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yandere-wishes · 3 months ago

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Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

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moonlight-prose · 23 days ago

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nameless as a river undiscovered underground

a/n: i really wish october could last longer than a few weeks, because i simply want to keep writing spooky stories and logan fics. i keep posting them late, but i'm doing them last minute (bad i know). this one is more a drabble than a fic, but i loved the idea of logan and his leather jacket. especially the thought of him loving you wearing it.

logan promptober: day eighteen - leather jacket

summary: his leather jacket remained a tie between your love and his. the weight of it, the smell of your intertwined scents, all revolved around a relationship he never thought would happen.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, p in v sex, reverence, love, fluff, the soft vibes of logan being in love.

You were clad in his leather jacket—swallowed by the heaviness of it—the first time he kissed you. In the rain a mile out from the mansion, beside a broken down car and cell phones that wouldn't work. He'd never seen true beauty until you smiled at him. Drenched to the bone, laughing, and luminant in the dark of a night gone wrong.

At one point in the past, he swore to himself he was safer never falling down that unknown pit. That heart devouring thing that made his insides twist and heart turn inside out. It terrified him. Knowing he could one day lose it all in the blink of an eye—become a shell of himself without the presence of another. Solitude kept him safe, kept him from causing destruction to innocent people hell bent on showing him love.

But then he kissed you.

Mid laughter, with eyes still alight in that angelic glow, Logan Howlett put his heart on the line and pressed his lips to yours. The rain pelted your faces in a cold icy wave of brutal weather. Yet neither of you cared. You dug your hands into his hair matted down with too much water and dragged him close enough to give life to that ache in his chest.

You kissed him without conviction. Instead putting your faith—your entire being—on the steady beat of your heart that echoed loudly in his head. The heat of your mouth, the wet slide of your tongue, killed him on the spot. He was a dead man walking—a corpse without a soul.

All because you decided to steal it away with a grin before kissing him once again.

The leather jacket became a comfort in your relationship with a man who ran hotter than a radiator. He didn't need the heavy weight of it, but he liked it. The color, the detailing, the story encased in the frayed thread that lined the insides.

You still remember discovering the small polaroid kept in the inside pocket, tucked away from sight yet pressed to his heart. It was you. Dressed up for the very first time. Storm took the photo on a whim, Logan stole it from her study two days later. You'd later ask him about the messy heart drawn on the bottom white strip—a scribble of the word sweetheart placed underneath.

He turned fifty shades of crimson the second you brought it up, but the photo still remained in place. Stuck to his body whenever he wore his jacket—a familiar piece of his heart whenever you wore it instead.

Tradition was embedded in the stolen item of clothing. The way he draped it over your shoulders on nights out, the times he spent bundling you up when you conveniently forgot your own sweater in his bedroom. You'd burrow your face in the collar, breathing in the musk of his cigars. He'd drop his head against his shoulder at the fragrant scent of your perfume still stuck to the lining.

Each of you placed your mark on the fabric, intent on leaving small reminders of who wore it last. But his favorite memory still remained in the pocket that still held a little rip on the outer edge—the time he clawed at it to grasp you close until the audible echo of destruction turned pain into laughter.

"You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me," he grunted, fingers sharply pressed into the bare skin of your hips.

You smiled, half lidded eyes glazed over in a cloud of darkened lust. "I thought the Wolverine couldn't be killed."

"That wasn't for you to test."

"Can't say you don't like me like this baby," you sighed, leaning back against the kitchen table placed in your very own house.

A home shared with him.

The cracked groan brought satisfaction right to the top of your chest—love beating its own drum in the depths of your body. Logan came home early to a welcome surprise of you in his jacket...and nothing else on. The plan was to get dinner, go walk the city to find a bit of romance tucked away in the corners of cafes and the lowlights of bars.

Neither of you made it to the car.

"It'll smell like you," he gasped, dragging his cock through your dripping cunt. The head nudging against your clit with each stroke. "I'll smell like you."

"Logan–" You clawed at his shoulders, lifting your hips in the hopes of enticing him to move. To put you out of your misery and slide home.

"It'll drive me crazy." A messy kiss overflowing with the love you felt flicker to life in your chest was pressed to your lips. Messy and needy and filled with the soft moan of his gravelly voice.

You sucked his tongue into your mouth, grinning at the brittle sound that cracked at the base of his throat. "Now you know how I feel."

Sinking into you felt like home. The hot slick grip of your walls clamping down around his cock broke something in the back of his mind. A wire that connected common sense with intellect. He watched it unravel before his very eyes—your lips coated in his spit curling into a grin. A smile that left him breathless and begging for more.

You were rapturous. The embodiment of what he believed hope looked like; the light at the end of his cracked and unstable road.

"So fuckin' pretty," he muttered, his eyes flickering between where he thrusted into you and your breasts covered by his jacket. "Should dress like this all the damn time."

"I'd get cold," you laughed, slinging an arm around his neck.

"You got me to keep you warm."

A harsh thrust sent you higher up on the table, pulling free a high pitched moan that sunk into his skin with a warmth that bloomed towards his chest. He wanted to pour out each emotion and watch you drink it down like the ichor of the gods. The life he led before suddenly felt as if there was a purpose to all the suffering he endured—all the pain that still lingered in phantom wounds long since healed.

You were the purpose he sought.

The person he was always meant to find.

He'd do it all over again if given the choice as long as you were there waiting for him—holding out a hand to bring him home.

You came with a garbled shout of his name, your walls sucking his cock back into you to keep him close. Each stunted thrust lit a fire in his body, his hands gripping any bare part of you he could reach as you fell back against the table. Your eyes glazed over and your mouth parted in a silent scream.

A few more sharp thrusts and he followed you quicker than he expected—practically toppling onto your body as he fucked his cum deep. Enough to have it spilling out and coating the inside of your thighs. He was half tempted to drop to his knees and clean you up, but the tight grip you had on his shoulders kept him in place. The close proximity of his body all you craved in the rolling aftershocks of your orgasm.

"All mine?" you whispered, still gasping for breath.

He smiled, lips brushing across yours. "All yours sweetheart."

This was how he loved you.

Thoroughly, harshly, yet with every part of his being.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing #logan promptober

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ghoulbrain · 6 months ago

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Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear.

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you.

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat.

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm.

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them.

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it.

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click.

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room.

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets.

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you.

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet.

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece.

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out.

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses.

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you’re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time.

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be.

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #x reader #x reader smut #fem reader #my writing #smut

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uchinagai · 5 days ago

Text

Your endless love - ningning

➢Synopsis: once, teenage sweethearts, y/n and ningning, now meet each other as full-grown adults, expect, one life had to take a different, much harder patch. will they reunite? Or did ningning only return for a different reason?

➢Pairing : CEO!ningning x artist!y/n

➢Genre: angst, fluff but maybe only past... slightly suggestive almost there but a man has to interrupt, I really wanna point out it's angst! but gets better ...?? maybe

➢warnings: heavy topics, such as - suicide, death, arranged marriage or self-hatred, miscommunications, blackmailing, suggestive/smut, mention of a corpse but not g0re, mention of murder/possible murderer, 18+.

➢wk: 5.1k+

➢note: well... kind of inspired by my childhood Turkish drama I forgot the name of but till this day remember the heartbreak my 10-year-old ass went thru. I think that's all I have to say, hope you guys will enjoy it. :3 I'm not the best writer, I do this only for MY pure entertainment. not proofread. will there be pt.2? maybeee...

You lost five years of your life to keep your younger brother free, to save him from going to jail after he accidentally took the life of a woman. Given the choice between covering up his crime and your own freedom, you chose him. You loved your brother dearly, but the cost was far greater than you ever imagined.

They married you off to a man you could hardly stand—a man who seemed obsessed with you, and not in a way that felt like love. Yet, he called himself your husband and flaunted you like a prize that made you disgusted each day that passed. Five years had passed with the weight of that ring around your finger that was more of a rope, tightening taking away air from you.

But now, staring at your brother's pale body lying on the hospital bed, you felt a hollowness eating at your insides. Is this what you meant to waste your five years to?

Your fingers trembled as they traced over the red scar on his neck, feeling your own throat tighten as though a rope was there, suffocating you, too.

He looked ghostly, eyes closed, lips an unnatural shade of blue. You gripped his limp hand, sobbing and begging him to get up. It was all for nothing; your life was ripped apart, sacrificed to save him, only for him to take his own life out of guilt. In his last words, he admitted as much. A note lay beside him, neat and careful, explaining everything. He couldn’t bear the weight of watching you wither under the demands of a loveless marriage, sacrificed to protect him. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry through closed doors as he walked by with food for you, feeling helpless to fix what he had caused. And he couldn’t stand to see your parents throw you away, to a man who saw you only as something to possess. And it mostly saddened him knowing you were only capable of loving a person you met on a bus.

You were just 19, running to a bus you were going to miss at any second. The door closed right into your face as you banged on the door, begging the driver to open it. He did, thankfully. You thanked him as you tried to catch your breath.

‘That was a hard run’ you thought.

You looked around for a seat, but there was none.

‘Great. Just my luck.’

You tried to take a breath as you clutched onto the pole next to you. You set your canvas to a safe place and look around the bus, trying to spot the next muse of your art.

There you lock eyes with a girl. A beautiful one, looking right at you, with slight interest written on her face.

‘Woah she’s pretty’ you thought.

The girl stared back at you, not breaking eye contact. Her blonde hair fell in sleek, straight as it could be, as sunlight hit her eyes from the window. The light color framed her features in a way that made her look effortlessly striking. Her eyes held an intense, yet steady gaze, focused onto you, like you’re the only one in this crowded bus.

Your eyes roamed around, taking in her appearance.

Her lips painted a rich, dark red, stood out beautifully against her fair skin. God, she was pale—not sickly pale, but pale to the point that it was beautiful and reflected light off of her body.

She wore a simple outfit, a denim cropped jacket, with a black tube top perfectly sitting around her body. Her jeans matched her denim jacket.

As you stared, you felt an unfamiliar turn to the left as you broke eye contact that felt like it lasted ages. You looked out the window and realized that the bus you got on was not the one you thought it was, so here you were—going off in the wrong direction.

All you could do was panic and turn to the driver, asking when the nearest stop was. He reassured you it was soon, but you were already late.

It did not take a while to get to the stop, as you rushed off the bus.

But fuck! The canvas!

You turn, seeing the bus already off.

‘What a horrible day to be alive’

You mentally cursed at yourself as you were about to break down till an unfamiliar voice, filled with a sweet tone to it, broke you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes that you closed due to stress hitting your nerves to be met with the same beautiful face, looking at you with a smile.

“I think you forgot this,” says the stranger as she reaches out your canvas.

‘What a great day to be alive’ you changed your thoughts in a second.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much!!” you say as you grab it and hug the canvas.

The girl giggles at the sight as you sigh.

“I can’t explain how grateful I am”

“It's not a problem, really”

“It should be! You had to get off of your ride to bring this for me”

“Oh yeah…” she says as you both chuckle at her lack of thinking.

“Well, I wasn’t rushing anywhere, seems like you are tho, need help?”

‘Is she an angel sent from the heavens for me?’ you thought as you nodded at her request.

“I was trying to get to my house… but seems like I got on the wrong bus,” you say defeated.

“Where were you headed off to?”

“Cheong-dong..”

It felt like you were rubbing into her that you were from a wealthy family.

The blonde looked at you, slightly taken back but she covered it with a smile.

“And you were trying to take a bus… there?”

You nod.

“Well, I forgot my car keys…”

“Let’s get you there then”

She says as she grabs your wrist without thinking, dragging you along with her back where the bus made a turn.

“So what were you doing out here?”

“I was in my studio... Painting”

“Figured,” she says as she chuckles.

“Oh right, what’s your name… at least got to know what’s the name of a beauty that is about to kidnap me” you say as you both burst into laughing.

“Ningning, it's Ningning, and I'm not gonna kidnap you,” she says as she reassures you. “Yours?”

“y/n”

“Pretty name, just like your face.”

And that is pretty much how it all started. Was it too cheesy to say you both fell in love at first sight? Maybe. But god she had you whipped.

Every little thing she did made you feel butterflies all over. The way she looked at you, waited for you in front of your studio and surprised you with a bunch of balloons attached to your car. How she played music that she loved while doing her homework in your presence. It was a matter of time and you two were official.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her. The way her blonde hair fell to her face, the way her nose would scrunch up when she couldn't get the answer right. It made you all fall for her, and she was just as much in love with you.

You would always sketch her at different times while working or writing music. She was beautiful every single time. You mostly loved sketching her while sleeping, that’s when she looked most relaxed and calm, without a care in the world. You were always at her place because you didn’t know how your parents would react to… someone from the lower class.

But it did not matter.

You were in love.

You decided it was a good idea to tell your mom about it since she was always supportive of your decisions in life - painting? She got you a whole studio and the best paints in the world. Music? She installed speakers in the studio to enjoy it. So you told her, and at first, she easily accepted you and supported you.

Till she wasn’t.

You remember it like yesterday, calming your little brother from what he had just done. You couldn't believe it either? Your brother, hurting someone? But before you could even process that, you were pulled by your parents into a security room.

There he was, again. With that smug of his that made you feel uneasy with everything.

He pressed space. And there was your brother, with a gun, laughing and giggling, pointed at the girl. He thought the gun girl brought along for ‘roleplay’ was just a toy till he fired.

He pauses the footage.

“I delete this footage and do not turn it to the police… on one condition”

“Whatever you want!” your mom pleaded.

Then he looked at you and it all clicked. He wanted you. Then you looked at your parents.

Your mom was looking at you full of hope but your dad… He seemed just as against the idea as you were.

“We will have to talk this out first,” Your dad says as your mom looks at him unpleased with his decision.

But there was no point.

Your life was already decided

Now here you stand, watching as they lower the casket as you can only think about Ningning.

Your ‘husband’s’ hand was holding u firm against him. Like he was holding u for support but it suffocated you even more.

You couldn’t even cry, you felt numb. All of those years for what? For him to kill himself because he felt guilty? Bullshit.

As the time passed after the death, you felt yourself grow angrier than sad and the only person to be able to shut it down was Ningning. You kept looking back to old pictures, missing her, her touch, scent, everything.

At some point, you would stalk her socials, and try to keep up with her till she completely vanished from all social media. Her account was up but her last post was when she left back for her home country - china, and that was years ago.

Was she still in China? Did she come back? Does she still live in the same house?

It was another day, staking her dead account which was too much for you because most of the pictures that were posted, were taken by you, so you just went on a night walk by Han River, after another argument with Kai He always found a way to drain you, was it either verbally, physically, or mentally.’

You put on your earphones as you enjoyed the specific scent the water had. It was pretty chilly, so you dressed up warmly, a puffer jacket with a black scarf around your neck, wore simple black baggy jeans, and went on the walk. It calmed you down for sure and music playing in your ears that distracted you from unwanted thoughts.

But you stop in your tracks.

As the music was about to switch and earphones went silent for a few seconds, you heard it.

Honey-dripped voice giggling. All too familiar.

You couldn’t have mistaken that. It was basically recorded in your brain.

You shut your music off in an instant as you start looking around, searching for the familiar blonde hair… but it is nowhere to be seen.

Were you just imagining it?

But there was no way… right?

And then you heard it again, you were not going crazy.

You tried to follow the sound only to be met by a black-haired haired turned away from you. What was going on?

Till you saw it.

That beautiful side profile of hers, her nose scrunched up in laughing.

She went black… you thought as you just stood there, looking but not moving an inch. She was with a bunch of three other girls that you paid no mind to. It was just her, standing in front of you to reach but being so unreachable. Everyone was out of the picture like the world had stopped where it was her voice filling it up.

God knows how long you stayed there, watching, but it definitely caught the other three's attention as they nudged the black haired whispering something to her as she turned her head right at you.

It was like a spark went through you as her smiley gaze landed on you, but it quickly died down as her face dropped.

‘She hates me’ you thought due to her facial expression dropping as you felt tears forming. You wanted to run, hide, and never show yourself but it was like you were stuck in a quicksand, unable to move from your spot.

She stared back right at you till she turned her head towards her friends. Saying something that made them all look at you and then back to her.

You wanted to reach out, call her, touch her, explain yourself, but the lump stuck in your throat made it all impossible.

“Ningning!!” you choked out as she was about to start walking away, making her pause in her tracks making her turn to you, standing what felt like kilometers away. You were at a loss for words… she changed, in a good way, but everything about her was different. The way dressed, the way she did her makeup… the way she looked at you.

The last one hurt the most. Her expression was almost unreadable but it was full of hurt and hatred, and you understood her more than anything. You had no idea what to say to her. You haven’t even planned out how to talk to her, thinking she was still in China.

“Can we talk?” you say after a decade

“What is there to talk about?” she says, almost mocking you. Her honey voice was completely replaced with venom. It hurt but you couldn’t blame the girl either.

But she moved against her words because the next thing you knew, she was walking towards you.

‘What the hell is going on right now?’

“What are you gonna say? I’m sorry I ghosted you? Or are you gonna tell me you’re married, because I already know that, everyone in South Korea knew about y/n l/ns marriage BUT me.”

God, it hurts so bad, you couldn’t respond to her. You just stood there while Ningning looked at you like she hated your guts. It made you feel like you were trapped, with the door right in front of you, but it was locked away.

“Answer me y/n!” She yells, demanding an answer from you, knowing you physically couldn’t utter a word. You choke on your sob as you start crying. All you could do was cry.

As she stood there her scent was right in front of you, all you wanted was to grab her into a hug bury your head into her, and never let her go.

For Ningning it almost felt like an instinct to reach out and cup your face, wipe your tears away, and tell you everything was fine when it wasn’t fine, but she would do anything to stop you from crying in front of her. It ate her from inside as she saw your hand reach up to your face, covering your tears away.

The ring.

It should’ve been her who you were married to, not some guy Kai that she knew very well was from a very well-off family.

“I never meant it to get this bad,” you say between sobs as you fall to your knees in the middle of the bridge.

Ningning instantly went down with you as she held your head.

“What do you mean y/n, for god's sake speak to me at least once. Tell me you don’t actually love me so I can let you go”

That was your biggest fear as you looked up at her and clutched onto her wrist “No! No, that's not true!” You yell, desperate for her as she looks at you. Her eyes slowly welled up with tears as she bit her lower lip.

“You’re making everything harder than it should be y/n…”

“I had to Ningning, I couldn’t pick…-” you say as the lump in your throat chokes you from saying anything else.

“What you couldn’t pick”

“My own future…”

Ningnings heart hurt. She didn’t know what you meant at all but one thing was clear to her - everything was against your own wishes. That was enough for her to grab you into a long overdue hug as she held you tight against her.

You melt into her arms as you wrap your arms around her neck, clutching onto her shirt as you sobbed into her. You two stayed this way for a long time till you finally calmed down and steadily started breathing, enjoying her arms around you.

It made you feel complete.

Like you were missing a part of you, and now that it’s back, you would give anything to keep it with you.

She took you to her new place—one that, to your surprise, was just a street away from your own house so near that you almost thought she got it on purpose to stalk you. You could step into the driveway and you were able to see your own house clearly.

‘Seems like she built herself up’ you thought as you stood out in the driveway, staring at your prison perfectly on display while having a blanket wrapped around you.

The younger girl stepped out with two cups of hot chocolate. As she reached one to you.

You guys left her friends behind as she drove you to hers, even though she knew where you lived. She wanted you to be with her only.

Only then you were gonna be able to tell her everything.

You grabbed the cup and held it with you.

“If you’re wondering, yes. I did buy the house to be close to you.”

You felt it coming. You knew it was her dream to live at least close to you, if not with you.

“It’s pretty”

“Yeah, it is.” She says as she slowly turns her head to you. “Care to tell me, properly?..”

“My brother is dead.” You said as you looked back at her. “He’s gone while I suffered for five years because of him.”

‘Suffered’ made Ningnings's ears perk up and feel uneasy.

“You know my… husband, kai. He threatened me that he would leak footage of my brother accidentally killing a woman. To stop him from doing so, I married him.”

“Y/n I’m so—“

“You didn’t know, nobody does, so don’t stress yourself” You smile at her as she sends you a weak smile back at you.

You take a sip from your drink as you turn your head back, now seeing movement in front of your house. It was Kai, slamming his car door and screaming at the staff.

“I couldn’t make sense why you would marry him when I saw him act like a spoiled male brat, but now it all makes sense,” she says as she giggles at his outburst as you crack a smile.

“He’s a boy, seriously. He might be leading his daddy’s company but it will go downhill with his outbursts in around 1-2 years.”

“Then another rival company down,” Ningning says as she turns back to her house and you instantly follow her in.

“CEO Ningning?” You question with a teasing smile as you lean against the kitchen island, next to her.

“Why? Does it turn you on?” She says as she leans on the counter, playing into your game.

“Maybe… you always looked… good working,” you say as you lean towards her now.

It was like something flipped in her as she grabbed your waist and trapped you between her and the counter.

“You’re playing with me, aren’t you”

You looked at her, like a prey trapped with a predator. God, you missed her, the way she touched you, or looked at you. You couldn’t even answer her as you wrapped your arms around her smashing your lips on her, which she responded to immediately.

Her hands went down to your waist, placing herself between your legs as your hands went to her hair, thuggin' at it which caused her to whine into your mouth.

You break the kiss as you look at her with hooded eyes, telling her everything just by looking at her. In an instant you switched positions as now, you were trapping her.

“Let me make up for all the times we missed..” you mumble against her lips as you lay wet kisses from her jaw down to her neck.

The girl was sensitive and you were kissing all of her right spots so all she could do was whine and clutch onto the counter behind her.

Ningning was very impatient with you because it seemed like you were taking an awfully long time with her, so what could a girl do?

She positioned herself on your thigh before so now all she could do was grind against it, searching for some friction, but to no avail. You held her hips down, not letting her chase her desired feeling.

“Getting slightly impatient now are we?” You tease her as she looks at you with her.

At that, you both froze at an incoming doorbell, from the entrance of the driveway, which was guarded with a getaway. It causes both of you to groan as she looks at the security camera installed:

It was your husband, looking as if he's composed and calm but you can read him like an open book: a hint of anger in his left eye, a slight dent in his cheek on his right, which means he is biting on that side, clenched jaw and car in the background messily parked by him. He was mad, for whatever reason.

But how did he know you were even here? And what was he even doing here, in front of Ningning's house?

What confused you even more was, why was Ningning seemingly all okay with it?!. It was like she was expecting him so she opened the gate for him as he walked up the driveway, taken aback by seeing you from the ceiling-tall window.

“Mr. Kai,” she says as she greets him offering her hand to shake, but there is no point in it, he is staring dead at you, not even glancing at Ningning waiting for a handshake. She takes her hand back and chuckles seeing the staring battle between the two. You were staring at him, without any emotion showing, scared that he might suspect something between the two of you.

“We are childhood friends, Mr. Kai, no hard feelings”

“Oh are you guys now?” he says as he turns his head, eyes still on you, but then he looks at Ningning and sends her the psychotic smile that made your skin crawl every time you saw it. You knew he was mad and in an attempt to calm him down, you took a step towards him grabbed his upper arm, and looked at him. The touch was gentle, and that did not go unnoticed by Ningning. Now she was the one clenching her jaw as she looked away.

“Kai don’t cause a scene, she's my friend, we were catching up,” you whisper as he looks down at you. He glares at you but looks up masking it perfectly.

“And here I was, wondering where my wife went,” he says and giggles which Ningning can only manage to send him a fake smile.

‘My wife’ coming from his mouth made Ningning livid. She should be the one saying it. She should be the one you wake up next to but here she was, in front of him.

“We have to go back,” you say as you turn to Ningning “ We are having lunch, right?” you say to him as he nods and grabs your wrist.

“We will talk another time, Ning Yi Zhuo” It was probably your first time hearing her actual name from someone other than her or her parents. But the question was… why would Kai and Ningning even speak about and how did they know each other?

It didn’t take two weeks for you to figure out why would they speak - they’re basically rivals in their job.

Both your husband and Ningning were law firm CEOs and the rivalry between the companies was pretty much known to mankind. So here they were, standing, a drink between their finger at a dinner party, hosted by someone you did not care slightly about.

But what you DID care about, was that the invited person had a chance to bring a plus one. You, as Kai’s wife, were his plus one. But who was Ningning’s plus one? She would never go alone to these kinds of parties, so you hawked around the big room full of people, trying to spot someone you had no idea about.

Till your eyes landed on a familiar one from the day on the bridge with Ningning. The girl had pink hair - very unusual for this kind of dinner, so she stuck out like a sore thumb. You trailed her movements before she approached Ningning, making you clench your jaw.

The way she leaned in, whispered into her ear, backed away, looked at ningning, everything, made your blood boil, why the hell were they so close? But then again, you shouldn’t be the jealous one, you were the reason for the breakup, after all.

You looked away, not wanting to anger yourself with the scenery unfolding right in front of you, that you had no control of. It made you feel uneasy and uncomfortable.

And to top it all, Kai walked over. ‘Great’ you thought, as you mentally got ready to brush off his arm around your shoulder, a move you mastered he loved. But before you could do that, he leaned down to your ear, whispering:

‘Ning yi zhuo is approaching, act like a loving wife, for once, goddamit’

All this caught you off guard, and you looked straight ahead, seeing he wasn’t lying. Ningning was slowly making her way over you two, arms hooked with a pink-haired stranger, as you decided to use this moment.

Be lovely-dovey with your ‘perfect husband’.

So you put your arm up to your shoulder, Kai expecting you to brush him off, even after he asked but instead, you held his hand, as you looked up to him with a reassuring smile, that completely caught him off guard and softened up with his touch around you.

As that happened right in front of Ningning, she wanted to break a glass on his head that he was holding. But what confused her more was, why were you smiling back at him? Didn’t you hate him? Did you just lie to her?

She approaches you two as she reaches out her hand to shake Kai as she looks at him, trying to maintain her composure, that you saw right thru of. ‘It was working as you turned your head towards the couple in front of you two. You send them a small smile as a greeting and watch the two of them shake hands.

“Mr. Kai, so nice to see you,” she says with a smile, you noticed how the left side of her cheek slightly shivered which was obvious she was not having any of the things that were unfolding in front of her.

“Same goes for you, Yizhuo,” he says as he smiles, which you knew was genuine, probably due to you letting him hold your hand. He shifts his gaze onto the pink-haired girl. “Who is this girl? First time seeing someone with hair like… that. Here” he paused, wanting to point out it was not normal to have hair color as bright to a place as honorable and noble as this dinner.

“This is Aeri, my friend,” She says, annoyance visible in her tone. “I think we should go somewhere private, No?” she suggests as you notice the change of posture and stiffness of your husband around you.

Was he always like this?

You didn’t know, you never let him close enough to feel his emotions thru touch.

He slid off hand from your shoulder as he grabbed both of them and turned you towards him, gently as he layed kiss on your forehead, whispering ‘don’t go too far’ as you nodded and smiled up to him.

What were you even doing?

You watched to walk away, as you let out a breath you did not know were holding in as you turned to the aeri girl, sending her a smile as you excuse yourself but you stop when you hear someone call out your name.

You turned realizing it’s Aeri.

“y/n!”

“Yes?” you say as you smile at her, to be polite.

“Be careful.”

“What?”

“I said, be careful”

“Okay? Thank you?” you say confused as you turn on your heel and walk away, replying her words over and over. You walked mindlessly as you arrived to womens restroom and by the corner you hear muffled sounds, what seemed like two persons talking, but they sounded angry at one another. You didn’t wanna be involved but it was right near the bathroom so you walked over, clearly hearing the conversation.

The low whisper-yelling made it obvious to you, who was one of them.

Ningning.

But who was she arguing with???

“Yizhuo stay out of my fucking business!” another whisper yell, but louder.

Kai.

What the hell is going on?

“Your little precious ‘wife’ needs to know the asshole and murder you are, kai.”

Murderer.

It rang in your head, the same feeling of air slowly being taken from you came back, just like when you heard about your brothers passing, but before you process all of that you hear him bite back.

“And you need to stop messing with her head. You only came back to get revenge on me, leave her alone, we both know you don’t care about her, Yizhuo!”

Things just kept getting worse.

She only came back for… revenge? That’s what you only were to her?? A plaything for her to get revenge on your, alleged murderer husband??

What was going on, you had no idea but need to get away was huge so you ran.

You ran out, crying, causing everyone to look at your running figure, confused and taken aback.

You ran till you own legs couldn’t support you.

You fell on the street sidewalk, staring at your own hands, hands that held his in your own.

hands that touched Ningning.

‘She was just using me’ is all you could think and repeat over and over.

Till your own mind shuts off on you.

finished.

god, this has been in my drafts for a while, heh..

#aespa #ningning x fem reader #ningning x reader #kpop gg #kpop wlw smau #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #wlw #kpop fluff #kpop angst #ningning angst #ningning #aespa smau #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x you #ningning x you #ning yizhuo

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sealedsanctuary · 1 year ago

Text

霹靂兵燹 Pili: Military Conflagration · 2002 - Heng Qian Qiu ties the gang up to a tree and forces them to listen to his hilarious jokes.

#pili #pili fantasy #pili military conflagration #霹靂兵燹 #thunderbolt fantasy #taiwan #taiwanese hand puppetry #budaixi #橫千秋 #Heng Qian Qiu #秦假仙 #Qin Jia Xian #Real Fake God #蔭屍人 #Yin Shi Ren #Shades Corpse Man #業途靈 #Ye Tu Ling

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 5 months ago

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Hello,

could you write a Hannibal fanfic soulmate AU. Soulmates can only see colour after they‘ve touched their soulmate.The reader is on a FBI case and meets Dr.Lecter, a few days after being introduced, they accidetanly brush and realise they are soulmates. The reader initially „rejects“ Hannibal, because she‘s scared/ doesn‘t want a soulmate. Habnibal get‘s jealous, because he thinks there is another man in the picture, shows up to her house and then maybe nsfw (Smut) If you are comfortable

Hannibal x Reader: Everything is gray

Warnings: smut, kissing, drinking, roughish sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), female anatomy, male anatomy, fluff, cursing.

Word Count: 3,9K ( whoops 😀)

He looks oddly out of place in his suit. You can’t help but stare at him as he moves around the room. You’ve become used to Hannibal's presence but it usually meant Will Graham was nearby. That wasn’t the case anymore. Not seeing that he was currently locked up in some cell at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. You’d been shocked when you’d found out but you’d been even more shocked when Jack told you Hannibal would be helping you with your current case during Will's absence.

“So he’ll be helping me indefinitely?”

“What makes you say that?”

You give Jack a look that says 'Do you think i’m stupid?’. He lets out a sigh, his hands moving across his face. You can practically see the frustration seeping from his pores. It's one of the reasons you agreed to Hannibal's help without a fight. Jacks going through enough shit as is. He doesn't need you making his life any more hellish than it already is.

You look over to your left, eyes catching the way Hannibal bumps into Beverly and Brain. You look up at the ceiling trying to calm yourself before going over to them. Quietly you move the pictures they’d been observing to another table. They give you a confused look.

“Now you have more space. No need to be all up in each other's business.”

You can’t help but look at Hannibal as the words slip out of your mouth. They are directed to him after all. Something about the way he looks at you tells you he got the message: you’re here to help not to hinder. You move back to your original spot, eyes searching for the right door before pulling it open. You tug the tray out of its confines revealing the corpse of your current case. You don’t realize Hannibal is near you until it's too late. You bump into his body, causing his hand to rest on your back to steady you.

“Dr Lecter you really should be more careful…”

Your words die on your lips as you stare at his eyes.

His brown eyes.

You glance down at his suit instinctively, eyes widening as you realize it's not its usual mixture of gray and black but instead a mixture of reds and oranges you’d never seen before. Your mouth has gone dry. You try to breathe in but it feels like there is no air in the room. Hannibal stares at you, taking in the color of your hair and the beautiful shade that makes up your eyes. A smile threatens to appear across his face but the feeling weakens when he notices the scared look you have plastered on your face. Your head snaps to the corpse near you, noticing the purple bruises that cover its body and its unusually pale tint. Before Hannibal can stop you you’re racing out of the room.

You bust through the doors of the department attracting a lot of attention to yourself. You don’t care though. There is nothing in this world more important than the fact that you can see color. You finally reach the door that leads to the outside. Your legs ache as you run to it, arms reaching for the handle as you push it open in desperation. A broken sound makes its way out of your lips as the world fills your sight. Your eyes move from one side to the other trying to take it all in at once. You can see the green of the trees and the blue sky. Tears stream out your eyes as you allow yourself to revel in the beauty of the world. It's at that moment you realize what this means.

Hannibal is your soulmate.

Your breathing speeds up at the realization. You’d always hated the thought of having been “assigned” to someone from the moment of your birth. You thought it was ridiculous you needed to find your counterpart to be able to fully see the world as it was. And the thought that you had no say in the matter made you even angrier. For so long you’d wished to find your match but only if it meant it was someone you were interested in. Every time you met someone you enjoyed being around you tried to come in contact with them to see if you were soulmates and everytime it didn't work. And now here you were, standing in front of the FBI and trying to understand how Hannibal could possibly be your soulmate. You didn’t even know him! You had nothing alike. And yet he’d been made for you.

You shoved your hand into your pockets searching for your key. Once you’d found it you stomped over to your car noticing for the first time the awful shade of yellow it was.

“Oh fuck me. I’ve been driving around in this?”

You groaned, tugging at the door and jumping into the driver's seat. You close the door, hands going to grip at the steering wheel. Your breath came rapidly. You wanted to scream. And that's exactly what you did. You belt your heart out inside your car until your throat feels raw. Once the anger seemed to have dulled down you moved the mirror so that you could see yourself. You took in the way you looked like in color. Your hands moved over your face as you took in your beauty, a small smile making its way to your face.

Hannibal watched you from the outside of your car door. His heart flutters as he watches you take yourself in. You seem to enjoy what you’re seeing which makes him happy. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t also enjoy the sight of you. Before he can signal to you he’s outside you turn your head in his direction. The scream you let out is dulled due to your door being closed but Hannibal can still hear it well enough. You place a hand on your chest trying to recover from the fright he’d just caused you. When you open your eyes again they are full of anger. You stare at him with a rage he’d never seen before.

“Can we talk?”

“No. Now move.”

“Please we have to-”

“Hannibal, I swear if you don’t move I'll run over your foot.”

He can tell you mean it. Against his wish he takes a step back. You turn your car on, quickly shifting gears before slamming your foot down on the accelerator. Hannibal watches your car speed out of the FBI parking lot and onto the street. He stays out until your car is out of sight. Once he can no longer see the yellow dot in the distance he makes his way inside. He walks back into the morgue and is met with curious glances.

“What the hell was that about?”

Beverly's shocked tone makes him turn to look at her, a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Some kind of emergency. She didn't say what.”

“Must have been in a hell of a rush. She forgot her phone.”

Hannibal's eyes moved over to Brain, gaze falling on the mobile in the other man's hand. An idea entered Hannibal's mind. One he simply couldn’t deny.

“Oh well you could give it to me. I’ll bring it over to her.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you live in the opposite direction of her house?”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Okay then. Well back to the matter at hand. Who is this guy?”

Hannibal's mind wondered as Beverly and Brain continued to speak of the corpse in the room. His pocket felt heavy due to the weight of your phone. He welcomed the feeling. It meant he’d get to talk to you after all. But not before he did some snooping of his own.

You’d stopped at the market on the way home. You left with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream. The second you made it home you uncorked the bottle and began drinking, not even bothering to grab a glass. It was only then that you realized your phone was missing. You tried to gather your thoughts, a task that you found difficult due to the alcohol in your system. When you finally remembered where you’d left your phone you were in no state to drive over to get it. You accepted the fact that you’d have to grab it tomorrow morning. You settled on the couch switching on a random chanell as you stuffed your face with ice cream. It was then that the doorbell rang.

Hannibal managed to guess your password on the fourth try. His finger moved over your phone, eyes moving over the various apps you had. He found your message app, opening it. He scrolled a bit until a name called his attention.

Will Graham.

You’d put a dog emoji next to his name. Hannibal couldn’t help but scoff. He opened the conversation noticing the last message was dated on the day prior to Will’s arrest. He read over your texts with Will. You two talked quite a lot. The messages were of various topics. Things of your life, things about Wills day to day. A lot of the massages happened at late hours of the night, a consequence of Will's nightmares. Whenever Will had a bad dream he’d text you to see if you were up. It seems you usually were because whenever he texted you in a few minutes you replied. Hannibal's heart ached as he continued to read your conversions with Will. You two seemed quite close. Far closer than mare coworkers. Was Will the reason you’d reacted so dramatically when you’d found out Hannibal was your soulmate? Were you in love with Will Graham?

There was only one way to find out.

You stumbled over to the front door groaning as you opened it. You leaned on the doorframe vision slightly blurry as you looked at the figure before you. Hannibal noticed the exact moment you recognized him. Your face scrunched up into a grimace as you looked at him.

“What do you want?”

Despite your intoxicated state the words came out without slurring.

“May I come in?”

You stared at him for a moment, arms crossing over your chest. You looked into his eyes once again, finding their beautiful brown shade. You nibbled at your bottom lip before letting out a sigh. You step to the side, allowing Hannibal to enter.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

Hannibal strode into your living room, his eyes falling on the movie that was playing. You made your way over to the coffee table grabbing the bottle of wine.

“You want some?”

“No thank you.”

“Great cause there’s none left.”

You broke into a laugh, stumbling across the living room into the kitchen. Hannibal went after you, taking in your drunk state. He figured now would be the best time to get an honest answer out of you.

“Have you been fucking Will Graham?”

“What? The hell makes you ask that?”

“You two text quite a lot.”

“And how would you know that….”

Your eyes widened as your brain jumped into action. Hannibal watched the emotions move over your face. You opened and closed your mouth as you struggled to think of what to say.

“So you haven’t fucked him?”

“No i haven’t fucked Will Graham! In case you’ve forgotten he’s locked up.”

You turned to grab a cup of water, the need to sober up suddenly hitting you.

“Oh wait yeah, he's locked up thanks to you!”

You spin around expecting Hannibal to be on the other side of your kitchen but he’s not. Not anymore at least. He’s standing a couple of steps away from you. You gaze up at him with frightened eyes.

“I didn't hear you move.”

“You scared?”

“Of you? Please.”

You said it in a dismissive tone but Hannibal could see the way your hand shook. He grabbed the glass from your hand and placed it on the counter. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth that radiated off him.

“Gosh you smell good.”

Hannibal froze at your words, his head moving to look in your direction. You had your hand covering your mouth, a small look of regret plastered on your features.

“Sorry I'm a bit drunk.”

“But you meant it. Didn’t you?”

Hannibal could see the battle that was currently happening in your head. You wanted to push him away just as much as you wanted to tug him closer. He felt the same way about you but he was going to let you decide the next move. You allowed your hands to rest on his chest, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt your body hum from the contact. Hannibal felt it too, an indescribable feeling of completion washed over him. The two of you stared at each other for a moment.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Hannibal reached into his pocket pulling out your phone. He handed it to you. You grabbed the phone from his hand, your eyes never leaving his. He could feel the lack of your touch on his body. It was driving him insane. But as soon as the feeling came it went. You’d put your phone on the counter and guided your hands back to his body. He watched you move your fingers over the fabric of his suit jacket. Your fingers traced over the pattern that made up his suit.

Hannibal's hand made its way to your face. He curled a piece of your hair around his finger. You glanced up at him. You’d been mad when you found out he was your soulmate but you didn’t really know why. Sure, you had very little in common but Hannibal had never done anything to make you dislike him. Well, other than getting Will locked up that is. You had been really mad at him for that but now, looking up at him as he took in your beauty, all that anger just seemed to slip away. You pushed yourself up a bit, hands gripping onto the lapel of his suit. Hannibal stood still as your face came closer to his. He could feel your breath on his lips due to the proximity. You batted your eyelashes up at him, pupils slightly wide as you tried to convince yourself this was a good idea.

Something in the way he was looking at you seemed to break the last bit of hesitation you still had in you. Your lips met his, eyes closing at the feeling of his soft skin beneath yours. Hannibal's hand moved to grip the base of your head, deepening the kiss. You opened your lips to him, allowing his tongue to slip into your waiting mouth. Hannibal groaned into your mouth, his free hand moving to grip at your waist. He felt your teeth clash against his as the two of you fought for dominance. He knew you were a strong willed person but he wasn’t going to let you win that easily. You bit into his lip trying to regain control. Hannibal winced, the sudden metallic taste filling his mouth. You gasped as you realized what you'd just done.

“Hannibal i’m so sorry i din-”

Before you could finish your sentence Hannibal let out a growl, his hand moving to lift you up onto the counter. You let out a yelp as you felt the cold marble beneath your barely covered ass. You looked up at him, eyes widening as you took in the wild look in Hannibal's eyes. He moved a step away from you, removing his suit jacket. You watched him push his sleeves up before beginning to sink to his knees. Hannibal looked up at you, his hand resting on your thighs. He could tell by the shocked look you were giving him that you weren't expecting to see him on his knees for you.

“Open your legs from me dear.”

Without even thinking you did as he asked. Hannibal grinned as he caught sight of the wet patch on your shorts. He let out a small “tsk”, his hand moving to rub against your clothed cunt. You gasped at the feeling, eyes closing. The doctor smiled at the sight, his hand moving to wrap around the waistband of your shorts.

“Lift your hips.”

Once again you follow his instructions, allowing him to tug off your shorts and underwear. You watched him carefully fold your clothes before placing them beside him. You pant as Hannibal inches himself closer to your bare cunt. His warm hands move over your thighs, stroking them gently for a moment. He can tell from your body that you're desperate from him but he won't give you what you want.

Not until you ask him, that is.

Something in your mind seemed to understand what was happening. The hand that was griping at the marble counter moved to cup Hannibal's cheek. He looks up at you, observing your chest move up and down quickly as you try to maintain composure. You call out his name, tongue jutting out to wet your lips before speaking again.

“Hannibal, please give me what I want.”

“Oh now you want me huh?”

It wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't fair but he wanted to hear you say it. No. He needed to hear you say it. Needed verbal confirmation that you had accepted you were his. Then, and only then, would he give himself up to you. You let out an annoyed sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head before looking back down at him. Your brows furrowed dramatically as you moved your body forward, allowing Hannibal to get a glimpse of your breasts. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips at the sight, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Please Hannibal. I want you.”

“Say it again.”

“I. Want. You.”

You barely had enough time to grab onto the marble beneath you, before Hannibal was dragging to the edge of the counter. You gasped as his tongue made contact with your folds. You threw your head back, hands moving to latch onto Hannibal's hair. He had his eyes closed, completely focused on the task at hand. You were a mess above him. Your mouth was open wide, pants and moans slipping from your lips like a symphony composed only for Hannibal's ears. Your hips bucked up onto his face,causing his nose to rub up against your clit.

“Ah Hannnibal i-fuck-like that.”

He almost couldn’t breath due to how desperately he was eating you out but he wouldn’t want it any other way. Your hands moved to grasp onto his shoulders as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over you. Your body tensed as you gushed all over his face. Hannibal continued to lap at your cunt even as your body sagged backwards, head moving to rest on the wall behind you. Once he was fully satisfied he removed his face from your pussy, his hands moving to the floor as he lifted himself off the ground. You watched him grab the handkerchief from his suit pocket before using it to wipe off your cum from his chin. It was one of the fucking hottest things you’d ever seen.

You wanted to kiss him but your body felt like mush. You put your hand out to him in a silent request for him to come to you. He did as you asked, his large frame moving to you in a calm manner. You groaned as you pushed your body off the wall, arms moving to wrap around his neck. Hannibal looked into your blissed out face, waiting for your next move. You pressed a light kiss to his lips. It was a lot less desperate then the first kiss you’d given him but he could still feel the need in it. He pulled away resting his head on your forehead. Hannibal listened to you breathing for a moment before pulling away so that he could look at your eyes.

“Can you stand?”

“Wow, overconfident much?”

He hadn't meant it that way. Sure he knew he was skilled and you had just covered his face with your juices but he didn’t mean to brag. It was a genuine question. You hopped off the counter, your hands moving to rest against his chest once more. He was getting used to being this close to you.

“See? I still have control over my legs.”

“Not for long.”

You gave him a quizzical look but before you could retort he’d flipped you around. You let out a grunt as he pushed your body on the counter, his hips slotting against your ass. You could feel the hard outline of his dick against your pussy. The thought alone made you clench around nothing. You heard him tug his zipper open before leaning his body over yours. You whined as you felt his dick against your pussy, head moving to the side so you could look at him. He placed a kiss on your cheek.

“This might hurt a bit.”

“Nothing I can't han-ah-shit!”

His size shocked you. You’d never stopped to think about that factor until now and it was safe to say you were truly surprised. Hannibal bottomed out with a groan. His hands moved against your ass caressing it for a moment before giving it a harsh slap. You let out a yelp, your cunt clenching around his dick. A laugh made its way out of Hannibal's lips.

“You like it rough?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already are.”

Without so much of a warning Hannibal pulled all the way out before ramming back into you. Your mouth slacked open as he pistoned into you. Your nipples rubbed against the cold counter, the feeling only making you more aroused. Your orgasm started to creep into you again. It was alarming how fast he had managed to get you to cream around his cock. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop. Oh no. Hannibal would continue to fuck into you until his name was the only thing you could remember.

Still even he had his weaknesses.

So even though he wanted to keep you wrapped around him for days on end after a while his own orgasm started to wash over him. Your body was already sagged over the counter, the conteless of orgasms he’s pulled out of you making you weak. You were beginning to become over-stimulated but you wanted Hannibal to cum. You moved your head so you could see him. He was laser focused on the spot where your body connected to his, brows furrowed as he watched his dick move in and out of you. You called out his name with a broken moan. His head snapped up, eyes finding your tear stained face.

“Please give it to me. I can’t- uhm- take it anymore.”

The look on your face was enough to get him going. You felt his seed fill your cunt as he moaned. His hips continued to buck against you as you milked him. You felt him lean forward, his chest coming in contact with your back as he tried to steady his breathing. His lips moved over your neck placing small kisses to the skin.

“My girl.”

“All yours.”

You’d been hesitant at first but now you are sure. You were made to be Hannibals. Your body knew it and your heart did too.

#smut fanfiction #smut #smut tag #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter #hannibal #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads x reader #mads mikkleson #mads mikkelsen smut #mads mikkelsen #hannibal tv show #nbc hannibal #hannibal brainrot #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader

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gothicminxx · 11 months ago

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WC: 2.3K

Satosugu x Gn reader!

CW: Mention of blood, mention of death, description of a corpse, slight angst w/ comfort, use of pet names (baby, pretty, angel), poly relationship Satosugu x reader.

Song suggestion for beginning:

Summary: Your two boyfriends comforting you after a nightmare, all around pure fluff

The sky burned hues of angry red and a deadly orange, the smell of death prominent in the air that it made you clasp a hand over your mouth. It stung your lungs and made your eyes tear at the harshness of the stench. The trekk back to safety felt far, like the destination itself was unattainable or perhaps it didn’t exist. The feeling of your legs burning and your muscles aching made the journey that much more unbearable.

Everywhere you looked there were corpses of people you didn’t recognize followed by thick grey clouds of smoke. Your body felt sticky with your blood, tears, and sweat— everything hurt, a pain so agonizing it made you want to shrivel up and die. When did things turn out this way? It seemed as though memories of blue skies and the warmth of the sun were long gone. Instead it was replaced with the ugliest shade of red and reeking scent of death.

You took sharp inhales of breath that pierced your lungs, you felt this time around you were truly going to die alone. It was silent in the city besides the crackling of fires in the distance, as if you were the last person standing.

That was until you saw him. The tuffs of pink hair and tattoo markings along his flesh as he sat high and mighty on his throne. A malicious smirk lay proudly on his lips as if he had conquered the world and cleansed the Earth of those he deemed unworthy of life. The king of all curses, Sukuna Ryomen, looked back at you with fiery red eyes. Your lips trembled as if you had finally found your demise, but it seemed like a blessing rather than a punishment.

The piles of corpses that lay beneath his throne; two stuck out the most. The first being long raven hair with a disheveled bun, thick crusts of dried blood in the strands, the lifeless face of Suguru Geto stared back at you. Next to him was pearly white hair that was stained with red, rosy lips dripping with crimson liquid. Cerulean eyes had now turned pale and utterly unrecognizable, the great Satoru Gojo was dead.

Falling to your knees as their corpses lay mangled before you, shattered you in the worst way. A crippling scream left your lungs that it felt as though your throat had ripped in two. Fat tears fell from your eyes and stung the open cuts on your face, during your moment of mourning you could hear Sukuna’s mocking laughter. Satisfied at the agony you felt as the two most important people in your life now lay dead.

You hugged yourself tightly as you continued to scream loudly, not remotely concerned about the rippling pain in your throat. Why couldn’t have you been strong enough to protect them? Why weren’t you fast enough?

Why? Why? Why?

“Name?”

The angry red sky and Sukuna’s face diminished from your view as you jolted up in bed. Sweat dripped from your forehead as hair stuck to the wet flesh, your oversized shirt clung to your body. Eyes darted around the room, moonlight streamed in through a sliver of the curtain. It was dark, making it almost impossible to focus besides the loud beating in your chest that felt as though you were on the verge of a heart attack.

“Name?” There it was, that deep voice coaxed with sleep and concern that made you snap out of it, your wide eyes turning to your left. Suguru stared at his lover, placing his hand on your thigh and squeezing tightly. The sounds of your screams and frantic moving in bed had jolted the raven haired man from his slumber.

Clutching your chest as your lips quivered, “Su-Suguru?” You croaked out as a small sob emitted past your lips.

That was enough to shatter his heart in two, hearing your voice so small and broken made him want to cry. Suguru was quick to wrap you tightly in his arms, kissing the top of your head. He tried his best to not wake Satoru next to him, of course his efforts would be in vain. Especially when it comes to you. The six eyes could sleep through a bomb but when it came to you it’s as if his body knew.

Satoru rubbed sleep from his eyes to adjust to the dark room, hearing soft sobs as he turned his attention towards Suguru. His heart sank immediately as he witnessed his lover hold you tightly, you, his whole world, clutching desperately onto Suguru’s shirt like your life depended on it.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asked as he immediately shot up, quick to be close to Suguru’s side as his giant hand cupped the back of your head. The two men shared panicked looks as they held onto you tightly, listening to every sob that left your lips.

You couldn’t muster a word if you tried, the only thing you could manage were their names in wails. It hurt like hell to see you in such a state and the best they could do was squeeze you in reassurance. The two strongest sorcerers were utterly weak when it came to you, that even a mere scratch on your pretty skin made them anxious. It simply couldn’t be helped— they loved you too much.

Suguru shrugged as he looked at Saturo, a deep frown etched on his lips. The worry was evident on his face the more he felt you shake in his arms, “‘s okay, we’re here baby, we’re right here.” Suguru whispered, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

Satoru laid his head on Suguru’s shoulder as he ran his fingers through your hair, trying his best to soothe you with his touch. Sometimes he wished there was a technique to get rid of the suffering within your heart, to take away the pain you felt or whatever made you cry. If he was the strongest, why couldn’t a technique like that exist? It didn’t seem fair to him.

As moments passed and their soothing touches never faltered, your sobs began to quiet down allowing you to find your voice, “I saw your dead bodies…” You croaked out, a small whimper escaping your lips, “Sukuna, h-he, I-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, shaking your head as another sob threatened its way out of your lungs.

The two men shared knowing looks, since being faced with the king of curses just shy of two months ago, it was something deeply engraved in their minds. The lives of innocents lost and nearly dying themselves, it often haunted their dreams. You as of lately hadn’t been able to sleep much, you could still hear the screams of the humans, the smell of death around you. It was a stench unlike any other, not even the smell of a curse could match that.

A day where Satoru felt as though he had lost everything, Suguru laying in the asphalt covered in blood and barely gasping a breath of air. You barely clinging onto the oxygen the trees provided, chest barely heaving up and down— slowly dying. It was an event that altered your brains and made sleep hell.

Recently Satoru had found a way to evade the dreams, sending himself into a spiral of a sugar high that made him crash intensely. While Suguru drowned himself in sleepy time tea because it made him dream of anything but that. But you rarely manage the nightmares anymore, rarely sleeping, or finding the excuse to nap during the day with your lovers on the couch.

“Oh angel, we’re here. We’ll never leave you, I promise.” Satoru pressed his nose in your hair, inhaling the soft aroma that belonged to you. His voice held an edge to it, one where he himself was reassuring his mind that he’d protect you and Suguru with his life. That he guaranteed.

Suguru pressed a kiss to your temple, gently lifting you from his chest and placing you in Satoru’s lap, “I’ll go make some tea.” He murmured, standing from the huge bed and heading toward the kitchen. He’d do anything to comfort you, to make you warm and whole once more. It was also an excuse to let his tears fall from his eyes, Suguru didn’t want to cry in front of you, no, he needed to be strong when you needed him. He couldn’t help it, the way your lips trembled and your tears streaked down your face, it hurt his heart to see you so afraid of losing them. He understood that fear too well, facing Sukuna and his limits being tested— feeling so useless once he used up the last bit of cursed energy that he couldn’t protect you or Saturo broke him mentally.

You laid your head against Satoru’s chest, fisting his shirt tightly in your hands, and you were wrinkling the fabric. But he didn’t care, holding you tightly against him that you could hear the gentle thumping of his heart. He cupped your cheek, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. Satoru gently rocked your bodies to and fro, trying his best to soothe his lover— as your cries died down and all that remained of your tears were the salty stains they left behind, he knew he was doing good. “Hey there, pretty baby.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Hi.” You managed, voice hoarse from how dry your sobs made your throat, “‘Toru please don’t ever go.”

A pang could be felt in the six eyes chest at your soft and defeated voice, he loved you so much it hurt. “Never, I’m the strongest… remember?” Satoru winked down at you, chuckling in hopes to lighten the mood— to hide the fear he felt of one day failing to protect you, but that’s not possible; he hopes.

But somehow you manage a weak smile and nod, he was Satoru Gojo, your dumb and cocky boyfriend that always protected you from the bad guys, how could you not trust him? When it came down to it, even during the battle with Sukuna, you had put your trust in both Satoru and Suguru. The two men made a vow amongst each other and with you, that they would do anything and everything to protect those they loved. Neither had failed yet in keeping that promise it was near and dear to their hearts.

Satoru gazed ahead to the sheer cream colored curtains that swayed in the breeze, the moonlight made its way inside a small crack— bright and welcoming as it gently caressed your cheek. A small twinkle evident in your eyes as you looked up at him with sheer admiration, it made his heart swell. Taking your hand in his he intertwined your fingers together, bringing the back to his lips to press a kiss there, nuzzling his cheek against it.

He wasn’t the type that liked to admit just how much he worried about you and Suguru. That when either of you cried or felt a negative emotion that his heart would feel tight and the air unbearable to breathe. He’d do anything to keep those beautiful smiles on your faces, anything to rid the evil of the world just for you and Suguru. “I love you, name. Nothing in this world will ever take us away from you.” And he meant every word.

The six eyed sorcerer leaned down, tilting your chin up to meet him in the middle, and you swore you inhaled a deep breath at the sight of cerulean eyes glittering in the moonlight. His soft lips came in contact with yours washing away the fears and worries— images of his dead corpse fading into nothingness. He tasted like cherry chapstick and vanilla cake as he swiped his tongue in your mouth. An earlier dessert he had after dinner to focus on “grading assignments”, but it truly was just a greedy indulgence.

The kiss was passionate and slow, Satoru wanting you to feel every emotion he felt in just one kiss, to truly remind you that you had his heart forever. You pulled away, placing your forehead against his, “I love you too.”

A small hum came from the doorway, Suguru stood with a tray of ceramic cups filled with sleepy time tea. He hoped that it would subside the night terrors for you as it did him, a smile of adoration etched itself on his lips as he saw his two lovers nestled up together. He walked inside your guys’ bedroom and placed the tray on the nightstand. You sat up straight and moved over to Suguru’s lap the moment he sat down in bed. Burying your face in the crook of his neck and inhaling the light smell of jasmine and cedar wood. Suguru immediately wrapped his arms around you and let out a sigh of content, “Feeling better?” He asked.

“Mhmm, sorry for worrying you.” You murmured.

“Don’t apologize angel, I'm just glad you feel better.” Suguru whispered.

The raven haired man handed you the ceramic mug, watching as you blew on the hot liquid to take a drink. He took the opportunity to move your hair from your face, and mentally thanked Satoru for comforting you. The white haired man smiled fondly, scooting into your side to sandwich you in between them.

As honey danced on your tongue from the warm beverage, you couldn’t help but steal a kiss from Suguru’s lips as a thank you for the tea. His hand cupping the back of your head to deepen it, lapping his soft tongue with yours, “I want a kiss too.” Satoru whined, giggling as the two of you pulled away and peppered his face with kisses.

Your night terror became a distant memory, the fear you felt for the king of curses now seemed so minuscule as you pressed against Satoru’s chest and wrapped in Suguru’s arms. Your two strong sorcerer’s that would do anything to keep you safe. Their warm embrace lulling you to a comforting dreamless sleep.

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moog-rt · 9 months ago

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GO TO HELL [ch. 1]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Prologue

➨ Chapter One

Next: Chapter Two

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): blood, gore, cannon-typical violence

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER ONE

Your head throbbed, and cradling it with your hand only turned it into a piercing pain rather than dulling it.

You were careful as you worked to stand up. It was hard to grab hold of anything sturdy enough to support your weight, and upon closer inspection, it turned out you were taking a power nap in a pile of garbage. And, boy, was that shit rank.

You stumbled your way onto solid ground whilst picking gunk-covered plastic from your shirt and hair.

The surroundings that greeted you were unlike anything you could imagine. The sky appeared polluted with red smog so thick you couldn’t see the sun, though it didn’t smell like the kind of pollution you were used to. Rather than chemical, it stank of smoke and decay.

Every breath you took of this new atmosphere felt thick and raspy. You weren’t sure you could really even consider it breathable. You were probably inhaling a handful of carcinogens by the second.

From what you could see through the gap of the two buildings that made up the alley you were in, there was a city. It was as if the materials of the buildings were selected to complement the sky. Everything was a different shade of red or burgundy. The plumes of smoke that tunneled up in the distance were mildly concerning, though they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.

It was all enough to drive a clear sense of dread through your gut. No way in Hell were you supposed to be here. You should be on your way to Devon’s place- No, you were at Devon’s place, in their living room.

And now you were…well, you didn’t really know. That was kind of the problem.

The panic only truly set in after you tripped, scraping your knees on the filthy cement. You didn’t want to know what caused that dark brown, slightly chunky stain. Turning to face the lump that caused your stumble, your stomach plummeted. Face paled.

That was a corpse. A whole not-so-human corpse. Mangled and lying motionless in a pool of blood that was beginning to dry.

In an instant, you threw yourself off of the ground, backpedaling away from the body. What on Earth could have caused their limbs to bend in so many directions? On second thought, you hoped it would stay a mystery.

You couldn’t ruminate on it for long before you felt something large grab your shoulder, hoisting you around so your back was facing the alley. You winced as the grip grew tighter and looked up to see a green-skinned man with jagged teeth protruding from his mouth.

In that instant, it felt as if your heart had been launched a thousand feet in the air.

His pitch-black eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to your face, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move or utter a single word. His grip moved to your neck, turning your head around so he could see you from every angle. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, he brought his nose to your cheek and inhaled deeply.

“A human,” he said in a grumbly voice. You could see a corner of his lips curl into a wicked smile. “That’s a first. It’d be a shame to let you go to waste.”

Go. You had to go.

To have a freeze-response in a situation like this was a death sentence. You hadn’t the slightest clue what this man’s–this thing’s–intentions were with you, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be pleasant.

You had to move. Even if it was just an inch, just enough to convince yourself that you still could. You would take either fight or flight over this.

“Is that soul still living?”

Your eyes flicked over to the source of the new voice. A tall, reptilian-looking creature with eyes that seemed to be bugging out of its head. They were no more comforting than the man who was only a few inches away from strangling you.

“Fuck off! I found ‘er. She’s mine!” Apparently, the lizard-man was enough to draw your assailant’s attention away from you.

Lizard-man did not in fact fuck off. That response was the confirmation that only further drew him in. Looking around, you noticed other inhuman creatures turning their attention toward the three of you.

The lizard-man made a sudden lunge for you, digging claws into the green man’s arms. He hollered out in pain with an endless string of curses.

In that moment, you felt his grip on you loosen, and you dropped to the ground like dead weight. This was your chance. Likely your only chance before both of them pounced on you at once. Maybe more by the looks of the other creatures closing in, as well.

Relief washed over you as you slowly moved your arm to push you up. The mental confines over your body had been released, and just in time. You were able to clumsily roll out of the way as the men threw each other to the ground, and with wobbly legs, you promptly hauled ass out of there.

You could hear screams of rage and surprise as you shoved through the people on the street, apologizing occasionally. You could feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning into the back of your head, and you were almost certain that some had given chase.

The odd buildings blurred past you. You may have caught a glimpse of a shop with televisions on display and another that looked as though human limbs were hanging on meat hooks, but this was no time for window shopping. All of it caused your head to spin from both physical and emotional whiplash.

The first corner you turned revealed a massive light-up sign that towered above everything else with text saying, “Welcome to Hell.”

What kind of twisted joke was this?

You ducked into another alleyway. Nobody was around, but you could still hear yelling close behind you. Your heart felt as though it stopped for a second as you took notice of a massive barricade blocking off the only exit. The first sliver of your luck finally showed itself to you in the form of a small gap that could be just big enough for you to fit.

You were forced to slow down in order to wiggle your way through it, allowing your pursuers to catch up. Just when you thought you had cleared the blockade, that big green hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you back.

You cried out and pulled as much as you could until your foot slid out of your sock, successfully freeing you. Padding barefoot through this wretched city wouldn’t be pleasant, but you were sure it was better than whatever those things had planned for you.

As you pushed back into a sprint, you heard the green man’s voice screaming at the others about how he wouldn’t let them through before him. That was fine by you. He was much too big to fit through that hole, and you doubted he could scale the wall completely. If he was dead set on not letting anyone pass before him, then you probably had all the time in the world. Even so, you wouldn’t feel safe until you could get as far as your legs could carry you.

So, ignoring your burning lungs and pounding heart, you pushed forward. Through the streets that grew more and more disheveled, collapsed buildings, cracked and upheaved asphalt roads. The lack of shoes only made it that much worse as your feet were getting sore. You were slowing down, but you refused to stop until you found someplace suitable to take refuge.

After the last main row of the city, there was a hill. And on top of that hill, there was a hotel.

Or so the sign on it said. Happy Hotel.

You could tell it was probably supposed to light up, but it wasn’t on, either because it was daytime (you assumed) or the bulbs were burnt out. Both seemed equally likely. The place was massive but appeared to be a hodgepodge of things all shoved into one, a cruise ship crashed into one side, a train on top of the roof… But despite its general run-down appearance, the stained glass windows remained untouched as if they were brand new.

It would be a gamble on whether this place was inhabited or not, but at least it was out of that shit show of a city. Probably the safest thing you’d come across thus far.

Besides, it was a hotel. Maybe you still had one of your cards in your pocket. If not, there was always Apple Pay, right?

The final push up the hill really did you in, leaving you panting and covered in sweat at the front door. You were dying to sit down and rest, but you wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so until you were inside.

Seeing the building up close left you even more confused about whether or not the place was still running. The majority of the double front doors were stained glass with an apple shape in the center of each. It was quite beautiful. But at the same time, the edges of the frame appeared chipped and rotted, showing the building’s true age.

You were just thankful when the door creaked open without a fight. You didn’t want to resort to breaking in through one of those wonderful windows. With how loud it would be, you might as well scream out your arrival.

Aside from some of the detailed woodwork and repetitive apple iconography, the inside of the hotel was a bit sad to put it frankly. Little to no furniture. Cobwebs coating everything. The chandelier holding on by a thread (maybe the cobwebs were preventing it from falling). There was a minifridge, though!

You couldn’t imagine you would be lucky enough to find a cold bottle of water in there, but you decided to check to be sure. The cool air alone, wafting out as you opened its door, alleviated some of your discomfort. Unfortunately, there was no water or any beverage, for that matter. Inside were a couple of applesauce(?) cups and a styrofoam take-out container.

The fact that there was anything at all was concerning as it was a bit of confirmation there were already inhabitants. You would need to keep looking for a safe place to stay unless they ended up being the odd few in this town that weren’t out for blood.

On cue, cool metal prodded the back of your neck as you were closing the fridge, and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” asked the person behind you. Their voice was cold and harsh, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. So much for going unscathed.

“I was just looking for somewhere to rest. I’m sorry for intruding,” you said just above a whisper, raising your hands instinctively.

“You want to stay here?” a chipper voice cut through the air, echoing a bit in the large, empty foyer. They sounded almost happy you were trespassing. “Vaggie, this could be our first guest!”

“Babe, the hotel isn’t even open yet,” the first voice sighed before the metal was pulled away from your skin. You took that as an invitation to turn around.

Before you stood two young women–you’d guess late teens or early twenties. They were the most human-like people you had the pleasure of coming across since waking up in a hot pile of garbage. The only thing that threw you off was their grey and porcelain white skin tones. It was as if they were pulled out of a black-and-white movie from the ‘50s.

You’d take what you could get at this point. At least they didn’t have scales.

“We’ll just have to move up our grand opening then,” the taller girl sang with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. She bounded over to you, squatting down to meet you at eye level. “Would you be interested in a shot at redemption? It doesn’t matter what you’ve stolen or who you’ve murdered. Everyone deserves a second chance!”

Was this chick for real? What did redemption have to do with a hotel? And why would you need to be redeemed?

Your mouth hung open as your eyes bobbed between the two strangers.

“Wait a second…” The shorter girl–who you realized was the one holding a fucking spear to your neck–suddenly went wide-eyed. “You’re a human. Jesus, she’s a human!”

The blonde stared at her for a moment before turning back to you with knit eyebrows.

“Really? How do you know?” she asked with a tilt of her head as her eyes darted all over you, looking for some tell-tale sign of your humanity.

In what world is it surprising to see a human? You hadn’t been shipped to Mars. That you were certain of.

Then you came to your own realization.

Devon must have drugged you! That was the only way this could make any sense. Was it acid? LSD? You’d have to ask them after you sobered up. Or maybe after you wring their scrawny little neck, because the therapy you’d need after this was sure to cost a fortune.

The hand that landed on your shoulder caused you to flinch. The shorter girl–Vaggie–was kneeling in front of you now. Her touch was delicate as if she was worried she’d break you if she put enough pressure. A stark contrast to the way she treated you a minute ago.

“How did you get here?” she asked in a much softer tone than earlier.

You let out a huff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh. You smiled, shaking your head as your body slumped back against the fridge.

“I don’t even know where here is,” you laughed. “I was in my friend’s apartment one second and being hunted down by a mob of demons the next.”

The two exchanged a look before helping you to your feet. They settled you down on a couch, one of the few pieces of furniture they had, and got you a glass of water to sip on. The scrapes and cuts you had gotten during your chase, or possibly before it, were treated to, as well. The foot that lost its sock was particularly nasty.

They introduced themselves and explained that you were in Hell. You reckon you should have figured that one out from the big-ass sign you saw while running for your life.

In return, you told them the last few things you could remember before ending up here. Helping your friend with a demon-summoning ritual and getting dragged through a glowing hole in the ground as a result.

“Sounds like that backfired a bit,” Vaggie said. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, a bit. That’s what I get for doing my friend a solid, I guess,” you shrugged, leaning back as you gulped down more of the water.

“Oh, don’t say that. At the end of the day, you helped a friend, and you found us! And we’ll definitely make sure you get home safe and sound,” Charlie grinned as she gently placed a hand on your knee.

You gave a small smile in return. You’re not sure how much you believed in her words, but it was sweet of her to try to reassure you. Her hope was almost infectious, and you could use as much of that as you could get.

“Also, you’re totally welcome to stay here for as long as you need! We’ve got plenty of rooms, and I’m sure we’ll start getting more furniture soon, and if there’s any food you’d like us to get, we can–”

“Baby, slow down,” Vaggie chuckled.

“Sorry…I guess I’m just really excited. You would be our first guest, and I’ve also never seen a human other than my mom before, and even she’s a special case…” Charlie said, looking off to the side as she brushed a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

“The only humans we technically have are the ones that die and are deemed sinners,” Vaggie explained. “But they take on a new appearance. Usually, it reflects something within their soul.”

Huh.

“That’s…interesting,” you said, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. What does being a lizard man say about that dude’s soul? And what about being green? Maybe it was his favorite color? Or maybe he was green with envy. Haha.

“So what do you say?”

You looked at Charlie to see her holding her hand out to you. If the two of you were making a deal, she wasn’t really getting anything out of it. It was pure charity work…

“Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you in return,” you said, taking her hand.

With that, the two young women gave you a brief tour of the hotel. It was still a work in progress, but you could see Charlie’s vision. If they just cleaned it up a bit and filled in the space, it would look livable. You would be more than happy to help with that if you ended up spending enough time there, though you hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

If you weren’t back soon, your place would start getting cobwebs. You also couldn’t miss too many days of work…PTO wasn’t infinite, and you had bills to pay. Your coworkers would also have it out for you if you left them short-staffed.

What if they started putting up missing flyers? Hopefully, they wouldn’t blame the coworker you convinced to go home early. She was the last person you were spotted with in public, after all. No one knew you were going to Devon’s, so it was unlikely they’d take the blame.

Maybe the guy you had been in a situationship with for the last several months would be their suspect. Most of your friends knew all about him (primarily because you’d bitch and whine so much), and it’s not uncommon for people to point fingers at the ‘partner.’

He raised a few red flags here and there, sure, but what man hasn’t? None of them were even close to kidnap-murder level. Mostly just picking his toes in public and swearing on his life that his exes were the crazy ones, not him. Nothing necessarily surprising.

You needed to stop worrying and start embodying Charlie’s confidence in the situation. You would find a way to get back. You would not be stuck in Hell long enough to raise alarm. You just had to manifest it!

Eventually, your hosts showed you to the room you could stay in. It was one of the few furnished ones besides their room at the moment. They also gave you a change of clothes after realizing just how dirty (and smelly) yours were after waking up in a trash heap. Plus, you had two socks again!

You met back up with them in the foyer when you were finished. They wanted to discuss possible ways you could get out of Hell, which you had absolutely no problem with. The two of them brainstormed for a bit while you just sat back and listened in. Vaggie brought up that some upper-class ‘hellborns’ had ways in and out of Hell, but she didn’t have any specifics.

You felt bad not contributing, but what did you know about traveling between the living world and Hell? Jack, that’s what.

“Do you think your dad would know? He’s probably had to get to Earth for some reason or another, yeah?” Vaggie asked, but she was met with a grumble of a response.

“I don’t know…” Charlie said with a frown, all her hopeful energy zapped away in an instant. “He’s never been super helpful with stuff like this.”

“Come on, babe. If anybody would know, it would be him,” Vaggie pressed. “He’s gotta have something we could use.”

Charlie simply groaned as she threw her upper body over the arm of the sofa and sat like that for a minute or two. It was possible that she wasn’t on very good terms with her father. Or he was just exasperating to deal with.

You sent a worried look at Vaggie, because what were you supposed to do in this situation?

“Okay, yeah. We can swing by my old house tomorrow and poke around,” Charlie said as she stood up.

“Great, but you,” Vaggie jabbed her finger in your direction. “Get ready to wake up bright and early. We’ll have to make you presentable first.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Next Chapter

#Lucifer Magne #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Magne x Reader #Lucifer Morningstar x Reader #female reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Charlie Magne #Charlie Morningstar #Demon Summoning #Occult #once again i am so sorry there is no lucifer this chapter either #i swear he will be in the next one #pinky promise

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neominthe · 10 months ago

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Practicing character design with some novel's MCs. Here are my headcanons:

Cheong Myeong

Bulky and beefy body. Big arms and hands, which can't be seen as his robes are too big on him

Tanned skin as he trains in the sun a lot, but only on the hands, face and neck since they aren't covered by his Mount Hua robes

I headcanon him as short since he started exercising from an early age in unhealthy amounts, stunting his growth

Super curly hair which Cheong Myeong keeps constantly in a ponytail. At one point in time he will pull in a bun to keep it from tangling

Sharp eyes with extremely long eyelashes

Han Yoojin

I'm a sucker for gaining weight representing character is in a safe and happy place for them

His nose is like a button, a feature he shares with Yoohyun

Yoojin has curlier hair than Yoohyun, though does not care for it. As a result, it's constantly messy and tangled, adding to the 'single mother who has two jobs' look

In the novel (I can't remember which chapter) it is mentioned that Yoojin gained a bit of skin color, making him look healthier. I followed the webtoon skin color (which was like white paper) and darkened it a bit, to look healthier but still very light

Yoojin has pieces of Sung Hyunjae's wardrobe on him. The guy has a lot of money, surely he won't be missing his 100k dollar suit right? (Hyunjae allows it since it is Yoojin stealing and it kinda "marks his territory". You know, like a dog)

Park Moondae

After receiving Idol Inc' sweather, he always wears it as Moondae is too lazy to go buy his own clothes (and to save money)

He got the shoes from Seon Ahyeon, which were one size bigger than his. Moondae doesn't bother telling Ahyeon he got the wrong size, so wearing it causes blisters

Moondae has "dead fish eyes" and a small mouth, making him look like the emoji '-' Fans find it adorable, though

He got a soft jawline and a thin face, as well as a pointy nose

It's possible to determine Moondae's emotion by the glint of his eyes, but only his close friends can do it precisely

Kim Dokja

I didn't intend to make him look like a corpse, but as I kept drawing it felt more and more right for him to be that way. He was an office worker and only had one happiness: a webnovel

Dokja spends most of his time indoors, so he is very pale and lacking of vitamin D. As he became a constellation and Demon King, his complexity worsened and looked inhumane, turning grey ash

He is able to retract his wings, but not his horns. They are constantly out and a burdensome, since Dokja often forgets they are there, making him hit the doorframe several times

Dokja's hair covers a part of his face (an ode to the damn censorship Bihyung added) and is choppy because he cuts his own hair. If cared and brushed almost every day, it would be like his mom's: flowy and soft

He has long eyelashes, especially on the lower lid, and downturned eyes, which makes him look gloomy and teary-faced

I imagine Dokja having a bit of a hunchback from all the time he spends in his phone and working in a computer

Dokja also has long legs, which he keeps hidden under his tattered coat

Cale Henituse

The man has a thin and tall body, to the point he seems both elegant and fragile at the same time

Cale has light skin due to his time spent indoors or under every shade he can find whenever he has to go out

Cale's features are mostly pointy, with sharp angles and straight lines running down. His nose is upturned, has arched eyebrows and sharp eyes

The straight hair was inherited from Deruth's parents, Cale's gradparents and red obviously from Jour

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months ago

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Creep darling and totally not a cannibal darling in the same room?

Sincerely, Femboy Creep's Sacrifice :)

[mentions of cannibalism]

".....Are you gonna eat that?"

The creep shakes their head, wiping the blade of their pocket knife on their pants leg. "No.."

"Whelp..." Despite past claims of loathing the taste of their fellow man, the cannibal is a pawn to impulse as they crotch to the floor - sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of the body lying at their feet. The blood that gushes onto their waiting tongue is still warm. The creep watches on, memorized by the cannibal's joy at a fresh meat and the soft crunches following almost animalistic snarls that fall from their lips as they rip into their prey.

The cannibal stops themselves before they've eaten all of their meal - who knows when they'll get one like it again. The creep stares at them, eyes bouncing from their mouth to where droplets of blood fell upon their shoes. A hunger different from the cannibal's grips at their stomach. Was this the feeling that stalker claimed to have possessed them into pursuing them?

"...You've got something on your face."

The cannibal touches anywhere but the gore staining their face. "Where?"

"Right here..."

The creep sweeps their thumb across the cannibal's cheek, taking their finger and using it to paint their lips that same shade of red. The cannibal leans in to lick the blood from their mouth - tongue swallowed by the creep as they're pulled down onto the floor - nearly avoiding falling on the corpse and landing in its blood instead. The two proceed to passionately make out until the blood surrounding them runs blood and ends up on the wall in messy hands prints

(Do not ask me why I just wrote a full Darling + Darling blurb)

#creep reader #Cannibal reader #yandere oc #crack post #yandere x reader #yandere

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gladiatorcunt · 4 months ago

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- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

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