“look at you, a pathetic mess,” the original gojo mocks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you squirm between them. your gaze lazily drifts to the your tummy where a large bulge forming beneath your costume, moans escaping your lips at the sight. “you love being filled up like this, don’t you? who’s the stupid one now?”

your body betrays you, your pussy clenching around both of them as they thrust in sync, stretching you to your limits. the lewd squelches and sloshes of your dripping cunt fill the air, drowning out all coherent thoughts. each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensations causing your mind to spiral into oblivion.

the clone suddenly flicks your head, thr pain forcing you to look at him, and you feel a rush of clarity amidst the haze. “stay with us, pretty,” he demands, his tone both condescending and sultry.

“we- hgnn -want to see that face you make when you fall apart.” you shudder at the sound of his voice, the way it sends waves of heat coursing through your body.

“mmf—i can’t. . . ’s too much,” you babble, your voice rising higher as the clone continues to push into you, the overwhelming sensation of fullness sending shockwaves through your body. pleasure and pain blur together, and you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

“ohhh, but you can,” the original gojo growls, thrusting harder, your body shaking as you sob loudly, the sounds echoing off the mirrors as your achy walls clenching around his thick shafts.

every angle captures your struggle—your skin glistening with sweat, your costume soaked and clinging to your curves, and the way you’re trapped between two versions of the man you crave. the reflections amplify the chaos, a never-ending loop of desire and degradation as you’re thrust deeper into submission.

“what about your friends?” the clone taunts, a wicked smirk plastered across his face. “what will they think when they find you like this?” the thought sends a wave of humiliation crashing over you, but the pleasure is relentless, drowning out any semblance of reality.

“anddd what about that bet you had?” the original gojo continues from behind, his voice dripping with mockery. “i bet they wouldn’t believe how much you enjoy being filled up by us.” you nod at his words, sniffles escaping your nostrils as fat globs of tears streak down your cheeks, your makeup a ruined mess.

they’re so deep inside you that it feels like they’re going to split you in half. each thrust stretches you to your limits, their relentless rhythm pushing you closer to the brink.

you swear you feel him in your chest.

“please… i need to—” you gasp, your body trembling as the clone toys with your clit, electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you. your senses blur, and all you can feel is the overwhelming fullness and the pleasure spirall out of control.

“let go, pretty,” the clone whispers, fingers dancing over your sensitive bud. “show us how much you want it.”

with one final thrust from the original gojo, the heat builds to an explosive climax. you feel your body tighten around them, walls pulsing as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you.

“fuckk!” you scream, body convulsing as you squirt, release gushing out of you and mixing with his cum. gojo’s thick cum shoots deep inside as he paints your gummy walls a pretty milky white, creating an intense mess that ends up coats your inner thighs. the overwhelming sensation sends you spiraling into a realm of ecstasy, every nerve ending igniting as you succumb to the bliss.

“what a sight,” the original gojo grunts, breath heavy with satisfaction. you’re lost in the aftermath, body shaking as you ride the waves of pleasure, mind fogged with overwhelming satisfaction and disbelief at the chaos that has consumed you.

as you try to come back from your intense orgasm, the clone pulls back and disappears. when gojo finally slides out of your cunt, a waterfall of cum oozes from you, thick globs spilling forth—it’s utterly inhumane. gojo carefully places your wobbly legs, which had been in the air for what felt like hours, back on the ground as you collapse, the numbness too much to bear.

the mess cascades down your gaping hole, sticky and warm, creating a thick pool beneath you. you can’t help but feel utterly exposed, the evidence of their domination staining your costume and making you acutely aware of how thoroughly you’ve been filled.

the sight is almost too much to bear, the way your body quakes with the remnants of pleasure while the glistening fluid slowly drips, accentuating the chaos you’ve just experienced. you feel humiliated yet impossibly aroused, the reflections in the mirrors surrounding you amplifying your vulnerability as he stands, watching you tremble.

“c’mon, baby, your friends have been waiting,” he coos, picking you up bridal style as you mumble nonsense, your brain so fucked that you can barely string a thought together. he strides through the mirror maze and into the last room, steadying you onto the ground for you to exit on your own.

he fixes your hair and outfit, quickly pecking your lips before opening the door and giving you a final push. you stumble out, the cool breeze hitting you like a splash of cold water, bringing you back to reality.

“girl, what the hell took you so long?” your friends shout as you try to steady your wobbly legs. one of them shoves her phone in your face, and your jaw drops.

50 fucking minutes.

“t-the worker was—”

“t-the worker- shut up. now you’re buying us food.” one of them mocks, handing you your belongings while they stare you up and down, taking in how badly you’re shaking and your frizzy hair.

“jeez did a demon fuck you? you look like you got meannn dick in there,” she jokes, and everyone bursts into laughter, including you. they have no idea what you’ve just been through, but you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

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lulu-lux · 19 days ago

Note

Hey, so I have been thinking about this for some time now. How would the slashers react if they were finally deemed safe enough to be reintegrated into society?

Would they be hesitant to leave and try to make themselves seem unsafe just so they can stay or would they accept and come visit occasionally?

(Warning. I cried my eyes out writing this !) Jason Voorhees

Jason had been hesitant from the start. The idea of reintegrating into society felt strange for someone like him, a distant concept he couldn’t fully grasp. Crowds, normal life—they were things he never understood, never wanted to. The only peace he’d ever known was here, with you, and the thought of leaving that behind stirred a deep unease inside him.

The day came when the gate to the facility stood open, the path to the outside world clear. Jason stood at the edge of the property, staring out, his hulking frame tense. Behind him, the other slashers watched in silence. You stood among them, Brahms beside you, your eyes quietly tracking Jason’s every movement.

For a long moment, Jason stood still, his mask angled toward the distant horizon. But something inside him clenched—a tight, uncomfortable feeling that pulled at his chest. It was as if an invisible thread was tugging him back, away from the freedom society promised and back towards the family he had found in St. Louis.

He turned, his eyes scanning the faces of the slashers, the staff, and finally landing on you and Brahms. Brahms who was on the verge of tears. That’s all it took. His body moved before he even made a conscious decision, and without hesitation, Jason walked back towards you. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around both you and Brahms and squeezed, reaffirming that this—this place, this family—was where he truly belonged, where he wanted to be.

There was no questioning his decision. No one asked why he had turned back, because everyone understood. Jason didn’t need words to explain that society held nothing for him. You, the other slashers, the strange bond you’d all formed—that was his home. And if it meant leaving any of that behind ? Then it wasn’t worth it.

You rested your head against his chest, a small smile forming as you felt the weight of his decision settle over you. Jason wasn’t going anywhere. His presence would serve as a reminder, a symbol to the others that redemption was possible—that even though they lived in the shadows, there was still a path forward. And maybe, one day, they could all walk out of St Louis together. Or that was your hope.

For now, though, Jason was staying. And that was fine with you.

Michael Myers

The news of Michael finally leaving St. Louis was a shock that no one could quite prepare for. As the one who always kept the slashers grounded, the thought of him leaving was bittersweet. He had been their rock, the one who somehow kept them out of trouble, and for many, like Freddy and Five, he was more than just a fellow patient—he was family. A party was thrown the night before his official release, and while everyone seemed to be in a celebratory mood, Freddy and Five sat together at a corner table, drinks in hand, watching Michael from afar.

Five glanced at Freddy, his voice soft. "I can’t believe he’s really leaving."

Freddy let out a scoff, but there was no real bite in it. "Yeah. What a lucky bastard, am I right ?"

Five nodded, though his expression was conflicted. "Yeah...lucky."

Five nodded, though the word “lucky” didn’t sit right with him or Freddy. The silence between them was heavy. Tomorrow, Michael would be gone, and the realization of that made their drinks taste bitter—the day Michael Myers would walk out of their lives. It wasn’t just about him leaving St. Louis; it was about losing someone who had been there for them in ways no one else had. Freddy, in his darkest moments, had found some semblance of solace knowing Michael was around. And Five, well, Michael had become the father figure he never had. The party wound down, and the night seemed to pass in a blur.

The next morning, the air was tense. All the slashers gathered in the entrance hall, watching as Michael quietly prepared to leave. You stood at the back, heart heavy but knowing that it was time. He had more than earned his freedom. As Michael neared the threshold, the others stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

Then, out of nowhere, Five ran toward him. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around Michael, hugging him tightly. "Please...don’t leave," Five whispered, his voice shaky as he tried to hold back tears. The usually stoic Michael hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around Five, pulling him closer and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the hug.

That moment seemed to break the dam. One by one, the others joined in. Freddy was the first to rise from his seat, muttering curses under his breath as he made his way over. One by one, the rest followed, each of them joining in the group hug, letting go of their pride and showing just how much Michael meant to them. They weren’t just losing a friend—they were losing the glue that held them all together. Freddy, Vincent, Jason, Bo—all of them came forward, letting their masks fall for a moment. They weren’t just saying goodbye to a friend; they were saying goodbye to the person who had held them all together, who had been their steady presence in St Louis. The first one to come was the first one to leave.

You watched from the sidelines, your heart heavy but understanding. But then, as you caught his eye, you saw something flicker in his gaze. That’s when you realised. You sighed in defeat, knowing what that look meant. With a weak smile, you walked over and joined the group hug, wrapping your arms around Michael too. You couldn’t ask him to stay, but deep down, you knew he had already made his choice.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael wasn’t leaving his family behind.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was devastated at the thought of leaving. At first, he had genuinely tried, to entertain the idea of reintegration. He had even convinced himself, in fleeting moments, that maybe he could fit into society, that maybe he could live like everyone else. But as the day of his release approached, something inside him shifted. The closer he got to the exit of the facility, the heavier the weight on his chest grew. His thoughts spiraled—what would life be like without you ? Without Jason, Michael, the Horde or Penny ? Without the strange, chaotic family he had found here ?

The idea of being out there, in the world, where no one cared about him, where he couldn’t watch over you, where he couldn’t find solace in Jason’s quiet presence or Penny’s unpredictable antics—it all seemed unbearable. The loneliness he had once known in his old home, the isolation that had eaten away at him for years, loomed over him.

As he reached the threshold, panic took over. Brahms’ breath quickened, his vision blurred, and before he could even think, he was running back. His heart pounded in his chest, his footsteps frantic, until finally, he saw you. His eyes were wide, almost crazed, as he reached out, grabbing you and held you in a desperate grip—his arms almost crushing you.

"I can’t leave," he whispered, his voice breaking with fear. "Please...don’t make me go."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he clung to you. The mere thought of being separated from you and the others, of being cast back into a world where he was alone again, was too much for him to bear. His voice trembled as he begged.

"I need to stay with you," he whimpered, his grip tightening. "I can’t—please, don’t make me go..."

He started to cry, his sobs uncontrollable as he clung to your side, begging and pleading with every word that left his lips. His body trembled, and you could feel the intensity of his fear, the overwhelming need for you to be there, to not let him face the unknown alone.

You sighed softly, feeling your heart break for him. Brahms had always been fragile and dependant, and this was no different. You knew he wouldn’t survive out there—not without you, not without his family. And as much as you wanted to see him thrive, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away. His tears, his pleas, were too much.

"Alright," you whispered, softly brushing his hair back. "You can stay."

Brahms collapsed into your arms, his body shaking with relief. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was safe…

Freddy Krueger

Freddy had mocked the whole idea of reintegration from the start, spitting on the process with his usual bravado. "Like I’d need any of that crap," he’d laugh, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. He was cocky, confident in the fact that he was better off in his dream world where he ruled supreme. But then, something unexpected happened. You—you, of all people—approved his discharge from the hospital. He hadn’t seen it coming, and the reality of it hit him harder than he expected.

You had seen him change. You’d watched as he started to show empathy, a bit of compassion, and even a strange respect toward the other slashers. He’d stopped seeing them as targets or obstacles and more like, well...people. Freddy had found pleasure in things besides his usual games of murder and torture. Gardening had become a surprising hobby of his, and he’d formed bonds with some of the others, like Pennywise, Bo, and even Michael. He had laughed, made sarcastic remarks, but there was something more—he had learnt to tolerate, even appreciate, the company around him.

When he first got the news, he was ecstatic, practically gloating as he waved the discharge papers in front of the others, his smug grin plastered across his face. "So long, suckers ! I’m gettin’ outta here, and I wish y’all one happy rotting day !" he’d bragged, basking in the moment. But as the time to leave approached, something unexpected stirred inside him—a flicker of doubt.

He packed his things, but the act felt hollow. He thought about the fun he’d had tormenting you, but also the strange bond that had grown between you two during those games. It wasn’t just about his sadistic fun anymore—there was something else there. And then there were the others, the idiots he’d reluctantly come to call...family.

Freddy paused at the doorway, paper in hand, staring at the exit. For once, the grin slipped off his face as the thought of life without you, without them, hit him. He didn’t want to leave. With a long sigh, he crumpled the paper in his hand and turned back, shaking his head as he strutted toward you with his signature smirk.

"You didn’t think I’d actually leave my favorite plaything behind, did ya ?" Freddy teased, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before flipping off the other slashers.

The group let out a chorus of groans, half-hearted and annoyed, but Freddy just cackled, loving every second of it.

"And I ain’t letting ya have all the fun in my absence, you bunch of losers ! You’d miss me too much anyway..."

His words were met with more grumbling, but Freddy, as always, ate it up. "Yeah yeah. Love y’all too, ya cunts !" he laughed, throwing his arms out wide before making himself comfortable again, knowing full well he was right where he belonged.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent, the quieter of the Sinclairs, had made it clear long ago that he wasn’t that particularly eager to leave and besides, he knew he was never going to leave his twin behind. The thought of returning to society was almost alien and completely unappealing to him. When you brought the discharge papers—he was genuinely stunned—and he found himself looking back at you, heart aching. He shook his head. No. He couldn’t leave you or Bo behind.

Bo caught wind about his brother’s decision to stay and barged into Vincent’s bedroom—knocking the door down before yelling.

"Are ya outta yer goddamn mind ?!"

Vince shivered at Bo’s sudden loud voice and was about to reply when Bo grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor toward the exit.

"They actually think yer good enough for the outside world, ya dumb bird. And yer gonna stay in here ?! Spoil it all fer what ?! Fer me ?! Fer Nurse Y/N ?! The reason they’re here is to give us—poor bastards—a second chance ?! And yer gonna mess up yers cause ya want to stay ?! Grow a damn pair, Vince !"

Vince felt tears run down his cheeks at his brother’s harsh words and he shook his head frenetically to tell him that he didn’t want to leave, but then…Bo decided to grab his brother once more and drag him towards the exit himself—restraining his own tears. Bo didn’t want to be alone either…but that didn’t mean he was gonna let Vince spoil that chance for him. He wasn’t gonna let his twin make that mistake…

"Come on, Vince. Ya gotta take that chance and get back to Lester. He must be worried sick and think we both really kicked the bucket…" They arrived at the door and Vince started wheezing painfully and tried to voice out his protest, but Bo forced himself not to listen as he suddenly shoved Vince outside the facility. And when he was about to close the door, Bo finally allowed himself to show his true emotions as he grinned and his eyes softened—red-rimmed.

"…You are and have always been the best twin, Vince. Now, make me proud and have a good life for me, ‘kay ?"

Vincent screamed as the door closed and he started hammering at the door—calling out for Bo who slid to the floor and forced himself to remain deaf to his brother’s voice. He started sobbing as it was the first time they would be separated, but he still didn’t want his brother to stay…

You heard his sobs and walked towards the door to find Bo—his back facing the door and his knees up to his chin. He looked like a child and was covering his eyes. You didn’t need to ask, you knew what he had done. You wordlessly sat next to him and tried to reassure him.

"That was…very brave of you, Bo. And don’t worry. You will soon join your brother. I promise."

You put a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when out of the blue, Bo grabbed your waist and settled you on his lap so he may cry against your chest. You were momentarily stunned before you allowed him to hold you and started stroking his hair…

"Sssh…You did good, Bo. You did good."

Bo Sinclair

Bo stood at the edge of the facility, torn between conflicting emotions. The thought of being controlled or confined filled him with resentment, yet the idea of reintegration felt wrong in a different way. He had fought hard to build something with you, to let you and the other slashers into his guarded heart. The prospect of losing that connection gnawed at him, like a slow, insistent ache.

He cursed under his breath, pacing back and forth, his pride wrestling with the feelings churning inside him. The memories of laughter shared and quiet moments spent together played in his mind, reminding him just how much he had come to rely on your presence. He took a deep breath, glancing back towards the exit where freedom awaited, yet it felt so far removed from the life he had begun to cherish.

As he stood there, uncertainty washed over him, and he felt his heart clench. The idea of leaving you behind, leaving everything he had built, felt unbearable. He liked fixing cars and being with people who could…actually understand him. With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, striding back toward you, his decision made.

"I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. Can’t leave you here by yourself, now can I ?" His voice was firm, yet he smiled.

You met him with a sad smile. It was a moment of relief for Bo, but you also understood the weight of the situation. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew he had to embrace the opportunities that lay ahead. Gently, you reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Bo, you deserve this chance. Your brothers will be waiting for you. You can’t throw it away."

His expression shifted, torn between the desire to stay and the reality of what you were saying. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in your eyes silenced him. You were right; he had fought for this moment, and it was unfair to squander it just because of his fears.

With a heavy heart, you turned him back towards the exit, giving him a gentle nudge. "Go on, Bo. Just think of all the possibilities out there. You won’t be alone. You have your brothers. And you have your whole life ahead of you. Just…take that chance and you’ll see."

He hesitated, looking back at you with an expression of longing. "But I don’t wanna leave you…"

Your smile faltered slightly.

"I’ll be right here, waiting for you. You can come back anytime." Your smile remained still, a mixture of sadness and encouragement in your gaze.

Finally, Bo took a step forward, then another, each movement feeling like a weight lifting off his shoulders. But as he reached the threshold, he paused one last time, turning back to face you. "You promise I’ll get to see you again ?"

"I promise," you replied, sincerity in your voice. But when he was far enough, your eyes filled with tears. You were really gonna miss the Sinclairs…

Pennywise

Pennywise stood at the threshold, staring out into the world beyond the facility’s gates. The idea of reintegration was laughable to him at first—a joke he didn’t even bother taking seriously. After all, he was the Eater of Worlds, the one who brought fear and destruction wherever he went. What place did he have among people ? Yet here he was, papers in hand, offering him the chance to leave St. Louis and begin again. A twisted smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought about it.

But as he prepared to step forward, something gnawed at him. Penny.

He glanced back, and there he was—his annoying and stupidly tall brother. Penny stood there, fidgeting, watching him with those wide, innocent eyes that belied the horrors they had both committed. The thought of leaving Penny behind tugged at something deep within him. Pennywise had always been the older brother, the protector, and no matter what fate had handed them, they had always been together. He couldn’t just walk away from that. The world beyond these gates might offer him freedom, but without Penny, it would be hollow, meaningless.

His smirk faded, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Who do they think I am, huh ?" He muttered to himself, turning on his heel to face Penny. His brother was still standing there, looking confused, like a child waiting for guidance. Pennywise shook his head, feeling something in his chest twist painfully.

"There ain’t no world out there for me without you, little brother," he growled, striding back towards Penny, his steps heavy with determination.

Penny’s face lit up with confusion, his usual wide grin faltering. "But...you’re supposed to go," Penny said, his voice trembling slightly. "You can leave, they said—"

"I don’t give a damn what they said," Pennywise cut him off sharply, standing in front of Penny now, his hands resting on his brother’s shoulders. "I’m not going anywhere without you, you hear me ?"

Penny blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though there was uncertainty in his eyes. "Really ?"

"Really," Pennywise confirmed, pulling him into a rough, awkward hug. "What kinda brother would I be if I left you here by yourself ?"

Penny clung to him, nodding, his giggles returning, though they were softer this time, almost relieved. "We stick together, right ?"

"That’s right. Always," Pennywise muttered.

As the two clowns stood there, you watched from the side, a bittersweet feeling settling over you. You knew Pennywise had the chance to go, to reintegrate into society, but the bond between the two brothers was too strong. They had survived so much together—there was no world in which they would willingly part.

You approached quietly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Pennywise, you could have had your freedom."

He glanced at you, eyes sharp but lacking the usual malice. "This is my freedom," he said, motioning to Penny, who was still clinging to him like a lifeline and then gestured to St Louis. "All this."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his choice. "Well, then...we’re glad to have you both stay."

Pennywise snorted, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he tightened his grip on Penny. "You ain’t getting rid of me that easily," he said, his usual bravado returning. "Besides, who’d look after this idiot without me ?"

Penny giggled again, this time fully, as if reassured by his brother’s presence. You smiled softly, knowing that despite the chaos they brought, the bond between them was unbreakable. They weren’t just brothers—they were each other’s worlds, and that was something neither of them would ever leave behind.

Penny

Penny had never really understood what the word "freedom" meant—not truly. The idea of being "free" seemed strange to him, especially when it meant being away from Pennywise. His brother had always been the one constant in his life, the one who found him when he was lost and showed him a new way to live, even if that way was covered in blood. So, when the papers came, telling him he was free to go, Penny wasn’t sure how to react.

Pennywise, though, grinned from ear to ear, that same wicked, sharp-toothed smile he wore when he thought he was playing some grand trick. He patted Penny on the shoulder and laughed.

"Well, well, little brother," Pennywise said, circling him like a predator eyeing prey. "Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot, huh ? They’re letting you out. You can finally leave this dump behind and see what’s out there." His tone was light, mocking almost, but there was something in his eyes that made Penny pause.

"Leave ?" Penny repeated, tilting his head, his wide smile faltering for a moment. "But...what about you ?"

Pennywise waved him off, his grin widening. "Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine. Go on, Penny. This is your big chance. You don’t want to waste it, do you ?"

Penny hesitated, his smile now completely gone. He looked at Pennywise, trying to make sense of his brother’s words. The idea of leaving Pennywise behind—it didn’t sit right with him. Not at all. "But...you said we would stick together," Penny mumbled, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You said you’d always look after me."

Pennywise’s grin wavered, just for a second, but then it was back, sharper than ever. "And I have, haven’t I ? But you don’t need me anymore, Penny. You’re free now. Go on, go have your fun without me. It’s your big chance. You’ve been waiting for this…Go on, get out there."

Penny looked back at the open world beyond the facility, but it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt cold, vast, and terrifying. His hands shook as he took a hesitant step toward the door, but something was pulling him back—something stronger than the lure of freedom. He looked over his shoulder again, hoping to find some reassurance in his brother’s eyes.

Pennywise kept his cool, giving a lazy wave of his hand. "You’ll be fine without me. I mean, you’ve been wantin’ to get outta here for a while now, haven’t ya ? Just…go."

But even as he said it, his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He hated this—hated lying to Penny. Penny will be fine. However, he wasn’t sure if he—himself—was gonna be. But he needed his brother to have a real chance at a normal life, to be free of the monster Pennywise had made him into.

Penny took another step forward, but his legs felt heavy. His entire body resisted the idea of leaving Pennywise behind.

Penny stared at him, eyes wide and confused. The words didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like Pennywise. He took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch his brother’s arm, but then stopped, uncertainty freezing him in place. He knew how much his brother hated hugs. "I don’t want to go," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don’t want to be out there without you, brother."

Pennywise’s grin faltered. It was…the first time Penny had ever called him brother since his transformation. He looked at Penny for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening, though he tried to hide it behind a sneer. "Don’t be stupid," he muttered, but there was no bite in his words. "I ain’t gonna be much help out there, kid. You’ll do better without me draggin’ you down. You’ll be fine, Penny."

But Penny shook his head, panic rising in his chest. "No ! I won’t !" His voice was growing louder, more desperate. "I can’t do it without you ! I won’t leave !" He stumbled forward, clutching Pennywise’s arm with both hands now, his grip tight, desperate. "Please don’t make me go."

Pennywise froze, staring up at his little brother, the one he had spent centuries protecting, guiding, shaping. And now, here he was, terrified at the idea of leaving. Penny’s wide, innocent eyes searched his face, and Pennywise felt something twist painfully in his chest.

Pennywise clenched his jaw, every instinct screaming at him to stop this charade. But he had to let Penny go, for his own good. He forced a laugh, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Look, it ain’t a big deal. You’ll get used to it. Hell, you might even like it out there without me. No more rules, no more walls...No more old farts to tell you what to do. You’re free, Penny. Free."

But Penny didn’t move. He shook his head, his wide eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. "You don’t want me with you anymore, is that it ?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Did I…do something wrong, Pennywise ? Haven’t I been a good brother to you ?"

The words hit Pennywise like a punch to the gut. His fists clenched, and for a moment, his façade cracked. "That’s not what I—" He cut himself off, looking away as his throat tightened.

But Penny had already seen enough. "You’re lying," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "You don’t want me to go. You’re scared. Like me."

Pennywise finally let out a long, frustrated breath, his tough-guy act crumbling. "Dammit, Penny...Of course I don’t want you to go. And of course I am scared."

Penny’s lip trembled, and he quickly threw himself into Pennywise’s arms, clutching his brother tightly. He didn’t care anymore if Pennywise was to push him away. "I don’t wanna leave you, ever. Please don’t make me, brother."

Pennywise wrapped his arms around Penny, holding him close, his face softening. "I wasn’t tryin’ to make you, idiot," he muttered, his voice thick. "I just...I thought you’d be better off. I didn’t want you to miss your second chance because of me."

Penny shook his head. "No chance is worth leaving you behind, Pennywise. We stick together, remember ?"

Pennywise sighed, a sad smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah...alright, kiddo. We stick together."

For a long time, they stood there, Penny clinging to his brother as though he were his lifeline, and Pennywise holding him just as tightly. He had tried to give his brother a chance at freedom, at a life beyond their shared horrors, but in the end, neither of them could let go.

When you approached, watching the scene unfold, Pennywise met your gaze over Penny’s shoulder. His usual sharp grin was gone, replaced with something sadder, more resigned. "Guess we’re both staying, huh ?" he said quietly, though it wasn’t really a question.

You smiled softly, nodding. "I figured as much."

As you stood off to the side, watching the two of them, you felt a pang of emotion. It wasn’t just about them refusing to leave the facility—it was about them refusing to leave each other. Pennywise had tried to give Penny a future, but in the end, they both realized their future was together.

But what they were both unaware of was that you had made sure to get both their discharge papers signed…And that they would be both leaving soon enough.

Jack Torrance

Jack stood at the exit, gripping the discharge papers in his hand like a lifeline. He stared at the open door, the pathway to freedom, but something about it felt wrong—like it was too easy. After everything he’d been through, after all the dark, twisting corridors of his mind, reintegration into society felt like a trick, like a bad joke that someone was playing on him.

"Look at this, Jackie-boy," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "They think you’re cured. They think you’re all better now." He chuckled, the sound low and bitter, his eyes flicking between the door and the facility behind him.

You watched him from a distance, sensing his inner turmoil. Jack had changed, no doubt about it. The rage, the uncontrollable thirst for violence—it had dulled, simmered down into something more manageable. But you knew, just as he did, that it hadn’t disappeared entirely. Reintegration wasn’t going to be simple for him.

His knuckles whitened around the papers, crumpling them slightly as he clenched his fists. "It’s a load of crap," he spat, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. "What am I supposed to do out there, huh ? Go back to pretending I’m normal ? Like I didn’t lose it, like I didn’t almost—"

He cut himself off, jaw tightening. His mind flashed to images of the Overlook, the whispers in the walls, the looming presence of things he couldn’t control. But then he thought about you, about the other slashers. The twisted family he had somehow found himself a part of in this place. It wasn’t perfect, and it sure as hell wasn’t normal, but it was something. And it was real.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at you, standing quietly by the door, waiting. His heart twisted at the thought of leaving this behind. The idea of stepping out into the world alone, without that connection—it gnawed at him, filled him with a creeping dread.

"Hell…" he sighed, running a hand down his face. His thoughts wrestled with each other, pride and fear duking it out in his mind. Jack had always been a man with too much pride, too much ego. But there was something more than that now—something that made him hesitate, something that kept him from walking out that door.

Eventually, with a deep, frustrated groan, Jack turned on his heel, crumpling the papers in his fist. He marched back toward you, his steps heavy and determined, but his face twisted in a mix of emotions. "Forget it. I ain’t going anywhere. Nope. Ain’t happening," he declared. "I ain’t about to leave you here to deal with this circus by yourself."

You smiled sadly. "Jack, you should take this chance. You’ve worked so hard to get here."

Jack shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah, well...maybe hard work ain’t enough this time." He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "You’re the only thing keeping me from losing it, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna handle it on my own out there, not without you."

Your heart ached for him, but you knew what you had to do. With a gentle hand, you reached for his arm, slowly guiding him toward the exit. Jack’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them as he realized what you were doing.

"Hey, hey, wait—what the hell are you—" He tried to pull away, but you held firm, your smile sad but resolute.

"Jack, you deserve a life outside these walls. You’ve earned it. And your son deserves his father back." The mention of Danny made Jack freeze, his breath hitching. "You can have another chance with him. Don’t waste that."

Jack’s determination deflated in an instant, replaced by a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow. He lowered his gaze, the fight draining out of him. "I...I don’t know if I can."

"You can," you whispered softly, squeezing his arm. "And I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back. But you have to try, Jack."

For a long moment, Jack stood there, staring at the open door like it was the edge of a cliff. Then, finally, with a defeated sigh, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, alright...whatever."

You smiled, gently pushing him toward the exit one last time. "Go on, Jack. I am rooting for you."

As he stepped through the door, Jack paused, looking back at you one last time. "Don’t you forget about me, alright ?"

"I won’t," you promised, watching as he disappeared into the world beyond.

……

Bonus

The facility was quiet. Too quiet. You stood in the empty corridor, staring at the space that once buzzed with life, chaos, and more than a few death threats—yet now, all of it was gone. The slashers were gone.

One by one, they had walked out, some more willingly than others. You had seen them off, each with their own strange mix of emotions, but now…the finality of it all was hitting you. The air felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on your chest as you wandered aimlessly through the halls, past the rooms that had once been filled with their presence.

Jason’s room—cold and methodical, but with a small corner where he’d kept all of his little wood figurines, a reminder of the quiet peace he found here. You picked up a little frog figurine and smiled at it before walking away. Freddy’s space, always filled with his arrogant cackling and sarcastic jabs, was eerily silent. The air no longer held that faint scent of burnt metal. Brahms’ toys were gone too, the little things he’d cling to, now absent from the shelf he’d always obsessively arranged.

You paused outside Bo and Vincent’s shared room. The door was ajar, just as they had left it. Bo’s worn cap hung haphazardly over a chair’s back corner, and Vincent’s sketches still covered the walls, half-finished masterpieces of a mind far more brilliant than most would ever understand. But even in their messy intimacy, there was a void, a stark reminder that they weren’t coming back.

You stepped inside and sank into Bo’s chair, resting your head in your hands as the emptiness finally got to you. You had fought so hard for them, had seen them in ways the world never would, had given everything to help them find a new beginning. And now, they were free. You should feel proud. Relieved, even.

But all you felt was lonely.

The facility had been your home too, your sanctuary in a world that could never quite understand you or them. Now, without them here, it felt cold. Hollow. So damn empty. The echoes of their voices, the weight of their presence still lingered like ghosts haunting the spaces they had left behind.

You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tightening in your chest. You had known this day would come. You had helped them prepare for it, pushed them when they needed it. But nothing could have prepared you for the silence that followed.

For a long time, you sat there, alone in the stillness. It felt like mourning—not just for the slashers, but for the connection you had built with each of them. You had been their confidante, their friend, their guide. And now, in their absence, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

Your mind drifted to each of them—Jason, Freddy, Brahms, Bo, Vincent, Pennywise, Penny, Michael and all the others. You wondered if they would make it out there. If they would find happiness, if they would remember you. And then there was a pang in your heart—a fear that maybe, just maybe, you had been forgotten already.

You stood up, moving through the empty halls with one final look, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. You had done your job. They were free. But somewhere in the quiet, you wished you hadn’t been left behind.

For now, though, you would keep that promise to them. You would wait. Even if it meant sitting in the stillness, holding onto the hope that one day, they might come back.

You closed the door behind you.

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lulu-lux · 19 days ago

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I've been thinking about women lately so imagine yandere! sugar mommy 🤤🤤🤤

because i love ceoxpeasant, imagine you're some broke ass barista selling coffees in a tiny coffee shop that's on the brink of closing down. you're living from paycheck to paycheck, scrimping by and skipping meals just to pay the ever rising rent of this capitalist world you live in.

suddenly, you feel the trajectory of your life change when an obviously rich, gorgeous and... very well endowed lady walks into your establishment and gives you 100 dollars for a simple black coffee.

"um here's your change-"

"you can keep it darling."

you were stunned, obviously not knowing what to do other than to awkwardly keep the money back into the cash register as you turn around to make her coffee.

that was until she spoke up.

"you look pathetic. be my sugar baby."

"???"

you drop the coffee beans at her words, staring wide-eyed as she looks you up and down. her expensive suit fitted against her body like it was made just for her, the shining patek watch that glistened under the dim lighting of the store... more importantly, the stern gaze she had and the slight smirk as she leaned towards you.

you had never felt so... naked before. and she wasn't even doing anything other than moving her eyes and stance! wait, did she just call you pathetic?

"hahaha... um, funny joke-"

"i'll pay for all your rent and groceries if you become my pet."

"meow."

and that was how you found yourself leaving your old trashy job and life behind.

you found out that this lady was actually a successful business owner and was older than you were. just a little bit :3

your life had done a complete 360 and you were swimming in riches, going to expensive restaurants as you allowed yourself to be spoiled rotten by your beloved sugar mommy.

sure, some of your friends slowly started to distance themselves from you and you were confused because you did nothing to offend them...

but your sugar mommy told you not to worry about it. not when you had her.

so you listened. you didn't know what it was about her (her money) but you felt this strange urge to just listen to what she said. if she asked you to bark? you'd bark. if she asked you to crawl on all fours? you'd crawl on all fours.

until she made this ridiculous request.

"marry me."

did she actually love you? what? you thought this was just a mutually beneficial relationship you two had! like, you please her and she throws money and riches at you?? why is she asking for-

"hahaha... um, no?"

"funny way of saying yes, my love."

she stares ta you, eyes burning into you soul as you nervously shift in front of her.

gyatt damn what were you supposed to do? you couldn't disagree now could you? as much as you didn't want to marry her- wait what is she doing? why is she grabbing your hand and placing a pen-

"I've grown exceptionally fond of you, my dear. my heart belongs to you."

wait wait wait, what is she doing?! is that marriage documents?! stop stop-

"just the thought of seeing you with others brings me immense discomfort. so much so that i physically feel ill, darling."

her voice is like honey, yet her actions feel like claws digging into your skin as she forces your signature onto the paper.

"i am afraid i cannot let you go."

oh no, what have you gotten yourself into?

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lulu-lux · 20 days ago

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Service Dog

Monstertober 2024 - day 18 [ Hybrid ] by @ozzgin

[ m!dog hybrid x gn!reader ]

Nobody is as loyal and obedient as your boyfriend. He was like that from the start. Once he spotted you, he followed you like a shadow, sometimes from afar, sometimes up close. You thought he was being stalkerish, but your friends explained to you that dog hybrids are simply like that. Soon, you weren't able to live without him. You moved in together quickly after starting your relationship.

He loves being at home with you, but he enjoys the outdoors and his friends as well. Your dog hybrid boyfriend respects your family and friends, he loves whoever you love and dislikes whoever you have beef with.

But he is always so desperate to have you for himself. Alert and cool, sometimes even boorish in front of others, when you're alone, he turns into the most doting, gentle and clingy boyfriend. His horny levels are off the charts and he immediately notices when you get aroused. Well, you don't feel that itch for long. In the shower, in the kitchen, in the bedroom. He would fuck you in every room, on every surface that was able to withstand your weight and force of his thrusts. And you still broke several pieces of furniture before learning your lesson.

You both have jobs and friends, and have to spend some time apart. He never deals with that easily. If you have to leave first, he follows you to your office door or café parking lot. He has a nasty habit of growling at every person he finds mistrustful. Sometimes you have to scold him. He dislikes that, but only because he can't immediately show you what a perfect service top he can be. But at least he can demonstrate his submissive side later.

If he has to go somewhere without you, he whines and holds you tightly.

"What if something happens to you while I'm away," he used to complain. That's why he installed cameras all over the apartment, and now regularly watches you over a phone app.

You made sure to give him a show from time to time, walking naked or masturbating in front of those low-res camera's, just to fire him up. Then he would return home and tie you to the bed, ass up, and fuck you into your pillows until your mattress was drenched from your juices.

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lulu-lux · 22 days ago

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Dating Yandere Dwayne Would Include:

He will be very overprotective, kind, loving, but also he can get very jealous. He might even get violent if someone else tries to get close to you. You are his and no one else's, which he happily proves every day since meeting you.

He will always be around you, constantly checking on you and making sure you're safe. If he does leave you or you're out on your own, he makes sure someone is there to keep an eye on you at all times. He takes the term ‘you are mine’ to a completely different level.

He absolutely cannot stand anyone else trying to flirt with you or look in your direction. He will glare at them until they look away and give you an 'I'll deal with you later' look. But if someone were to lay a hand on you, no matter if they were male or female, he wouldn't hold back.

He doesn't like you hanging out with anyone without him present. If he can, he'll try to sit as close to you as humanly possible, almost as if the distance between the two of you hurts him somehow. He will almost act like a lost puppy if he can't be near you.

This boy knows no meaning of the word 'privacy'. That door you closed and locked when you were getting changed? Doesn’t mean anything to him. He will pick the lock and walk in on you, making some flirty comment and telling you how good you look. And forget about showering alone. He always finds a way to join you.

He also likes to pick out outfits for you and does not like you wearing anything revealing. You are his to look at, no one else's, so you will almost always find yourself in baggy clothes and a coat, no matter the weather.

No matter who it is you're talking to, the boys, the girls, teachers, your family members, it doesn't matter. If he sees you having a conversation with them, he's making his way over as fast as he can and pulling you away from them, either putting you behind him or keeping a hand around your waist to keep you against him and away from whoever it was you were talking to.

In front of other people, he acts as the definition of a gentleman. Holding doors, letting you walk in front, pulling out your chair for you, holding your stuff, all of it. But he only does this when other people are around. If it's just the two of you, he can be quite the opposite of a gentleman, often becoming almost more possessive than he already is to begin with.

He's very clingy, but in a caring way. He's constantly asking if you're okay, if you need anything, and reminding you over and over who you belong to. He's almost like a lost puppy; as soon as you walk into a room, his eyes immediately find you and he practically glues himself to either your side or right behind you.

He will reward you for just about anything. Got a good grade? He's taking you out to eat and probably already booked a hotel room for the two of you to 'celebrate' in. You did something as simple as saying his name? He's going to pull you to him, push you up against the nearest wall, and kiss you so deeply you wonder if you'll have to remind him you both need to breathe.

His way of punishing you usually consists of withholding physical contact, ignoring you, and not sleeping in the same room as you. The man lives for physical contact, so if you do something he doesn't like you can expect him to make sure you can't touch him in any way that isn't professional. He will also refuse to look at you, and will sleep on the couch instead of next to you in your shared bed, and he will not give in to any of your attempts to get him to give in and let you touch him again.

Fighting with him is never a good idea. It never escalates past screaming at each other over something stupid since that's where he tends to draw the line when it comes to you. You will not win a fight against him. The man will fight dirty just to make sure your argument loses. He does, however, know how to properly apologize. He'll come crawling back with his tail tucked between his legs, begging for your forgiveness.

They often just roll their eyes any time he does something. The boys often joke that he's the possessive one of the group and make comments about how whipped he is and that he's always got to be by your side.

The man is very affectionate. He loves giving you hugs, kisses, cuddles, and if you let him, he will almost be all over you twenty-four seven. He will make you sit on his lap, no matter where you are, and if you protest, he's most likely going to pick you up, plop you there, and refuse to let you go.

Dates with him are often a mixture of him showing you off and him making sure everyone knows you're his. He will shower you in compliments, buy you basically anything you look at, and is constantly all over you, whether it's keeping a hand on your hip, holding your hand, or just pulling you into a kiss. He's also very handsy; often letting his hand wander anywhere it goes.

Killing for you? It didn't take him very long to get rid of any competition he had, including any boys that tried to make moves on you and any girl that even just so much as looked at you for longer than any other person. Anything or anyone that he deemed a possible threat to the safety and happiness of yours.

He does have a shrine, actually. It started as a small collection of anything he could get that belonged to you, but it slowly turned into taking photos of you and putting them all over a specific room. A few photos he has are of you asleep on his chest, one of you laughing, one of you making a silly face, and even a few of you in the shower

He absolutely would make you a vampire if you asked him to. Hell, he would probably do it without you asking. It's the best way he knows to make sure you can be with him for eternity.

He loves the idea of marriage to you more than anything else. He wants the entire thing to happen; the proposal, the wedding, the honeymoon, all of it. He wants you in a beautiful big wedding dress, saying vows to him, having your first kiss as husband and wife, and of course, all the physical stuff that comes afterward.

He wants children with you. A whole brood of them, each of them being little clones of the two of you. The idea of having to go through the 'making' of the kids makes him happy. Once you get pregnant, he's going to want to shower you with affection and keep you as close as he can, even refusing to let you work, cook, or even walk around by yourself.

If you couldn't have kids he would be fine with it. He's a little upset but fine. If you didn't want kids, well, then he's not very happy. While he won't ever outright force you, he will certainly try to convince you to have them. He probably won't ever give up trying to convince you to have kids with him.

"You complete me. The world makes more sense when I'm with you. You're the only one who sees me for who I am, and you don't judge me for it. You're the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I go to bed at night. I can't imagine life without you, and I never want to. You're my best friend, my lover, my other half. I don't know how I ever lived without you, but I never want to go back to that emptiness again. You're my anchor, my home."

Teasing - Keeping you desperate and horny, denying you release until you're practically begging, then giving you just enough to keep you wanting more.

Spanking and discipline - Giving you a hard spanking, especially when he feels you've wronged him, watching you squirm and cry out. Makes him rock hard.

Exhibitionism - Flirting openly, making out, groping in public, anything to show off your relationship and make others jealous.

Choking - When he wraps his strong hands around a throat and squeeze, watching you struggle for air before letting up is pure bliss for him.

Topping from the bottom - He's great at guiding you exactly how he wants you to fuck him without you realizing he's in charge until it's too late.

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lulu-lux · 23 days ago

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Sweet pup

Male!Yandere Witch x Fem!Puppy hybrid Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 11th

Oct10

Oct12

summary: when you go into heat, your owner is determined to keep up with you this time.

warning: yandere behavior, you’re in heat, a bit of teasing, aphrodisiacs, breeding, cock becomes a knot

A/N: sorry for the late entry,, I passed out while working on this last night and lost all of my progress because I didn’t save,, thankfully this was already short so I just finished it up, but it was still demotivating :(

You let out a pitiful whine as your witch owner ignored you, instead paying attention to his potions and spells.

You could feel yourself going into heat, and wanted him to help you… maybe he could whip up some potion to make it all go away!

“Mmph…”

You pouted, nuzzling into his neck from behind and sniffing at his scent as your puppy tail wagged. He stopped for a moment to scratch between your ears, thinking that’s all you wanted.

But when you began to pant and your hips rutted against the back of his chair, he began to understand what was going on.

“Feeling… warm, little one?”

A whine escaped your throat, and you let out a happy sigh when he lifted you up and settled you into his lap.

“Yes…”

When you attempted to hump his leg to ease the ache in your cunt, he squeezed your thigh. “Tsk, tsk… is that how we behave, pup?”

Your ears flattened against your head in shame, and you looked away from his intense green eyes. “… no…”

He smiled, moving his fingers down your chubby belly and into the soft lacy panties he bought for you.

“So wet already… such a needy pup, aren’t you?”

You whined, pawing at his chest with your shaky hands as he reached over. Barely able to think, you stared as your owner popped the cork of a pink potion, downing it within seconds.

Before you could ask what it was, you were being pinned to his desk, your pussy having to stretch around his cock to fit him in.

“F-fuck, that’s my good girl, so tight…”

Your tail wagged, and you tried your best to lift up your plump ass, trying to display it for him. It was cute, you really acted like a puppy in heat.

“W-what was in that potion?” you babbled out as he rammed his cock against your cervix. He held onto your tail for leverage, continuing to slam into you.

“An aphrodisiac… and a surprise for later…”

Before, your owner had never been able to keep up with your heats. It left him feeling inadequate, paranoid that you’d go looking for a real mate to satisfy your needs.

You were his, HIS mate, his little pup. The very thought of someone else even looking at you made his chest heavy with jealousy.

But being the smart witch he was, he brewed up a potion that increased his stamina…

And as he came inside of you, you yelped, feeling his knot swell up in your fat cunt.

There was the surprise.

“Good pup… gonna give you a litter, I promise…”

He kissed your neck, nuzzling softly against you as his sweet pup panted beneath him.

“You’re mine…” he cooed against your ear, his hand rubbing at the bulge in your belly. “No one can lay a hand on you but me, understand?”

But you were already fast asleep, suckling on his finger to comfort yourself. He let out a sigh, picking you up once his knot went down and carrying you to bed.

“Sweet thing… I’ll never let you go, you know that?”

———————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

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lulu-lux · 23 days ago

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yandere shark boy who's BIG and SCARY but he really loves you and can't help his appearance :(

you probably visited the beach once or twice and helped him when he was beached on the sand which unintentionally made him fall for you and like, kinda stalk you...

"hello :3"

"what the hell!!!!"

he randomly pops up in your life after that, acting like a big puppy and trailing behind you. his eyes are all wide and sparkly which, in theory, should've been cute.

but how could you find it cute when his teeth are sharp and threatening to bite into you?

":3?"

"stop staring at me like that."

":c"

it's really not his fault that he looks like that! he can't help that he gets so happy when he's around you that he smiles so widely! he just wishes that you'd love him like you love that plushie of yours...

">___<?"

"what?"

"huggies?"

"no."

the shark boy really hates your.... shark pushie, what's it called? blahaj? yeah, he hates blahaj. he can't believe you like the fake thing more than him. it's just a plushie! he's the real deal! the actualy sharky that could love you and be way more cuddly than that stupid plush toy of yours!

he desperately wants your love and attention too. he wants your love and attention on him rather than that piece of fabric. but no! you just hate him!

you'd think that with how often he spends time around you, you'd have warmed up to him but absolutely fucking not. you're still as cold to him as when he first appeared in your room out of nowhere one night a few months back.

"c:?"

"begone."

":c"

it's alright though. he's persistent. he's not a shark for nothing. oh, have i mentioned that he's also a great white? yeah, you're not getting away from him haha.

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lulu-lux · 30 days ago

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AHHHHH! IM SO EXCITED! IM SO EXCITED! IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EP!!

Chapter 10: The Big Bad Wolf

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 5,0k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence, gore A/n: I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did. This is also a bday present for my friend. Happy birthday!!! Don't freak out <3 Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

“Every social worker enjoys certain aspects of the job more than others,” the man explains with a smile that seems almost too forced; it’s been glued to his face since the moment Alana greeted him. “There are cases that you reach and cases you don’t reach.”

You spin the pen between your fingers with a steady rhythm, your mind wandering and tuning in and out of the conversation between Clark Ingram and Alana Bloom. But something about his demeanor strikes you—the way his bright smile seems permanently plastered on his face. It’s off-putting, unnatural, as if he’s struggling to maintain the facade of a polite and helpful citizen.

“Peter’s had persistent cognitive problems. Confusion, paranoia, rage.”

“Peter’s a sheep,” you mutter to no one in particular. “He can’t hurt an animal, let alone a human being.”

“You really like sheep, don’t you?” Jack jokes, reminding you of your choice of words from not long ago.

You look at him with a raised brow before nudging him in the arm with your elbow. “And you don’t? At least sheep don’t bite.”

Jack chuckles at your retort, but his expression quickly turns serious as he turns his attention back to Clark Ingram. “So, what do you think, Agent Avant? Is Peter Bernardone capable of violence?”

You pause, considering the question carefully. “It’s hard to say,” you reply, your tone measured. “But based on what we know so far, it doesn’t seem likely. His cognitive issues suggest a lack of capacity for such brutal acts. If he was ever violent toward anyone, it’s likely he was pushed to his limits and lashed out.”

Will and Hannibal stand to your left, listening intently to the conversation between you and Jack, as well as the one taking place on the other side of the thick one-way mirror. Their expressions are unreadable, betraying little of what they might be thinking or feeling.

They’re silent until the moment when Alana reaches out to touch Ingram’s hand. The social worker does nothing to hide his discomfort as he quickly shifts his hands away and leans further into his chair.

“That’s smart,” Will explains, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. “She keeps pushing him on his feelings, not on the facts.”

Hannibal nods in agreement, his gaze focused on the interaction between Alana and Ingram. He casts a fleeting glance in your direction every now and then, his eyes catching your presence in his peripheral vision before returning to the scene before him.

“She’s trying to gauge how comfortable he is with emotion, if he has any,” Will adds, glancing at you too, curious to know your thoughts. “He couldn’t bear being touched by her.”

“It’s a telling reaction,” you remark, your voice calm and measured. “It suggests a deep-seated discomfort with emotional intimacy. Perhaps indicative of a psychopath?”

“Yes, his responses are typical of psychopaths during interviews, but could also indicate resentment,” Hannibal agrees.

“No, I don’t believe it’s resentment or hatred towards women,” you assert, your tone firm. Your eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“No, his eyes are dead,” Will concludes. “He’s a predator.”

“It’s the absence of empathy, of any real connection to the people around him. That’s what makes him dangerous.” You glance over at your husband, seeking confirmation or perhaps an alternative perspective, he acknowledges your words with a nod of his head.

The conversation between Ingram and Alana continues for a while longer, but your mind is too preoccupied to fully focus. You’re aware of their words, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t shake the feeling that Ingram is hiding something. It’s the way he recoils from her touch, the way he conceals himself behind smiles and warm words. There’s an eerie resemblance to your father that sends chills down your spine; something in his demeanor triggers warning bells, a deep and primal instinct for danger.

You attempt to refocus on the conversation, but Ingram’s subtle gestures and body language keep drawing your attention. There’s something sinister about him, a feeling that resonates deep within your bones.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice pierces through the room, pulling you away from your thoughts. “Let him go,” he commands.

The panic in Will’s eyes prompts you to react, and you turn towards your boss with an annoyed expression. “Jack, don’t do that. You know he’s the one.”

“I’ve got nothing to hold him on,” Jack responds calmly.

“We can still get something out of him,” you insist, your eyes pleading. You couldn’t care less about the killer on the other side of the glass, but it’s evident that Will is invested in this case.

“Peter Bernardone is psychologically disadvantaged. He’s been manipulated,” Will argues, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “As his social worker, this man is in a position of trust, and he has betrayed that trust.”

The realization hits you like a brick—this is personal. In a twisted, complicated way, this is no longer about catching the man responsible for killing sixteen women in cold blood. It might not even be about Peter anymore. The next sentence coming out of Will’s mouth confirms it.

“I know what it’s like to point at a killer and have no one listen.”

“You pointed in the wrong direction.” It’s all Jack says before leaving the room.

Your gaze instantly finds your husband’s face—his expression a mix of disbelief and powerlessness. You reach for his hand, and he doesn’t resist at all as you squeeze it reassuringly, nails gripping into his skin to keep his mind in the room with you and Hannibal. God, Hannibal. You almost forgot about his presence beside you with how quiet he’s become.

“We won’t let Peter Bernardone suffer for all of this, Will,” you assure him. It’s all you can offer—a useless promise that you might not be able to fulfill.

You find yourself in the BAU’s headquarters not long after, walking through the almost-empty corridors leading toward Crawford’s office. You can’t shake your husband’s heartbroken expression from your mind. It lingers hauntingly in the back of your thoughts, refusing to be forgotten.

The atmosphere is uncomfortably quiet, with only the echo of your footsteps breaking the silence as you make your way through the corridor. Your focus is consumed by the folder in your hands, flipping through its pages absentmindedly for at least half an hour. The world around you becomes a misty haze as you try to concentrate on the contrasting words printed on the white paper.

Suddenly, you’re snapped back to reality as someone grabs you by the arm and forcefully pulls you into the nearest room. The sequence of events unfolds so rapidly that it’s all just a massive blur.

“Hey, what the hell!” You react instinctively, swinging blindly at your assailant. Your hands make contact with their face, nails poised dangerously close to their eyes. It’s not the most efficient form of self-defense, but your reflexes have dulled since you’ve been out of the field.

As your vision clears, you recognize those dark, menacing eyes, though you’ve never seen them so up-close before. Their gaze is hypnotizing, compelling you to loosen your grip on their jaw. Despite the danger, you can’t bring yourself to let go entirely.

“It’s just me,” Hannibal’s voice cuts through the tension, tranquil and unaffected by the threat of your fingers near his eyes. His hands grip your elbows firmly, though not painfully, as he meets your panicked stare head-on.

“Why did you grab me like that?” you question him, a hint of vexation in your tone, though you notice how soft his skin feels under your palms.

“Do you prefer a gentler approach?” Hannibal responds calmly, his demeanor unruffled.

You blink slowly, confusion replacing your initial anger. You glance around the empty conference room behind him. “Why are we here?”

Hannibal’s grip on you loosens slightly as he looks over his shoulder before acknowledging your question. It appears he only just became aware of your location himself. “Coincidence.”

Hannibal’s eyes find yours again, and you both stare at each other in silence, unmoving. The tension between you is palpable, each moment stretched taut like a drawn bowstring. You’re not even sure if either of you is breathing, but you can still detect the faint fragrance of his cologne—notes of leather, cedarwood, and a hint of something darker and more mysterious, perhaps oud. The stillness of the air crackles with anticipation, and your shared curiosity poses the question: “who moves first?”

“Would it be rude of me to ask you to release me?” he finally breaks the tension, his tone almost reluctant, as if he secretly wished you would hold onto him a little longer.

You release him, albeit with some apprehension. “You wanted to see how I handle sudden threats, huh?” Your words are more of a statement than a question, delivered with a certainty that seeks confirmation.

“Yes,” he replies simply, catching you off guard with his honesty. It’s almost unnerving how straightforward his answer is.

You watch as a tiny smile quirks one corner of his mouth, the faintest twitch of his lips. It’s as if he was born to be intimidating yet effortlessly charming at the same time. Everything he does seems so well thought-through to the point of being eerie.

“And what conclusion did you reach?” you ask, striving to keep your voice steady. There’s an undercurrent of tension flowing between the two of you, and you can feel his eyes scrutinizing you, taking in every detail.

“More of a confirmation, really,” he replies, his gaze traveling from your face to your hands and back.

You know he noticed your hesitation before you let go of him. You know he’s still analyzing you, taking in every detail, every little movement you make. You can feel his eyes weighing you, measuring every ounce of your reaction, your breath, and your pulse.

“You reacted almost instinctively,” he concludes, not asking a question or suggesting that he expected anything less from you. “It’s a sign of strength.”

You can’t tell if he’s being serious or just saying that to be polite, and you feel compelled to challenge him on that statement, so you do: “And what would’ve been a sign of weakness then?”

“Not fighting back,” he replies simply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Not putting up a fight.”

Your mind struggles to process his answer. “So, what you’re saying is that someone showing weakness by letting themselves be attacked and possibly killed is worse than someone who reacts and fights back?” you reply, not hiding your disbelief at his words.

His response is almost immediate. “Precisely.”

You almost laugh at the straightforwardness of his reply. His words are as chilling as his demeanor. You want to challenge him, to call him out for his bluntness. But you can’t summon the energy, and your gaze falls away.

“What if someone doesn’t have it in them to fight back?” you ask, curious to see how he’ll respond. “Maybe they’re not capable of it.”

He considers the question for a moment, seeming to weigh a myriad of variables in his mind before giving you an answer. “The instinct for self-preservation is primal, ingrained in every living being. It doesn’t matter if they don’t have the physical ability to fight back; the urge to live overrides everything. Even a child will fight when pushed against the wall. Only the weak would let themselves be slaughtered without at least attempting to survive.”

You feel almost appalled by his words, their harshness sinking in. There’s a hint of sadness in your voice as you ask, “So you believe someone who doesn’t fight back is weak?”

“I don’t believe it, I know it,” he replies with a coldness you’ve never seen in his eyes before, a spark of something dark igniting in his pupils.

He’s serious, there’s no underlying joke or hidden meaning behind his words. You feel a chill run through you, the tiny hairs on your arms standing on end.

Hannibal raises his hand toward your face, dragging his knuckles over the skin of your jaw. He seems almost impressed that you don’t flinch at his touch.

“You’re as strong as they come, my dear,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the hum of the wind outside the windows. He leans in, his soft lips pressing against your forehead, and then he leaves the room without another word.

You’re left there alone and stunned, your eyes staring ahead but not really seeing. Your body trembles, but instead of pure fear, there’s a hint of excitement running through your veins. Adrenaline rushes through you, and the feeling of his presence lingers in the air, both comforting and unsettling.

You wait in the conference room for a few minutes, trying to collect yourself, half-hoping that Hannibal will return. You feel like you’ve just been through a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts, and sensations.

But all you’re left with is the memory of his scent lingering in the room and the soft touch of his lips on your skin.

“You look like a man who has suffered an irrevocable loss,” Hannibal’s voice breaks through the quiet melody of the aria playing in the car. The psychiatrist’s choice in music doesn’t surprise Will in the slightest; he’s gotten used to his refined tastes.

“I’m trying to prevent one,” Will counters, gazing over his shoulder at your sleeping form curled up in the backseat.

“You look so peaceful—far more relaxed than he imagined you would be. Hell, just ten minutes ago the thought of you sleeping in the presence of Hannibal Lecter didn’t even cross his mind. It was different from the last time; this time you didn’t have anything to drink or soothe you—nothing. You just let your guard down so easily as if you didn’t see a threat in Hannibal anymore. Will didn’t like that at all.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernardone, you can save yourself?” Hannibal’s voice breaks the silence, his words carrying weight in the confined space of the car.

“Save myself from what, Dr. Lecter?” Will asks, his eyes staring ahead yet again, but there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice—barely detectable.

“From who you perceive me to be,” the psychiatrist responds, his eyes briefly leaving the road to glance at you through the rearview mirror. Will swears he sees a subtle quirk of the man’s mouth at the sight of you.

“I’m afraid I need to be saved from who you perceive me to be.”

“Many troublesome behaviors strike when you are uncertain of yourself,” Hannibal observes, his focus returning to Will. Perhaps he senses he’s been caught. “Peter Bernardone lies in the same darkness that holds you.”

“No, I’m alone in that darkness,” Will replies without hesitation.

“You’re not alone, Will. You have me and her, standing right beside you through all of this.”

Will’s eyes find your figure again, and he bites the inside of his cheek, lost in thought. “I’m not sure if I want her to be. I don’t want to scare her off.”

“You won’t, Will. She’s not going anywhere, trust me.” Hannibal reaches for the other man and squeezes his arm gently—it’s strangely comforting, though it shouldn’t be.

When you reach Peter’s place, it’s eerily empty. All of the cages have been left open—no animal in sight. You can’t imagine the agony Clark Ingram must have put him through. The sight breaks your heart into a million pieces because you know Peter Bernardone has been pushed to his limit.

The three of you rush toward the stables, ready for the worst. Will is panicking inside and out, his hands trembling and breath coming out in shaky puffs of air, while you and Hannibal remain fairly composed. The contrast in your behaviors is visible from miles away.

As you find Peter, he’s kneeling on the ground beside the body of a dark-coated horse, his work nearly finished. The needle slides through the animal’s skin effortlessly, like gliding through soft butter.

Will is the first to break the silence as he steps toward the kneeling man slowly, with apprehension evident in his movements. “Peter…” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes glued to the sight of the blood-soaked animal before him.

The scene takes a while for your mind to process. The image of that defenseless horse lying lifeless on the stable floor, the smell of blood lingering in the air along with the subtle scent of death. All of you already know what has happened here—it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Hannibal catches your gloved hand in his and pulls you closer to himself. You feel his steady presence beside you, a calming force amid the turmoil. His touch is unexpected, yet it speaks volumes.

“Is your social worker in that horse?”

“Yes. I used to have a horrible fear of…” Peter speaks up, his voice trembling slightly but not out of fear. “Of hurting anything.”

You glance at Hannibal to gauge his reaction to the situation, but instead, you find him already looking at you—his eyes filled with a strange admiration. You were right after all; Peter couldn’t hurt a fly unless he was pushed to his limits.

Weirdly enough, this twisted reverence makes you feel just a little bit sick to your stomach. You shuffle forward, seeking proximity to Will and distancing yourself from Hannibal, forcing him to release his grip on your hand.

“But… He helped me get over that. Feels so abnormal.” Peter lets out a pitiful chuckle, tears rolling down his bony cheeks.

“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior,” Hannibal concludes, his eyes now cold and distant. You’re unsure whether it’s due to the situation before you or your withdrawal from his affectionate touch.

“I think he deserves to die,” the kneeling man says, his voice filled with helplessness as he looks between the three of you.

“He does,” you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else. You’re relieved when there’s no immediate reaction to your words, but the way Hannibal’s eyes bore into your back tells you he heard.

“But you didn’t deserve to kill him, Peter,” Will says, shaking his head. He crouches beside the man, offering a reassuring hand that rests gently on his back as Peter stares at the dead horse. “I want you to come with me.”

You and Will help the man stand up as his legs shake, threatening to give up beneath him. Only now do you see how much damage this situation has done to the poor guy. He didn’t deserve any of this, but the world has always been a cruel place—evil humans’ second nature.

When Will and Peter head toward the barn door, you and Hannibal linger behind. Will’s uncertain, but not worried glance your way is a testament that something has shifted between the three of you. You just have to figure out what.

“Cruelly poetic,” you say, standing a safe distance away from the man and the corpse.

“He’ll be just fine,” Hannibal murmurs in response to your statement as he watches Peter and Will slowly make their way out of the stable. His gaze is calculatingly cold, the smallest twitch of a muscle in his cheek betraying the emotions underneath—the genuine emotions he rarely lets others see.

“It was necessary,” he adds softly. “He needed to rid himself of that darkness within.”

“Necessary?” you question, your eyes still glued to the two men walking away and not the psychiatrist standing before you.

Hannibal’s eyes move from Peter and Will to you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. You feel like he’s expecting you to say something more, but you can’t think of anything to reply.

“Necessary,” he repeats, and now his eyes find yours with that same calculating stare.

“The way you view life and the world itself... It’s peculiar,” you notice, sticking your hands into the pockets of your coat.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves yours, and he doesn’t reply at first. There’s a slight smirk playing on the corners of his mouth again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s judging you or if he agrees.

“I find my way of viewing life perfectly reasonable,” he finally says quietly, the words almost whispered. You notice a small twitch of the muscles beneath his eyes, and you wonder if you said the right thing or not.

“You do?” you ask, still searching for his gaze, but you can tell that he’s no longer looking at you. He’s staring at something in the distance instead then heading toward one of the stalls that holds white sheep.

“In life, we need some form of guidance to help us navigate the unknown,” he adds quietly as he pets the woolly animals. They’re not afraid of him. “I’ve found mine. What about you?”

Before you have a chance to respond, you notice Clark Ingram’s bloody fingers, ripping the stitches on the dead horse’s stomach. He tears through them from within, letting the guts spill out of the corpse as he crawls out of it.

Hannibal strolls toward him so casually, his hands dipped into the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants as he looks at the man’s struggle. You join him by his side as an involuntary smirk crawls up your face at the sight of the social worker coughing out blood and stumbling over his own legs. It’s amusing.

The psychiatrist admires your expression, slightly astonished by your reaction. He certainly didn’t expect you to show your true colors so fast. Not a care in the world of how your satisfaction might come across to others.

When Ingram reaches for the bloody hammer, you feel Hannibal’s hands tugging you closer yet again. You let him, leaning on him like an old friend—hip to hip. The warmth of his body is comforting, stirring something insatiable deep inside you.

“Mr. Ingram. Might want to crawl back in there if you know what’s good for you,” Hannibal says casually as he steps aside, taking you with him.

You didn’t even realize that Will had entered the stables. He holds a gun steadily in his hands, pointing it straight at Ingram’s head. Your smirk disappears just as quickly as it appeared, slight shock taking its place on your face.

“Will…” you mumble breathlessly.

You try to reach for him, but Hannibal doesn’t let you step away from him as he tugs you even closer into his side. He presses his lips to your temple and whispers, “He won’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

You’re not sure you believe him. You’ve seen how personal this was to Will, how panic and pure anger took turns in taking over his body since the moment he met Peter. The emotions were controlling him in a way nothing and no one else could.

Ingram drops the sledgehammer to the ground, falling to his knees with arms open and raised like wings—like a blood angel. “Officer… I’m the victim here,” he breathes heavily, but the smile that flashes over his features tells a different story.

“I’m not an officer. I’m Peter’s friend,” Will counters, ignorant to your begging eyes.

Don’t do it, Will. Please, don’t do it.

“Peter’s confused.”

Will feigns hesitation as he lowers the gun just slightly. But the way he grips the weapon tells you easily that he’s far from done with Ingram—his hold doesn’t loosen even for a mere second.

“I’m not.” He raises it back up with an air of palpable confidence. He knows what he wants. He wants to see Clark Ingram begging for life, drowning in the pool of his own blood, choking on it.

You squeeze Hannibal’s fingers so tightly, you’re surprised when he doesn’t even flinch. He just observes Will expressionless.

“Please, Hannibal,” you beg him under your breath, barely audible. You know he hears you, even if he pretends otherwise.

“Pick up the hammer,” Will throws the command, gesturing toward the bloody object that was just thrown to the ground moments ago.

Hannibal glances at your horrified expression, then at Will’s lips pressed tightly in anger. “Will,” he finally interjects with so much stoicism in his voice. His stare alone is insistent enough to make just about anyone listen to him.

But not Will. Will is deaf to Hannibal’s words—especially right now. He doesn’t want to hear him, he doesn’t want to be heard by him. He has a chance to make it right for Peter’s sake, maybe even for his own sake.

“Pick it up,” Will keeps insisting, now, even more agitated. He pops the safety off and puts the pistol almost directly in front of Ingram’s face.

“It won’t feel the same, Will,” Hannibal tries again, stepping toward Will. “It won’t feel like killing me.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“You did the best anyone could do for Peter, but don’t do this for him. If you’re going to do this, Will, you have to do it for yourself.”

You blink slowly in shock before you push Hannibal away from your husband. You take his place and move so close to Will, you can almost feel his shaky breath on your skin.

“Will, please,” you beg softly, “don’t ruin your life. This isn’t going to fix anything.”

“How do you know, huh?” he spats out, his voice mean—meaner than he ever was toward you.

The adrenaline and the rush of the situation are threatening to derail any semblance of calm you’ve managed to keep over the past hour. You grit your teeth and murmur so quietly, in hopes only he can hear you, “Trust me, I know.”

That seems to awaken him temporarily as he looks at you for a second, confusion written all over his face. His eyes are wide open, searching your face for answers—he finds nothing.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves you two, watching you carefully. Will is so focused on this mystery, he doesn’t even notice when you take the gun out of his hands and point it at Ingram yourself.

“What?” Will asks, his eyes snapping back to you as you push the gun towards Ingram.

“P-please… Please don’t,” the social worker begs as you step closer and press the gun harshly to his left temple.

“Oh, would you like me to be gentler?” you ask, tilting your head. There’s something deeply attractive about the way you hold the gun with unwavering determination, a fierce protectiveness radiating from you. There’s not an ounce of doubt in your expression; you really do look like a cop now.

Will, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, finds himself strangely drawn to you in this moment. His gaze is fixed on your face, and he can’t help but admire the way you look with that gun in your hand. It’s such a contrast to the innocent woman he married—it’s a side of you he never knew existed. There’s a primal allure to your fierce stance, a primal instinct that resonates with him on a level he can’t quite comprehend.

Hannibal notices the expression on Will’s face, and a smirk plays across his lips. He understands the magnetic pull that emanates from you—the allure. He shares the sentiment with Will, recognizing the primal attraction you exude as you hold the gun with a steady hand.

Your complexity intrigues and captivates them, drawing them in despite the inherent danger. They find it both thrilling and unsettling. The darkness hiding in them stirs with your presence, awakening that primitive instinct that’s been lurking in the depths of their souls. You have them completely entranced, and they can’t tear their eyes away.

Will once thought you were quite simple. He learned to read you like a book, then you disappeared and came back after almost ten years with no contact and he still felt like he knew you well enough. But lately? You’ve been unpredictable, complicated and twisted in your own particular way.

All of them hold their breath, the tension thick. The only sound heard is Will’s breathing—heavy and slow.

Ingram’s eyes are glued to yours. Something in the look he gives you makes all the anger and resentment wash away from your mind, and it takes you a moment to remember why you’re standing there with the gun.

You lean over Ingram and whisper something in his ear that no one else other than him can hear. Judging by the puddle of his own piss that pools on the floor, no one else would want to hear it. His eyes bulge with fear and shock, and he can’t make a peep in response.

Then, you pop the safety back on and hit the social worker in the temple with the butt of the gun. He tumbles over to the floor with a thud.

“Temporal region,” you conclude, straightening up. “You hit it with enough force and you can either kill someone or make them pass out.”

“Good to know,” Will mutters, looking at you again with newfound appreciation and respect.

Hannibal is also staring at you, with a newfound sense of admiration. He’s suddenly aware of your own power over others. As a psychiatrist, he’s learned what kind of tactics are used to break people down, and he knows that you used them against Ingram with devastating precision.

“What did you say to him?” he asks quietly, the rage still lurking just beneath the surface.

Hannibal watches as the two of you stare at each other intensely. He can’t help but feel a strange excitement rising inside of him as he watches the two of you square off against each other.

Will’s intensity is almost palpable—there’s a primal instinct within him that craves power, and he’s fascinated by the way you wield yours.

“Nothing that you need to know,” you reply simply, not about to divulge the details of your threat.

When Hannibal sees the intensity in both of your gazes, he can’t help but feel a strange stirring within him. He’s never seen the two of you so intense about anything before.

Will’s eyes narrow as he stares at you. He wants to know what you said, he wants to know the darkest depths of your mind. But he respects that it’s something you don’t want to share and lets it go.Hannibal can’t take his eyes off the two of you. It’s almost like he’s staring at a trainwreck he can’t look away from. He might just be right.

Taglist (I tag ppl that leave a comment or ask me for it): @strrvnge @raininhell @crowsoundsonly @gabriella-aesthetic @gayschlatt69 @russian-soft-bitch @lokittyy @hellouseemc00l @justaproudslytherpuff @it-s-tickety-booh @r4diocabeca @sanriogarbage @zoleea-exultant @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @emily-roberts @unsolvedghoulboyz @00hellohello00 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @jadenblueberry @slashercupcake @octobermania @magdalenmillicent-blog @unsolvedghoulboyz @gabbyonjupiter @lanklr @oliviathecat06 @fatkissers

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lulu-lux · 1 month ago

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I FUCKING LOVE THIS SERIES! IM SO EXCITED T0 FINSIH THE REST!!!! but honestly you did such a amazing job writing this, I can’t even BEGIN to explain how fantastic and lovely this story is. props to you for being such a great writer. 🧡💚

Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain.

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair.

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.”

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?”

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid.

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple.

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love.

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit.

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed.

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room.

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely.

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them.

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within.

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer.

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls.

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder.

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist.

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.”

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in. “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair.

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before. His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.”

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting.

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

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lulu-lux · 1 month ago

Text

Stalking

Hannigram x teen!reader

Summary: On their walk home, Y/N decides to help a cute couple with directions to a nearby hotel. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bus screeched to a halt on an empty back road less than a mile away from your house. Your shift was finally done and you could relax until the cycle repeated tomorrow. A meek ‘thank you’ slipped from your mouth as you walked off the bus, a small smile on your lips as you turned your music up.

Gently bopping your head to the tune, you made your way across the road, lifting a hand to silently thank the car that had stopped to let you cross. The clouds slowly drifted across the navy sky, small specks of light tucked themselves behind the clouds then peeked back out as the obstructions moved along. The moon shone down and illuminated the wide road and dusty trail you stood on, the outlines of trees cast onto the ground below you.

God, it was beautiful.

Despite how eerie it was, it was beautiful.

The road seemed calm tonight, usually it was busy because it was a way to get to the city you just came from. Not tonight.

Thank god.

As you continued to walk down the path, cars whizzing past you at a million miles per hour, you couldn’t help but feel a small creeping sensation that something was wrong.

Something was going to be wrong.

But, for some strange reason, you ignored it. Why you ignored, you had no idea why you did, but you did.

You kicked up dirt as you walked, loving the way it looked on the ground, dancing in the gentle breeze. That gut feeling plagued you, growing more and more until-

“Hi, excuse me?”

A soft voice made you peel off your headphones, letting them fall to your neck, and look over to the road. You planted your feet and settled your eyes on the man who was still rolling down his car window.

You stepped slightly closer and put your hands in your pockets. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man was thin and pale, his features hardly in the poor light of the car. The man wore a flannel shirt and dark jeans, a brown belt holding them up. He had brown, curly hair that draped over his forehead, he had a button nose and slightly stubble. The man cleared his throat and gave a small smile, “Me and my husband were wondering if you could give us directions to hotel…hotel…Hannibal, what was the hotels name again?” The man turned to the man sat beside him.

“Cecilia. Hotel Cecilia.” The man’s husband, Hannibal, gave a thin lipped smile as he spoke to his partner. His husband looked older than him, not by a lot but enough to see the difference. He had mostly grey hair with spots of brown sprinkled about, his eyes were a hazel colour, his nose arched up in the middle but it suited him. He wore a clearly rich and tailored suit; red with a black pattern stitched into it, a black shirt and a red tie.

You listened as the man thanked his husband and turned back to you. Thinking as fast as you could, you tried to remember the way there. Then it clicked. A gentle grin slipped onto your lips as you spoke, watching the man in the drivers seat take a mental note of everything you had said. As you stopped, you looked back at the road, the headlights were the only thing stopping the inky blackness from enveloping the car and you. It was going to be such a trek and your parents wanted you home by ten.

“Thank you so so much.” The man said, “We would’ve used our phones but they’ve both gone and died, thanks to our luck.”

You chuckled along with the man’s slight attempt at a joke. “It’s no problem, I’m happy to help.”

A few thoughts ran through the man’s mind before he stopped thinking and said the first thing we could think of:

“Do you want a ride?”

That feeling crept up your spine, making you feel queasy. As nice as it was for him to ask it was still odd. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you. “It’s fine, my house isn’t too far-“

“We insist. We would be lost without you.” The husband chimed in. “And, it is getting late, your parents would want you home, wouldn’t they?”

That feeling in your stomach reached the back of your throat, urging you to turn and run. For once, you decided to trust your gut feeling-

“Thank you but I’m alright.” Politely, you stepped away from the car and turned to keep walking. The men shared a look then looked back at you as you began to walk away.

You heard the engine stall before starting, then they took off down the road and that was the last you saw of them.

~~~

Around twenty minutes later, your trail lead you in front of a gas station. The neon lights from each sign shone onto the bleak road, painting it in hues of orange, green and white. The pale light reflected off of car windows and side view mirrors, hitting your eyes sharply.

You hadn’t drank anything in a while, plus you would have to wait an extra ten minutes to heat up your dinner when you got back home so what’s the big deal with a quick snack stop?Glancing away, you tried to check for oncoming cars and, luckily, there was nothing. Then you crossed the gravel, eventually reaching entrance to the gas station.

A satisfying ding announced your arrival to the pimply clerk behind the counter who gave you a less than enthusiastic look. Ignoring him, you browsed the aisles, trying to find anything that would be easy to eat and drink on the go. You swore to yourself; no sandwiches, no fiddly wrappers or bottle caps, just easy to open things.

Needing to keep yourself awake, you bought yourself an energy drink then you made your way over to the snack aisle which stood in front of the main entrance. As you scanned over your options, the bright, white headlights outside blinded you. Although it was a minor inconvenience, you scowled at the car, still unable to see who was driving, and internally swore at them for their accidental action.

After finally deciding on a snack, you walked over to the counter and placed your things down. You slipped your headphones down and around your neck, music paused, casting an odd silence which was subtly interrupted by the radio station which echoed from the broken speakers.

The cashier huffed and scanned the items slowly, as if even the thought of doing his job was strenuous. Your eyes wandered back out the window, tuning out the cashier slightly as your eyes scanned over the few cars that were refuelling, one was the car those two men had driven earlier.

That’s odd.

Didn’t they go flying up the road? How were they here at the same time as you if they did?

The clicking of the cashier’s fingers snapped you back to reality. “Sorry.” You mumbled halfheartedly, scrambling to grab the money from your pocket. In the midst of the scramble, you tried to pick up your drink, only for it to fall and burst on the floor. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, d’you want me to-“

The cashier sighed loudly, “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.” Then he walked to the back, returning with a wet floor sign in hand. You listened subtly as an array of swears left his lips as he slammed the sign onto the floor and trudged over to the drink aisle, grabbing another of the same drink for you.

As this happened, and while your mind was distant from your body, the same satisfying ding rung out again. When your mind finally snapped back, you registered that someone had walked in and you glanced over your shoulder.

Then you saw them.

The two men were tall, taller than you thought and taller than you by a mile.

When you realised you were staring, your head whipped back around to the counter, fingers rhythmically tapped against the cool, grey countertop.

As the cashier you had walked back over, another from the back room walked out to help the two men. The moved to the counter beside you, only paying for a bottle of water and their gas. The cashier helping you handed the new drink to you, a forced smile plastered on their face. A small thank you left your lips as you turned and left, avoiding the men at the counter.

The cold night air enveloped you, an unwelcome sensation slivering up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder and watched as the two men walked out the gas station, their silhouettes ominously still, the light from the gas station surrounding them entirely, making them appear ethereal.

That sinking feeling slipped down your throat once again, making you start walking faster. The headlights from the car slowly trailed behind you before catching up and going just fast enough to keep you in the rear view mirror.

Maybe you were just paranoid? Who knows. At this point you were not willing to see if your gut feeling was true.

Your feet carried you for another fifteen minutes, leaving you with only fifteen more until you reached the safe warmth of your home and the welcoming embrace of your parents.

The turn for your road came eventually, just a small dirt path off the side of the road with pine trees boxing in each side of the road. Quickly, you made the turn, gazing over your shoulder to see if the car had kept driving.

It did.

Despite the relief you felt, that underlying tone of worry had settled in the pit of your stomach. This refused to let you calm, keeping you in a horrible fight or flight state.

As you walked down the road wearily. Your headphones stayed on, helping you tune out some fear you had. Although this worked for a while, the feeling of being watched slipped into the back of your mind. You pushed that thought down, reminding yourself you had ten minutes left until you were home, until you were safe. As hard as you tried, nothing could keep this feeling down.

Suddenly, as if out of your control, you whipped your head around. Your face dropped.

There, following you from behind, was that car, it’s headlights turned off. You hadn’t heard the engine over your music. Then the car stopped, your heart sank. Their doors opened and the men stepped out, slowly making their way over to you cautiously, as if trying to keep an animal calm. Every step the men took was calculated, deciding what would keep you from freaking out and doing something drastic.

Nothing could at this point.

You took off down the road, leaping over potholes and racing through puddles. Your clothes were ruined and you were freezing.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, your legs moving as fast as they could. The sound of the men’s footsteps grew louder amongst the sounds of the forest which, despite being a few feet away, sounded so distant over the sound of your heart. Your eyes moved down to your phone screen, hands racing to dial your parents or 911.

In a blur, your phone flew from your hand as your shoe caught on a rock in the road, sending you flying onto your front. You lay there for a minute, your head spinning as you thought about everything. In an instant, you snapped back, getting to your feet, ignoring the stinging pain from your knee.

From then on, you staggered down the road, your injured knee making it neatly impossible to run. That would be your demise.

The heavy weight of a blunt object, you assumed to be a crowbar, smacked against the side of your head, knocking you to the floor and leaving you partially unconscious. The immense feeling of dread spilled up and went out your eyes. Tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as the man got up and flung you into his arms, holding you against his chest, his firm hands cracking your head as if it were fine china.

“Will,” the man spoke, his voice smooth due to his prominent accent, “do you believe they will suffice?”

The other man, Will, paused and walked over, tracing a gentle hand over your face, his palm lingering on your chin as he began to brush away stray tears. “Certainly more flighty than the last one but we can deal with that later, wouldn’t want our child escaping us first thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finished Saturday October 5th 2024, 03:14.

5/10/24

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