#duncan vizla one shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dolicekiss · 7 months ago

Note

Hey,

could you please write a yandere Hannibal one-shot, where the reader is one of Bedelia‘s ex patients/friends and Will‘s best friend. Will soon knows Hannibal is interested in her,( after she met him,while dropping of Will for therapy) and tries to ^save^ her from him. However Hannibal again has his way and maybe it ebds with smut?

♡: ohmygod i was literally about to write a yandere nigel but this is even better, especially knowing how manipulative hannibal can be !! also, i hope i do this justice, thanks :D

Famished

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Gullible, mentally disturbed female reader.

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni) unprotected sex, manipulative hannibal, oral (female receiving) fingering, yandere hannibal, mention of drugging, mentally disturbed reader and traumatized, taking advantage (hannibal is cooking up plans) slight breeding kink, reader is very gullible <3 that's all

SYNOPSIS: After dropping Will Graham to his therapy session and having a run in with his prominent, renowned psychiatrist — Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you become the object of his infatuation and obsession. It is in his best interests to make you fall for him, make you his. Whether it is by his cunning manipulation tactics or his alluring charms.

For the first time ever, Hannibal Lecter found himself lost and in a puzzled position.

He was at a loss of words for the immense amount of adoration and awe swelling in his chest whenever he laid his eyes on you — which was rare. As you only came by when you had to drop your best friend, Will Graham to his office. It wasn't in your daily routine, as you had other things in life that required your attention but whenever you were available and whenever Will needed your help, you were there.

Because he was there when you needed someone.

Hannibal’s brain was quick to recognize you though, after seeing an old file of yours in Bedelia’s office, with your picture inside. It had all your details and Hannibal felt as if it was meant to be. He'd read your file, in the absence of Bedelia. Completely out of character for even someone like him but he knew you.

He knew all of you.

The exchange of pearly smiles between you and Will when he first introduced you to Hannibal was not very pleasing to the eye for the blonde male. Aggravated but hiding behind the mask of politeness, he only returned those smiles and then watched you leave his office.

That same night, both Hannibal and Will were restless. Will because he had noticed the curiosity awakening in Hannibal’s impassive gaze when he took note of you and Hannibal laid restless because of the uneasiness felt ever since you had left his office. He had this, insatiable urge, he felt —famished.

And only you could satiate that hunger of his.

“Hannibal, you appear lost.” Bedelia commented, the dullness of her office somehow matching his own. The two shared similar tastes, no wonder he was associated with her.

He lifted his gaze up from the red carpet covering the entirety of her floor, fingers tucked understand his chin. He was indeed lost, lost in you. Like an alligator, you had consumed him whole and he slightly twitched in the seat.

Hannibal had a plan.

This was the plan.

“I had a run in with one of Will’s associates, who also used to be your patient.” He responded, bitterly referring to you as his associate instead of his friend because even the idea of that burned him with such envy and jealousy.

Will didn't deserve you.

Not as his friend, not as something else.

Bedelia crossed her leg, staring at him with certain curiosity. “I do not break doctor patient confidentiality.”

“I'm aware.” Hannibal responded as quickly as he could, eyeing the woman. His presence was heavy and his gaze was sharp as an eagle's. Nothing missed him, not even the subtle details and minorities of life.

He noticed everything.

Hannibal laid his hands on his lap, mimicking Bedelia as he crossed his leg over the other but with much more authority. “Why did you stop seeing her?”

Bedilia scoffed. “I didn't stop seeing her, she told me her mind had healed. That she didn't need me anymore, that she was fine.” Her voice was laced with subtle bitterness at how you interrupted their sessions. Bedelia felt like she was being called incompetent indirectly by you.

That was all Hannibal needed.

This time you dropped Will off again but this time, he seemed evidently upset with the idea of you running in with Hannibal Lecter again. It was weird to you, how he acted when it came to you crossing paths with his psychiatrist. Hell, you'd even made a joke about not snatching the handsome doctor away from Will.

But he only responded with a sour face, definitely not impressed with your horrible attempt at a joke.

As he exited the car and headed for his office, you watched him but then your eyes captured a wallet and a phone right where Will was sitting. He'd left his belongings behind. You let out a sigh, contemplating whether to give them to him now or later. You didn't care that your bestfriend acted all sour at the mention of crossing paths with Hannibal.

He was uncomfortable with the idea of you meeting his own psychiatrist, now that was weird. You left the car too, with the items in your hand and headed inside. Air chilly against your skin, you smiled at how its soft hands caressed your skin, prickling it slightly but you basked in the feeling.

As you reached the door, you knocked on it and waited for someone to open it. It was peeled open and there stood Hannibal, and a smile broke when he caught you standing there. Cladded in a long coat, which concealed a casual dress behind it. His gaze took you in, drank you like the most finest wine and then he captured the familiar wallet and phone in your hand.

He'd seen it one too many times in the hand of his patient.

“Here to return his belongings, I assume?”

You nodded your head. “He forgot these.”

Extending out your hand with Will’s things in your hand, the door was pulled open more revealing another figure. Will stared at you, a look of annoyance on his face when he found you standing there. He'd told you, even subtly warned you to not ever come to Hannibal’s office but here you were. Breaking the only rule that he presented before you.

You rolled your eyes at Will, his behavior abnormal and different than usual was something you didn't appreciate at all.

Hannibal took the things from you and then handed them over to Will. “I'll take my leave then, goodbye.”

Just like that, you were out of the towering presence of those two. God, was it only your imagination or did it actually feel suffocating being in their presence together — especially after Will had warned you off basically to not come in front of Hannibal Lecter ever. The way he smiled at you, it was sweet but for some reason, goosebumps woke up on your skin.

You shook your head, went home and after a warm shower, curled up in your bed. An attempt to sleep, for the umpteenth time but everytime you rested your eyes, that same nightmare haunted you once more. Adding a new digit to the list as it did. Reminding you of the darkness that would always stay within you. Rooted inside you.

The blood soaked hands, the screams, the shattering of glass — it replayed over and over again. Like a film that was lagging a lot, hesitating to go forward, so all you could do was rewind and watch that same scene over and over.

You woke up, drenched in sweat. Chest heavy and lungs desperate to drag in as much air as they could. It was all too vivid, like it had happened today and not years before when you were only a little girl.

It wasn't easy living with the fact that you had been spared by your kidnapper while he slaughtered your friend, right before your very gaze. You didn't deem it worth it, didn't find yourself worthy enough to be alive, instead of her.

If he'd only killed you too.

— ♡ —

The next day Will had told you he'd pick you up from your house and take you somewhere, somewhere where he could discuss something important with you. It baffled you when the man pulled up to his own house, the irony of it leaving you with certain uneasiness.

“Will, just tell me. Are you jealous?”

That could be the only reason.

He stayed silent, not answering your question before letting out a sigh of what you assumed to be frustration. He shook his head, fingers scurrying to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Eyebrows furrowed and curls resting against his forehead.

“You need to stay away from Hannibal Lecter. He is a dangerous man, a sadist, a cunning bastard.” You blinked at all the profanities Will Graham was suddenly using to describe his own psychiatrist.

You had no idea of his little plan to play along with Hannibal to catch him so this whole situation was extremely uncomfortable for you.

“You're making that up.” You accused him, with a shake of your hand to dimiss his accusations. “If he was such a cunning bastard, he wouldn't be your psychiatrist.”

“Listen to me.” Will’s voice was dangerously low, frustration obvious in it. “Just do what I'm saying. Don't linger around him, don't even drop me off anymore.”

The water was slowly boiling over your heads and it could spill at any moment. Tension rose in the room and you, with your adamant personality, didn't give in. You wanted— no, you needed to know this. Just what the fuck was going on and why were you being kept in the dark?

It made you feel hopeless and almost sad, because to you it seemed as the only paddle in your life didn't really trust you.

“First, stop hiding shit from me. I'm your fucking bestfriend, Will. Just tell me—”

The loud noise of his palms slamming down on the wooden table in his living room made you flinch. Your body jumping as you let out a shriek at the loud noise, not very fond of them ever since the traumatizing event from your childhood. You hadn't expected him to react like this, especially with such aggression.

“Just stay the fuck away from Hannibal Lecter. That's all I'm asking you to do, you can't even do that?” Eyebrows scrunched and disappointment swirling behind those specs of his, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his tone, words and his unexplainable behavior.

It all overwhelmed you to the core.

Then a knock interrupted you both.

Will and you turned around and found Hannibal standing behind the net door, his aura slicing through the heavy tension that hung like a knife on your heads. You composed yourself, hands with a tremor reaching out to fix the few loose strands of your messy bun.

You swallowed thickly — once more put in a situation where you had to pretend to be fine for someone else. All because of your own bestfriend.

The fact made you vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. To the point Hannibal would smell it off you and it gave him the perfect opportunity, laid out on a damn silver platter. Awaiting to be devoured.

“What're you doing here, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s gaze exchanged between the two of you, pretending as if he wasn't just standing outside eavesdropping on your conversation. It was evident on your face that you wanted to leave, as soon as you could but without Will’s help, you couldn't actually leave. His fucking house was in the middle of nowhere and he was your only ride.

You wrapped an arm around yourself instinctively, a habit you'd adapted to when you were little. In a silly little attempt to protect yourself from the harm you faced as a child.

“Had to discuss something about a case but I guess I chose the wrong timing?” His gaze trailed over you and he took notice of the way your chest fell and rose, how you stood there as if you were cornered and scared, your own arm wrapped around you in a sense to provide the comfort you ached for.

You seemed so perfect like this.

On the verge of breaking.

“I'll be outside.” You didn't even bother grabbing your coat, only reached for the door and left without sparing them both a glance.

The cold hit you like a damn truck, shivers dancing across your spine. Regret consumed you about not grabbing your coat from Will’s hanger but you were too stubborn to go back inside and take it. So you chose to suffer in the cold, sitting by the stairs, staring ahead into the darkness the forest and the night had to offer you.

You thought about Will. His behavior, how he'd spoken to you despite knowing your history and it pained you but as usual, you suppressed it. Your pain didn't matter, how could it matter when you were lucky enough to be left alive while your own friend was slaughtered like some fucking animal?

Knees glued to your chest, you didn't know for how long you stayed there but you felt someone put a coat on you. Your body was quick to absorb the warmth it had to offer and you lifted your head up, hoping you'd find Will but instead Hannibal had shown you more decency than your own friend.

‘Cunning bastard, this?’ You thought.

“Thank you.” You held the coat tightly around your shoulder and noticed it wasn't yours, it was his own. Hannibal had given you his own coat and the bare minimum action, the simple act of kindness, it all was enough to worsen the situation for you right now.

For Hannibal, this was perfect.

You were the perfect prey.

He knew Will would react the way he had — his emotional outbursts were bound to get aggressive and he wanted Will to be on thin ice around you. To make you cautious of him, so that your lonely heart will begin searching for another companion.

Him.

“Your car isn't in the driveway, which means Will is going to drop you off.” He said and stared ahead at the empty space next to Will’s car. “But I suppose you don't really wish to be in his presence right now.”

You slowly nodded.

He was a psychiatrist, a witty one at that. There was no point in lying to the man as you tightened the coat around you. His scent bringing along a sense of comfort. It was warm, a little like nature itself.

“If you allow me, I can drop you off.”

Hannibal extended his hand out, staring down at you and you looked at his hand, then him. It was a moment of silence but help was offered and you slowly slipped your hand into his, as he raised you up from the ground. The touch of your hand, being this fucking fortunate enough to be able to feel you flesh to flesh, Hannibal was over the moon. An itch growing in his thumb to run it lightly over the skin of your knuckles but he somehow with the power of a celestial being restrained himself.

Your perfume had branded his skin.

You had branded his skin.

He lead you to his car and you sat inside, all the while Will watched from his window. There was only so much he could do but he knew that Hannibal’s charm was difficult, nearly impossible to resist. Whether he visited in the form of archangel azrael, a companion or a foe.

He was still going to be in control.

The car ride was silent when it began. Your gaze lingering over the passing street lamps, blurring in your vision as a lone tear slid down your cheek. Akin to the person you were, lonely and isolated.

“I could sense the tension in the air.” Hannibal’s soft voice sliced through the silence. “Are you alright?”

You turned to him and nodded. “Just a small misunderstanding, that is all.”

It was, infact, not a misunderstanding. Hannibal knew why you seemed this heartbroken, about the incident that occurred to you as a child, about Will’s outburst and how it terrified you.

Like a ripe fruit, you were all raw and vulnerable. Ready to be consumed by him, to be savored by him, to get rid of his insatiable hunger.

Hannibal believed he could fix you — by not fixing you at all. A broken masterpiece you were and he'd be damned if he tried to put back the pieces together. He preferred the picture he saw right now more.

“He should not have raised his voice at you.”

Your gaze lifted up. “You heard it?”

He nodded, while swiftly taking a turn into a street. “I did not mean to pry, my deepest apologies. I managed to arrive exactly at the time when he was having his outburst.”

“It's fine.” Your head hung low as you played with your fingers in your lap. Hannibal noticed, writing it down in his little mental diary he'd kept in his head. “I don't understand why he behaved the way he did. It was, upsetting.”

You mumbled the last word, shaking your head. Hannibal glanced your way. “You were under Bedelia's care, no?”

By now, you'd come to know that the two were friends and knew each other. But deep down you hoped that they hadn't discussed you like some curse, like some ugly freak who magically survived a cruel man while her friend got swallowed.

“Yes.” You whispered. “Her ways to heal the human mind are, peculiar.”

To be honest, Bedelia seemed like a woman who cared more about the influence and power she had on you than your well-being and that feeling of forced incompetence along with other things became the reason of your end with her.

Hannibal chuckled, barely.

It was just there and you heard it for a single moment. “Did you not find her treatment appropriate?”

“I didn't deem her fit to be my doctor,” you picked at the skin around your nails out of habit. “honestly, I don't find anyone fit to be my doctor.”

There was silence.

But Hannibal soon spoke. “Could the feeling that only you're capable of understanding your mind because of you going through what you did be the cause of this?”

Jesus, the man was spot on.

It slightly unnerved you.

“Are you analyzing me, Dr. Lecter?” There was soft sarcasm your voice was laced with as you smiled.

The man stared straight ahead. “Maybe, would you mind allowing me to analyze you at my office over a glass of wine?”

You knew you couldn't go back to your lonely house, especially after the remnants of Will’s behavior affecting you the way they did. The sound of his palms slamming down on the wood echoed in the back of your mind and you had no other option than to agree to Hannibal’s offer.

But poor you, it was all part of his plan.

He'd read your file, thoroughly, well aware of your triggers and your mind. How it worked, processed things, he knew it all and the wicked man used it to his advantage. To lure you in like a prince charming only to shift into a hideous beast.

When you made it to his office, the man had offered you the finest of wine. The most expensive one, all the way from Florence and you could practically taste italy in the bottle — delicious, warm and fruity. You reveled in each sip as you sat across the man on his table, flipping through a book about the human mind.

You enjoyed reading books, found solace in them and Hannibal had all the more to offer.

“I can't believe you've got these many books.” You pointed out, lifting your eyes up at the man who was now coming down from the ladder with multiple books in his arms. It was sweet how he was offering you his book, his wine, his company because somewhere he knew you needed it.

Loneliness was a slow death.

Poison so bitter but painful, it tore you apart piece by piece.

He ambled his way towards you, taking a seat on the chair and placing the books right in front of you on the table. “These are nothing. I own a library too.”

Your eyes widened. “You're kidding.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat at how your eyes expanded in sheer shock, his lips expressing a small smile. You seemed akin to a child in that moment, innocent and appalled by the idea.

“No, dear. I'm fortunately not.” He replied, hands settled on the table. “I could take you there.”

“I'd love to go.” You were quick to reply back but then composed yourself a little, not wanting to come across as desperate. You began coursing through the book, reading the contents of it simultaneously sipping your wine.

Then Hannibal spoke. “You seem disturbed, dear.”

You stopped reading and looked at him, with a confused expression before realizing what he meant. Will’s behavior had left you in a great deal of confusion as well as underlined fear. It was stomach churning, when you remembered how dark his eyes were or how angry he appeared. All too similar to the fragments of the man that had abducted you during you childhood.

“He reminded me of him.” You blunted out, not really caring anymore to conceal your emotions and fears. It had to be how vulnerable you were seeming, craving human companionship and attention. To be comforted and reassured that nothing was wrong with you.

Hannibal leaned forward. “Of who?”

“The man who took me.” Your fingertip danced over the stamped ink on the beige piece of paper, gaze following along the letters and lines. “Every aggressive man reminds me of him.”

“Your fear of aggressive men stems from your childhood, as one had taken you. It is no surprise you'd feel uneasiness in Will’s presence now.” Hannibal was right. These heightened emotions of fear and discomfort would only consume you if you continued seeing Will in the light that he had presented himself in.

He was your friend. Your best friend, the man who was always there — to be your paddle and to be your pillar but now you were scared of him. Of everything, the whole situation to stay away from Hannibal. You were right in his office and so far, he had brought you no harm at all.

Only provided you with company.

“He told me to stay away from you.” The lump in your throat began to grow. If you had a gut feeling, it had definitely melted in the presence of Hannibal. Blinded by his charm and his long blonde strands hovering over his forehead. “It was confusing, Dr. Lecter. It was— too much. He repeated it like a broken record, over and over again. Ordered me even and I don't understand why he was telling me to be this cautious when you're his psychiatrist.”

Hannibal and you made eye contact, for a brief moment before you averted your gaze from him, lacking the courage to look straight into his penetrating eyes.

“Will is unstable.” Hannibal stated, as he caressed his own hand with the fingers of the other. “I have no intention to ruin the camaraderie you both have but his attempt to kill me tells me enough about his mind.”

Your eyes expanded.

Will tried to do what?

And the fact that Hannibal seemed so unbothered about it and continued seeking him as a patient. It was like Bedelia’s case all over again, except hers actually ended meanwhile Hannibal continued giving Will his time and effort.

“But why? I don't get it and you're still seeing him—just, what is going on?” Stressed and frustrated, feeling like you were being kept in the dark, you brought your fingers upto your forehead and began massaging it. It was too much for you, especially when you had your own battles to fight.

Hannibal reached for you, his own hand placed above yours. In silent comfort. “Will is my friend, or so I see him as one. He's unstable and his acts of impulsivity are my responsibility to fix although—”

He stopped and tilted his head. “I can see it is beginning to affect you too.”

You sighed, as you didn't remove your hand from underneath his. Only watching him with a gaze clouded in confusion. This was all like plates shattering over and over on the top of your head and still there is no bleeding, only the throbbing pain that increased with time.

Maybe Hannibal was right.

He was his doctor after all. Will appeared unstable, especially after his behavior tonight and the complexity of the situation terrified you.

“It is humiliating to be flesh.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finished all your wine. The sound of Hannibal’s chair scraping against the floor caught your attention and you watched as he rose up from his seat and walked towards you. In his hand was a sketchbook that he'd retrieved from his table.

He stood next to you, placing the sketchbook over your book and then leaning down. The close proximity should've made you uncomfortable, should've sent you scurrying out of his office but because of how gentle he was, you didn't budge. “Open it.”

Your fingers with a subtle tremor in them reached for the crisp edge of the sketchbook and you flipped it open revealing the art of pencils. Humans, bodies, organs, they were all presented to beautifully and you looked up at Hannibal.

Face a few inches apart.

“You made this?”

He nodded.

You flipped through a few more and resisted the urge to caress the face of the greek personalities he'd drawn. They were so beautiful, as beautiful as him and you didn't find yourself uncomfortable like how you expected you would when laying eyes upon the more —gruesome part of his art.

It was beautiful.

“This is truly spectacular.” You commented in a whisper as you raised your stare from the sketches and looked up at him. Your lips were only a few inches apart and Hannibal found himself completely captivated by you. The sheer vulnerability and raw pain in your gaze was tugging him towards his arousal, undeniable and strong for you.

He swallowed as his dark eyes took in the sight of your lips.

And you repeated his actions, staring at his lips in return.

It all happened too fast. He'd kissed you, hand reaching to brush the hair behind your shoulder, then moving to grasp your face in it as he delved deeper. Hannibal was holding back so much, concealing the animal that he was from you, hiding beneath the cloak of a gentle demeanor and a beautiful face. His thumbs swiped over your cheek in gentle brush strokes as he pried your lips open, inserting his tongue.

Draping it around your own, the kiss grew intense and this was the first time you'd ever gotten involved with a man like this. It was too inundating but it also felt extremely good as you had denied yourself this pleasure for so long.

Hannibal’s hands slithered down to your waist, to circle around it curve of it as he raised you from the chair, lifting you up to place you down on the table. Still your height couldn't accommodate with his, neck craned up to kiss him. He soon broke the kiss, forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath mingled with yours.

“It is not humiliating to be flesh, rather special and profound.” He whispered, in response to your sentence from earlier as you gazed up at him. Eyes clouded by desire as your heart swelled with finally feeling like you were being understood. Hannibal understood you.

The connection you felt with him was intense.

The man leaned, and you expected him to kiss you again but this time he chose to attack your neck, peppering kisses all over the unmarked skin. His hands rested by your side, fingers digging into the wooden desk to keep the monster inside him at bay. He was too overwhelmed by his wanton for you but you were a fragile little thing.

He couldn't scare you, not yet.

His teeth dug into your skin, biting and tugging like some beast and you winced in response. It felt good but it was something you hadn't tried with anyone before. You've had sex before— one boy and he was nowhere near the same level as Hannibal. Just by biting on your skin, the man had you squirming.

“If Will finds out—”

He silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “Will shouldn't care. You're a mature, independent, grown woman. You know what you want, don't you?”

You nodded.

He was treating you like an adult, rather than some broken little doll. But that was Hannibal’s play, he knew that you craved the validation, you wanted to get treated like an adult and not some damaged person. After being in therapy, people almost treated you as you were some mentally unstable person who didn't know what she wanted. A broken, deranged person that didn't know better.

Hannibal made you feel differently, in such a short amount of time.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, as his fingers moved to the buttons of your dress. He unbuttoned each, swiftly proving that he was an experienced man and then his hands rose up to your shoulders, slipping the dress off and exposing the bare skin.

Your breath hitched and in a couple of minutes, Hannibal had completely rid you of any clothes. His own blazer soon came off, followed by his tie and then his shirt. Before you could reach for the buckle of his dress pants, he scoped you up in his arms and took you over to the couch. Lips pressed against yours, he bit harshly on your lower lip, enough to draw blood and somehow you enjoyed this aggressive manner of his kissing.

He laid you down on the couch and crawled on top of you, his knee settled between your thighs. You whimpered upon contact with his clothed knee as he traveled down, while leaving kissing against your skin, face buried between your thighs. The man held you open to his lascivious gaze, pressing a soft kiss against your clit causing you to shudder. Your thighs twitched in response and he loved how your body responded to his touch.

You were a delicious fucking sight.

He licked a long stripe across your cunt and your back lifted off the couch in anticipation. Hannibal pushed you back down, both his hands holding you firmly down on the couch, his arm prying your thighs further open. Closing his lips around your clit, he sucked feverishly and you cried out. It felt too fucking good.

One hand released you, dropping between your legs. His fingers ran up and down your cunt, coating themselves in the slick of your arousal and then slowly, he added a finger into you. He was gentle with it and stared up at you, mouth still continuing its assault on your clit while holding eye contact. Tears danced on your waterline, waiting for that one single push to slide down in rivulets on your face.

His finger picked up its pace then he added another. Your wet walls clung tightly onto his fingers, pulling them in and he reveled in all the little sounds you and your body kade. The whimpers you released, the wet sounds of your greedy pussy and the ragged breathing escaping you.

“How do you feel, Darling? How good am I making you feel with just my mere fingers?”

Hannibal’s voice had fallen a few octaves lower, deep and rough. You parted your lips open to speak but the wicked man curved his finger and your lips only let out a gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. He grinned at your reaction. “Answer me.”

You swallowed down another whine threatening to run out of your throat. “It feels amazing, Hannibal. Just —so good.”

He added a third finger and curved them altogether, hitting them against the little sponge of pleasure inside you, rapidly and with increasing speed. Your hands traveled down to grip on his golden strands, fisting them as he continued licking across your cunt and fucking you with his fingers.

Then he stopped.

Dropping all his movement.

His tongue replaced his fingers causing you to buck your hips in anticipation and need, aching for more. Hannibal was feasting on you and he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was beyond it. Not possessing any sort of self control anymore.

Fingernails digging into the side of your hips, he dragged them down into your skin as he hungrily ate you out. Tongue plunging in and out of your tiny hole, licking and savoring the taste of you. You were fucking sweet, heavenly and delicious. Hannibal’s mind was clouded by his lust, his ache for you. How he wished he could trap you inside thess walls of his office, of his home and never let you out ever again.

Even the sun and moon didn't deserve to capture the sight of you.

“Hannibal, I'm close.” You whined, thighs shaking as your stomach churned with a foreign feeling. It was going to be fucking intense, you knew it because of how much you were shaking.

He looked up at you. “Come for me, Darling. Make a mess.”

Your stomach clenched and twisted at his words and you soon unfurled underneath him. Thighs suffering from perpetual convulsions and eyes seeing white, rolling to the back of your head. Blood pumping in your chest, spreading like wildfire in your veins as your forehead perspired. The searing pain from your tight grip on his hair only hardened his cock, as it stirred against his thighs. Hannibal reveled in the pain you inflicted upon him.

He rose up from between your legs and your overstimulated pussy throbbed at the sight of him. Your orgasm dripped down his chin, plump lips glossy and covered in the juices you'd produced. Face messy and flushed, he stared back at you with a hazy look in his darkened eyes.

When you came down from your high, you found Hannibal completely naked. Long gone were his dress pants and underwear and your were taken aback at the length of his cock as well as the girth. The first and last time you slept with someone, their size was nowhere the same as Hannibal. The drastic change was slightly overwhelming for you, it even terrified you a little.

He took a seat on the couch, at the end of your feet and then pulled you up, settling you on top of his thighs. Holding you in his muscular arms, the man held the tip of his cock against your hole and then slowly sat you down.

You head fell against his shoulder, face buried in his neck. Being able to feel him like this, sinking all the way down to the hilt, you could only whimper. Hannibal made you feel so full and it was only the beginning.

You felt his fingers trapping your cheeks between them, as he pulled your face out of its hiding spot. Four fingers resting on one side while his thumb squeezed the other. Tears sprung out, sliding across your cheeks and crashing into his digits. You sniffled as he stared at you. Eyes lacking emotions and face still. Hannibal was a man who possessed immense control over himself, he couldn't give away his obsession for you.

“You will look at me.” He commanded, voice thick with need. “As I fuck your little cunt and make you unravel on my cock, you will not move your gaze away from me. Understood?”

You could only nod.

His grip tightened on your cheeks and you winced, lips forming a forced pout. You knew what that little act meant and you parted your lips, managing to mumble out, “Yes, I understand.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfaction glimmering in his dark eyes as he released your face. Both hands now settled on your hips, he began to move you up and down with your help. You gasped every time you felt his cock graze against your wet wells, the feeling consuming your ability to think. Your nails managed to draw blood from his skin but Hannibal didn't care. He wanted you to leave more marks, brand him as his, make him yours.

Oh he was already yours.

“Move, Darling.” You started to move too, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down on him. Over and over again, it was repetitive and Hannibal’s face was full of pleasure. His grip tight and firm on your hips, almost as if he were trying to seperate the flesh from the bone.

But you liked it.

He held you like he didn't want you to disappear.

You fucking loved that.

You both stared into each other's eyes, Hannibal’s domineering stare overpowering yours an you nearly made the grave mistake of shutting your eyes but the little pinch on your waist made you peel them back open as fast as you closed them.

“Don't be disobedient now. I expected better from you.” You could sense the disappointment in his voice and you shook your head, still riding his cock and clenching around him everytime you felt his tip bruise your sensitive spot.

You stared at him, through a blurred vision. “You're intimidating—” You sputtered, the sentence breaking. “when you stare at me like this, its intimidating.”

“Do I scare you?”

You shook your head. “No, you're beautiful.”

That was enough to cause Hannibal to become a mess. Fuck, he was all over the place and unfortunate enough for you, you couldn't see it but the man was a mess on the inside. The skipped beating of his heart, the way his eyes were almost turned into little crescents, the smile lines appearing for a split moment before vanishing.

You felt him press his lips against yours, this time in a rough kiss. Arms circled tightly around you. He kissed you like a wild beast having its feast, enjoying its food. His teeth grazed against yours when you opened your mouth, lips against lips, tongue dancing with tongue. Salivas mixing together, it was too messy and you felt the mixed saliva dripping down your chin. He lapped at your wet muscle, sucking on it.

All the while he slammed you down on his hard cock and you let out a high pitched whine into his mouth. That action alone was enough for his cock to harden even more inside you, his hands now unwrapping from your waist and toying with your bare breasts.

“Such a tight little pussy—” He grunted, head thrown back. “so fucking tight.”

Fingers rolling your nipples between them, tugging and massaging the soft flesh. The searing kiss, the sensitive touch of his fingers against your breasts, the slow and rough thrusts of his cock — all of it combined pulled you near another orgasm.

Your toes curled at each thrust and then Hannibal switched the position, laying you down on the couch and getting on top of you with his cock still inside you. Grabbing you by your ankles, he placed them on his shoulders and began to fuck you at an animalistic pace.

“Hanni—" You cried out, lips agape and tears continuously falling down.

He didn't stop. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, a snarl making its way to his face and that was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. To the point it made you tighten around him. “You're mine. You're mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to own and possess.”

You took those words as something said in the heat of the moment but Hannibal? Oh he was serious. He meant each and every word, every syllable came straight from the darkness in his heart.

His hips snapped and your stomach went crazy into knots. “Please, please. Harder, please Hannibal.”

You were crying out for him at this point. Your hand reaching out to touch his chest but he didn't allow you, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head on the couch. Bending your knees to the point they were pushed against your chest, his face grew closer to yours. Staring deeply into your soul and that moment felt intimate more than anything you'd ever experienced in the world.

“My pretty Darling.”

You swallowed.

Just his dark gaze. You could live your whole life while being captured in those obsidian eyes.

Snaps growing relentless, he kept fucking you till you came all over his cock. Your orgasm slipping out in the form of liquid, making a mess everywhere. Staining his couch, his chest, his cock. Leaving evidence of the sexual encounter between the two of you in a moment. Hannibal let out a chuckle — deep and soft. Music from heaven to your ears.

You almost ascended to heaven from how good it felt. His cock still thrusting up against your cervix, bruising your spot and continuing its assault. Your sensitive body hadn't even calmed down, still twitching and shivering but Hannibal didn't seem it fit to stop.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as the sound of skin against skin grew, reverberating against the walls of his office. With a loud groan, he also spilled inside you. Coating your walls white, throbbing and pulsating inside you. Filling you up to the brim and he didn't care if you were to get pregnant.

Hannibal was a father once.

To his little sister Mischa.

He wouldn't mind having a child of his own, especially with you.

He fucking loved filling you up and he'd make sure to do it again. After all, you were his now.

The man slowly adjusted himself underneath you on the couch, making you lay on top of his to the side. Arms wrapping tightly around you, he held you pressed against his chest as you came down from your high. His hand brushing your hair gently, caressing your forehead.

Only the fire crackling in the fireplace could be heard, mixed with the soft uneven rhythms of your breathing. You couldn't believe you'd slept with Hannibal, right after your best friend had a literal outburst about it. Guilt took over and you slowly sat up, grabbing Hannibal’s shirt from the floor to cover yourself up with it.

“You're thinking.” He commented.

You looked at him and sighed. “I have this guilt consuming me.”

Hannibal reached over, brushing your hair behind. Playing with the strands. “Why's that?”

“Will is unstable, and I have been there too. I should have heard him out instead of running away from him.” You sighed, shoulders slumped. Hannibal didn't like that, he didn't like that you were feeling bad now. After all he'd done, he couldn't have you feeling bad for Will.

“You reacted according to your trauma, it is completely valid. You were in a situation where you didn't feel safe, so you removed yourself from it.” Thumb caressing against your cheek, he smiled. It was subtle. “You should prioritize yourself more often.”

Somewhere Hannibal was right too.

You leaned against his chest, closing your eyes. Then you felt a stinging sensation in the back of your nape. It hurt but it wasn't extreme, like something had pierced you. Just then you looked up and saw Hannibal already staring at you.

Your vision became distorted.

“Hannibal..?” You called out, confused and in a daze. “What's happening?”

“Go to sleep, Darling. You'll be alright soon enough.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and fear filled you up. Just what was happening? The man held you in his embrace, caressing your cheek as you slowly lost all control of your limbs and fell against his chest.

Darkness dragged you in, from your feet and the last thing you remembered was seeing Hannibal with a syringe in his hand.

#hannibal lecter smut #hannibal #hannibal smut #hannibal x reader #hannibal one shot #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen smut #love sick hannibal #yandere hannibal #will graham #will graham x reader #duncan vizla #nigel banyai #dark hannibal #obsessed hannibal #one shot #mads mikkelsen fanfic #polar smut #mimi writes ☆

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hobisfavoritespritecan · 6 months ago

Text

Tourniquet

DUNCAN VIZLA X READER

⚠️ Warnings: Uhhh kinda extreme gore, I mean I definitely go into intense detail about some of the way these people die so probably don't read this if you're squeamish, blood, death, murder, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, I think that's it but yeah ⚠️

Duncan comes to save you and risks his life in the process.

Duncan had originally wanted nothing more than to retire from this god-forsaken line of work he'd been in for over thirty years. To succumb fully to the relaxation that was unemployed bliss, somewhere far off in the lost woods with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Maybe he'd try for another dog again, although he wasn't too lucky with his PTSD responses around Rusty. Wherever in the world he may be or whomever he'd be with, he just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, thankyouverymuch.

Today, he was not so lucky. Of course, he had to take the one job offer to end his career with a bang and to coagulate all of the money he'd originally been promised to begin with. One job after another, one shot fired towards a man's head and a stapler gun to his ankles, all led him here. At the front of this house. On a rescue mission. Which would then lead to a hitman mission. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Duncan sighed and took in the landscape with his one good eye, courtesy of the copious amount of torture he'd pushed through over the past month. Although his wounds were still healing and he felt their burn underneath the folds of his fabric coat, he had to act fast as there was no time to waste. He needed to put his life on the line once again; as he had for so many years working as a hitman. But now, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A reward to his revenge. Nothing that was false promises of money or strippers or nights out at the bar that would only situate him for a week before he grew bored. No, at the end of this mission was the promise of your safety and the potential of the two of you living this retired life he'd dreamt of for so long.

He only had to kill 30+ men and his former "mission mates" before getting to you and fleeing this Damocles shit for good.

Easy, in theory. In actuality, he was probably going to end up dead. Unless he could control himself through his rage and use it as an adrenalin boost rather than a distraction to his plan.

The mansion was huge and lavish in comparison to the wood houses Duncan had come to love in Montana. It was almost entirely frivolous; the magnitude of Blut's weath, all gained from those who did his dirty work and never out of his own aspirations.

Seeing the coast was fairly clear, he crafted a plan in his head as to how he was going to make it in and out of the place unscathed. Two guards to his left on the rooftop, facing outwards. Meaning that there must be at least another two on the other side, not knowing from which direction he'd come. Another one in the upper right window that could easily be taken out with a sniper. A few fifteen or so on the ground in hidden positions, all of which he knew considering he used to work for the damn place. Assuming Blut's usual stupidity would mean that the plans for an attack on Damocles would be unchanged, minus those who were inside of the place itself.

Time for action. He took off his heavy coat and draped it on the tree nearest to him so as not to be weighed down by the material. His thick wool sweater would be more than enough to keep him warm, alongside his steel-toed boots. Underneath his coat and concealed by his initial wardrobe was a now visible belt with two loaded guns on either side. His hand was clad with brass knuckles and he had a knife in his boot, only for an extreme situation. Worse comes to worse, he still had that piece of shrapnel under the second layer of his skin from one of his older missions he could cut out if he really had to. Eyepatch in place and hair tied in an up-do, he was ready to start shooting people.

Hey, maybe if they were all dead he'd finally get his $8 million he'd been promised.

It happened as quickly as the next snowflake hit the ground; Blut's mansion was under attack. They'd been expecting him, but as he was called The Black Kaiser, he was the best of the best. He knew their ins and outs and was now thankful he kept a friendly but protective distance from everyone while he was in the org so that they wouldn't know the specificities for his own attack. One skillful shot to the top left roof was enough to pierce through the necks of both the men standing atop it, one falling off after the other and landing on the ground with a thick thud. Blasted through arteries and a fuckton of blood pooled out the edges from where they'd fallen, creating intricate patterns on the wintery terrain and leaving giant stains on the sides of the building.

Now understanding their mission was a go, the man from the window received the hint and withdrew himself from the window, racing back inside most likely to tell Blut about the outside commotion. No matter. He'd take his time to paint the entirety of the green estate red with the fallen victims of Damocles.

He'd been right about the guards from the top of the building being on the other side, except there were three instead of two. They rushed around looking for the potential places Duncan could be hiding, so as to scope him out first and be the ones to receive the praise from their fat ass nepo-baby boss. They must all be younger and have no idea the amount of years and experience he'd had in this industry because Duncan was in plain fucking sight with his guns readied in both hands.

"Bye." He said, and shot them at the same time, making two of the guards meet the same tragic fate as their friends. One, two, they hit the ground with more thuds and guts, spreading their entrails further out than most people would think the human body could reach. One of their intestines had wrapped around the edges of the window panes, a man still alive wishing he wasn't. He was screaming from the upper floor awaiting his fall as he was held up by the gaping wound in his stomach where Duncan had shot him once more. The last guard at the top of the roof looked down in horror and jumped himself, taking his own life and going limp once his neck made a loud snap against the pavement under the soft snow.

PTSD flashbacks edged the corners of Duncan's one-eyed vision, trying their best to stop him as he witnessed the horror of human death via his hands. He was used to this feeling, of wanting to curl up and revert into himself, to never see anyone or anything again and be tortured as payment for his crimes. He was just a man, not a deity. Why should he choose- or rather- listen to who chooses who should meet an untimely death? What makes him above the others within his species?

Because of their frequent visits, he shut his visions down and went soulless. That was the only way to truly do his job and to continue to do it well within the moment and not fight with the side that was desperate to live in peace and an understanding of humanity. He was a pacifist at heart, truly. And even though it went against his psychological beliefs of the world, he had to pretend that intentions outweighed his actions in the sense of his killing and this mission; that getting to you was worth the rampant murderous spree of all these people, paid by their boss just as he was to do the same tasks he's doing.

Burrowing into himself, he rolls to the nearest icicle filled tree, grabbing the man who was hidden here with the gun and twisting his neck until he heard the sounds of life escaping his throat. He discarded his now empty gun for the one in the holster of the other man, making sure it was fully loaded before proceeding to also extract the menthols from the upper part of the stranger's jacket.

"Mange Tak." He said, Danish for thank you. He could have a little class while he was at it.

Noticing the tree he was under and the man whom he'd just killed, Blut was either following their Five-Ten plan or the Outskirts plan, both of which were effective in combat. The Five-Ten plan was created by Vivian herself meaning that there would be five on the perimeter of the compound, five on the rooftop, and ten within the building before whomever was entering made it inside. Then, after getting through the frontlines of security (if they made it that far), whomever was infiltrating would meet the guards who allowed their cohorts to be killed as preparation time for the main show.

The Outskirts plan, however, would mean that every man who wasn't directly appointed as an assassin to Blut's side would be out in the fields which were now covered in snow, using the trapdoors hidden in the earth to prepare their weapons for combat and kill the intruder as he (or she) approached the compound.

He was going to take his bets with the Five-Ten.

Heart barely going over an easy 65bpm, he calmly readied his guns for the next part of the infiltration where a few other guards would pop up and flock to his sides, hoping that they might catch him off-guard. Which they wouldn't. Another few shots took care of those and as he wiped the blood off his face from the splatter of one of them, he lit a cigarette and started walking towards the front of the compound, taking his chances that he knew which plan they had chosen considering he'd killed most of the other ones when he'd killed Vivian during their surprise attack not even hours before he got here.

Stepping over the walkway and opening the doors to the inside, he'd been proven correct in his intuition and flanked to the wall, keeping himself out of sight to those in the building. There were three open entryways leading from the main hall to the upstairs where the pig himself resided. Which meant around six of those corners could be another guard and he'd have to take his shots carefully, unless he wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat which didn't always end well when your opponent had a firearm. He checked his inventory quickly.

Six bullets left. He'd have to be stingy about it.

Holding the trigger and aiming the barrel towards his right, he took a shot through the ornate pillars holding up the entryway's corbel arch, a bullet forcing itself through the small opening in which the wall met the pillar. He heard an "oomph!" which he gathered triumphantly signified his tactic of approach was also correct.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Rolling to the floor into the room from whence the sound came, he staggered over to the next wall and shot through the entryway, shooting the man in the room in the leg. Fuck. Slight misstep on his account (or the other guy's considering he no longer had the bottom half of his leg). He dodged the man's bullets and lifted one of the cylindrical vases decorating the hallway and bashed it into the man's skull, once, twice, and then dropping it as he watched blood ooze from his nose. A sound from behind him meant another and he was met with hands wrapping around his throat and a gun being pressed to his temple.

This man was much bigger in stature than Duncan, but it was no matter. He swiftly acted as though he were aiming for his opponent's side as they would have practiced for upon initiation training. Seeing the man respond confidently to where he'd presumed Duncan would strike meant he'd left his nuts unguarded to which Duncan kicked in with precision. The man screamed, letting go of his counterpart and went to hold himself in anguish. Duncan mercilessly grabbed the weapon from his hands and shot through the one holding his injured manhood, shooting off his limb and probably the area underneath.

A few more men appeared from the entryways, and, after killing them all with a few more bullets than needed considering he had two guns now and maybe a hit to the face with his brass knuckles; he made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for whatever else would come. He could take on twenty more of them before expressing any ounce of fatigue as he'd trained his whole life for missions like this.

However, it was just you in the room.

Almost entirely taken aback by the slumped position you were in bound to that chair in the middle of the room, Duncan froze in his advances. He didn't let his guard down, no, but he took careful detail to the contortions of your face and the state of your being from which he could make out from this distance. Your long hair fell from the roots of your head which seemed to still be intact (thank god), but your skin was an ashy grey and blood had littered your hands and chest area. It was deep and dark and so red, redder than he'd felt he'd ever seen before and the PTSD was back, clawing at his chest and vision through his one good eye, all of his labors seemingly returning to dust. If you were dead, it would be the death of all deaths despite having only known you for a short period of time.

It had been the way you'd entered his house for the first time that caught him winded, hands tucked into the pockets of your long coat that kept you warm and smelling like the vanilla candles that littered your house. Your flushed cheeks from being out in the cold. Your smile as he'd offered you a sip of his hot chocolate, only to find out it had an added hint of whiskey. Your face when he'd kissed you for the first time. The hug you'd given him after.

It took fifty years of his life to finally admit it to himself and to anyone else who'd listen to the raspy notches in his throat as he exclaimed that he was, indeed, in love. And it was, indeed, with you.

"Something caught your eye, Kaiser?" Blut's agonizing and cruel voice caught the echos of the marble flooring and flooded the room, signaling his emergence from the darkness. He was wearing his stupid, douchebaggy jacket with a shit eating grin nearly reaching the corners of his eyes. This was the man whom he'd worked for all these years, pledged his loyalty to despite having no ounce of previous companionship with him. The one who owed him $8 million and the one who'd sent out his own personal hitman army to kill Duncan and get away with it so he would no longer be a liability to the company.

"She'd better be alive, or I'll skewer your head on that fucking Damocles sword you have above the mantle." He nearly spat out, taking his time to enunciate the weight of every word that escaped his lips, forcing them out in such an anger that anyone would feel in the depths of their bones. Blut, however, could care less.

"Oh she's alive." Made sure to keep her that way for you." He said, sauntering towards her seemingly lifeless body and tilting her chin upwards to finally reveal her face. "Thought she could use some plastic surgery though, don't you think Duncan?"

It was as if a knife had pierced his chest then and there. Your face, which had been absolutely perfect upon anyone's first glance, now was missing an eye on the opposite side of his own. Flesh had been carved out around it, which meant it would leave a scar possibly even nastier than his. He wanted to throw up at the idea someone could've taken something so important to you and destroy a piece of your life forever. He then thought maybe that was how his victims' families felt, learning that their fathers or brothers had passed due to the brutality of murder.

But you were still beautiful. And he had to save you still.

"Duncan... you're not responding?" Blut taunted with his awful voice, ringing the question in his ears and twisting the metaphorical knife even further into his chest. Duncan knew he'd need to snap out of the hold of his traumas and force himself to swallow anything else other than the situation at hand in order to save you...and himself.

"You're fucking dead. Don't you fucking touch her." Duncan said, grabbing the hefty sword of the supposed Damocles mansion from the mantle near him, letting the blade drag on the floor before discarding his gun entirely and picking up the sword. It had to have been at least four feet long with a shiny hilt and an even shinier blade which would be stained with the blood of the man before him in the time it'd take to say the sword's name. He would avenge this piece of your life that had been wrongfully taken from you.

A little less smug now, Blut reached into his pocket and withdrew a gun. "Y-y-you fucking stay back Kaiser! I won't hesitate to blow your head off!!"

"Where are your other men? Or are you truly so out of options that you're here alone?" Duncan growled, his discarded gun going into the fireplace, and, with a loud boom, caught the floor and curtains surrounding it on fire. The flames twisted and danced against in the reflection of his newfound weapon, a proper visual to the fire that licked his veins with the rage he felt. He continued his progression to your chair, sparing you a softer glance, before focusing everything onto the man before him who was now cowering by the window on the wall.

It was as if he were a child who'd been told hiding under a blanket would save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. He shrunk into the glass and tried his best to aim his gun with a shaking hand at Duncan's head. Duncan was now eye-to-eye with the man whom he'd fucking rip to shreds faster than any job he'd done as a hitman in his life.

"Blut...you're not responding?" He sneered, dodging the bullet that flew from his opponent's barrel. He lifted the sword and thrust it from the nape of his neck to the back of his skull, brains flying out against the widow he was in front of. Blood spurt from the open wound like a the lake outside of Duncan's house in Montana, where he'd resided before all this madness. Eyes bulged out of his skull with the optic nerves sliding down the forefront of his face and falling just above his mouth. Duncan dismantled the head from his torso still attached to the blade and spear tossed the sword of Damocles out the window and onto the grounds below, the sharp end getting stuck in the ground and displaying Blut's upside down head like a totem pole.

"'Suck my fucking dick."

Duncan freed you from the chair, taking you outside and down the winding trail, mansion burning to the ground in the distance. Back to Montana where now, at last, he would fucking retire.

#fanfiction #hobisfavoritespritecan #mads mikkleson #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen #duncan vizla #duncan vizla x reader

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 2 years ago

Text

Victor Creed Materlist

Disclaimer: stories are fictitious and should not be taken literally, the behavior is entirely imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Updated & repaired: 16/07/2023 (if a story won't load or something else, please message me and let me know)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Fluff🌺 Angst 🌩️ Smut❤️‍🔥

5/7 STORIES:

5 Times In Time ❤️‍🔥🌺

5 Little Things That Mean Love 🌺

5 Types Of Kisses 🌺

MY HEADCANONS W/ OTHER CHARACTERS:

Speak In Flowers 🌺 Flowers speak their own words and show their actions. And your man loves to speak it out loud.

Visiting Your Hometown 🌺 how would your boy act when you drag him along to your hometown

Helping You To Accept Your Stretch Marks 🌺your boy helps you accept your beautiful stretch marks as they are...pure perfection

Explaining To Your Man Kdramas🌺I (V) wrote small drabbles that paired my favorite men and dramas that I absolutely love

Dating A Tattoo Artist 🌺 being a tattoo artist and your boyfriend being part of it

When Tough Times Occur 🌺Life itself can be a pain and with its obstacles, it can seem impossible to overcome it but that’s what makes us stronger as people.

Someone Rubs You The Wrong Way With... 🌺 how would your man protect you when someone doesn’t mind your business

Having A Shower ❤️‍🔥having a shower with your man sounds like heaven right?!

One Thing He Loves About You (Physically Or Mentally)🌺 the title spoils the ending a bit

No Nut November ❤️‍🔥in the glory of No Nut November, you make a bet with your liver saying if they fail you cuff them and use them to your liking but if you lose they get to fulfil one of their fantasies. And you are keen on it to make them lose, by any means.

ASKS:

Dance The Night Away 🌺how would look if Victor's or Logan's S/O was younger and loved to dance

Remind Me That I Am Old 🌺a headcanon that would describe Logan's or Victor's S/O that liked to poke fun at them for being well...old

Cabin Fever❤️‍🔥Victor Creed lives in the woods. Reader after taking a walk in the woods gets lead into Victor's cabin and becomes his pet of sorts. He teaches the reader his rules for living with him and the reader breaks them.

Vacation Surprise🌺 requested by: @creedslove Y/n and Victor are on their long-overdue vacation and as they walk on the beach a group of happily married folks plants a confidence seed in Victor to ask Y/n the question of a lifetime.

Scratching🌺 headcanon well about, scratching

The Truth About The Titanic🌺requested by: @creedslove a message that could change a historic moment with Victor playing his part

PMS Pain 🌺 requested by: @creedslove small period pain drabble

Secret Admirer 🌺(teacher!reader) requested by: @creedslove For a while, Y/n has a secret admirer but she can't put a finger on who could it be.

No Boyfriend Here🌩️(sister!reader) Victor turns into a mindless machine making the biggest mistake of his life

Save Me, Neighbour 🌺I was wondering if you could write something for victor where he finds himself worried about his neighbour. They both live in a secluded area and catch a car driving by a lot at night

Speedy Recovery Help 🌺 Victor is there to give you a hand when you feel sick

Stressed Student 🌺 can I request Duncan Vizla, the Joker, Victor Creed and what would they do if they see their s/o down because they're stressed due exams?

DIFFERENT AUs

You Owe Me Dinner(Mobster!AU) date with the most fearsome leader of the Saber clan

DRABBLES FROM MY🧠

Tending To Victor’s Wounds 🌺Y/n plays nurse for Victor

Living Without You Is Like Living Without Air 🌺Victor received a call from the hospital regarding Y/n

NSFW Alphabet❤️‍🔥

Fluff Alphabet 🌺

Giving Victor Head While He’s On The Phone With Logan❤️‍🔥

Victor Creed Not Believing He Is In Love🌺

Dating Victor Creed And Being A Dancer 🌺

The Only Thing You’ll Be Wearing Is The Perfume ❤️‍🔥Victor likes to sniff his girl

Lovely 🌩️ Victor learns to grieve

Helping hand ❤️‍🔥Victor likes to help

Dance Partner 🌺in my opinion the cutest one shot i have written, absolutely love it-Victor invites you to dance

Get In Already 🌩️a small fight between victor and Y/n

It’s Alright 🌺Y/n has nightmares and wants to cuddle with Victor

Don’t Cry 🌺Y/n hides from everyone for one specific reason

Save Me 🌺🌩️Stryker kidnapped Y/n

Loving You Is A Wish Come True 🌺Victor tries to decorate the Christmas Tree. Keyword: Try.

Celebrating New Year with Victor Creed🌺

It’s Cold, You Should Take My Jacket 🌺Victor being the gentleman that he is he offers his jacket during the cold wintertime

First Date 🌺🌺the fearsome Sabertooth has a first proper date

Spending Christmas with Victor🌺

Victor Spending X-Mas With Y/n’s Family🌺

Kissing Victor Creed Under The Mistletoe🌺

Victor, Meet My Sister🌺

Dinner? 🌺Victor, Y/n, Wade, and Wolverine have dinner together

Come back to bed... 🌺

Story About The Sabertooth🌩️

Victor Creed taking care of you when you have your period🌺

Being A Model And Dating Victor Creed🌺

Wedding Date 🌺

His Dog Tags🌺

Date By The Shore🌺

Now I’m Someone Else Baby~ 🌩️Sabertooth make the worst mistake of his life

Victor’s Jokes🌺

It Wasn't Enough 🌩️Victor sees Y/n with another man after their breakup

I'm Waiting... ❤️‍🔥

Caught In The ‘Action’ ❤️‍🔥Wade interrupts

Victor’s Nicknames For You🌺

Being In A Relationship With Victor Creed🌺

A Grey Hair?! 🌺Y/n finds on Victor a grey hair and old man jokes ensue

Victor Meeting Your Mother🌺

Asgardian Mead By The Shore 🌺Y/n stands up for her Victor

Logan Finding Out Victor Has A Girlfriend🌺

Mornings With Victor Creed🌺

🕉️Yoga with Victor🕉️🌺

Drinking Coffee With Victor Creed☕🌺

How Would Victor Creed Kiss🌺❤️‍🔥

Defenceless 🌺

MULTI-PART STORIES

Cold Truth (PART 1 OF 2) 🌩️Y/n hurts to see Victor move on with another woman

You Didn’t Grieve (PART 2 OF 2) 🌩️🌺Y/n decided to visit Victor on her final visit to discuss his emotionless emotion

PICTURE IMAGINES

Victor Creed Pushing You Against The Wall, Kissing You Drunkenly🌺❤️‍🔥

Traveling To Istanbul With Victor And Showing Him The Culture🌺

Decorating The Christmas Tree With Victor🌺

Passing in Victor’s Arms🌩️

OTHER LIEV SCHRIBER CHARACTERS(Ray Donovan):

Someone I Can’t Hold Anymore (PART 1 OF 2)🌩️🌺

I Let Go Of You A Long Time Ago (PART 2 OF 2)🌩️🌺

#victor creed one shot #victor creed x reader #victor creed smut #victor creed imagine #sabertooth imagine #sabertooth x reader #sabertooth #liev schreiber #xmen #xmen dark phoenix #xmen apocalypse #avengers imagine #xmen masterlist #masterlist

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yokichikun · 11 months ago

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Well. I just saw Druk. And now I don’t know who to choose for a one shot. Will you help me decide the character?

#hannibal #fanfic #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #mads mikkelsen #oneshot #duncan vizla x reader #duncan vizla #duncan vizla imagine #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkleson #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x you

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homoesia · 2 years ago

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PIRATE HANNIBAL

You know how at the end of s3 we see Bedelia holding a little oyster fork

I always thought she was probably gonna use it to hurt Will because let's be honest, we're conditioned to expect Will to be shot, gutted, cut open with a bone saw, stabbed, etc, BUT.

SHE'S GONNA USE IT TO STAB HANNIBAL IN THE FACE. IN THE EYE PROBABLY.

As proof, I propose we look at Mads Mikkelsen's acting career and everything that's going on with his eyes like all the time

Exhibit A - Mads Mikkelsen as Grindelwald in The Fantastic Beasts movie.

His eyes are different colours, and it kinda looks like his pupils are different sizes.

Exhibit B - Mads Mikkelsen as Cliff UNFger in Death Stranding.

He is covered in black goo, and his left eye is leaking oil.

Exhibit C - Mads Mikkelsen as Le Chiffre in Casino Royale.

He sustained an injury to his left eye and now he has different coloured eyes and occasionally cries tears of blood.

Exhibit D - Mads Mikkelsen as Kaecilius in Doctor Strange.

He stole a book and now his eyes are a disco portal to the dark dimension? Idk, don't quote me on this one.

And okay, this is all very cool, but just because Mads played characters with funky eyes one or four times doesn't mean that Hannibal is gonna be stabbed in the face and probably in the eye with an oyster fork. Well, I present to you:

Exhibit E - Mads Mikkelsen as One-Eye in Valhalla Rising.

Exhibit F - Mads Mikkelsen as Rochefort in The Three Musketeers.

Exhibit G - Mads Mikkelsen as Duncan Vizla in Polar

LISTEN OK. Judging by Mads' entire acting career, the fact that Hannibal still has both of his eyes at the end of season 3 is a MIRACLE. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence etc, and SEVEN TIMES means PIRATE HANNIBAL.

That left eye is going.

#hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannibal meta #thanks for coming to my ted talk #mads mikkelsen's a chuunibyou change my mind #mads mikkelsen's eyes

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super-who-locked-me-in-here · 1 year ago

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hello darlin ;)! 1, 31, 41, 46

Oooh Hi you asked so many darlin 🤩

Once again you can find the questions here

1. Who is/are your comfort characters?

Dr. Doofenshmirtz always but also if I had to say a Hannibal or Hannibal Extended Universe character because this is a Hannibal-centric blog, I'd pick Duncan Vizla.

31. What kind of music keeps you grounded?

When I'm feeling overwhelmed I like to drown out the world with rock music. My bands of choice for grounding are letdown., Citizen Soldier, and Falling In Reverse.

41. How do you take your coffee?

I drink my coffee cold and I'll take it a couple different ways. I like Starbucks frappuccinos (my favorite is the Caramel Ribbon Crunch, unless it's time for the winter holidays, then my favorite is the Chestnut Praline) and I'll get iced lattes from Dunkin Donuts with a shot of french vanilla. It depends on what's open on campus. At home, we brew cold brew coffee and keep it in the fridge and I'll throw some in a mason jar with milk, Hershey's syrup, and chocolate pudding mix and shake it up.

46. Favorite Holiday Film?

It's hard to pick an absolute favorite, but (assuming we're talking about winter holidays), I always find myself coming back to the Santa Clause trilogy with Tim Allen every December. My favorite movie in the trilogy is the third one.

#thanks for asking jay 😘#dot says #ask game #ask #ear-motif

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archxngxl · 7 months ago

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The job came after a short silence. For weeks, no assignments showed up. Kate was suspicious of the sudden break she got, but knew it would not last long. The Krause contract arrived just when she needed it to.

What she did not need was another assassin closing in on the kill. Especially not the Black Keizer. Her handler had warned her, clients were not loyal to just one service. These jobs were important, they were stains needing to be washed out immediately. Securing more than one assassin on the job was not uncommon, but something about it struck Kate as odd. The woman opted to take care of one more target. She took the shot without hesitation. A hiss escaped her when the man dodged the bullet. With her pistol retracted, she chased him down. "You got lucky!" She retorted back.

Duncan Vizla was not a man to be trifled with. His name popped up many times in her previous work too, Kate eyeing it with great interest. His work was something to be admired, but it was the subject of envy as well. Not to mention, the many rumors and tales spun around the underworld about the man. Needless to say, Kate was in the presence of a much bigger threat.

Blue eyes danced between the assassin and the target, the ladder ushered into an elevator by anxious bodyguards. Here they were, in a standoff while the target got away. "And you call me a shit shot." The woman bit back. Her finger rested on the trigger, all to eager to press down. "Does this look like a playground to you?" The assassins eyes shot a towards the elevator, their target was now moments before arriving to the basement. Kate had one card to play, and she did not like it. Would she regret it? Maybe. Was she prepared to kill him if plan A did not work? Yes.

"Seems like we've been assigned the same target. So it doesn't really matter who pulls the trigger, as long as he's dead right?" The dark haired woman began. "How about we help each other out? We settle this some other time, but right now he's gonna get away."

Closed starter for @archxngxl (Kate Shaw)

The tell-tale signs are obvious; when you arrive at your location and the security cameras are already dead, the secure entrances expertly disabled and half the building cleared of key personnel, it’s a clear indication that your client likely hired more than one assassin. Still, Duncan isn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth – securing the kill is all that matters in such circumstances.

When Vizla spots the target being ushered across the large atrium by his body guards, he moves quickly, taking aim, though his attention is soon drawn to the explosive near his head, planted to the wall. It’s inert, but that is no cause for comfort; lack of a working timer suggests remote detonation, which is much more dangerously unpredictable. With an annoyed hiss he chooses to track backwards and go the long way around; better than getting his head blown off. Eventually rounding on the target once again, Duncan is about to take the shot when he is forced to duck behind cover as a bullet whirs past him to deeply embed itself in the iron supporting beam behind him. A warning shot it seems; they probably consider it a courtesy.

It is then he sees her - an unmistakable member of their shared profession, one he's always suspected would make a great handler - Kate Shaw.

“You’re a shit shot Shaw” The Black Keizer baits, bursting into a fast run as he continually fires in her direction, bursting up the brickwork to provide himself some much needed cover as he moves to higher ground in an attempt to gain the advantage. Watching as the target enters an elevator, Duncan skids as he attempts to slow and fire between the closing doors but is forced to adjust his aim at the last minute as he senses the sound of someone shuffling somewhere behind him. “Fuck!” He curses as his bullet ricochets loudly off the metal door and the elevator floor counter behind to descend down towards the basement.

Swiftly turning, he does so in just enough time to hold her at gun point, though her sights are equally set straight on him – a stalemate it seems. Despite the obvious threat, Duncan moves closer, challenging her line - seeing how far he can push it.

“You realise he's getting away.” he asserts, finger firm against the trigger as he keeps his gaze set on her. At this rate neither of him are going to reach Krause before he gets to the safety of his armoured vehicle.

“Rock, paper scissors?” Vizla suggests with a playful smile.

#muse: kate shaw #thread: kate and duncan #//the starter is perfect thank you!#// had to reply ASAP lmfaooo this is too good not too!

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ihavemanyhusbands · 2 years ago

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ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

REQUESTS: OPEN (BLURBS/DRABBLES ONLY)

——————

Hannibal

Mini Series:

High Risk (Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Reader)

One Shots:

Degustatión (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Fem!Reader)

Wrapped Around Your Finger (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader)

He Who Hunts These Woods (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Will Graham x Fem!Reader // Dark)

Kiss of the Angel of Death (ANGST // Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader)

Lover’s Spat (Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader // Dark)

Santa Comunione Pt. 1 (Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader // Dark)

Santa Comunione Pt. 2 (Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader // Dark)

Routine Check Up (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader)

A Feast of Blood (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Vampire!Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Vampire!FemReader

Needy (Will Graham x Fem!Reader Drabble // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Polar

Duncan Vizla:

The Black Kaiser's Nightmare (Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

I Found My Love In Portofino (Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Tender (Duncan Vizla x Reader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

The Assassin’s Apprentice (Duncan Vizla x Fem!Reader // Mini Series)

Gladiator ii

Lucius Verus Aurelius:

Mini-Series (Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader)

Bacchanalia (Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Imperator (Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader // 18+ ONLY)

Fallout

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul:

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody (Mini-Series)

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives // Mini-Series)

Bloodhound (SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Wang Dang Atomic Tango (SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Heaven or New Vegas (Part One)

Heaven or New Vegas (Part Two)

Nights at the Wrangler (Drabble // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Warm Welcome (Drabble// SMUT 18+ ONLY // Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader)

Fantasies (SMUT 18+ ONLY // Cooper Howard x Escort!Fem!Reader)

Fair Trade (Drabble // SMUT 18+ ONLY // Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader)

Midnight Mass

Father Paul Hill / Monsignor Pruitt:

The Wine of Your Blood (Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Baptismus Sanguinis (Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Vampire!FemReader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Absolution (Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader // SMUT 18+ ONLY)

Through the Veil of Darkness (Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader // 18+ ONLY)

——

#masterlist #all writing

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dolicekiss · 6 months ago

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Bittersweet Belladona

PAIRING: Dark!Will Graham x Yandere!Reader x Dark!Hanninal Lecter

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+ only, mdni) very dark Will Graham. age gap (reader is twenty two) mention of mental instability, unhinged behavior by all parties, dubcon, stalking, slight blood, choking, hair pulling, manhandling (reader gets her shit clapped) degradation and praise, mention of cannibalism, scratching, slight fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: Following along the bloody trail left behind renowned Psychiatrist Dr. Lecter and his kin, Will Graham, your sick obsession had made you somewhat better than the FBI at tracking down the two. In the shadows, you lingered and stalked them both like a new born shadow, oblivious to the fact that you were also captured in their sight. Your twisted infatuation with the two had you cornered soon enough, trapped in an empty museum with them.

You were lured in.

You should've known.

Just why would they commit a crime in the open museum if not to lure you in and trap you?

The two men circled you around like you were their prey, like the man they had killed and formed into a firefly with its wings spread out, hanging in the air. Wings that were made out of the man's skin — red flesh exposed. The sight was spectacular and you wanted nothing more than to click photos of it, capture it in the deepest darkest parts of your mind and savor it forever.

You stared at it in pure awe, not registering the fact that you were trapped.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

It was Will’s deep voice.

Strained and dry, it made you feel something dark inside your chest. You flinched at his voice, retreating a step back but all you felt against your back was Hannibal’s hard chest, as you crashed into him. His tall figure towered over you and you moved forward, in an attempt to get away from him.

“Beautiful like her.” Hannibal spoke, voice cutting the silence like butter. “But too bad she lacks manners, don't you think?”

All you wanted to do was stalk them, learn more about how their minds worked and get to know them. You had never found their acts of violence disgusting, no. It was simply human, their flaws and the gruesome darkness concealed behind their beautiful faces. It was all too fascinating for you but you knew all too well what the two men were capable of.

The proof was levitating right up in the air.

“Following us around, stalking us. Even going as far as to hacking our phones to eavesdrop on our conversations, how fucking impolite and ill mannered.” It was Will, as he snapped at you. Your face set ablaze underneath his searing gaze, feeling terrified as he stared at you.

A look of disgust in his eyes.

“She might as well be the next Freddie Lounds.” You wanted to hide away from the way Will was glaring at you. Glasses long gone, curly strands slicked back as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Your lips trembled. “I—”

Your throat was parched, running dry in an instant as you attempted to speak and come up with some sort of excuse to your bad behavior. You felt like a child trapped between two adults, anticipating a very bad scolding, maybe even a beating too.

“You're scared, hm?” Hannibal reached for your face, squeezing it between his hand. Your lips forming a forced pout. You were trembling in his hold, as resilient as you were.

You'd decided to follow them, in a way, finding solace in them. The cannibalistic murderers of Baltimore, murder husbands, the FBI profiler who eloped with his cannibalistic psychiatrist. Everytime you saw them on the news, you felt a connection form between you and them and tug you towards them. It was profound, what you felt for them and how the people to whom you were an unknown person comforted you.

Without their own acknowledgement.

You didn't want to die.

As much as you had nothing to live for, other than the delusions that you were meant to join the two— you were an empty shell. An unstable mind wandering the world with nowhere to go. You attempted to make a run for it as soon as you felt Hannibal’s grip loosen. Bolting for the large door, your hand nearly grasped onto the golden knob and pulled at the door but Will was quick to run after you, grabbing your hand and pushing you up against the wall next to the door.

His palm laid straight on your cheek, forcing the side of your head along the wall. Holding you firmly in place all while you struggled and became a sobbing, sputtering mess. Pain blossomed in the side of your head, throbbing and roaring through your skull. Like it could grow two large heads more. The rough manhandling caused tears to pool in your waterline, threatening to drop.

You felt horrible, didn't know what was so wrong about wanting to get to know them on a deeper level as they provided you with comfort. Feeling a bit dumbfounded and stupid.

“Please—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Will nearly growled in your ear, a shiver of terror dancing up your spine.

You watched, in your blurred peripheral vision, a figure moving in next to you. It was obviously Hannibal and you stared at him with a plea clear in your eyes.

“She looks so afraid.” He commented, moving his gaze from your face to Will’s. The man still locking you in place. “She's pretty too.”

“I hate to agree.” Will sternly said, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

You struggled and squirmed, all futile and not enough to help you get your freedom. Will’s hand tangled in your hair, fingers grabbing a bunch of your hair and fisting them. He dragged you from the door and tossed you right across the vast space on the floor, watching as your body collided with the hard marble.

You didn't waste a single second in scurrying away from them both. Now you were the prey and they were the predator, stalking upto you like you were their food. Which, you were pretty sure you were going to become. You didn't mind but you couldn't die with a heart aching to be understood, to be seen.

“She deserves a punishment, no?” Hannibal said to will, voice laced with mischief.

You shook your head. “Sorry—so sorry.”

Your tears and apologies were falling upon deaf ears. Will reveled in the feeling of seeing you this helpless, at this mercy and he knew he could crush you beneath his shoe like a dying little bird. Hannibal was more interested in Will and your dynamic, how you craved to be in his presence yet were terrified of him.

He found it endearing, even.

“Oh no, apologies won't cut it, pretty girl.” He said, in a hoarse voice. “I'm gonna make sure you never ever do something so silly like this ever again.”

Fear had consumed your whole being. Fingers trembling and breath hitching. Heart beat pattering like wild raindrops against a glass window. You could feel it thumping in your ears, as nausea took over you. The urge to throw up all over the floor fought to dominate you but you didn't allow it.

“What were you thinking?” Hannibal asked, squatting down next to where you were on the floor, back pressed into an old viking artifact. “Following dangerous men like us around. Just what did you believe you would achieve from it, if not your demise?”

You gulped, staring between the two men.

Glancing at Will and cowering under Hannibal’s gaze.

You didn't dare speak a word. The letters of the word ‘comfort’ burning the tip of your tongue but you didn't say it. The fear that wafted off you was almost arousing for Hannibal Lecter. His strong ability to smell emotions and feelings helping him smell your fear and anxiety.

“Answer him.” Will ordered, reaching forward and squatting down next to Hannibal in front of you. His hand extended out and collected the hair straight from your roots, tugging onto them. It hurt, the burning sensation spreading along your scalp as your neck was craned up.

You stared at him, a lone tear sliding down.

“J-Just wanted to see, w-wanted to see how you both do it.” Broken words uttered by your broken self.

Hanninal and Will looked at each other, seemingly communicating through their minds as their eyes spoke. Hannibal nodded and Will’s attention shifted back to you, this time staring at you with a different type of void behind those blue eyes of his. His grip tightened and you whimpered, fueling your tears.

Then he leaned down and in a rough kiss, captured your lips. Teeth clashing against your skin, tugging and biting on it. Your little fists tried to push him away from you, banging on the expanse of his chest. He didn't budge at all. Will had newfound determination to break you, to break you in order to put your pieces back together.

In a way he'd liked.

Hannibal knew as manipulative as he was, Will Graham was a cunning boy.

You felt him sink his teeth into your lower lip, piercing the skin enough to evoke blood. A trail dripping down, accumulating at the round of your chin. Vision blurry and eyes squeezed tightly, you cried and cried while struggling. It only worsened your situation as you felt someone behind you— taking a hold of your small fists and restraining them behind your back.

Hannibal held you in place tightly, giving full access to Will to have his way with you.

Your lungs expanded, in desperate attempts to suck in air but all you felt was Will’s tongue slipping past the entrance of your mouth. Colliding with yours, like snake, wrapping around it and in a way, the man was fucking your mouth.

Plunging his tongue in an out of your mouth.

Saliva, blood, tears. All of these liquids proved your demise, though not forever. You knew after Will or both the men are done with you, you'd be different. You'd be dead and you'll be reborn.

“Will, do you intend to end her life with a kiss?” Hannibal called out and the man finally, finally retrieved his tongue and broke apart from you.

Terrified to open your eyes, you let them stay shut. You could feel the hot breath of Will mingling with your own, chest moving vertically up and down. Lungs dragging in as much oxygen as the organs could, unaware of when they'll be allowed to breathe ever again.

“Open your eyes.” Hannibal’s hands caressed your wrists as he whispered in your ear.

You didn't listen and that was a grave mistake. That somehow managed to piss Will off more than you invading their privacy. Your disobedience towards Hannibal and as he walloped his hand across your cheek, a ringing sound entered your ears.

It was loud, everything becoming a blur to you.

Just how hard had he hit you?

Your eyes were opened and you blinked profusely, now finally capturing the man in front of you. You noticed the swell of his lips, as well as the blood that was smeared all over it. His slicked back hair now messed up in a few strands dancing over his forehead. You didn't stop your cries this much, soft little sobs echoing in the spacious museum.

“Will,” Hannibal warned. “She's fragile, you shouldn't be this aggressive.”

“She's strong and she knows it. A fragile little girl wouldn't stalk two men all the way from the US to Italy, would she now, princess?” You shook your head.

The obedience you had shown by responding immediately was satisfying for both of them. The slap had worked, and Hannibal took a hold of your chin, moving your face towards him. His scrutinizing gaze hovered over your busted lip. “It's bleeding, poor you. Will is really cruel, isn't he?”

The sheer rudeness and strictness Will Graham expressed and showcased was in complete contrast to Hannibal’s sweet, gentle demeanor. Its like one was meant to leave bruises while the other bandaged those same wounds.

“Please.” You pleaded, completely unaware of what you were actually pleading for. You knew that even if they were to let you go, you would still continue to stalk the men. You couldn't survive separation and it wasn't like you wanted to live with the two or be roommates, no.

You were more than okay with striving in the shadows, only admiring them from afar.

How did they catch you?

Were you that obvious? That obsessed and infatuated that you hadn't realized these men could outsmart you?

Will stared at you, the scared look on your face stirring something primal within his chest. You looked so beautiful, so broken and he saw himself in you. He saw who he was before meeting Hannibal and this — what he was about to do to you — could be your breakthrough.

They could be your pillars.

Hannibal was in absolute awe of the beauty you possessed and were. Just the raw vulnerability you exposed and how dedicated you were to stalking them, it was all endearing to him. To him it felt like you harbored romantic feelings for him, for them both. Like a puppy following its owners.

“Tie her up.” Will said to Hannibal and he nodded — immediately getting to work. Despite the amount of tears you shed, the struggling and the pleadings, it didn't bother them one bit. Hannibal had found a rope, magically and it made you realize all the more of how deep you had fallen into the well.

They came prepared.

Oh they had thought everything out.

They were looking forward to this.

“No, n-no, please. Listen to me.”

Didn't matter. You were nothing but a lifeless little doll, a plaything to keep them entertained. Hannibal tied you up, hands behind your back. Each knot tightened to the point of purple bruising, his hands skilfully moving across your body. It wasn't just your hands he tied, he'd restrained your arms too and the pain begun in your shoulders.

Both of them looked at you, sitting on the floor, tied up. Your dress had riled up to your thighs in the endeavor and it exposed your soft flesh, which seemed to be an invitation for the two men. Hannibal could only think how you'd taste, drenched in honey and garlic, sizzled on a barbeque. The flesh roasted and sprinkled with diced coriander.

Meanwhile Will could feel his cock becoming hard at how fucking hopeless you seemed. Just sitting on the floor, soft little sniffles falling from your lips. Even a few hiccups here and there too. A red handprint on your cheek a clear indication of your disobedience. It was a sight he wouldn't mind if he were to witness it for the rest of his life with Hannibal.

Will leaned down to you, sitting next to you as his hand reached for the exposed flesh of your thighs. When his soothing fingertips touched your skin, you flinched. That act of yours and how unwilling you still were made him tighten his grip on your thighs, nails leaving crescent moons all over the skin.

“You could've chosen a different path. A different life, different interests than the ones you have right now.” There was almost a heavy sadness to his words. Like he missed the person who he was, somewhere deep inside his mind. “Yet you got yourself into such a mess. Trapped with two men. Do you have any idea what we'll do to you, pretty girl?”

You shook your head.

“If you knew coming here would have you end up like this, would you still go through with it?” He stared at you, in anticipation, searching for the answer in your blurry gaze but he didn't need to.

As you nodded your head. Proving the unstable state of your mind. Despite knowing things would end this way, you'd come to this place over and over again. They had noticed you, they'd seen you, felt you. How could it get any better? Yes, you were hurt but did it really matter? It was worth seeing the two perform their art in all its glory.

Hannibal stared at Will and the man scoffed — shaking his head. “You're such a braindead little thing, aren't you?”

You lifted your eyes up from the floor you were on, confused. The confusion gave you the look of a lost puppy, who had no idea just what was even happening to it. Puzzled and all over the place, terrified and lost.

“She's a peculiar one.” Hannibal commented, one hand slipped inside his pocket. “Should we take her?”

“We'll decide that when she's proven to be worthy of it.” His hand inched closer and closer, riding further up your thigh and between them. Your breath hitched, body shivering as you felt his fingers brush against your clothed cunt.

You were already soaked, as confused as you were about it. They had humiliated you, disrespected you, hurt you yet your panties were saturated. Upon feeling the slick coating your inner thighs, Will let out a dark chuckle and showed his fingers to Hannibal.

The slick glistening against the bright lights.

“She's not some innocent little girl. Her cunt is drenched, Hannibal. All because of how we treated her, like some whore.”

You squeezed your thighs together, not wanting Will to pry more but he did. Both hands at both knees, he parted your thighs open fully and exposed you to the lascivious gaze of himself and Hannibal. The wet spot on your beige panties the perfect innuendo that you were aroused, like some fucking animal and it grossed you out.

Why were you feeling this way?

Will’s hand lowered to your cunt, his thumb flat against your covered clit. He moved it in slow, circular motions, watching you in exciting anticipation. Your body twitched, hips immediately beginning to writhe and he scoffed. Your reactions were fucking adorable, both the men in complete awe.

You still wanted out — as good as this felt.

You struggled, squirming your hips and trying to stray further from him but Will grabbed your leg, putting his own over it to refrain you from moving. You whimpered at his heavy weight on your leg, as he continued his ministrations on your cunt. He then finally peeled the panties off you, sliding them down yout ankles and tossing them to the aside.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” He whispered, Hannibal also joining him on the floor.

Both of them stared at your cunt like it was a meal they both had craved for a very, very long time. A fresh set of tears fell as Will parted your pussy open with his thumbs, pink flesh coated with creamy arousal.

Hannibal shifted behind you, pulling you between his own legs. Both his hands caressed your sides, slowly riding upto your breasts. Fingers kneading into the plush of your tits and dragging your dress down, watching the fat mounds bounce out. His own cock hardened at the sight.

Hannibal loved the female body, how beautiful and different it was than a man's. Innocence seeped into it, like a fresh drop from the sun and a tear of the moon.

You looked up at him and shook your head, squirming. “Stop —no. Not right, not right.”

At your resistance, Will delivered a sharp smack across the stripe of your cunt. Watching as the pink deepened. He slid a finger inside you and you whimpered, gaze fixated on Hannibal. The men simultaneously toyed with your body, having their way with it and you could only sit there helplessly and sob.

“She's tight, even around my finger. I wonder how she'll take both of our cocks.” Will’s comment made Hannibal’s concealed cock throb. A low rumble escaping his chest, vibrating against your back. “Don't tempt me, Will.” Hannibal warned, his fingers pinching and tugging at your hardened peaks.

Will soon inserted another finger, staring up at you. He found you disrespectful and downright rude. Somewhere you reminded him of a certain redhead, with how you lurked everywhere in the shadows wherever they were. But he knew you were nothing like Freddie Lounds. You did not possess the same greed she did, the same lust for fame and content.

Instead he saw darkness. The type of darkness that matched his own — a reflection of his own self. He plunged his fingers in and out of you, curving them and gaining access to that sensitive spot. As he hit it, your gummy walls tightened around his digits, greedy cunt sucking them in.

Meanwhile Hannibal forced you to look at him, one hand still toying with your perky tits. He stared down at you, finding you endearing. How you cried, every movement of your little body. The tears pooling in your waterline, the way your lips shivered and produced small sobs, how the fear flashed in your gaze once in awhile. You were so broken and so damaged, he wanted to fix you right up.

By breaking you apart.

“You should've expected this to happen. Stalking dangerous men like us, while being so frail and fragile yourself. Just what did you expect to happen, hm?” His grip tightened on your wrist, as he stared at you.

You had no words. There was nothing on your mind, other than the realization that you were trapped and had nowhere to go. There was no one coming to your salvation and the thought terrified you more than anything. The complexities of your own emotions and thoughts warring together only left you further braindead.

Hannibal captured your lips. At first the kiss was sweet, gentle even but soon you realized it was only to swallow your little sounds. Every time Will bruised your sensitive spot, Hannibal swallowed a gulp of your whimper. These two were like wolves, consuming and sucking the blood out of their prey.

He continued kissing you, prying your mouth open and mingling his tongue with yours. The fact that you still had Will’s saliva in your mouth, also dribbling down your chin and Hannibal kissed the same mouth. It was all too taboo to not turn you on. Your hips shuffling a little only for Will to press his own leg harder down on yours.

Will stared at you both, watching with a burning gaze as Hannibal practically sucked the soul out of you. He scoffed a little, remembering Hannibal’s words from earlier at how he almost ended you with a kiss. The man was doing the same now, just with a much gentle tone.

He didn't even allow you to inhale or breathe, lips locked against yours in a tight firm kiss. You struggled, attempting to move here and there but it didn't work at all. He continued devouring you like you were his last meal. He kissed differently than Will. He kissed with the intention to eat you, with the intention to savor you for the rest of his life.

It was too passionate for you to ignore. Tears sliding down your face. “You can't eat her now, Hannibal. Don't end up biting her tongue off.”

Will’s words made Hannibal stall for a moment, registering what the man had said. He was right, Hannibal couldn't actually eat you now and from how sweet you tasted, he wanted to bite your fucking tongue off and decorate it with your white teeth.

He backed out, after relishing in the taste you had to offer. Hannibal almost flinched at how fucked out you appeared, from a mere kiss. Your vision had blurred, your mind hazy and your cheeks red. You stared at him, partially lost and numb and then more tears slid across your face.

“Let's take her over to the table.” Will passed an order and Hannibal complied, picking you up within seconds. Your legs resting on his waist, as he carried you to the table.

It was somewhere in the back, concealed in a dark corner. Hannibal laid you down against it on your stomach, and you kicked. Your little kicks delivering to his leg but it didn't affect him at all. Your act of disobedience was like drops of fuel against a fire and it angered both of them. Hannibal’s fingers circled around your ankles, holding them in place.

Will walked over to the two of you, and his fingers drowned in your locks. Grabbing a fistful of it, he craned your neck up and made you look at him. “You fucking brat.” Will slapped you across the side of your face, watching you with a burning stare.

Incinerating pain grew on your right cheek as you slowly regained your senses back and registered the slap. Blood trickled down your chin, the source being your busted lip. The trail cold and dark. “S-Sorry.”

“Oh you'll be fucking sorry when we're done with you, whore.” Will turned to Hannibal. “You take her cunt, I take her mouth. She'll know just how easy we were being on her.”

“Don't end up damaging her.” Hannibal responded, grip tightening on your ankles. “I have taken a liking to her, she'll be good entertainment.”

“Fine.” Will replied with a groan.

Then you caught his attention, again. How unlucky you were. You watched as he unzippes his pants and your eyes widened in horror, hearing another zip being pulled down right after Will’s. You shook your head but it caused Will’s grip to tighten.

As he pulled out his cock, you heard shuffling behind you as well. Will tapped his fat tip against your cheek, then slowly running it along your sealed lips. “Are you going to open up or do I have to force you?”

You contemplated. You really contemplated and the slap made you more pliant, as you parted open your lips. On the other hand, Hannibal had pushed your legs apart, his own cock in his hand. He slowly guided it inside you and when you felt his thick head enter you, a high pitched moan echoed within the walls of the museum.

Will pulled your hair. “Stick your fucking tongue out.”

And you obliged. Ashamed and embarrassed, you stuck your tongue out and Will slapped his fat cock flat against it a few times before driving it inside the wetness of your mouth. Feeling them both enter you at the same time, one inside your cunt and the other dominating your mouth. You cried out in pain.

Hannibal looked down at how your pussy hugged his cock, barely halfway through and a low growl rumbled from his chest upon seeing the ring of blood around his cock.

You were a virgin.

“She's a virgin Will.” Hannibal called out, pushing himself deeper inside you. To a point where no one else has been. “Poor girl probably wanted something sweet, something gentle for her first time.”

Will practically melted at the fact that you were a virgin. Completely untouched. He wondered how could that be possible with the way you appeared and how your body was carved by the gods them selves? But he didn't care. It was perfect. You were perfect.

Made for them.

Crafted for them by the same god they both resented.

Will’s gaze dropped down at you, watching you as your lips squeezed around his cock and sucked him in. “Ever sucked a cock before, princess?”

The term which was usually used for endearment sounded so ironic when it came from Will. Like he was mocking you, using it to taunt you. He didn't mean it when he called you that. He was only using it to make you feel horrible, calling you a princess while treating you worse than a peasant.

You shook your head. You were foreign to the idea of such explicit activities before this very night but now, you were stuffed two cocks. One in your mouth and one in your cunt.

You felt Hannibal’s cock grow thicker inside you at the information, its veins throbbing against your gummy walls. A muffled cry of despair left you as Will continued sliding his cock further into your mouth. “If I feel one tooth, I will punch them right out of your mouth. Got it?”

You inhaled through your nose, nodding.

“Good.” Will released your hair as both his hands settled against your face. He held your face, the head of his cock pushing past your palate and uvula as a loud groan mixed in with your muffled whimpers. He snapped his hips, not caring that you were choking all over his cock.

Saliva trailing down your chin, making a mess around your mouth. You moved your shoulders, all the while Hannibal held you tightly against the table by your hips and fucked you like some wild beast. Both men used their full strength, snapping their cock inside you and it left you light headed.

“She's squeezing me in so much, almost as if she likes this.” You heard Hannibal grunt, his cock slamming against your cervix. From how hard his fingernails dug into your flesh, you knew your skin was bloodied by now.

Hannibal’s gentle demeanor was out the fucking window, replaced with the monster he truly was.

As Will’s cock slid along the surface of your tongue, his hips bucked and he fully bottomed out in your mouth. You could feel his head at the back of your throat and gagged all over it, tears splattering out of your eyes. It was all a mess. You couldn't even breathe anymore and let out little screams — which were muffled and only worked as vibrations against Will’s throbbing length, nearing him to his orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. I bet her little cunt is as tight as her mouth. It's like I'm fucking a pussy.” Will whimpered, slurring out soft little pants.

Hannibal groaned in respond. “Show me her face, Will. Right now.”

Will nodded, pulling out of your mouth only for a few seconds as he flipped you on your back and pushed your head up, holding it for Hannibal to witness the mess he'd created out of you. A mirror with broken shards, showing Hannibal a reflection of himself.

He almost came at the sight of you.

Looking so fucked up. Hair a mess. Lips bruised, bloody and swollen. Tears and saliva running down in rivulets. You were a fucking sight for sore eyes and Hannibal wanted this every single day. He needed to witness this every single day.

And he never needed anything.

“So beautiful. So fucking—” He snapped inside you, his pace becoming rough and animal like thrusts founding their way against your bruised spot. “beautiful but such an impolite little girl.”

He spat as the sound of skin against skin echoed in the room. Bouncing off the walls of the museum, reaching the carved out ancient ceiling. The cupids listening to each and every noise made in sin.

Will dropped your head down, your neck bending slightly as he shoved his cock back inside your mouth. This new position gave him all the power to fuck your mouth thoroughly, watching as the imprint of his cock inside your throat formed against your skin. Bulging and moving along the skin.

It turned him on like nothing else.

He glared at you, eyebrows furrowed in pure pleasure, lips parted to allow heavy pants escape it. Will Graham looked fucking breathtaking when the sweat trickled down his forehead. You were wondering if this was that bad, if them taking you against your will was anything bad.

But it was the pleasure getting to your head.

Of course this was morally wrong and fucked up.

But who had morals in this room?

One was a cannibal, the other was an accomplice and murderer and you were an unhinged stalker.

“Fuck you looking at huh?” He asked you, abruptly slapping your chest. Your back arched and you let out a whimpered cry, almost tempted to use your teeth.

But you were well aware what that act would cost you.

Will gasped out, feeling his orgasm nearing while Hannibal looked at Will. He could only admire the view before him and as he fucked your cunt, his own orgasm came knocking at his door. Both of them imitated each other's pace, fucking you like wild animals during mating season.

They came soon and the intimacy of them cumming together was so intense. Hannibal’s load shot out, coating your gummy walls and filling you up to the brim. Will’s thrusted, and as you subconsciously tightened your mouth around him, the man also released into your mouth.

His moans had evolved into whimpers and gasps, breathing ragged as he emptied himself inside you. Balls throbbing and hips bucking. It was fucking intense, for both Hannibal and Will. His fingernails dug into the wood for support, fucking your mouth leisurely to ride out his orgasm. Hannibal had left marks on your thighs and hips from how roughly he'd gripped them, as well as blood trails from his nails.

Coated in your own blood, your once untouched and unclaimed skin was now drenched in sin — purity long snatched by the hands of the devil himself. In your case, both Hannibal and Will relresented the Devil. Falling angels they were.

As Will pulled out from your mouth, he caught a glimpse of all his load sitting there in your mouth. It's taste salty and texture thick. Something you'd never ever experienced in your mouth.

“Swallow it.” He ordered and you shut your mouth, swallowing it all. It felt gross and weird against your throat but you didn't complain, only a look of grimace crossed your face.

You still hadn't cum.

Your body twitching and aching. Your cunt screaming for its own release, knots building up in your stomach and thighs convulsing. You were close too but Hannibal stopping made you let out a whimper of frustration.

“Look at her, Hannibal. Twitching and whimpering for a release, huh.” Will scoffed, lips shuddering as he inhaled long chains of oxygen.

Hannibal pried open your hole with his thumbs, watching as his cum oozed out of you and pooled on the table. Your gaping hole sputtered, more cum leaking out and Hannibal licked his lips at the sight. “Although she has not been an obedient girl, I think she deserves her release too for taking us so well. Don't you, Darling?”

You nodded.

You needed this feeling of intense desire and wanton to disappear. This frustration that bit at your stomach, nipped away little pieces of flesh.

Will walked over to Hannibal as the man took you into his arms, sliding his cock back inside you. This time Will sat on top of the table, his half soft cock fully hardening at the evil idea that cooked in his mind. He held your ass, opening it with both his hands and slowly pressing his tip against your rim.

Your eyes widened. “N—No.”

“Still resisting us? Knowing we've claimed you, all of you? How naive.” Hannibal commented, face only a few inches apart from yours. He slid his cock inside your cunt as Will lowered you onto his. The two men were gonna tear you apart, you knew that.

Their girth and length were both something you couldn't handle, not at once at least. But Will didn't care — and Hannibal shared that. Feeling the burning stretch in your ass, you shrieked as Will entered you. A tear slid down your face, disappearing into your parted lips as Hannibal held you for Will.

“It hurts— hurts please.” You cried, like a broken doll and Hannibal pressed a kiss against the corner of your lips. “It'll feel better soon. You shouldn't feel pain. You're only a set of holes for our pleasure, aren't you?”

You didn't answer, too lost in the searing pain in your bottom. Will wasn't even half way through, you could feel it and yet it felt like you were being ripped apart. Hannibal’s cock stayed inside you, not movinf at all. Allowing Will to first adjust himself inside you.

“Answer me.” Hannibal held you with one hand, as he lightly smack you with the other.

You nodded. “Yeah, only a set of holes for your pleasure.”

Hearing you accept it like this, so vocally and out loud. Will lost it and slammed you down onto his cock, bottoming out. Pain bloomed in your ass and you screamed but before it could reach the ears of people somewhere outside the museum, Hannibal captured your lips in a rough kiss.

He licked at your tongue, teeth against teeth while fucking into you slowly. Will sat there as Hannibal moved you up and down on his cock and the burning sensation only grew with each thrust. “Stupid fucking whore. Just what was going through your head, this young and dedicating your life to stalking men twice your fucking age. It's like you wanted this to happen to you, yeah? Two cocks in you at once.”

Will’s filthy words was like alcohol, and blitzed you were. Guilt consumed you and somewhere their manipulation was seeming to work on you in this vulnerable moment. You should've know better. This was bound to happen. Just what were you expecting? That they would invite you into their lives with an open, warm embrace?

You were so fucking stupid.

Hannibal parted from you, his forehead pressed against you as he settled you down against Will’s thighs. You sniffled, feeling his cock all the way inside your ass as Hannibal used your cunt. You felt nothing more than some whore that was here for their pleasure, their sake.

Your stomach flipped and churned, a disclaimer that your release was near. Your thighs shook terribly and when Will pushed upward, you surged forward and leaned against Hannibal’s chest. You tightened around them both, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh she's close. I can feel her. She's gonna snap my fucking dick in half.” Will grunted, as you twitched. Then it came. That strong, bone chilling feeling of pleasure, consuming your whole being. Eyes witnessing white and lips agape, high pitched moans slurring out and tainting the purity of the museum.

You felt the potent need of release take over you ans you gushed out, squirting all over the men. Your body going limp and losing all its strength, falling over to Hannibal. All you saw was darkness, as your eyes stayed closed and your chest moved up and down. Frame suffering from convulsions.

For a moment you thought they'd stop but what a mistake it was.

“She's made quite the mess, Will.” Hannibal commented, his button up soaked in your release.

Will released a hoarse chuckle, his chest rumbling. The man started fucking into your ass, watching as it revived you back but this time you had no resistance left in you. One orgasm had sent you over the edge, overestimated and sensitive. You whined into Hannibal’s chest, tears staining his shirt as Will continued fucking into you.

Hannibal was also in pursuit of Will, his cock carrying its assault on your cunt. Encouraging broken whines out of you. The two were also stimulated enough and after fucking you for awhile, they too came.

Feeling Will’s load in your ass was a weird feeling. It was uncomfortable but what made it even more uncomfortable was Hannibal’s cum leaking out of your cunt, as he fucked it back into you.

You fell against Will’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. Face drained and numb, no energy left in you whatsoever. You were so fucked out and numb — no expression on your face as you stared at Hannibal.

“She's fucked.” Will said, with a laugh as he stared at the worried expression on Hannibal’s face.

He tapped his fingers over your cheek. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You didn't respond. Completely broken and tired. You craved solace in that moment, absurdly from the two men who were the sole cause of all this. How fucked up could this situation get?

“Hey.” His taps on your cheek grew harder but you didn't respond. Will sat up straight, arm wrapped around your waist as he held you against him. “Fuck, I think we damaged her.”

“We?” Hannibal raised a brow.

Will narrowed his eyes at him. “Don't pretend as if you weren't manipulating her into thinking this was all her fault, all the while fucking her.”

Hannibal looked at you, also tapping at your face but to no avail. You were completely speechless and devoid of any human emotion. Like some fucking statue.

“All the fucking left her braindead huh.” Will whispered and then he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss against you cheek. He shook your body lightly and there you were.

Staring at him, with your innocent eyes and his heart clenched. You still had remnants of who you were, just like all of them but he knew this would change you.

“There you are.” Hannibal said, a wave of relief washing over him. You stared between the two men and finally gathered the courage to reply to their question.

“Comfort.” Both their gazes narrowed in on you when you spoke, voice strained and almost gone from all the moaning you did. “You a-asked me what I believed I would ac—” You coughed out before continuing, “achieve from this. Comfort.”

Will’s jaw tightened.

Hannibal found you even more endearing than before. How foolish yet adorable of you to think being with them could bring you comfort. He caressed away the drop of nearly dried blood from your chin, watching it taint your skin further.

“Let's go, we're going home.” The blonde said — as Will nodded his head. He liked the idea of taking a broken person like you home, especially when you had chased them only as a means to seek comfort. He didn't know whether to think of it as something sad or something sweet.

But both of them had plenty of time to decide that, as they were taking you home.

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mettleborn-a · 3 years ago

Text

Plotted starter for @smokinmirrors

Duncan’s cabin is old but wears its age well, on the outside at least. It has firm foundations and is built of good wood, the kind that needs no more than the occasional fresh coat of lacquer every few years to keep it from looking too storm worn. Inside however, whilst clean, looks far more dated; rustic, Duncan would argue, but sorely in need of sprucing up. It’s not something that would normally concern the retired assassin, but with company due to call tonight; the first he’s received since relocating to Montana over a month ago, the state of the place is naturally on his mind. The local store didn’t offer much in terms of decorative options; a little tinsel left over from Christmas, a couple of crocheted blankets and pillows with pictures of dogs on them, barely complement the gingham tablecloth he was convinced into buying to ‘brighten up the place’. A tablecloth he only bought to cover up the blood stains from the bull elk he shot last week and butchered in the kitchen. Still, at least the place looks a little warmer and nothing of the animal went to waste; he now has a freezer full of meat which will see him through winter.

Lying on his bed, he attempts to make it look more used; there is no reason why Mason would want to enter his bedroom, but there remains a part of him that is paranoid she might sense he never sleeps in it. Duncan has become accustomed to sleeping in his chair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his gun in the other - a sensible sleeping position for a man who is still being hunted across the globe as big game; not simply for the reward, but more so for the glory of the kill.

In truth, the Black Keizer is used to celebrating New Year’s on his own, such celebrations usually including nothing more than drinking whiskey until simply too tired to drink anymore. Mason’s suggestion that they see in the New Year together, had been met with surprise and while Vizla’s natural inclination had been to politely decline, his need for company prevailed, though he was insistent that they spent the evening here in his cabin, knowing that he can defend it more easily, if things happen to go awry.

He forgot to ask what she likes to drink and that is why his kitchen table is now littered with different spirits; whiskey, bourbon, vodka, gin, tequila and rum along with every kind of mixer he could find at the small store in town. Frankly it makes him look like an alcoholic, though no more so than the bin out back that is filled with empty whiskey bottles; the liquor he uses to calm his mind before bed; to stop the incessant memories that seek to stir his ever-swelling sense of guilt and regret.

Quite why he is drawn to Mason, he isn’t sure, something protective in him, he supposes, something that senses she might be as lost as he is, out here in the depths of the wilderness and, like him, might need some grounding. Most of the townsfolk Duncan’s encountered here have lived in Triple Oak all their lives, with the exception of Mason, and perhaps that is why he has found himself able to bond with her more easily. She doesn’t push him for details that would force him to weave fictions for her benefit, lies about the kind of life she might have expected him to lead before moving here. He has told her that he worked in the funeral business for most of his life, travelling internationally. That, it seems, has been enough for Mason and he is thankful for it, though he can’t help but wonder if her casual acceptance of it speaks to how little he knows about Mason herself. He has never asked her why she came here, moved out to the back of beyond and maybe she thinks that is strange, but he would much rather they work to build the kind of bond that might one day make her feel comfortable enough to tell him, rather than asking her outright. In the end he can sense that they both hold secrets and not the simple kind that are easy to gloss over or conceal, no; rather the kinds of secrets that seek to define you entirely, if you let them.

Lighting a cigarette, Vizla pours himself a large glass of Scottish single malt, from a bottle he’s been saving, before moving forward to freshly stoke the fire, finally satisfied that the atmosphere of the cabin feels cosy rather than bare and barren. As his wrist watch sounds a proximity alarm, Duncan checks his surveillance system, relived when he discovers it is only Mason traversing the icy bridge across the frozen lake that surrounds his dwelling out here in no man’s land.

Moving to the door, he opens it widely and shifts to stand on the raised porch, forced to blink snow out of his eyes, as he watches her approach.

#Mason #smokinmirrors #[duncan vizla] close your mind and pull the trigger #closed starter #((hope you like it!))

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homesoutofhuman · 6 years ago

Text

Locked in- Duncan Vizla/Reader one shot

Request for the fanfic trope challenge- Trope 1: Locked in a Room, Trope 2: Unexpected virgin.

Pairing: Duncan x female librarian! virgin reader

Warnings: explicit sex, swearing

a/n: I’m not a big fan of ‘it’s her first time but five minutes in she’s riding him like a mechanical bull trope’ so I tried to make it more realistic, forgive me.

"Is anyone in here?” calls a deep male voice that resonates through the stacks and almost makes you drop the box of books you’re holding.

“Yes I am but just don’t let the door…” you groan in dismay as you hear the heavy metal door slam closed “...shut.”

Peeking out from the shelf you see Duncan rubbing his moustache and looking at you guiltily. “Sorry, I didn’t know it would lock like that.”

“Yeah it’s for security.” you answer ruefully, walking towards him feeling awkward now that there are just the two of you in a small room. Duncan is so tall he takes up a lot of space, and his chest is broad...damn, it’s getting hot in here.

“For the books?” he looks so confused, scanning your face with apologetic puppy eyes as if to see if he’s going to be scolded.

“Some of them are precious.” Grabbing one of the shelf you show him a first edition of Alice in Wonderland. Duncan bends his head next to yours and gazes at the vibrant fresh illustrations. You feel his eyes on your profile as you turn the pages.

“I see, yes, beautiful.”

You look at him sharply and find his eyes fixed on your lips. You press them together self-consciously and his eyes grow warm, flicking down your body to where the top of your blouse has come undone as you strained to lift the box to a high shelf. He lets out a sigh so heavy it brushes your cheek and gives you some welcome relief from the growing humidity in the room.

“If I had to be stuck in a room with someone I am glad it’s you.” he murmurs, suddenly and unexpectedly gentle.

You are a little stunned, having got to know Duncan casually over the last few weeks since he’s been teaching his class, you greet him every morning and say goodbye every evening, but you were unaware he’d even noticed you, never mind treasured the small conversations you’d managed to snatch in the faculty lounge, usually about books, sometimes about travel and all the different places he’d visited. Truthfully, you are in awe of the man, he has seen and done so much while you’ve been stuck in a small town, loving your job and your responsibilities, but never really quite living in the way he has.

“Yeah.” he answers in a heavily accented voice you can never quite pin down. You love his voice, so deep and alluring, but now it’s giving you issues, reminding you of all the secret fantasies you have about him when lights are out and you touch yourself, it always starts with him talking to you, looking at you just how he is right now.

Duncan notices your erratic breathing, your hardened nipples through your blouse, the way you’re looking at him like you’re starving and he’s some really good food and he finds he cannot control himself any longer. He grabs your arms and pushes you up against the stone wall between the stacks, towering above you, at least twice your size. You feel like a helpless animal in the clutches of a predator. He bends down and just takes your mouth, kissing you like he has every right to do whatever the hell he wants, but gentle at first, testing your reactions, seeing how you whimper when he licks inside your top lip, how you groan when he bites the bottom one.

Affected despite himself you feel him pressing against you, hard and solid and so warm. Duncan flicks open a few more buttons on your blouse and presses his mouth to the exposed skin, sucking hard. Your eyelashes flutter as you look down at him, lost for words, your knees almost buckling beneath you. Duncan lets go your arms, gently grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger so that you are forced to meet his eyes.

“Look at me” he commands almost sternly “do you want this?”

Holding his gaze bravely you nod in affirmation “Yes Duncan, I want you but…”

Duncan pauses, his jacket half off his shoulders, looking at you questioningly. You smile at him fondly and help him take it off, pushing at his roll-neck in frustration, you want to feel his skin. “But you should know something. I...never really did anything like this before.”

Distracted by your words, Duncan lets you continue to undress him, so you get to run your hands over his bare chest and down to his pants before he stops you, his large hands capturing yours as you attempt to undo his belt. ”Wait, you’re teasing me. You really never…?”

Shaking your head you feel a blush moving across your cheekbones and down your neck. You want to sink into the ground at his feet. How can you explain that living in such a small town you never found the right person? That everyone was either too old or too young, how they wanted to go to sports games and drink beer and didn’t understand you- your craving for culture, for stories, for wisdom of the world. Until Duncan appeared in your life and brought everything you didn’t even know you needed.

“Shit.” he mutters under his breath. “Guys in this town really are stupid.” He rushes at you then, kissing you passionately, winding his hands in your hair to tilt your head just right, hardly letting you breathe between each long, hungry kiss, stealing your breath and making you shake in his arms. His hands move down your pencil skirt and squeeze your butt, bringing you closer to him with a groan.

“Your first time really shouldn’t be here though, but god knows I want it to be with me.”

Stammering you quickly try to reassure him. He’s got you so crazy you know there is no way you want to turn back now. You feel like you’ll die if you don’t have him, and some of your desperation seeps through into Duncan, so he nods, dropping to his knees in front of you. “If you’re very sure?”

Nodding so hard you almost wrench your neck you gape as he rolls up your skirt, exposing your stockings underneath. He raises his eyebrow and gives you an amused look. “Little minx.” then pressing his lips to the top of your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns down the backs of your legs, helping you out of your shoes.

“Lie back little one.” he murmurs, and without your heels you do feel even tinier beneath him. Duncan smooths out his jacket to give you some protection from the cold floor and resumes his place between your legs, kissing up and over your underwear, his eyes dark and focused, so much you’re scared to disturb him from the trance like state he seems to be in, but when he pushes aside your panties and puts his mouth on you, you cannot help it and let out a loud whimper, your hands shyly caressing his hair and down his neck as he licks at your sex, his tongue gentle but insistent against your clit. It makes you feel hungry and you squirm against him, wanting, needing more. He pushes the tip of his tongue to your entrance but doesn’t breach it, and you moan incoherent words, begging and pleading with him.

“You’re so wet gorgeous.” he informs you, raising his head with a fond look in his eye, and you see to both your arousal and your shame that his facial hair is glistening with your juices. “I’m so glad I’m the first one that gets to fuck you, it’s a crime that you’ve been left wanting so long.”

You realise his dirty talk is turning you on further, and you’re almost writhing on the ground by the time he’s finished teasing you. It seems to go on for hours, you almost black out as Duncan keeps you on the edge of orgasm, working his fingers inside you gently and gradually, so you won’t feel too much discomfort. For his part Duncan has never been so hard in his life, he wonders briefly if it’s possible to die from blue balls, and if so if it’s a technique assassins should add to their arsenal. Still, he doesn’t get off on causing people pain, and no matter how much he wants to just shove himself inside you, make you scream, he repeats a mantra in his head to keep the animal contained, you are precious, you deserve everything.

Sometime during the sweet torture, Duncan’s got you naked, and when he stands to finally undo his belt he looks down at you, your neck covered in red marks from his teeth, your nipples dark and erect from his mouth, your cunt dripping wet onto his coat. Duncan swears if he dies in this fucking locked library heaven could not be sweeter than the sight in front of him. You see his eyes tracking over your body and you do not feel shy anymore, you move your own hand between your legs, watching him pull his boxers down, his hard cock spring out. It’s even better than you imagined in your dirtiest dreams, thick and dark just like the rest of him. It’s big, looks like he’s going to split you in two. You realise our desire for him is so strong you don’t even care if it hurts anymore, but that doesn’t stop the slight shiver of fear at the bottom of your spine as he lines himself up with your virgin entrance.

“Fuck beautiful…” Duncan swears under his breath watching you touching yourself as his dick touches the wetness of your pussy lips, he tips back his head and takes some breaths. You stare at him wondering why he looks like he’s in pain, and realise his reluctance to damage you.

“Duncan please…” you whisper, deliberately seductively, wiggling your hips and speeding up your fingers on your clit “need you.”

He gives you a look that’s at once loving and despairing, and pushes his way inside you gradually, but not stopping until you’re completely joined. The pain is nothing you haven’t felt before and you feel yourself bearing down on him, wanting to show him you’re okay. Duncan watches you, his eyes barely open, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you fuck yourself on him. He grabs your hips to still you, shaking his head.

“I’m glad you’re okay but let me show you how it’s done baby girl...let me have this privilege.” His soft words surprise you enough to let him take back control and he starts a steady but slow rhythm, thrusting into you, groaning with every movement, and his words grow less gentle as he feels you clenching so tight around him. “Let me fuck you…”

“Yes Duncan…” is all you can say to reassure him, but it seems enough. He bends over you, lifting your legs up gently so he can deepen his movements. You enthusiastically wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to please him. Duncan gives you a deep kiss as reward.

His movements inside you start to feel less uncomfortable and more pleasurable as time goes on, and despite everything the fact that’s you’re so intimately joined with him makes you dizzy, makes it all worthwhile. You can tell he’s getting close, his handsome face screwed up with concentration, his hair damp on his forehead, but his thrusts inside you do not falter, as if it would kill him to stop.

Grabbing his hand you place a kiss on his palm before pushing it between your legs, letting his fingers replace your own. Duncan moans in reply, and the sound is more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him. He bends his head to suck at your breasts as he continues to rub at you while thrusting a little more sloppily inside you.

“Wait, I want to come with you inside me…” you beg and he gives a shudderingly hard thrust in reply. You start to convulse, feeling the heat coil from your hips up your body and making you shake against him and release, crying out his name. Duncan groans, his mouth on your nipple as he finally gives in to his own pleasure. Realising that you probably don’t have a birth control method set up he reluctantly pulls out and finishes, pushing himself between your thighs, looking down at you possessively.

You feel overwhelmed, and are vaguely aware of Duncan laying down next to you, covering your body with his own. Your eyes run up and down, taking in his athletic, graceful build and you lean to caress his lower back. Duncan gives a little jump, his dick stiffening slightly and you look up at him in awe.

“Already?”

Duncan shrugs, cuddling you tightly “Seems you have that effect on me liebling. Are you all right?” he asks, solemnly, but without pity. It is the enquiry of an equal, and you appreciate it.

“I need to go take a shower but other than that I’ll be fine.”

Duncan looks down between your thighs. “Sorry.” but his dick twitches again and you hide a smile, he enjoys making a mess of you.

You doze a while in his arms, but are awoken by him shaking you gently. “The school janitor will do his rounds in a few minutes, you should dress before he arrives.” Duncan helps you into your clothes and buttons your blouse right up to the top. You blink at him questioningly and he shrugs. Scoffing, you undo one button and watch him sulk slightly, amused that he is so territorial so soon. The janitor frees you both, to your blushes and Duncan’s awkward explanations, you see him just rolling his eyes and sweeping the floor as you lean into Duncan’s side and giggle.

He laughs in response, a loud sound you’ve never heard from him before and hope rises in your chest that this wasn’t just about sex. You leave him at the school gates where he tells you sternly to call him when you get home safe. You’re barely inside the doorway when your phone starts to ring and when you answer it you hear a familiar voice on the other end- gruff but somehow soft.

“I was thinking we could get ‘locked in’ my cabin this weekend, what do you say?”

“As long as you’re gentle with me Duncan” you reply, moving to the bath to soothe your aching muscles.

“I can’t promise that.” he replies, as you sink down into the hot water you shiver with anticipation for all that’s to come.

=========

#trope challenge #duncan x reader #duncan vizla #duncan vizla x reader #duncan vizla x you #librarian!reader #isn't she cute?#this is kinda cringey i don't normally write virgin reader but here we are #fanfic trope challenge

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 4 years ago

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hii hala 🥺 how are you doing? i hope you're having a nice day! can i request Duncan vizla, the joker, victor creed and what would they do if they see their s/o down because they're stressed due exams? like they have no motivation to study and keep complaining but they're stressed because they have to study anyways gshahgssj that's my current situation and wow being a student has never been this hard 😭 thank you in advance!💛

I feel you, sweetums, I can only imagine how tough and tiresome it can be. I hope these three gentlemen will help you feel better. I'm looking for you. Enjoy!

Duncan Vizla:

I can see Duncan as a disciplined man. He loves to have discipline around him and it surely affects his s/o. He loves the fine balance between discipline and rewarding. But when the scale is tipped too much into the disciplined part of his s/o he stops. He will take them out giving them a breath of fresh mountain air. Making them a warm cup of chamomile tea to get them the RIGHT amount of sleep. He will step in and if it gets tough he will go full dom on their s/o's ass. He will have a planner for what he has in the store. He is the definition of an assassin on the outside and a soft butler on the inside.

(whoever thinks otherwise can fight me)

Joker:

J is not that committed to laser focus concentration he still thinks that you can put a book under the pillow and you will learn. But when he sees his s/o he will pull them away from the table. He will first do a full body checkup (Dr. J with no Ph.D. in the house) and then he will lock the room to give them some room to breathe. He loves to make some crazy things with his s/o like breaking dishes or painting graffiti on the streets just to have a fill of craziness. He may be not the most adult of the three but he will turn the world upside down just to make his s/o smile.

Victor Creed:

Depending on what his s/o studies he got them. History, he can tell them all about it. Medical stuff (yeah you can see I don't go to a medical college) he will show them how it felt and how long it took to heal, literature he will say that just tor bring them along and he will persuade the professors for a straight ass A. But if he sees his s/o tired and not giving up on their studying he will use his claws to scratch their back making as the nice shiver goes along. As he does that seeing his s/o in a comatose pose he will carry them out of the room and make the hot cocoa. !!!!He will give you his coat!!! That is the last resort he will put it over their shoulders and just his smell and warmth will calm his s/o as he lays on the couch calling them to lay down. He knows that this is important but seeing them smile and calm is the most important.

Tbh, this COMBO... Pure bliss. Didn't know I needed this in my life.

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loganmcgrady-blog · 5 years ago

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Polar: Having fun in retirement.

Depending on your particular worldview, Netflix’s Polar either wastes no time or is a total waste of time. This movie floats precariously on a river of blood, threatening to capsize with each flurry of bullets--and there are plenty. It is graphically violent and sexually explicit. In the first action sequence, our main character nails a bad guy to the wall then turns the nail gun on not one, but both of the baddy’s testicles. All of this murderous hedonism goes down with a spoonful of charm; this movie has personality. Polar doesn’t take itself too seriously, and you shouldn’t either.

The gratuitous nature of this film is made permissible by celebrated Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen. He plays Duncan Vizla, a renowned assassin for whom retirement is just weeks away. His pension plan will net him a cool $8 million, but Duncan’s shadowy employer does not intend on paying out. If Duncan is killed before he reaches his 50th birthday and is forced into retirement, the Damocles Corporation keeps the money. Spoiler alert: neither party intends on backing down.

The understated performance turned in by Mikkelsen plays foil to the violence around him that often turns to the absurd. He is pursued by Damocles’ top hit squad; their preferred tactic is to use the voluptuous Sindy (Ruby O. Fee) as a tantalizing distraction while they move in for the kill. Duncan falls for the ruse, embarking on a comically long sex romp until a position change timed with a sniper’s shot lets us know he was on to it the whole time. There was never any doubt he was savvy to the plan; the movie is only half over and he hasn’t confronted his boss yet--the doughy and effete Mr. Blut.

The few quiet moments Polar affords us are set in Triple Oaks, Montana, where Duncan was prepared to retire gracefully. There he befriends Camille (Vanessa Hudgens), a jumpy young woman whose family, we learn inevitably in the film’s climax, was killed by Duncan on a job gone awry. Duncan takes a paternalistic liking to his young neighbor, buying her a pistol and teaching her to shoot. This scene offers a bit of humanity amongst the ultra-violence, in which Camille breaks down and can’t fire the gun. The dramatic irony of Duncan, the purveyor of her suffering, giving her the tools to exact her revenge is executed well.

Where Camille is withdrawn and afraid, Damocles underboss Vivian is competent and assertive. Played by Kathryn Winnick, Vivian smolders on-screen, purring into the phone à la Daryl Hannah in Kill Bill. Vivian’s persona as calculating advisor to Mr. Blut is only slightly distracted by her scene-by-scene costume changes; at one point she is wearing a blonde afro wig surrounded by female dancers. In this, she becomes part of the carnival rather than set above it like Duncan, which Winnick’s performance deserved.

Polar’s cinematography plays well with its ludicrous styling. Never does the camera work or editing needlessly distract; the movie is confident that its over-the-top content will keep you engaged through its two-hour runtime. Some world-building issues do exist. Duncan gives a presentation to an elementary school class on the relative merits of the kukri knife and then passes around pictures of a dead body; comical, but hardly the M.O. of an assassin who won’t talk on a cell-phone for more than 30 seconds.

Above all else, Polar is fun. It’s predictable but rarely dwells long enough that you care to notice. This movie isn’t for everyone, but that’s ok. It doesn’t mind being loud and appalling and in a world tripping over itself with apologies, that is redeeming. Consider Polar a welcome addition to the canon of assassin shoot-em-ups, not on the level of John Wick but close enough to wave hello.

Verdict: 7/10

#polar #mads mikkelson #netflix #john wick #movies #movie #cinema #film #movie review #kathryn winnick

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fanfiction-inc · 6 years ago

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Cold Days, Bad Memories

Verse: Polar (2019)

Characters/Pairings: Duncan Vizla / Reader, The Black Kaiser / Reader

Word Count: 5,325

Warnings/Tags: Blood, Gore, Sex, Sexual tension, Killing, Murder, The Black Kaiser is sexy af, Mads is my baby, Tension, Angst, Torture, Offensive descriptions.

Summary: The infamous Black Kaiser (Duncan Vizla) is being hunted by a member of his past.

Rating: Explicit

[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1996]

“I want you to take a deep breath. Let the air calm your nerves, prepare you. Have you taken a deep breath?” “Yes.” Russian undertones, the English foreign on small lips and gentle in the winter air as snow blows in the gentle breeze. The white decorates dark hair, older locks blowing with the gentle shift of breeze blowing the frozen crystals here and there. The younger meets the elders gaze with a smile like that of innocence. His own smile was of thin lips, ever so slightly upturned and to the child's delight, he ruffled her hair before having her soft gaze return down the scope of the rifle. “Breath, take your time.”

The gruff voice was close to her ear, skilled gaze meeting that of a stark brown to the white background of wooded terrain. A large hand rested on a small shoulder that held the butt of the rifle, ready to aid her with the recoil. “Low, remember to get low.” They lowered, his form taking lead and allowing the girl to lay snugly against his side as a particular, harsh and cold breeze takes to the right and hits the girls face in a stinging hit. A drapery of scenery cover over the two, hiding them away from the elements and allowing what little warmth to follow. Fur from a lined collar tickled at rough and beaten flesh, the soft skin of the girls in contrast only a reminder of the difference between the two. The infamous Black Kaiser, and the child of a Russian mob boss. She refocused on the target ahead, the red deer stalking along quietly stilled, eating at a few loose weeds sticking from the heavy snowfall, lifting its head when it hears the click of the safety being removed and those blank eyes scanning back and forth among the stark white. “Steady, line your shot up. They can tell hesitation, and hesitation is what gives them the opportunity to run. Do you understand?”

The girl signaled with a nod and the man shifted, allowing her the chance to ease herself into the shot. The sight was ready, the gun was held just like the man had shown and the air was consumed by silence, only broken by the shift of branches in the air. One second, another, another and finally the shot rang out in the air. The ricochet, the bounce, the first shot missed and the deer shifted. “Too far to the left. Reload, take it again.” The bolt handle was pulled back, another .22 bullet placed in and the chamber quickly shut within the gun, ready for the next shot. His hand rested on her own at the fore-stock and he helped her shift the gun to be just before the path of the deer, leading her to designated section that was to be ready for the killing of the deer. “Breath, and follow through.” One, two, on three, the trigger was pulled and the deer fell down with a noise of defeat, crimson decorated the snow and scattering across the terrain. “Хорошая работа, голубь (Good job, Dove).” “Хорошая работа, голубь (Thank you, Kaiser).” Another ruffle of hair, and the two rose, a knife pulled and brandished before the youngster. “Do you know how to properly disembowel an animal? A human, no less?” A shake of her head, and the man bringed the child over to the stag that rested dead on the ground, showing the edge of the knife to the child.

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[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]

The knife rested easily within his palm, blade to handle ratio perfect and even within his grasp as he approached the white tail. His breathing was steady, grey locks swaying like linen sheets on clothesline, shifting with each movement of the air. Flakes decorate each strand that was visible among the snowy landscape, cold eyes blinking to avoid the water that slammed his face and created a sting like stubble on a woman's thighs. It burned but in such a delicious way. The knife was inserted in the lower juncture of the legs, cutting the skin of the thighs up on both sides until they met. He didn’t mind the crimson decorating the snow or the blade he held, flashes on his times in other countries going to his mind.

Germany, a woman creating a empire that threatened Blut and intimidated the fat fucker. Killing by hanging….from the Brandenburg Gate by her intestines. A easy gutting and spill for the other, her empire died that day. Duncan recalls such with a lost fondness, having taken the woman on her desk before slitting her throat when her guards entered. That same blade, embedded into another man's skull and by the end of the next ten minutes, the room laid bloody and corpse filled. He stifled a chuckle, shaking his head and drawing the blade up, severing the meat and tucking it away to be cooked later on that night. One does not kill without purpose, one kills for a reason. Never leave the meat behind and the animal to rot. He carried his contents along, a hum of memory hitting his mind other then the German woman who swayed in the wind.

“When you are cutting flesh, you must always follow through with your actions. Just like any attacker, any animal, anything you dig this blade into and make your cut. You must put power behind it, must move with your body and carry out your momentum.”

“Is it sharp?”

“Very.” The elder pulled his sleeve up, arm displayed before the girl and dragging the sharpened blade over his own skin in a slow motion, watching as the hair on his arm was cut down and leaving a faint indent of where he cut and the natural growth. “I will start, and you will mimic.” The man commented with authority that had the girl on her knees at his side, watching his movements within the puncture area that allowed for access. Her nose scrunched at the matter that feel out with the cuts, but the man silence her protest when he continued, a hush coming from his thin lips and cold eyes meeting those of bright innocence. “Killing is a messy matter, little dove, remember such. As you make your cuts, more will spill out and more will fall much like that of human. If a man is attacking you, would you care what falls from him when you make your cut?” A moment of processing his words, and the child shook her head, gentle locks swaying in the air and more flakes making (Hair Color) look almost as white as the powder that surrounded them. A shift in motions, and the man had the blade to the jacket that covered the child’s belly, looking on with a expression that sent the girl to breath quicker, to shake and allow her heart to hammer. “You must be brave, and you must learn that fear is a downfall. Do you understand?” “Y-Yes, Kaiser.”

“Duncan.”

Duncan raised his head when a noise within the woods sound, eyes skimming here and there before catching the glint of a object he knew all too well, a red dot decorating his head.

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[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1998]

The creak of a wooden frame sounds within the back office of the extensive home. Harsh and unforgiving, the pace set was that of a unmentioned, unresolved need for what the other could give. Noises, skin hitting skin, begs and pleas for more followed in the air as dark hair and cold eyes dance over the silken feeling skin on the woman's bare back. Strong hands clutch at her skin, her hip held as his own collided with hers and elicit a louder noise to fall from those dirty lips that spilled curses in a native tongue. Those that wrapped around him in a way to draw him in and get what she needed to fill her like her damn husband couldn’t accomplish. “Kaiser! Kaiser!” The woman called when the position was changed and those strong hands rested upon rocking breast, thumbs brushing over the hardening rosy buds and holding her in place, right on the edge of what she needed most.

“Mama?”

“Дерьмо (Shit)!”

The woman was quick to separate from the man, his body standing, heaving before her. The child stood in the door frame of the room, looking on with a confused expression as to what was going on. The male watched as the mother moved, going to her child and ushering her off from the room to her own bed where she had awoken, fearful from the noises she had heard and the dream that plagued her every night of her fathers work. “Спи мой маленький голубь (Sleep my little dove).” A kiss goodnight and the woman returned to the man who patiently waited for her return, hopping onto his lap on the seated chair and carrying on from where they had left off. Her hips rock and move, getting off from the thrust he sent up to meet each bounce given in the form of riding. She was much more quiet, but the Kaiser wasn’t complaining, simply aiding in her lips movement and when that high returned, sending his hips to jackhammer within the other. Her back bended in the most delicious ways, fingers clutching at the mans hair as she met each furious hit to that spot that sends any woman into pure bliss. She called his name, clung to him with nails drawing thin lines of crimson blemish on his shoulders and coming down only when the man removed himself and offered for her to finish him off.

The time passes, hips swaying behind knees pressed into hard wooden floors and breast bouncing with each downward motion of a females delicate features. Hair shifted and was pushed back with skilled fingers of a free hand. Painted lips leave stains over a engorged length, crimson decorating and tongue lavishing until taking him down to the deepest level. A shaky breath, a suck of air through nostrils as a throat constricts, swallowing around her ticket to finishing him off and removing to repeat the action. He ended when her tongue traced a sensitive patch over his tip, spilling himself with a deep, gruff groan and watching as the woman on her knees swallowed her reward. He lazily places himself back within his pants, shirt retrieved from a corner of the room and taking note of the smudges on the window where he had the woman pressed long before, the marks left on the wood from the shelf that rocked and scraped when he had her up against it. His muscles tensed and adjusted beneath the black material, separating from the room when the woman carried on with her objectives of the day and began to return to a secretary like position. She nursed a glass of Massandra, sipping the wine with a hum as the man met her gaze once more. “Come back for more?” She asked with the tone that had drawn him in only hours before, that had him pinning her up against the solid Norwegian Spruce door that separated the rest of the home from their little sex fest. “No.” He replied simply, looking to the woman as she scoffed and continued to nurse her drink. His light footfall on the wooden steps go unnoticed as he leaves the room, the only indication of his departure being the shutting of the door behind him. The twenty-nine year old man quietly makes his way to the stairs, taking note of the little form that sat there, meeting his cold gaze and his own meeting her light one. He gave a hum, lights a cigarette and joins the girl on the steps, rear hitting the step with a light sound of thud and his hands placed over his knees with a hum. “You’re not the only one.”

“I know.” The air wasn’t harsh, nor unusual or even tense between the two who seated in the darkened shadows of the stairway, her fingers playing with the edge of her thick pajamas and head bowed as they spoke. “Does it upset you? The other men?”

“Sometimes.” The child replied in a soft whisper, gentle gaze meeting his once more when a hand was placed on her shoulder and smoke blown away from the child before another drag was taken in. It was a comforting grasp, gentle despite his mannerisms with children not those of recommended nor father like in the least. Tiny humans, not children, that was the mindset he grew. She was much more mature than any eight year old he had met, much less seen on the streets.

“Why are you up, (First name)?” “I had a nightmare and heard noises.” “No, the true reasoning.” Duncan looked on with a serious gaze, wanting an answer to the question that was truthful. “I couldn’t sleep because mom was so loud.” A laugh was shared between the two and the man ruffled the youngers hair, grin playing on those thin lips. “She was quite loud.” He replied in a humored tone, smiling due to her own with each giggle falling from her lips that was caused by him. A check of the time, 23:37, he scooped the smaller up with a grunt and snubbed his cigarette out on a passing table ashtray, taking smaller to her slumbering quarters. A tuck in, the light turned out, his shadow had began to recede behind a closed door before the quiet voice piped up once more. "Подождите (Wait)!”

“Да (Yes)?” A pause, he stands in the doorway and waited for the other to speak.

“Goodnight, Duncan.”

“Goodnight, dove.”

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[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]

“Move in, don’t stop until this Подонок (fucker) is dead.”

Shots ring out among the chilled air and the seasoned killer was quick to avoid, slipping narrowly from the shot aimed for his temple and taking the knife he brandished against the deer to someone that approached just a little too quickly for his taste. A quick succession of impales to the torso and a final slice to the neck. The gun the man brandished was stolen away in the struggle to keep his bowels in, used as a human shield against gunfire and allowed to take on two more men. A break of a hand, the snapping of a neck and the elbow dislocated in three places before being used to turn the gun on oneself. The man ducked away into his home, gun used for another series of downings and ear piece taken to speak through.

//“Donovan, speak to me.”//

//“Donovan isn’t here.”//

A moment of pause, the firing ceased and all was quiet, surely to search the home in attempts to figure out where he had gone within. Glass shattering, tear gas had been entered into the home and thrown back out before the gas had become too much. Another series of shots, another moment of silence.

//“We’ve looked everywhere for you Kaiser.”//

//“Must not have been looking hard enough.”//

Coughing, Duncan took his shots and while the gas was the distraction, sneaked his way beyond the home, sneaking on to where the last of the team remained. The sniper was taken out, rifle pointed and taking out the last members of the team. He recalled the motions he taught the girl from Russia, the words he needed to speak to keep her focused and remind himself, despite his seasoned nature just how to take the shot and when.

//“Where are you, Kaiser?”//

//“Who wishes to know?”//

“Me.” A click of a gun behind the man and he turned to rest on his aging back, rifle pointed at the woman and her body just narrowly missing the shot. Legs kicked out and head slammed onto the ground once, twice. By the fifth and a nice bit of blood gathering on the snow landscape, the man had her out and dragged the form to his home. The questioning process was to be done while she still had breath leaving her. It took hours for the woman to wake, the room spinning, body aching and sluggish. She struggled, bonds held in place and wrist chaffed from movement whenever the man reentered. He had wood tucked under his arms, set aside by the fireplace when he took note of the other. “You’re awake.”

The restrained woman didn’t reply to his words as she looked on to the other, vision going in focus and back out as the man steals a chair from the table and seats himself before the other with a light grunt. He placed a cancer stick upon his lips, resting and taking a drag after the lighter was placed and lit the end of the fag. He hummed when the woman struggled once more, shaking his head at the failed attempt and the indication to draw her attention was a clearing of his throat. Smoke filled the air once more, fluttering and falling onto delicate features. A cough, an attempt to escape the smoke and the man rose, moving over to the other and letting his foot rest on her leg in a heavy foot fall. It hurt, and the woman's attention was on the man who let the ash of the cigarette fall onto her lap, burning lightly but not as badly if he had put it out on her. “I need a name, agent.”

“Fuck you.” A hit across the face, blood surfacing from nostrils and splattering onto the floor from the whiplash of the light. The woman licked at her crimson stained lips and when her face turned back to the man, she spits on him, the crimson landing on his cheek. Another series of hits resulting in a busted lip and blackened eye, she refused to give in just yet.

Fingers are snapped and bones dislocated, body bleeding in places the woman couldn’t even begin to recall being hurt in. She spits out a bit more blood that had been held in her mouth, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut blinking away the pain and bloodshot from a bit. She could have sworn she lost a tooth, but a check with her tongue and surprisingly they were still in place. “Name. Give me a name and this will all be over.”

“I won’t tell you jack shit, Kaiser.” The click, the cold metal pressed to her temple and he looked on with dissatisfaction, eyes narrowing at the way she tensed. A moment of pause, his finger twitched over the trigger and before he could pull it, the woman rasped out a reply. “(First Name) (Last Name).”

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[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1999]

“Duncan?”

The voice distracted the man with gun in hand, silent gaze falling back to the child who stood in a puddle of blood before him, entering from the solid wood doors out to the patio. It was windy, the snow heavy in the air and the shadow in the frost wind looking on with eyes that only a killer could pull off. He turned fully when he hears the panic within her tone, heart hammering as those sweet eyes met his own and he could hear the way she stuttered over her words. “M-Mama? Отец (Father)?”

“(First name)-”

“Why?” She asked with the waterworks spilling down her cheeks in such a heavy flow, he could only recall the time her father had yelled at her for coming in when he was arguing with Duncan. She was sobbing so hard due to his harsh words, and the Kaiser could only watch as her hands shook.

“(First name), I need you to come with m-”

“Нет (no)!”

The girl refused to go with the man covered in her parents blood, watching with blurred vision as the man took a step closer, then another. Each step forward was two steps back with the girls back ending up against the door as the man stopped her. A grunt and the thirty year old lowered to the child’s gaze, hand reaching to wipe her cheek and a red mark left across it as her tears were gathers and swept away. “You must be brave, and you must learn that fear is a downfall. Do you remember?”

“Y-y-yes, Kaiser.” He was about to bring her into his side when his earpiece has given instruction.

//“Kill the girl. There will be no witnesses as our employer has stated, Kaiser.”// His gaze softened and the girl could only be left to guess what he had hear, the look crossing his features not of the fatherly love he once felt. He removed his earpiece, crushing the object beneath his boot and grasping the child by the back of her shirt, paying no mind to her protest and cries as he dragged her along. The deadweight she put on was straining yet he didn’t struggle, simply throwing her within a closet that was away from the view of the others. His gun was drawn, pointed.

“Duncan-”

“I’m sorry.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek and he pulled the trigger once, twice, until the magazine in his pistol was empty and the faint click sounding in the air signaled it was all over.

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[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]

“You never aimed for me directly, but I still have the scars to show what you did. You killed my father, my mother, and you didn’t even bat an eye. I know you’re a better shot then that...why didn’t you just kill me when you had the fucking chance, Kaiser?” The woman looked on, venom behind each spoken syllable and body shaking as she took in the remembrance that was written on the elder mans face. Twenty years since that night, and she remembered every bloody detail, every damned drop of blood and the fear that swelled in her when he shot her, when he shed a tear and apologized before leaving her to die in the home with her parents. “I wanted to take you with me, to not let that h-” “Shut up, I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want to know the truth. Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Because I couldn’t bare to. You were so small, so kind and innocent to the world despite the hell you had seen….I couldn’t end your life there when you had the potential to do anything you wanted.” A saddened, almost hurt laugh and the woman shook her head, tears of crimson and salty substance falling down her cheeks as she looked on. “When I woke up in that hospital room, when I found out that you had visited me, left me gifts and tried to repair what you had done, I knew it was a damned man trying to seek salvation. I hated you, I wanted nothing to do with you.”

“(First name)-”

“I said shut up, Duncan. You don’t know what kind of hell you have put me through just because you thought you did the right thing and ‘spared’ me. I begged whatever the fuck was above or below to end me, to have me dead before I left that hospital so I wouldn’t do something like this, so I wouldn’t have gone after you. I’ve tracked you for so many years, I’ve searched the world and only when you decide to retire is when I get my chance to show you what you’ve made me become.”

“I’m sorry.”

His words stuck out in the air, and a moment of pause between the crying woman and the man who sheds a tear in the eyes of the other, they cooled off from the thrown words, from the pain shared.

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[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 2007]

“Ms. (Last Name), we would like to discuss with you about carrying on your father's business from where we have left off. We didn’t wish to bother you while pursuing a education, but it is very important to carry on with the work at hand.” A clear of a throat, a sip of scotch, the girl leaned forward with a gentle gaze resting upon the men who sat before her. “Two weeks ago, you had a birthday. We have given you this much time before asking you to carry on this business, I believe it is only fair.” Contradicting accents, the two men always wanted guns for their organizations, and one had caused her eye to twitch in annoyance. Bigger, wearing a color she dread, looked as if he belonged in some sick porno that required a bigger man of his size and telling by the smell of lotion heavy on his skin, it was damn near sickening. The other, poorly dressed for a meeting of this sort. Something of Hispanic or Latino background, he rested lazily in the plush, fine Russian leather of the chairs that creaked with each movement from the man of bigger variety.

“Gentlemen, if I may ask, why have you waited so long when you both know and I know that my competitors have advanced, it not surpassed this failure of a organization? Inactivity means loss of productivity and the end result is the loss of income and materials. You, Mr. Blut, know this well with your organization.” A chuckle sounded in the air and the man steals a sip of his glass that had been offered in the beginning of the meeting. “(First Name), if I may call you such-” “You may not.” The other snapped in return, earning a chuckle from the man that was seated beside the bigger man, humming with a frown at the look of distaste on the older man. “Get on with it, Mr. Blut. This is strictly professional.”

“Right, we need your inventory once your ties begin to rebuild, and we are willing to pay top dollar for such if you are willing to sell solely to us.”

“How much of a cut will I be getting for supplying my guns for your hit-men.”

“Seven percent.”

“Bump it up to fifteen and we’ll have a deal, Mr. Blut.” A laugh, and the woman continued to look on with a expression that screamed seriousness. The man was pissing her off with his humored manner, and she leaned forward, narrowed eyes ceasing his laughing fit. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Twelve-”

“Fifteen and a bottle of premium Scotch, we’ll have a deal then and only then. Mr. Blut, if you want my guns and only my guns then I suggest you accept my terms and get the fuck out of my office, or I will personally have you escorted out of my home with a kick to your asses on your way out.” A cross of her arms, she lean back and the man takes a moment to mule such over. A pause, five seconds, ten, by twenty the man sighed and shook his head. “Let me call my financial adviser, and f she agrees, then you have yourself a deal, Ms. (Last Name).” The bigger man leaves the man of unknown ethnicity with the now seventeen year old girl who nursed her chilled glass, refilling when in due time. “So, chica, how long have you been-”

“Listen here, compañero (buddy), I am not your chica, I am not your friend. If this deal goes through, I am your supplier and there will be nothing more than that. If you try anything in this time or if we do happen to be in my company as business partners, and try to make a move, Я снесу твой член и кормлю его собакам (I will blow your dick off and feed it to the dogs).” He laughed at her threat, but his silence was indication when a gun was placed upon the desk. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

“I’ve learned from one of the best.”

A moment later, the bigger variety of men returned with a huff and stood before the woman, hand outstretched. “I believe we have a deal, Ms. (Last Name).” She avoided his hand in favor of a nod, and gestured the man to leave her office, humming against the rim of her glass as she finished off the last contents.

When night fell, it was that of silence like the silence of any vacant home. She was alone in this world, no friends or family to recall. Her phone lights, a incoming call. She quietly took it in hand, looking down at the unknown number of American origin and frowned light. “Mr. Blut-”

“(First name).”

Silence, a pause. The caller could be heard by breath, soft, gentle, reminding her of when the man was teaching her how to hunt red deer. She was tempted to hang up, to leave him there and then but she paused, waiting for him to speak.

“I wish to talk to you, pl-”

“Don’t call this number again, Kaiser...I want nothing to do with you.”

“(First N)-”

The end of the call was sounded by a click, a hum following her words and the phone being set aside in favor for another glass of Scotch.

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[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]

Within the hour, the man had the other untied, beginning work on bandaging and patching her up. The next, when the darkness of the woods when night had created silence over the land, they began their work in the snow covered, hardened soil, covering each with a toss of dirt. The bodies were hidden away, led back to the warmth and the fire started where the woman sat before. Plush collided with her side and even then, a groan falls from her lips in the hints of pain that shoot up within her body. “You can sleep on the couch.” “Thank you...Kaiser.” “Duncan.” The man looked the other over before undoing the laces to his boots, setting the leather, blood and dirt covered footwear off to the side and stealing another glance to the woman.

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“It’s hard to imagine you would be this much older. I remember when you were just a little dove learning how to hunt. Your first deer and certainly not your last.”

“You’ve gotten old, Duncan. Retired I assume? Blut wanted you dead, but from my understanding, you took every last one of his men down and him included. Nice bit of work you did on the pig.”

A slight smile played on her lips and he rises from the bed, laying a pillow out for her on the couch. His stance kept behind her, watching as she strained and rose up, slowly making her way to the couch and easing herself down to lay. “Going to watch me sleep, old man?”

“You never did let me talk to you, when I called. I wanted to apologize, to reunite and aid you. I-”

“Duncan-”

“Let me finish.” He gave a sigh, setting aside his jacket and looking over her injured form. “I wanted to make up for what you had lost. Be it money, someone to talk to. I wanted to be there for you when you had no one. I thought time would help mend wounds but I see it in this case, it has only created more.” Their eyes met finally, in that time period they had been reconnected, her gaze was soft, her smile was genuine yet saddened, pained. Time could mend some wounds.

“I...knew why you did it, a group asked you to kill them, and I want your help to find them...to kill them. The money was good, and orders were orders.”

“(First Name).”

“Hm?”

“We’ll find who did this, I promise you.” The man gave a nod to the other, taking his place in bed. The woman eased onto her back, humming with a bit of pain and staring up at the ceiling. Once pass of the fan, two, three, and she gave a sigh.

“Thank you, Duncan.”Hey guys! If you liked this story and wish to see them before I post them to my Tumblr, go follow my Archive of Our Own page and get the stories there first! :D

Archive Of Our Own:Belle82DevArt

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle82DevArt/works

#Polar (2019)#mads mikkelsen #duncan vizla #the black kaiser #Reader Insert #Duncan x Reader #Duncan Vizla x Reader #The blakc kaiser x Reader

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