cw: afab!lohen (where's my trans lohen truther (thruster?) at), sub lohen, gn!reader (either has a dick or wears a strap), creampie, mention of breeding, we ALL getting that twink pregnant
boypussy!lohen, whose cunt throbs harder whenever you're being particularly mean to it. slap it, pinch his clit, pleaseee more-! it always makes him moan louder.
he lives for getting edged and overstimulated. plunge your fingers in his soggy walls, curl it deep, hit all the right spots all while using your thumb to stimulate the swollen nub... only to pull away completely when he's just about to cum, leaving him wet and clenching around emptiness? jokes on you, it only makes it all the more enjoyable for him <3
the vice captain loves any and every position that allows you to get deep inside him, but his favorite and go to ones in particular are the mating press; and the one where he gets his ass up in the air, face half pressed into the pillows and half turning to look at you with a delighted grin. his back would arch down into the mattress whenever you hit that sweet, sweet spot, hips instinctively (or perhaps, on purpose) raising up higher as if to get you to thrust even deeper and faster than you already are.
if you have a dick, oh he'd absolutely love it if you'd release inside of him. in fact, lohen encourages you to do it every time. a few times if possible! he loves the feeling of your hot, thick cum spurting inside his feverish cunt, your seed painting his gummy red walls into white and filling it to the brim until it's practically leaking out. he tried to keep it in, he swears! :( but ah, this just gives you more reasons to fill him 'n breed him up again, doesn't it? ♡
(This was fully going to be a different, very irreverent joke about Robert pouring a year's worth of his whimsy into his cute lil dispatcher photo and him looking like a Husk the second it was taken but then I fully couldn't eyeball the image without one eye looking so goddamn sad.... so it became this instead. I have a lot of feelings about Chase man)
day 6: impact play w/ IL DOTTORE from genshin impact (nu build)!
warnings: dom reader/sub character, impact play, sexual punishment, cock slapping, degrading, praise, cumming untouched, squirting, dottore’s nu clone so very much different than the character, character hasn’t been shown before so free balling, dacryphilia, reader’s a bit mean, i’m a small dick dottore truther, going by the assumption that dottore’s clones are named after the greek alphabet, takes place before the sumeru archon quest, reader is a fellow fatui but not a harbinger
w.c: 2.1k
notes: this is just my hatred for this bastard manifesting into the fic
the gossip was all over the place when you arrived back from the latest mission with your squadron. bad things spread quickly after all and people loved to run their mouths. especially if it’s about the insane 2nd fatui harbinger or any of his fellow insane clones. you didn’t wanted to pay attention first because all of it was out of your control, you were just some faceless, no-name fatui amongst many others, so why bother? alas, this time, the rumor was about your favorite loser of a clone, so no matter how much you wanted to not pay attention or eavesdrop, you found yourself listening on as the others whispered amongst themselves anyways. something-something about how one of dottore’s clones — the crybaby one as they called nu — had nearly messed up the tsaritsa herself with some destructive, new chemical liquid while introducing it to her.
although you loved sweet little nu a ton, your love for her highness, the tsaritsa was even greater. and what better way to spend time “catching up” with your sweetheart while teaching him a lesson on how to better handle a dangerous chemical?
pushing open the large double doors of the lab where dottores usually work on their evil little plans, you make a straight beeline for the private studies of nu build quietly. although all of them are clones of dottore and therefore, essentially the “same” people, each build had different names, emotions and attitudes. so despite being the “same” person, the many clones of dottore were also their “own” person as well. nu build was the clone of dottore in his young adult years, maybe in his early twenties — you’re unsure because anytime you ask, they just either shrug or send you off to ask their “creator”, to which the real dottore is not much of a help either — soft spoken, more emotional and handled the chemicals. each dottore segments carried out different scientific researches to make discoveries much faster and be efficient in work.
knocking twice on the metal door for a warning, you step inside the lab without waiting much for an answer. nu had gotten used to your sudden entrances and leavings, so it didn’t surprise him much when he realized it was you who had come to his lab. the other segments didn’t visit much anyways, casting him aside for being too “weak” and “emotional”. seeing that it was you who had come to his workplace, pushing off his goggles and shedding his gloves down onto the table, a cute, relieved smile grows on his face, revealing sharp, jagged teeth.
“lover! you’re back from your assignment” nu calls out, swiveling around his table to come greet you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. it felt wrong to punish such a sweetheart of a clone when you knew that he had missed you greatly and the rumors were simply a dramatically exaggerated version of a simple mishap. her highness was unharmed at the end of the day but maybe you just wanted to use this excuse to relieve yourself of the headaches your squadron had given you throughout the time of the assignment.
placing a sweet kiss to his own cheek back, your arms wrap around his waist loosely, resting your chin on his shoulder with a sigh. just a moment. just a moment to take some breather and inhale his soothing scent. nu froze over for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden physical contact and affection that he takes few seconds before returning the hug, cheek squished against your own shoulder.
”nu,” you call out softly, not needing to raise your voice much thanks to this close quarter position you find yourselves in, to which nu merely hums at.
“i heard that you nearly had an accident a few days ago while introducing the newest chemical mix to the tsaritsa” and immediately, his body had stiffened up against your own. he hadn’t seemed to left his lab again after the incident, cooping himself up into his room and lab as per usual. it wasn’t a surprise, nu was much different than the rest of the segments.
pulling back from the ‘welcome back’ hug, nu began to stutter over his apologies, trying to explain to you with his own words and reasonings on how it happened and that it was all just an accident that had never landed. just as you had expected, just as you had predicted. your sweet nu could never purposefully harm anyone, much less the tsaritsa herself.
”i know nu” you cut his little rambling short, reaching a hand up to cup hiss cheek to which the clone shuts up immediately at. “i know you never harmed her nor anything happened. so calm down first, okay? deep breaths sweetheart” the soothing words were quick to ease his mind, stopping his mumbles and replacing it with a shaky sigh.
“but i need you to promise me to be more careful in the future, alright? no one is as sharp and swift as the tsaritsa” you coo out, oh so sweetly, keeping your palms full of his cute face that was already on the edge of spilling tears and wailing like the crybaby he is. shushing his sniffles down, you kiss the top of his head, smoothening back any of the long, unkempt cyan strands of hair to have a clearer look at his face.
”but,” his pouty, squished up cheeks stiffen in your hold, big, beady pairs of rubies blinking up at you as you continue in a quieter voice, “i’m not satisfied by your promise. so, be a good boy and get on the table for me? bottoms off and on all fours” you briefly glance behind him at the surgical table that laid clean and untouched for who knows how long. nu segment wasn’t exactly one who operated with ‘hosts’.
already salivating at the mouth, feeling his shark like sharp teeth drool from your tone of voice, nu swallows down a whimper, nodding his head eagerly like the sweet thing he was. obeying your sweet words of command, he shakily sheds off his dirtied lab coat, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands before he hastily steps out of his pants, then his boxers. just as you had instructed, he crawled on top of the cold, metal bed, shivering slightly at the cold feeling under his knees and hands. only now did he realize just how cold his laboratory was, shivering and feeling his small cock already starting to drip pre on the bed.
compared to the other segments’ physical condition, nu’s was on the thinner side. not much of a muscle, not much fat either, he was all just skin and bones really. didn’t help that as segments, the dottores didn’t need human nutrients or rest or anything else he may have needed while he was a human. but the smallest bits of faint blush on his skin was cute, he always looked good in red and pink after all. your adorable nu.
”feeling cold, nu?” nuttore could hear your voice grow closer, moving from the spot by the door to the spot behind him, feeling the warmth of our presence standing over his shivering body. he couldn't help himself but whine unconsciously, swallowing the drool that had accumulated on the inside of his cheek before nodding stiffly. nu didn’t know what exactly you had in mind for this reunion, but he knew he would be in for a treat tonight.
feeling the familiar sensation of your old, leather gloves, nuttore held back the urge to jolt away at the feeling, instead forcing himself to stay in place and wait for what would happen next. the clone shuffled, trying to get a bit more comfortable on his spot on the cold table before eventually whispering out a meek, “s-slightly” to your question. but what came next took him off by complete surprise, not even able to hide his little squeak that accompanied the slap to the curve of his ass.
”then should i warm you up myself, pet?” he could just picture the grin on your face at the moment, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, squeezing his palms shut and nodding a bit too enthusiastically this time.
”use your words, pup” you remind him with a strict tone, slapping his other cheek and leaving both of his bottoms with a bite-able, rosy tint. nu could only whisper a shaky, “y-yes” under his breath, more akin to an exhale than the proper manners you’ve taught him.
“louder” slap!
”gyaah-! y-yes, please!”
”mmh, there you go. there’s my sweet pet” you finally hum, a pleased noise escaping your throat as you smoothen your leather clad hand over his reddening ass. leaning over his bony body, you whisper into the shell of his ear, hot breath brushing against his sickly pale skin as you remind him of what you had meticulously trained into him, “now, remember your manners. count aloud”.
slap!
”eencg! o-one..”
despite having been away from each other for a fair amount of time, your darling of a pet seemed to have remembered his manners and lessons well. although you could hear his voice shake, mumbled little curse words and the loud counting that could sometimes even be barely taken as a word but rather a moan, you had continued with your long awaited reunion, bonding time.
it was after his ass had gone utterly red, even bordering on blue and purple did you soothe his hushed sniffles with soft coos, rubbing your palm slowly over his beaten cheeks. “which count are we on right now, nu?” you whisper sweetly, like poisoned honey on his shivering, trembling form. stopping his weak blubbers, nu weakly answers out a, “twe-enty seven.. lover”.
how pitiful as he is endearing. knees barely holding himself up and his chest already fallen on top of his clenched fists, and yet he still wanted to endure it all for you. just for the sake of wanting to please you.
”u-uhmm.. [name]?” nu calls out, head tilted sideways just enough to peek a glimpse at you over his shaking shoulders. “i.. i want to feel your hand. i-i mean! i want to.. feel your skin touching mine..” nu trails off, nearly swallowing his own words of request as he nearly gets a second thought about his decision. but he ultimately chooses not to back out, instead, trying to woo you with his fawn-like behavior.
“you don’t like my gloves? you want to be greedy and feel my hand instead?” you hum softly, pinching at the slight meat of his red ass cheeks and making him whine at the sharp sting of it. ordering him to turn over and lay on his back, you push his legs up to make him hold his own legs up with his forearms under his knees. nu could only whine at the unfair state he was placed in, letting out a betrayed noise when you covered his doe eyes with your discarded gloves placed over them.
“count again, nu. if i feel nice enough, i might allow you to cum” groping his ass, you take a good look of his position and the way his neglected cock was just weeping shamefully onto the curve of his ass. this new position made it easy to see your handiwork, pushing his cock down between his skinny thighs like it had gone flaccid when you were truly just keeping it there thanks to his obedience.
“nyYAGH-♥︎! l-love… w..where are you EEGCK! gyaahk— n-not theeeree… not—♥︎!!” nu’s words trailed off into an open mouthed wail, mouth gaping open as he gasped through drool covered lips as your gloves free hand finally touches him. on the cock. sharp, quick little slaps that refused to linger.
“s-stop! noough… nowt theere eeck ung! uung-guuhck..♡︎ aah-haah yaagh uung♡︎♡︎” nuttore could only sob out loud, his hands leaving its place wrapped around under his knees, clawing at the metal of the surgical table, or your gloves that cover his wet, red eyes, or even shakily tugging on the sleeve of your uniform.
it was by the seven or eighth slap to his tiny excuse of a cocklet that he came, squirting out thin ropes of cum onto his stomach, chest and chin, biting on a finger and tasting his blood to try and calm down the excitement bubbling in his guts. he was still hard, pitiful little thing twitching as if looking for attention, feet flat on the table with his knees shaking together.
#HIS FINAL COURSE! hannibal lecter x reader (no pronouns)
he hated you from first glance, perched in his preys orbit for too long, he despised it. but the more he looked into those eyes, he realized that maybe you weren't as tough as you tried to look, you just needed someone to take care of you, and luckily, he's there to offer you his warmth.
tw; psychological manipulation / gaslighting, grooming, age gap (reader in late 20's / hannibal in his late 40's) cannibalism (implied), obsession, unhealthy dependency, mentions of death, alcohol use, dark themes
hannibal lecter did not often feel irritation.
annoyance was a trivial indulgence, unworthy of a man who prided himself on control. but you-- will graham’s persistent little friend, managed to stir something that threatened to resemble it.
you were there too often, perched in will’s orbit, trailing after him with questions and quiet glances that lingered longer than hannibal preferred. not a lover, not a colleague, but someone who tethered will in a way hannibal had not foreseen.
and hannibal did not like what he had not foreseen.
from their very first introduction, he disliked your eyes. too attentive, he thought. you watched him with the kind of suspicion most people never afforded him, as if you smelled the rot under the polish. it wasn’t overt-- you never accused, never voiced your thoughts aloud. but hannibal was a man who noticed the smallest hesitation, the faintest tightening at the corners of a mouth. you doubted him. he saw it and he catalogued it.
that alone was reason enough to kill you.
his first plan had been clean, simple. a moment alone, an accident contrived, another name added to the list of tragedies that shadowed will graham’s life. no one would question it. you were no one of consequence-- not to the bureau, not to the world. but you were a consequence to will. and that was why hannibal stayed his hand.
for every time he watched you laugh with will, for every moment you drew that fragile, fractured man away from his own darkness, hannibal’s distaste grew. it was not jealousy-- no, hannibal did not lower himself to something so human. rather, it was insult, interference. you touched something that hannibal had claimed, if not in body, then in spirit.
and yet.. the more he observed, the more he found his irritation tempering into something else. your doubts about him were clumsy but persistent, like a child pressing at a locked door. you asked questions that no one else asked, stared too long at the wrong times. he had not killed you immediately, and now he wondered if it was because some part of him wanted to see how far you might go.
obsession is often mistaken for interest, and interest mistaken for affection but hannibal knew better, he knew what he felt for you was neither. you were an anomaly. an unexpected thread in the tapestry of will graham’s unraveling mind. and hannibal did not tolerate loose threads-- he studied them, pulled them, until the whole cloth came apart.
so he did not kill you, at least not yet.
instead, hannibal lecter began to watch you more closely. and in that watching, he began to hate you less. which, for hannibal, was far more dangerous.
he invited you into his office once. a courtesy, or so it seemed. will had canceled their appointment, exhaustion, perhaps, or avoidance. and you had offered to come in his stead, carrying notes he’d written in his uneven scrawl. hannibal might have refused, but curiosity overcame him.
you stepped into the room with careful hesitation, your stern gaze moving over the bookshelves, the artifacts, the paintings that lined his walls. few visitors noticed the weight of his curation. fewer still looked unsettled by it, you were one of them.
“you’ve made this place feel..” you searched for the word, eyes flicking briefly to him, “timeless. like it doesn’t belong in this century.”
hannibal’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “thank you. i take great care in crafting an environment that puts my patients at ease.”
your brow lifted, skeptical. “does it?”
“does it not?”
“not for me,” you said simply,
lowering yourself onto the chair across from his desk. hannibal folded his hands and studied you, the way one might study an unexpected move on a chessboard. most people lied in these moments, smoothing over their discomfort with politeness but you offered your truth instead, unflinching, as though daring him to contest it.
“you carry a certain.. suspicion,” hannibal remarked after a pause, earning a shrug from you. “i carry suspicion of most people.”
“understandable, given the company you keep,” he said smoothly. “will does not invite many close to him. and those he does invite.. often pay a price.”
your gaze sharpened at that, like a blade catching light. “you speak as if you know how this will end.” hannibal let silence stretch between them, enjoying the tension it wrought. Then, delicately, "perhaps i do.”
you did not look away, you never did with him and this intrigued him most. most people flinched under his gaze, but you met it, even when it unsettled you. especially when it unsettled you. “will trusts you,” you said finally, leaning back. “that’s the only reason i’m here.”
“and you do not?”
your lips pressed into a line. for a moment, hannibal thought you might finally voice the doubt that hovered behind your eyes. but then you answered, “i don’t know yet.”
that answer seemed to please him.
a clean slate, not trust nor rejection, but a middle ground ripe for cultivation. "i admire your honesty. it is.. refreshing." you glanced at him, expression unreadable. “i don’t think you’d admire it if i told you everything.”
you took a sharp breath, crossing your legs, "people see the version of you you let them see. perfect office. perfect manners. perfect taste. that much perfection usually means something’s missing.”
hannibal’s smile deepened, though his eyes did not warm. “and what do you think is missing?” you met his gaze head-on, despite the unease prickling at your skin. “i haven’t decided yet.”
that answer earned a smirk. most people would have tried to flatter, or brush their doubts aside. you let your breathe in the open air, bold, naïve and unarguably, dangerous.
he poured two glasses of wine, his movements precise, deliberate. he set one before you before taking a seat before you, noticing your hesitation, eyes fixed as you lifted it, though you did not drink.
“will is fragile,” hannibal said quietly. “he wears it like a second skin. people who draw too close to him tend to suffer for it.” you arched a brow. “you've been bringing that topic up, is that a warning?”
“a truth.”
“and you? do you draw close to him.. or do you watch him suffer?”
hannibal paused mid-sip. it was a sharp question, sharper than he had expected and his smile returned, faint and unreadable. “i draw close,” he said at last. “but suffering is part of closeness, isn’t it?”
your fingers tapped against the stem of your glass, restless. he watched you carefully-- the way you sat in his presence but refused to relax into it. most prey tried to look comfortable, even when afraid. you didn’t bother with the performance.
and that, he finally decided, was what made you so fascinating.
you hadn’t touched your wine. hannibal noted that first-- the restraint, the small rebellion. most people surrendered under the weight of his hospitality, desperate to appear polite. you didn’t.
“you care for will deeply,” hannibal began, as if stating a fact instead of asking. your chin lifted. “he’s my friend.”
“friendship,” hannibal mused, “is such a curious thing. a fragile bond, built on trust. and yet, will does not trust easily. why do you think he allows you so close?”
you frowned slightly. “you’d have to ask him that.”
“but i am asking you.”
hannibal’s gaze pinned you, patient and unyielding. he wanted to hear your theory-- not because he needed it, but because the act of reaching for it would reveal you. you folded your arms tighter.
“maybe because i don’t push,” you said finally. “people want things from him all the time. answers, insight, pieces of himself he doesn’t want to give. i don’t do that.”
“mm.” hannibal tilted his head, considering. “and yet here you are, speaking to me about him.” you hesitated. that was the trap, wasn’t it? your eyes flicked down to the untouched wine. “only because he asked me to bring something over.”
“but you stayed,” hannibal countered softly. “and i wonder why." your pulse flickered in your throat. he saw it-- the smallest betrayals of the body never escaped him. you were unsettled, but not afraid. not yet.
“maybe i wanted to see for myself,” you admitted, finally raising your eyes to meet his. “will talks about you sometimes. i wanted to understand why.”
“and what do you understand now?”
you didn’t answer immediately. your gaze searched him, lingering on the mask he wore so well. then, with startling honesty, "you’re too perfect. that’s what i understand. and it bothers me.”
for a long moment, hannibal was silent. he simply looked at you, the faintest smile curving his mouth. most people’s suspicions bored him. yours, however, thrilled him, excited him even. you pointed out what most missed, and gosh.. he was enchanted.
“you are an unusual person,” hannibal said at last. his voice was calm, but his mind was sharpening its knives. “but i get it, will is drawn to unusual creatures. he collects them, much like he collects his dogs.”
your jaw tightened. “i’m not one of his dogs.”
“no,” hannibal agreed softly. “you are not.” he leaned back, fingers steepled. already, he was rethinking his first impulse to kill you. there was something far more entertaining in letting you live. for now.
...
it did not happen all at once. hannibal never rushed a design. he laid it piece by piece, subtle strokes on a canvas only he could see. with you, it began with patience. where will pushed you away in silence, hannibal opened the door. he listened and he received. he made himself the stillness you craved when will’s storms threatened to consume you.
at first, you told yourself it was temporary-- that you were only coming to him because will was too fragile, or too tired. but repetition breeds familiarity, and familiarity breeds trust. each visit, you lingered longer. each confession, you left behind a little more of your resistance.
and hannibal? oh he took his chances.
he fed it carefully. a word of reassurance here, a nod of validation there. he never argued, never chastised, never left you feeling unheard. he offered the illusion that he could solve every problem you carried to him, that his hands were capable of mending what will’s could not touch. and slowly, you began to believe it.
the shift was imperceptible to you, but hannibal saw it clearly. he measured it in gestures, in body language, in the smallest of choices.
the first time, you had refused his wine. your suspicion had kept the glass untouched, your lips pressed firm against your doubt. but later, months later, when he poured again, you lifted it without hesitation. you sipped.
it was nothing to you, a simple act of politeness. but to hannibal, it was revelation. in that one sip, you had crossed the invisible line between mistrust and surrender. not surrender of will, not yet, but surrender of caution. you had placed something of yourself in his hands, and you did not even know it.
hannibal savored that moment more than the wine itself.
you had once been a nuisance, a stray he considered culling from will’s orbit. now, you were something far more valuable, proof that even suspicion could be reshaped into reliance, that even the wary could learn to lean.
and in that trust, hannibal found the first sweet taste of his obsession. the irritation was gone. in its place, something far more dangerous had taken root.
...
he invites you to dinner. not at will’s house, not somewhere public, but at his own table, in his office-turned-dining room, where every detail has been chosen to soothe, to entice. you tell yourself it is curiosity, that you want to understand him, to see him beyond will’s stories.
you arrive carrying a small gift out of habit, but he waves it away with a polite smile. “there's no need of that,” he says. “your presence is enough.”
the table is immaculate. candles flicker, soft light spilling over polished silver and fine china. he gestures for you to sit. he moves with the ease of someone accustomed to control, and you cannot help but notice how natural it feels to follow him, to wait for his direction.
he serves the meal with deliberate grace. the aroma is intoxicating, familiar, almost domestic. your stomach tightens-- you are hungry, but there is an edge to your hunger now, a tension you do not fully understand.
you taste the first bite. warmth spreads through your chest, comfort laced with an unfamiliar thrill. he watches you closely, assessing, his gaze neither harsh nor indulgent. and when you swallow, you sip the wine he poured. this time, you do not hesitate. this time, it is not just politeness-- it is trust, fragile and profound, that you place entirely in his hands without realizing what you are doing.
the meal continues, effortless, intimate. the flavor lingers, subtle, uncanny. you think of someone you once knew, now gone, but you push the thought aside. he guides the conversation, the mood, the rhythm. you relax into it, unaware of what you have eaten, unaware of the danger that shadows every sip and bite.
you lean closer without realizing it. you linger longer than you intended. every gesture, every small glance, pulls you further into his orbit. by the end of the night, you feel a quiet certainty, a dependence you cannot name. he can hold the world in a way you cannot, and he has made you feel safe within it.
...
it begins quietly, like all of his moves. you are tired, your thoughts heavy, will’s calls gone unanswered more often than not. hannibal knows this. he has built it. each session, each dinner, each small kindness has been a stone laid carefully between you and the world until only a narrow path leads back-- and that path runs through him.
he calls you one evening, not to invite you but to warn you. his voice is low, urgent, but still calm. he tells you there are people who might harm you, that your name has been spoken in rooms you should not be connected to. he doesn’t say who. he doesn’t need to.
fear rushes in like cold water, and hannibal was a man who knew how to dance with fear. he tells you to come to him. “it’s safer here.”
you do.
his home is dimly lit, warm, like always. the smell of something rich on the stove. but tonight there is no table laid out, no music. he sits you down instead, pours you wine-- a darker, heavier red than before and waits until you drink. and you do drink. no hesitation now.
he begins to speak softly, explaining things about will, about cases, about threats. his words are smooth, clean, but under them there is a current, you are not safe anywhere but here. you are not understood anywhere but here.
then the risk, a confession, half‑truth and half‑lie. he tells you he has intervened on your behalf. that someone who meant to hurt you will not be able to anymore. he doesn’t tell you how. he lets your imagination build it for him.
the shock is real. the fear is real. but stronger still is the relief. your heart pounds and then steadies under his gaze. you realize-- or you think you realize, that he is the only one willing to do what it takes for you.
when he reaches across the space between you, his hand brushes yours, not a caress but an anchor. and you let it stay.
by the time the night is over, your world has shifted. will’s number sits ignored on your phone. the wine sits empty. hannibal’s voice fills the quiet in your head where doubt used to live.
his final move was not a threat, not a demand. it was a gift-- fear removed, safety given. it was also a cage you stepped into on your own.
you don’t even see the door close behind you.
not even how he watches you across the room as you sleep on his couch, wine‑stained glass still on the table. your breathing is steady now, the tension drained from your body. you are here because you chose to be-- or at least, you believe you did.
he moves with his usual precision, straightening a book on the desk, closing a drawer with a soft click. the kitchen still smells faintly of the meal he made for you. everything in the room carries his signature, even you.
he studies you the way a composer studies a finished piece, not with sentiment, but with satisfaction. you were a variable once, a potential threat. you are no longer any of those things.
you are his creation now-- a living portrait of trust, fear, and dependence, framed by his careful hands. the risk he took tonight was not in saving you, but in revealing just enough of himself for you to step willingly into his world.
you shift in your sleep, and he smiles faintly, a shadow of warmth without heat.
hannibal is not in love with you.
hannibal is in control of you.
and in the silence of his house, with the door shut and locked, he knows that the game is over.
you will not leave. you are his artwork, his final course.
#COMPETITION! rival nanami kento x male reader
you hate him, so it was only fair that you had him gone, until he starts talking about how much of a mess he is. maybe show him what perfect looks like?
tw; (requested) american psycho au, ooc nanami, mention of violence, unhealthy relationship, dom top reader, ewb, nsfw, tit play or sum shi like tha idk, voyeurism(?), bj (r receiving), degradation, poorly written smut.
the first thing you notice about nanami kento is that he is not trying, and that, more than anything else, is what irritates you. he wasn't performative like the way the others are, doesn’t lacquer himself in irony or feigned indifference.
no, he stands at the edge of the room during quarterly meetings, immaculate but unostentatious, his suit tailored with a precision that suggests quiet money rather than desperate wealth. when he speaks, people listen, not because he demands attention, but because his voice carries the weight of competence.
you hate that. competence should be loud, it should shine, should be seen. your name, on the other hand, is always seen.
[name] [last name]. senior vice president, perfect complexion, penthouse resident, curator of taste. your business card is bone-white with subtle embossing, your mornings are rituals, your life is a careful curation of surfaces. you believe, fervently, that superiority is something that must be displayed. you were someone to be envied upon.
after all, you're flawless, perfect even. and yet, last week, someone mistook nanami for you. it was a simple error, sure. a junior associate, flushed and eager, rushed up to him in the elevator lobby and congratulated him on your recent deal.
nanami corrected her politely, almost apologetically. but the damage had already been done. you watched from across the marble floor as the associate laughed, embarrassed, and then unthinkably continued talking to nanami anyway.
you didn't bother hiding your clenched jaw.
that evening, you invite nanami over. you phrase it as professional courtesy, a competitive détente disguised as civility. drinks, classy conversation. you tell yourself it’s about networking, about fostering mutual respect among equals.
you knew that was a lie. you need him gone. disappeared.
your apartment, when he arrives, is exactly as you intend it to be, pristine. it was glass and steel with muted neutrals arranged with museum-level deliberation. the city sprawls below you, obedient and small.
you watch nanami take it in, except it wasn't with awe, which would have pleased you, but with calm appraisal, "impressive,” he says, finally, setting his coat aside. “you must get a lot of light.”
was he implementing that you couldn't afford electricity bill?
yeah. that had to be it.
you pour the drinks with a steady hand, deliberately angling the bottle so the label catches the light. it was vintage, expensive enough to be spoken about in reverent tones. nanami accepts his glass, thanks you, and takes a sip.
but he doesn’t comment. you pivot seamlessly into your collection. vinyl records in flawless condition-- first editions as well. art pieces acquired through connections that took years to cultivate. each item is a statement, a challenge. you expect admiration. envy, at least.
or perhaps you just wanted him feel inferior before he took his final breath.
nanami listens and he nods. he asks questions-- but not the kind that reveal insecurity, it was almost as if his curiosity was genuine, unhurried.
“you enjoy this?” he observes, gesturing lightly around the room, "of course i do,” you reply. “taste is discipline.” "maybe,” he says. “or maybe it’s just another language people use to tell the world who they are.”
the words land uncomfortably close. you had planned to kill him, for peace you stated, but the conversation keeps unfolding, against your expectations. he speaks of work not as conquest but as craft.
he admits fatigue, his flaws, and gosh.. there is something disarming about his honesty, you relished in them. he wasn't a threat anymore, instead, a fuel to boost your ego.
and you were humble enough to give him a small gift, an appreciation for being the perfect audience. what was the gift you may ask? YOUR DICK 👅👅
cause right now that hunk of a man was on his knees, hands gripping your thighs for support, as he bobbed his head up and down, tears threatening to spill. his thin framed glass about to fall off his face, but you don't allow imperfection in your house, so you kindly fixed it back, biting back a groan.
nanami kento was a man of few words, and you wondered why. maybe this is why, his mouth was designed for other things-- for example, sucking you off until you came all over his face, painting his chiseled calm look white as he licked it off his lips.
how did you never notice this mans waist? they were perfect for you to hold, his hair, the hips, the arms, and his chest. especially the chest, you could spend hours playing with them, enjoying every single second he murmured incoherent words for you to stop.
did you stop? not really, not when you had THE nanami kento pressed against your window, allowing the world to see the real him-- a fucked up man burying his true whore self underneath all that composure and charm.
the city lights catching in his glasses, as he tries to grip the plain glass, "the view pretty enough?" you chuckle into his ear, you had imagined him as an obstacle, a mirror distorted just enough to threaten your reflection, but god were you wrong. he was messy, disgusting even, letting his own colleague ram into his hole,.
that makes you wonder, "you got other men use that filthy hole of yours, kento?" you ask, your hand playing with his little nipples, earning a muffled moan as pre cum dripped from his angered girth, "bet that's why they love you so much huh?"
he shook his head, eyes hazy as he tried looking back over his shoulder, only to stop by your ruthless thrusts, "n-no!" he whimpered, biting back the lewd groans, the one who once threatened your authority now reduced to your cum dump.
yeah. you could get used to this.
new yrs resolution? to write more sub nanami fics 🙏🙏
premise: denji sleeping with you initially for the money, but then becoming attached to the comfort that comes with it
featuring: 'sugaring' relationship (sex4money), oral, mentions of masturbation, anal play, penetration, explored sexuality, mentions of the importance of consent, overstimulation, subspace, use of safe word, praising, & mentions of negative sexual experiences
postscript: denji keeps on getting manipulated by women because his real soulmate is a man, and you can't fight me on that 🗣
like usual, smut is at the bottom. the first portion is just storyline and SFW content
angel devil is my next chainsaw man victim, TRUST 🙏🙏
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SFW:
- denji, who was approached by you while strolling the hallways of the corporate building he worked in. he'd just gotten done speaking with makima about a new mission and possible date, so he was in a rather pleasant mood already. his mental planning for locations they could go to was halted, however, when he heard a voice call his name from the other side of the hall. "ah, you're denji, right?" you inquired, slightly jogging your way over to the other male. "uhm, yeah," he hesitantly answered, more focused on trying to scan you out than immediately responding to your questions.
- denji, who unintentionally checked you while looking for any signs of familiarity. he quickly discovered, though, after looking at you, that you absolutely were not a part of the public safety devil hunters organization. the suit you were wearing was distinctively far more expensive than his, you had top-tier dress shoes on, and the way your hair was styled presented that of class and wealth. though he had grown up in poverty, denji could clearly tell that there was an economic class difference between the two of you. if he knew any better, there wouldn't even be a reason for you to be stepping foot, much less working, for the organization. you didn't seem to be lacking money or support from what he could tell.
- denji, who was too caught up sizing you up to realize when you had finished talking and were now awaiting a response from him. "oh, uh, sorry. I got distracted," he muttered out, weakly looking to the side as a dust of pink covered his cheeks. he convinced himself it was embarrassment that had him turning red and timid, but in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't completely true. it was enough to be caught not paying attention to someone’s word, yet it was a completely different one when it came to someone that was attractive too. you probably got so many chicks to take on dates with a mug like that. not that he cared. you were a dude anyways, and he was totally not into them!
- denji, who actually listened this time when you reintroduced yourself, verifying his earlier assumption that you weren't one of the employees of the corporation, but an investor instead. "I sometimes like to pass by to make sure that the place I'm putting my funds into is thriving," you quipped, a small smile taking place on your features. shit, you even had a nice smile. way more charming than his. how many girls did you swoop in on with that grin? fuck, why did he keep thinking about that? he shouldn't care in the slightest since he didn't like guys. "are you free right now?" you prodded further, tilting your head to the side as you awaited a reply. "hm? oh, no. I was actually just about to go to lunch," he retorted, scratching the back of his head as he broke the eye contact between the two of you again. jesus, he was never this anxious around anyone else, much less complete strangers. why was he having such a hard time being relaxed around you? "could I take you to lunch? it'll all be on me!" you chirped.
- denji, who was taken out to lunch by you that same day. he hadn't known you less than 2 hours ago, but hey, a free meal was a free meal. he'll be damned if he passes that up. while munching down on the burger you'd ordered him, you instead stuck with a cup of tea. in the midst of the rather silent luncheon, you decided to finally break it. "denji, I must admit, I didn't come to you solely to buy you lunch," you started, swirling a small spoon in your cup. "I do have something I came here for." this piqued denji’s attention, making him rip his eyes away from his meal to look up at you. he knew that you didn't approach him just for nothing, but he also wasn't expecting you to be so direct about what business you had with him. "well?" he urged forward, cleaning the leftover food around his mouth with the back of his hand. "what is it?" as you put your drink down, you finally look back up at him to meet his gaze. "I have a kind of arrangement that I would like to do with you."
- denji, who started this 'arrangement' with you a week after you approached him at his job. you told him he didn't have to do it every single time you called, but with the amount you were paying him, he honestly would've shown up even if he was at death’s door. the deal had been that you would pay him a hefty wage, as well as buy him whatever meal he wanted that day—and in exchange you would use his body for a few hours. he wasn't overly hyped for the idea of you touching him and possibly losing his virginity to a dude. however, you verified that nothing you two would be doing would result in him losing it—at least not the one he cared about anyways.
- denji, who met up with you on one of his days off, going into the session with a mindset of just needing to get it done fast and then forget about it. with how many bad instances he's had in the romantic and intimate part of his life, he wasn't going to let there be any possibility for you to give him any more trauma in that department. he'd already thought up all the worst-case scenarios and how he'd react in them so that nothing occurred that he wasn't prepared for.
- denji, who for the first time actually felt comfortable and at ease in an intimate experience. he didn't feel like him feeling good or being treated like a human was conditional or something that only mattered if someone could get something out of him. even if he couldn't go to the extremes you wanted on his first time, you didn't show any anger or disappointment. though it might've seemed like the normal thing to do for you, it was something that deeply stuck with him.
- denji, who still went on dates with miss makima because he thought that what you two had was a no-strings-attached type of deal. however, he eventually started to mentally log out of the dates and started busying his mind thinking about something—or better, someone—else. he’d start wondering about what you were doing and if you had any plans to call him later on that day. he secretly hoped you did; he hadn’t said it out loud yet, but he definitely felt himself falling for your charm and appeal, harboring a small crush for you.
- denji, who convinced himself that he was going to your guys' arrangements strictly for the money, even though in reality he actually liked the comfort and safety he felt with you.
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NSFW:
- denji, who was actually shocked when you asked for direct consent from him before touching him. with how many times he’s just taken any sort of kinship that was handed to him—willingly or unwillingly—he was at a loss of words when you actually gave him a choice of whether or not to receive it. he brushed it off by giving back a snarky remark, something along the lines of “well, we’re not gonna get anywhere if I say no, are we?” to that, you’d lean down to his level and gently grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “nothing is going to be done if you don’t want it. I don’t want you to think you’re being forced into this,” you plainly stated, dropping your hand from his face before rising back to your full stature. “now, are you okay with this or not?” giving a small nod and a verbal ‘yes,’ you finally started touching him.
- denji, who looked absolutely pathetic the first time you stimulated his cock. you were aware that he was inexperienced, so you began by doing something simple, such as blowing him. you alternated between your hands and mouth, feeling both out to see how he’d react. it didn’t matter either way, since just the fact that you were touching his dick at all was enough to have him squirming. he wasn’t able to hold out for long, eventually finishing all over your closed palm, giving a weak “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” while still riding his high. what a considerate boy he is.
- denji, who let you finger him and play with his cock on your first meeting. he was on your bed, lying on his back with his legs slightly spread as you massaged two of your fingers into his hole, using your other hand to stimulate his dick. he was getting used to you touching his genitalia, though he didn't fully understand the need for you to go into his back door since he didn't feel anything there—"aghhh, ahh-ahh~" the boy let out a strangled moan as you suddenly touched a part in his anus that made him see stars. "found it," you huffed out, repeatedly moving your fingers to graze the area that had gotten you a reaction.
- denji, who was brought to tears and was drooling like crazy from you giving him double the stimulation from both ends. at one point, he subconsciously grabbed on to you due to not knowing how to deal with the feeling. "it's okay," you purred into his ear, leaving a gentle array of kisses on his cheeks and temple. "it feels good, right? just relax into the feeling; nothing bad is going to happen." he tried breathing as best as he could to try and calm down his now shaking frame. unfortunately, it worked to no avail, especially since you wouldn't let up on fingering his ass and jerking him off. it was hard to even think with how good everything felt, much less remember how to properly breathe.
- denji, who called out his safe word due to an overload of sensations. although it wasn't a bad experience, it was just genuinely too much for him, especially for his first ever session. can you blame him, though? he came into this thinking he would come out with some sort of new trauma or cringe memory, but instead he found out that there were new emotions and physical sensations he could feel during sex that were insanely good. "r-red, red," he choked out, hoping that his voice was loud enough to be heard. his eyes were blurred by tears at this point, so the poor baby couldn't even see you. "m/n, I'm sorry I can't do this anymore." you, of course, immediately pulled back, reaching for a towel to clean him up and a water bottle so that he could hydrate himself. though the action of you retreating and getting objects to help him recover were common courtesy to you, that was a moment that entirely stuck with him. you were kind, you were gentle, and you were understanding and okay with taking no for an answer.
- denji, who called you again 2 days after your first session, insisting it was just that he needed the money to pay for something, when in reality he wanted to be held by you again. he'd tried stimulating himself the same way you did during the time away from you, but he just couldn't replicate it the same way you did. also, it didn't help he lived with two other people, so any privacy to do any of the sorts was practically impossible to attain.
- denji, who decided to take charge in the next session. instead of waiting for you to lay him down and start touching him, he took his own pants and boxers off, lying face down with his hips in the air this time. "just hurry it up already," he'd murmur, acting as if it was a hassle to do this in the first place, when in reality he was just desperate to have your hands on him again. putting his whole face into a pillow, the boy would close his eyes and actually force himself to steadily breathe this time, because he didn't want to halt the pleasure like last time.
- denji, who would have his mental state broken due to the overload of pleasure you'd provide him with. you'd decide to finally get serious with him and do full penetration. he'd have such a hard time handling it. not the act of taking you in, because you would've stretched him out enough to properly take you, but more about handling everything that comes afterwards. you'd start with a slow pace but eventually build your way up to a steady rhythm.
- denji, who wouldn't be saying much but would be feeling everything. you would've gotten a bit concerned with how silent he is and checked on him to make sure he was doing well. "you holding up okay? you haven't made a sound since I started moving." the words came out casual, but you started to get even more worried when he wasn't responding. halting your movement, you'd lean over to pick his head up from the pillow, only to see the most lewd expression ever presented.
- denji, who was flushed with tear streaks going down his face and a runny nose. a complete mess, really. your heart nearly skipped a beat from just how erotic his face looked. "give me your arms, denji," you quietly demanded, not waiting for a response before reaching down to grab him by his forearms, forcing him to be upright while you plowed him from behind. using his arms as leverage, you thrust your shaft into him with all your force, making sure to snap your hips at an angle that hits his g-spot.
- denji, who couldn't use the pillows to hide his face or moans anymore, letting them out into the air as you relentlessly pounded into him. he could feel his senses giving out; everything was becoming too much again. yet, this time he didn't want to stop. he wanted you to keep going and to never stop. he loved this—loved the feeling of you filling him and owning his body. he liked having sex with you so much that he didn't mind if this arrangement the pair of you had continued to happen forever.
- denji, who is so sensitive to orgasming that after he climaxes one or two times, he's immediately pulled into subspace. when he falls into that state of mind, you stop all prior actions and focus on making sure he’s okay, not wanting to shift the moment into a bad one. you'd hold him close, drawing circles into his skin with your thumb and whispering reassuring words into his ear. it's not exactly easy to get him clean when he's in subspace, though, since he becomes ten times more clingy and dependent. if you get up to do anything—even if it's with the intention to help him—he'll immediately start shaking, making gestures to convey that he doesn't want you to leave his side.
- denji, who eventually will start to forget that he's supposed to sleep with you for money and more so do it because of the connection and pure intimacy he feels being with you. he'd start changing up his schedule just to be able to meet with you more often throughout a week, asking you to pay for his work lunches nearly every day just so that he could 'pay you back' more frequently. he'd start offering to take care of you in one of the restaurant stalls or to go back to his place while power and aki are out on their own missions. if anything, it'd seem like he's more excited to give you his part of the deal than you are. not that there's any complaints coming from your end.
premise: as a beta, pheromones don’t sway you. that’s exactly why till becomes so dependent on you in the days leading up to his heat—and why he ultimately asks you for help dealing with it
featuring: clit play, praising, vaginal stimulation, (stuck) sex toy, auralism, service top reader, clothed/naked play, till being frustrated dealing with his heat
postscript:....tupac back?
BETA SUPREMACY, alpha x omega is super overrated. also, if you're just reading for the smut, it's at the bottom of the fic. I spent a bit more time adding storyline than I meant to before actually getting to the erotica.
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till can be described using many words. rebellious. angry. to some even spiteful. it was really hard to see him at a point where he didn't demonstrate any of those traits.
yet, he told himself that's the way things needed to be. in a society where his kind were seen as nothing other than pets, accessories, and entertainment there was truly no reason to be kind to any of his oppressors. why show them benevolence, when in their eyes, he was nothing more than another singing animal ready to be slaughtered at any given moment?
he was already defiant enough as is during his earlier youth; however, it got even worse when his second gender started presenting. if there was any affability left in him before, it certainly disappeared when he found out he was an omega. it was already enough that humanity was seen as the inferior species on the planet, but being the inferior and most vulnerable sub-gender as well was the final cherry on top.
now he could truly no longer afford to be anything other than bitter. because if he was, that could mean getting used, getting exposed, getting taken advantage of. he needed to be the most unpleasant, unlikeable, and unmanageable human to all aliens and other humans alike if he wanted to avoid being exploited any more than he already was.
though, only because he had a bad attitude, it didn't make shielding his omega nature any more effective. he still got his heats, and he was still forced to go through the hot, uncomfortable, and aroused days whether he wanted to or not.
you had gotten the habit of being able to tell when tills' heats were near. although you weren't an alpha yourself, you had grown up long enough with the other male to recognize the small patterns that led up to it.
he would get even rowdier than normal and snap at anyone who tried approaching him. he would actively be paranoid and looking around—obviously checking if his scent was getting noticeably stronger or if any of the alphas had noticed. he would ultimately go into an even bigger survival mode than he was already in, and that saddened you.
although he never said it and tried masking it to the best of his abilities, it was obvious he was scared. you, of course, felt bad for him; being on edge so often every single month had to be exhausting.
that's why you made an effort to be as tolerable as a friend to till as you could be. during the days leading up to his heat, you'd stick by him and be on the lookout as well for any abnormal activity from him or any of the other individuals in the room.
if you were with him when his scent got the strongest and the beginning of his heat was near, you'd carry him to the infirmary department and wait while they set up a private room for him, making sure there was no possibility for anything to accidentally happen.
after a while it became a routine for you to do this. till would never ask you directly, but he would purposely put himself in situations that made you catch on to what he was hinting at.
whether it was by sitting near you during his pre-heat so you could smell the change from his normal scent to the one he only gets during that period of time, or by isolating himself from everyone else and eyeing you down whenever you two were in the same vicinity, there were always silent signs he gave.
some of your other comrades took note of this as well. a few of them jested that you were practically his mate with how often you were there for him. others were a bit more resistant to the idea.
"why are you always at his beck and call?" one of your friends asked you. you'd gotten back from the infirmary after having gone missing for a few minutes and smelled fully like till. "he's a complete ass to everyone else; I genuinely don't see why you're so nice to a jerk like him."
you simply rolled your eyes at your companion's words. till wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be, but you weren't going to waste your breath trying to explain that. instead, you answered with the most rational explanation.
"he just wants someone to trust and know he can depend on during this time," you retorted, using one arm to support your head while looking away from your friend, no real target in mind as you stared off into space. "also, since I'm a beta, it makes sense for him to be near me. there's no possibility of any slip-ups happening, and he probably appreciates it. that's all."
and that's truly all it was. you being a good friend to an omega in need who already struggled with other factors in his life aside from his second gender. as long as you continued to live another day, you would proudly protect and aid him during his heats. as a friend.
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"go inside the room with me this time."
...what?
you had carried till to the infirmary department like usual, waiting with him while they finished prepping up a room to put him in. in the midst of the time that had been going by, you suddenly felt till's head shift a bit.
he looked at you with a flushed face and a light coat of sweat starting to decorate his face. as you were about to reassure him that his dormitory was about to be ready, he cut you off.
"go inside the room with me this time," he muttered, slowly wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.
"w-what?" you inquired, eyebrows knit together from the absurdity of the request. till wanted you to go with him into his room? where he dealt with his heat? "I don't think you're in the right mind, till. this might be your omega instincts talking—"
"fuck my instincts; they're not saying shit," he sharply cut you off again, a clear look of annoyance present on his face. "I'm very much capable of still being sensible right now, and I'm telling you I want you to go in there with me."
you were a bit taken aback by his level of bluntness. gulping down the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth, you shyly looked to the side, a faint blush dusting over your cheeks.
"are you sure about this? I don't want to do anything that will make you think I'm not someone you can trust anymore," you whispered, your voice faintly wavering a bit. you could hear your heart thumping in your ears from how nervous you felt.
"stop making me repeat myself," till huffed out, "you already help me through my pre-heat every month, and I don’t see you going feral over my scent. I just need you to do the same while I go through the real thing. can you do that?"
not having a chance to respond, an alien came out from behind a pair of doors. they were the one you'd spoken to earlier about setting up a room for till.
"alright, everything is prepared now. we can take him to his dorm now," the alien chimed, nearing the two of you. as they got closer, your hold on till tightened a bit.
"uhm, actually," you started, looking in between the omega in your hands and the extraterrestrial in front of you before responding, "I'll be joining him during the time he's in heat."
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"mmh~, c-can you go faster, please?" till stammered, heavily breathing on your forearm.
you were positioned behind him on the bed, letting him lay his back on your chest for stability as you worked him open. you used one hand to grab his thigh and spread his legs apart more, while using the other to pump the dildo you were holding into his cunt.
you still had your clothes on, covered from head to toe in the white identical uniform they gave to all the humans in the facility. there was a visible coat of sweat over your body, however, making the attire you were wearing mildly uncomfortable.
till, on the other hand, was stripped naked. shortly after you two entered the room, his full heat hit, and he felt extremely hot all over, leading to you helping him remove all his clothing.
as you continued to fill his pussy with the silicone toy, you moved your lips to the crook of his neck, gently kissing the area.
"you're being so good for me, till," you coo, speeding up the pace at which your wrist is snapping the dildo into him, "being able to take the toy so well, even with that tight pussy of yours. you're so perfect."
the array of kisses led up to his ears, where you used your nose to nudge at the sensitive skin. that sent a wave of shivers down till's body, causing him to tense his muscles and unintentionally clench around the toy.
"a-ahhh, don't do those things," he whined, hot tears falling from the corners of his eyes as he moved his head to the side, embarrassed both by his crying and the fact he tightened himself around the intimate product.
you were about to tease the omega a bit when you realized how tightly he had actually grasped onto the dildo. as you tried pulling it back, the toy refused to come out. you didn't want to cause anything to tear, so you didn't try putting any more pressure or force into retrieving it.
"h-haahh, it's stuck," he sobbed, feeling a deeper wave of humiliation fill him as more tears streamed down his cheeks. a guttural whine left his throat, his frustration growing by the second from the rooted plastic penis in him.
"shhhh, it's okay," you comforted him, leaning your head to his face and planting more soft kisses on his cheek and near his temple. "everything's fine; we'll get it out."
you moved your hand away from the toy and ran a finger through the lining of his cunt, trying to see if there was a safer way to remove it.
"try relaxing your vagina for me," you soothe, moving your middle and ring fingers to rub small circles on his clit. an airy moan escaped tills mouth as he grabbed your bicep with one hand to balance himself.
though the toy was still latched inside, his pussy continued to contract around the intimate tool. you made a note in your mind of how erotic he looked right now but refrained from saying anything, not wanting to possibly make the situation any more uncomfortable on his end.
using the hand hoisting up his thigh, you replaced it with your knee to still keep him propped open while utilizing the now free hand to lightly grab the toy. you put more pressure into massaging his nub of nerves, slightly speeding up the movement a bit.
"h-ha, m/n—fuck, I think I'm gonna aghh~." till cried out, his chest rising rapidly while his legs tensed. you ignored his body's response and kept at it, not stopping your rhythm.
"go ahead," you prompt, licking a stripe up the outer rim of his ear before whispering into it, "cum."
you whispering that order into his ear was the last push he needed to go over the edge. till let out a broken moan as he came, pushing himself deeper into your supporting frame as he rode his orgasm. reaching his peak was all he needed to finally ease his hold around the sexual object. you gently pulled the toy out of his pussy while still continuing to rub the delicate flesh.
after the first few seconds of reaching his high, till tried biting his lip in a weak attempt to silence himself, but the whimpers that still erupted from his throat made it practically useless.
placing the dildo to a side, you used both your hands to properly hold till. once his climax settled, he relaxed into your arms, letting his head slump in between your bicep and your chest.
"you tired?" you probed, a smile stretching across your face as you looked at the male in your arms. he looked so cute dozing off while lying on you.
"a bit," till answered, opening his eyes to look back at you. responding back with a hum, you position him to be in a more comfortable pose to rest. assuming he was going to drift off into sleep, you let the silence of the room consume you both. it wasn't until the omega spoke up again that you were brought back to the situation.
"thank you," he mumbled, now looking away from you. till eyes darted to different objects in the room as he continued speaking, too timid to look you in the eye while expressing his gratitude. "you didn't have to do this; I appreciate it."
you silently acknowledge his words, giving him a nod before replying back with a small, "always."
Author's Note: Been thinking about Dottore a lot recently, which made me think about this ask from anon, and the ask @durasposts sent me about Zandik, specifically. So I needed to write down my thoughts before they ate through my brain entirely. This is a collection of misc scenarios with younger, Akademiya Zandik. Let me know your thoughts~
Pairings: Dottore x male reader
General warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Zandik, small dick Zandik. Additional warnings will be provided before each section~
Akademiya Days
Warnings: blowjob, public sex
Your research partner has every right to hit you over the head with the hefty book he's flipping through. Just one good smack and your pestering would disappear, then he could finally get some real work done.
“C'mon! No one will see us back here! You'll feel much more relaxed, I promise!” Oh, how Zandik despises you. He agrees, just to shut you up so he can continue his reading without your grating voice in his ears. At least you wouldn't be able to use your mouth to annoy him with meaningless chatter.
But your mouth is far more distracting when it's wrapped around his cock.
With a giddy smile, you dip below the library desk, worming your way between Zandik's legs and beneath his robe, giggling when you finally get to his cock. He's so small, but you were already aware of that. Taking his cock within your warm grasp, you stroke his small member until the tip becomes leaky, and his member hardens in your hand.
Zandik trembles when his dick first enters your mouth. It's so warm around his length, and the way you moan softly as you're sucking on it… he clutches the spine of the book tighter, clearing his throat in the hopes that no one else can hear the lewd noises under the table.
But that's no use when the man between Zandik's legs holds his thighs apart and takes his whole cock into that wet mouth — so much so that your lips are pressed against his pelvis, and every exhale through your nose tickles Zandik's soft skin.
All concentration is lost when you start bobbing your head, driving your research partner crazy with a collection of sloppy wet noises as his cock falls victim to your expert blowjob skills.
Not even your fingers?
Warnings: fingering, virginity kink
“No! Now stop bothering me with these useless questions.” he snapped coldly. Your roommate is fascinating. If you thought the sages would agree to it, you'd choose to study Zandik, and his lack of sexual experience, instead of your current topic of choice. Alas, you'll simply have to study him (and his body) for fun.
He never asked to be your roommate — in fact, Zandik didn't want to share his living quarters with anyone — but he couldn't ignore the benefits of this arrangement. It would be far more financially efficient to divide up the rent between yourselves, plus, you weren't a slouch in the domestic department, and the young scholar was delighted to take advantage of your free meals and suggestion to split the chores.
Sharing a house with you had other perks, though he would never admit that he enjoys them. Perks such as: losing his virginity right on your bed…
“Nngh! Why does it…feel like that…?!” Zandik squeals, twisting the sheets within his clenched fist. Your finger curls a little, and Zandik's head tilts back, letting a silent gasp fall from his lips.
By the time you've added a second digit, your roommate is broken down even more. Sweat beads along his brow and forehead, causing his light blue hair to stick to his skin. His lip is red and chewed to hell and back from your ministrations, and his whimpering is the only thing that registers in your ears.
“You look good like this.” you compliment. Zandik glares at you with bleary eyes, unconsciously rocking his hips while you finger him. Words refuse to form on his tongue, overwriting the eloquent, intelligent image that he's worked so hard to achieve ever since he arrived at the Akademiya. Under your lustful gaze, Zandik, the model student, has become a toy for you to experiment with to your heart's content.
Yes, indeed, you plan on making your roommate dependent on your touch — and, somewhere down the line, your cock. Just as this thought crosses your mind, you curl your fingers again, and press on something spongy. Zandik arches off of the bed, choking on his moan as his prostate is touched for the very first time. Oh dear…it seems as though you'll have to continue experimenting like this~
Anytime, anywhere
Warnings: anal, virginity kink, handjob, public sex
It's safe to say that both you and your dear roommate have become infatuated with having sex with each other. It's not your fault that Zandik's noises cause you to thrust harder! And it's not Zandik's fault that your lips on his neck cause him to cum on the spot! 🥺
The first time you had sex, Zandik was so easily overwhelmed. His body betrayed him every chance it had; flushing with warmth as your lips connected with his chest, spreading his legs without a second thought while you stared at his pink hole, shaking uncontrollably as your hips hammered against his flesh, wrapping all four of his limbs around you as you drilled deep into his ass, etc etc.
Ever since that day, spontaneous sex became the norm for you guys.
—
Studying in the library, Zandik flinches when you casually grope his thigh under the table. His nails dig into the wood, concentrating all of his energy into not giving in. Only for you to nibble on his extremely sensitive earlobes, and convince him to let you touch him while you study together.
A mix of playing with his semi-hard cock and teasing the edge of his hole. It's a miracle that you aren't caught when his face is bright red and his tongue is hanging out.
Having lunch at the cafe, Zandik purses his lips before sipping his boring black coffee, annoyed at your cheerful smile. You spend the next few minutes admiring his beautiful features, occasionally brushing your foot against his.
“These chairs are horribly uneven, and far too firm. I suppose this establishment isn't concerned with their customer's comfort.” he remarks, side-eyeing the cafe in question.
—
“My lap is free, you know.” With another brush of your foot against the side of his leg, Zandik glances at your surroundings, and after confirming that the other patrons aren't paying attention, walks over and takes a seat on your thighs. ………But not before he notices how your cock is free, and hard enough to slip inside of him. You wink at him, and your precious roommate hastily, but discreetly, pulls his trousers low enough so that you can access his hole.
It slips in with little trouble, and Zandik makes an attempt at discreetly bouncing himself on your dick, leaning more towards grinding his hips to receive any sort of stimulation without giving your position away.
Foraging for research materials, Zandik feels a penetrating gaze from over his shoulder. “If you continue to stare at my rear, I will make sure that your toxicology report baffles the medical world for centuries.”
“Ooohh, I love it when you threaten me like that~ Keep talking dirty to me, baby~” you teased, biting your lip in an exaggerated manner. Zandik merely rolled his eyes at that, continuing to take notes on the flora growing around the tree trunk in front of him.
Of course, you just had to escalate your teasing. Taking his notebook away and holding it too high for him to reach it, you blew a raspberry at your research partner. “Give me that back, y/n.”
“Make me.”
And though Zandik tried to assert dominance, that little facade crumbled as soon as you shoved him against the tree and locked lips with him. You kissed Zandik until he had long forgotten about your assignment, now taking your cock with no resistance, wrapping his legs around your waist while you thrust into his twitching hole. Drool runs down his chin, causing him to look so cockdrunk and adorable.
Every opportunity to be inside of your roommate and research partner was taken. No matter where you were, who was around, or how inconvenient it would be. Truly, you'd become each other's deadly addiction.
One of the best things about your easily excitable roommate is his tiny cock. Which you, of course, tease him for. Seriously, if he only paid attention to your remarks and laughter as you jerked him off, Zandik would assume you were genuinely being mean. But the way you seem so obsessed with his body, and how you're always touching him and his dick in one way or another, proves that you may actually enjoy the fact that he's tiny.
—
Zandik curls in on himself as you make him have, yet another, prostate orgasm. While your cock is burrowed within his warm walls, you relentlessly touch his dick, stroking it and playing with the slit until your roommate begs for some rest.
And while you allow him that, you can't help but stare at his little dick — the way it bounces while you're thrusting in him, leaving wet trails on his stomach. The cute little vein that runs along the underside, and how fucking sensitive it is. How Zandik's little balls twitch just before he cums.
“Stop it–” he says curtly. With a pretty red hue spreading on his skin — now covering the expanse of his shoulders and neck, as well as his cheeks and nose — Zandik grumbles under his breath about how you're so perverse. All is forgotten though, as you cover his neck in kisses, earning one more orgasm for good luck!
—
(As I touched upon in anon's ask) Zandik hates (loves) when you tease him for being small down there. And he will masturbate to the memory of your bullying later.
His hand slides down the front of his pants, cheeks flushing with shame as he does so. “No way you could top someone with that thing, Zandik. They'd never even feel it inside them.” your words echo in his brilliant mind, controlling his body in a way he's never experienced before.
Soft grunts and the rustling of your roommate's clothes are the only sounds in his room. Zandik's dick oozes precum, turning the inside of his underwear into a sloppy mess. “It's adorable though — how tiny it is, I mean. I just wanna play with it all day~” he remembers your mocking tone as clear as day, and that only makes his hand glide up and down his length even faster, and his hips to thrust just like yours do, with enough power and force to bruise.
It's pathetic how easily your voice will make him cum too. All your he has to do is picture you stroking him while you coo: “So cute~ C'mon, show me how it looks when you cum. I wanna see this little guy cum~” and Zandik will fill his underwear with a sticky mess. Sweating and panting as his legs wobble so hard, he'll need to cling to the dresser for stability.
