How I think Genshin characters would react if someone misgendered you/misused your pronouns
(warning I am a cis woman so I decided to keep the gender identity of the reader as vague as possible, feel free to correct me in anything! ^^)
Lohen
"Mind repeating your words?"
You swear he's more concerned (more like angry) about it than you are
If they didn't mean to, or didn't know, he'll be lenient. Lenient as in giving them a death glare
If they meant it? Don't care about it even? He's throwing hands he dgaf
You have to drag his ass away from the fighting scene, and that's only because the knights' footsteps were growing frantically louder to your location...
The euphoria he gets from beating up the people who disrespect you black and blue is enough to rival his bloodlust for monsters
Scratch that, it's GREATER than his bloodlust for monsters
"Wasn't I so good for you? They'll never even dare to call you that again!"
Yeah sure buddy why not...
Wanderer
"Excuse you?"
Like Lohen, he feels nothing but disgust for those who don't respect your identity, it's so obvious too with the face that he makes
Of course, if the other person was truly regretful and didn't know, he just huffs to check if you're okay or not
If they weren't... The amount of verbal degradation that the other person would be subject to is downright heinous
"Heathens like you shouldn't even have the right to speak your ridiculousness."
All said with a straight face too
As soon as the two of you leave the scene however, he denies having a great impact
"Tch, this is just my basic respect for you. Is that all it takes for you to be so impressed? I feel sorry for your standards."
Now he's far more protective over you lmfao. Don't accuse him of being overly hovering though his pride can't handle it...
Citlali
"Hah?! Repeat that one more time I dare you!"
Despite being one of the elders of her tribe, she sure doesn't take any shit to anyone who doesn't respect you properly
If it's on purpose? Yeah no they're either getting a sharp flick to their forehead or a smack to their skulls
Even if it was on accident they're still getting their cheek pulled for their ignorance
No one would dare misgender granny Itztli's precious lover now
Puffs up her cheek in annoyance when you thank her, but then she flushes brighter than a tomato when it really sinks in
All she did was put some measely brats in their place! And you're thanking her? Her??
It's actually kind of concerning how red she gets, she genuinely looks like she's on the verge of passing out
Cut her some slack okay? Not her fault she gets so flustered!
Sandrone
"Fagio, clean up this mess at once." -cue Fagio aggressively pushing that person away at an increasingly faster speed
She considers people who don't respect you as idiots who don't deserve even the basic decency, why should she tolerate them in her presence?
In fact, if that person even dares to show themselves in front of her face again, they will meet a certain, painful end
In fact, she gossips about the ridiculousness of the whole situation in her own tea parties
"-And then, they dared to have the audacity to disrespect MY lover!"
Oh best believe in regards to you she's in a snappier mood than usual. Everytime a subordinate addresses you she makes sure to glare with utmost conviction to make sure that never happens again
Fagio is now designed to have stricter protocols when it comes to recognizing idiotic imbeciles (her words not yours)
Asexual x Consent King x Touch Starved x Hurt/Comfort x Cuddling x Asexual Experimenting x Angst x Romantic x Frotting
(Asexual feels comfortable enough to try sex with their partner as requested by commissioner)
“Oh,” Vere muttered as they rounded the corner. “When did that get there?” They were supposed to be looking for some grocer a friend told them about, a place with amazing plums. Instead, there was a building that looked like a Victorian manor, but with signage and display up. It was a place one would remember seeing in their town. Or at least someone going ‘hey, that old place that looks like a Victorian manor’, but no. This place was entirely new to Vere, no matter how old it looked.
‘Robin’s Nest’ the sign read, antiques and more. On the steps up there were planters filled with overflowing flowers and foliage, small snow globes tucked into them where they could fit. The doors to the shop were wide open, letting in the fall leaves that fluttered in the wind.
“Welcome!” a short, very pale woman said as she was trotting out with a broom. “There’s fresh coffee and snacks right over there! Help yourself, I’ll be right back.” She smiled brightly as she set to work, trying to shoo the fall leaves back outside. She looked like a porcelain doll, and the broom somehow looked too big for her.
The scent of coffee brought Vere back to their senses, as it reminded them of walking into their grandmother’s home. Or well…their grandmother’s home when she was still alive. They stepped over to the table, admiring the spread of cookies and the small glass door fridge, revealing rows of flavored creamers.
“What is this place?” Vere muttered, taking a shortbread cookie.
“Welcome!” Another booming voice scared them and they almost coughed up that first bite of cookie. “Looking for something? I know this place may be huge and daunting, but I can help you find the exact item you’re looking for.”
The man behind the counter was wearing an outfit that matched the woman from before. Uniforms? Or were they just being cute?
Vere covered their mouth with a napkin. “Just looking.” They swallowed hard. “I was actually looking for a grocer. I didn’t know this place existed.”
The man smiled. He, too, was short, had a dark complexion and very curly hair. “That’s often how the best places find you, isn’t it?” He gave them an up and down look that made Vere a touch uncomfortable.
They tugged on the hem of their long tank top. “Umm…sure.”
The man lit up, eyes going wide, while his mouth formed a gasp. “I know you!” He suddenly. “Gloria’s grandkid. Right? Vere.”
It wasn’t just surprise that crackled through their system like electricity. It was also joy. Someone who knew their grandmother?
“Yeah! Yeah! She talked about you a lot. She said you’d eventually inherit her place one day. So how do you like the decor? Gloria bought a thing or two from me back in the day!” He chuckled.
Back in the day? He didn’t look over thirty. Maybe? Vere really couldn’t tell people's ages. He could be twenty or a hundred for all they knew.
“I’m Robin. You know? From the sign?” He chuckled. “Come! Come! I have a piece for you. I think you will love!” He waved me over, walking side by side with me as he led me deeper into the shop.
“Gloria used to love the old books and records.” Robin chuckled. “I bet you had a lot to deal with. I’m so sorry about the loss, by the way.”
“Thanks. Umm…she left me the house, so I have kept everything it was.” Vere felt strange confessing that. They knew at some point they would have to renovate, changing things to suit their taste. But they missed her so much, and they didn’t have many friends around them now.
“If you ever want to sell anything, let me know. I’ll give you a good price. Gloria really knew how to clean me out!” Robin laughed. He stopped right before a display of what looked like a pet shop wall of fish. Which was shocking for an antique store. This was probably the ‘more’ the store sign talked about.
“Gloria got you that fancy blown glass fish here,” he said.
“Holy shit, I was a kid when she got me that,” Vere blurted out. “I mean-” They looked Robin over once more. Vere couldn’t tell people’s ages, but surely this man was an exception.
Robin brought over a stool he stood on and pointed to a fish tank, where there was a single fish inside. It was deep purple and shimmering blue. Perhaps it was a beta fish, but no. It had the same long flowing fins as a beta, but the shape of the body and the eyes were all different.
“I think Malik would be perfect for you.”
“Malik?” Vere was still in shock. But they didn’t have time to process, as Robin was soon sending them out the door with the strange fish in hand.
The aquarium back home was ready, and Robin assured Vere that Malik could share a tank with others. They went through the proper steps to get Malik acclimated, putting him in the aquarium water just before bed.
Vere sighed, watching him sink into the tank and swirl around before hiding in some foliage. They smiled, content to watch the aquarium for hours. Eventually, Vere went over to the sofa, intending to only lay there for a moment. But the longer they watched the fish tank, occasionally catching Malik dancing towards the surface, they fell deep asleep, sinking into that old sofa like that had many times before as a child.
That was until they heard someone walking around. Vere stirred slightly, enough to yawn and pull the blanket more around them. In their mind, their grandmother had gently laid it over them, afraid Vere would get too cold. The kitchen light turned on and Vere rolled over so they faced the back of the sofa. How nice, they thought, to fall asleep and not worry because Grandma would take care of them. How nice.
Wait.
Wait!
Wait!
Vere shot up like a bullet on the couch, looking into the kitchen. Cold sweat began prickled on their skin as someone rummaged around the kitchen. There was a yawn, and the refrigerator door closed. Bit by bit by bit, Vere sat up, moving to run, attack. But they didn’t know exactly what that was! The thought of attacking crossed their mind. Then they thought they should run. But they couldn’t just leave Grandma’s house to be ransacked! Vere would let her down if they did that.
Vere stepped back and hit the coffee table, knocking over the small tray of bells Grandma had. “Why the fuck does she have these?” Vere thought in spite as they tried to dodge them and hide.
“Oh, you’re awake.” A tall figure stood in the kitchen doorway. “You looked cold, so I put a blanket on you.”
Vere grabbed the first thing near them that looked big and heavy. “Stay back!”
The figure turned on the light to the living room, and while their eyes adjusted, they saw blue and purple.
“That tank is just a touch cold. You should get a heater for it once winter hits,” he yawned. A tail twitched behind him as he turned into the kitchen. “Do you want some tea, too?”
Vere froze solid, afraid to move or do anything. Their hand twitched, then they chucked their Grandma’s old bible, which merely hit the wall and fell with a loud clatter against a shelf of more books.
The figure poked his head out of the kitchen door, revealing long hair that was clipped along the sides. “Whoa. Careful there.” He picked up the bible, revealing dark sclera and lavender irises. He held the bible up. “It’s the pen that’s mightier than the sword, you know.”
“Who are you?” Vere blurted out loudly.
The oddly colored man stuck out his forked tongue and smirked with it between his teeth. “Malik, duh.”
The antique shop wasn’t normal. Vere should have known that from the moment they walked in. But something, perhaps that absence of their grandmother, kept them from paying attention. Back in the day, their grandmother often showed them behind the veil, at what lay beyond mortal understanding. The carnival was the first place Vere had gone, where everything made sense to them. Why hadn’t they caught on at the antique store?
“Robin only lets people buy what they need,” Malik explained. “And you needed me.”
It was those words. After much explaining from Malik’s part, they stuck in their mind. Their grandmother said something similar. It was comforting, and it helped Vere calm down and sank into the understanding an incubus now lived in their house.
That was the norm from there on out. Malik was an incubus who lived in the home of someone who considered themselves mostly asexual. Vere decided it was irony. That was all they could come up with.
But it wasn’t at all strange, because after a few days, Vere could see why Robin gave them Malik. It wasn’t unknown to them how lonely they were. It had been months since their grandmother died, and they barely had anyone outside of work they conversed with. An incubus in the house was the perfect solution.
“It’s not all about sex,” Malik explained. “Sure, it’s fun and all. But we go after what we know humans usually want. Intimacy, closeness. We feed off the satisfaction of that desire. Sometimes sex is the easiest way.”
“So you don’t want to fuck me?” Vere asked, adding food to the fish tank.
Malik smirked, raising a cup of piping hot tea. “Only if you want me to.”
“No. I’ve never really cared for that,” they confessed. They set the fish food aside then stood there, half looking at the tank, half looking at Malik. “Have you ever come across that?”
There was a distant look that painted Malik’s face while he thought. “Once, but they were a child.” He smiled up at Vere. “So I don’t think that really counts. Do you?”
Vere was still getting comfortable. At most, they were sitting close to Malik on the sofa, afraid that getting much closer would make Vere uncomfortable.
“No, not really.” Vere huffed. “My grandmother was the only one who really got me. Everyone else thought I was trying to be special.” They rolled their eyes.
“Why try when you are?” Malik replied tenderly. “In my experience, I’ve not met two people who are alike. Everyone has marks on them that vary, have thoughts that vary. They all touch someone differently. Their voices, the way they breathe.” They let out a soft chuckle. “This may sound silly coming from something that is considered a sex demon, but a libido causes more problems than it does anything else. I don’t know why people consider it something wonderful in that regard.”
Vere smiled shyly, turning away from the fish tank to face Malik directly. “Do you say that from experience?”
He had the tea cup tilted to his lips, which he gracefully sat down to answer. “My libido is based on the libido of the person I am with. That is how all of my kind operate. We respond in kindness to what the other needs.”
It was dangerous, but Vere asked. “And what do I need?”
“I can hold you,” Malik said, extending out his arms, wide open, “if you want me to.”
Vere could remember the hugs their grandmother gave them and how long it had been since such an embrace enveloped them. Vere sunk into Malik’s arms, resting against his chest, clutching him for dear life. It almost brought tears to their eyes. No, it brought tears to their eyes.
“Aww, it’s okay,” Malik purred, stroking Vere’s hair. “Wonderful.” He fed from Vere, taking that longing, that need, that had been with them for so long. To Malik, it was pure and sweet, a well-deserved meal. To Vere, it was a relief, letting all that go, seeping into the soul before them.
“See?” The incubus chuckled as they pulled away slightly. He looked into Vere’s weepy eyes, smiling tenderly, lovingly. “Sometimes that is all a body needs.”
After that, it was even easier to understand why Robin left Malik in Vere’s care. Both needed affection, one who desperately wanted to give it, and another who desperately wanted to receive it.
“Honey, I’m home.” Vere grumbled in irritation as they came home, shucking off their shoes and slouching as they walked into the living room.
“What’s that tone?” Malik called from upstairs.
Collapsing onto the sofa, Vere clutched a pillow, hugging it close to their chest and smashing their face into it. “Faah dee-” their voice was muffled by the pillow.
Malik came walking down the stairs with a sigh, sensing the tension around Vere like a thick icing. “I see.” Malik stood before the aquarium, tossing in some fish food. “Was it Marla again?”
Vere kicked their feet furiously.
“I see,” Malik mumbled again, kneeling down to watch his fish friends rush to get to the food. “She is still doing the misgendering bit.”
Vere whined into the pillow, turning into a muffled scream.
“I see.” Malik turned away from the fish tank, wiping his hand against the back of his pajama pants. “Do you want me to torment her? Maybe I can go seduce her father and show her a thing or two.”
Vere was quiet, contemplating such a thing. “No,” they huffed.
Smirking, Malik crossed his arms against his chest. He was playing it off, but his tail twitched behind him from the irritation. “You’re kinder than me.”
“No.” Vere huffed as they rose and tossed the pillow aside. “No one in her family deserves you.”
His smile grew bigger. “See, kindness aplenty.” He went to the sofa, sitting down beside Vere. “Want a cuddle?” He offered, holding his arm at the ready.
Taking the offer, Vere snuggled on Malik’s chest, holding onto him while sinking into his side. They’re new comfort, the place they could go to let the stress wash off them. Malik’s presence was exactly the friendship Vere had been desiring.
Playing with Vere’s hair, Malik sighed. “I’ll do anything for you. Fight, sexually torment, ghost on a dating app.”
Vere snorted.
“Eh, I’m sorry you have a shitty coworker, my friend.” Malik kissed the top of Vere’s head.
“She says it doesn’t make grammatical sense, so she won’t do it.” Vere said in a whiny, high-pitched voice to mock Marla.
Malik faked dry heaving, making Vere giggle. “And no one is doing anything about it? I know the place you work is small, but surely they could get her to work away from you.”
“I dunno,” Vere sighed, snuggling up more to Malik. “Every time I make a complaint, I feel like it fuels her to keep at it.”
“Bitch.” His lip curled, revealing sharp teeth inside.
“I like the job at least.” Vere said this, but neither them nor Malik were at all convinced they were telling the truth.
Hugging Vere closer, Malik kissed the top of their head. “Do you really? Or do you just not want to stress yourself out looking for something else?”
Pressing their lips into a firm line, Vere didn’t want to admit to getting caught. The job, genuinely, was just okay, but Marla was pushing it towards the edge of not okay.
“How about you quit?” Malik clicked his tongue, thinking that was decisive action.
“And what?” Vere sat up. “I don’t have to pay for the house, but I still have to live, Malik! The bills! The groceries-” they quickly gestured to the fish tank. “My fish!” That seemed more important to Vere than groceries. And while the bills were minimal, thanks to grandma, they still existed. But the fish!
Malik had a continued, tranquil smile on his face. “I can pay for all that now.”
Vere’s face hit the floor, jaw agape as he stared at Malik like he was nuts. “I beg your pardon?”
The incubus laughed, turning to fully look Vere in the eye. “I started a Spicy Dish account, and not to brag or anything, but I’ve started making quite a pretty penny.”
“When did you start a Spicy Dish?” Vere was doing the math in their head of how long Malik had been in their care. Had Malik made a following in under a month?
“About a week ago.” Malik’s reply was so nonchalant for it being such a short amount of time.
“And how much do you make in a week?” Vere blurted.
Malik opened their phone and the Spicy Dish app to show Vere. “I make over a thousand a week.”
Shocked silence was all that answered Malik as they proudly showed off their hard gotten gains. His enormous smile, proud, almost matching the seductive one in his avatar.
“You started a week ago?” Vere’s voice came out louder than they intended.
“Oh, like that’s hard to believe. Look at me.” Malik snickered as he took back his phone. “I was devilishly seductive.” He smirked as he looked back at his phone. “I’m also making a killing with personalized videos and chats. So you don’t need to worry if you want to quit your job. You can become my assistant. Hell, I’ll make you my sugar baby if you want,” he said teasingly.
Vere made a face. “Are you sure about that, though?”
Malik’s smug smile turned sympathetic and soft. He reached out, touching Vere’s cheek gently. He smoothed his thumb under Vere’s eye and then through their soft hair, holding them preciously all the while.
“I want to take care of you, body and soul. Is that a foreign concept to you?” Malik’s voice was a deep purr.
Vere’s face flushed bright red. “I mean…a little.” They struggled to keep themself composed with Malik’s touch. It was a touch that stirred something in them.
“I was given to you for a reason,” Malik replied. “And the more I spend time with you, the more I realize my purpose and why Robin placed me in your care.” His smile was so gentle, so soft. “You’re my friend, Vere. Darling and dearest.” He kissed Vere’s forehead. “Maybe more, but that doesn’t matter now. What does matter to me is that, as my friend, I want to help you as much as possible. Which includes getting you away from a bigoted, abusive coworker.” His face was stern then, slightly pouty.
“Is that okay with you?”
Vere swallowed, then placed a kiss on Malik’s cheek. “Okay. But if we’re going to do this, I wouldn’t mind some rules or something set up. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
Malik wrapped Vere up in his arms. “Nonsense. I know you’d never do such a thing. If anything, I’ll take advantage of spoiling you.”
That caused an anxious yet excited pause in Vere. They smiled, awkwardly a bit, then let out a laugh. They hadn’t been spoiled since their grandmother, and it had been so long they weren’t sure how to embrace it at first.
It was innocuous enough once Vere resigned from work, Malik’s pampering was the occasional dinner, a fancy coffee machine with fancy coffee beans. Then there was the nice new computer setup for Vere, a new bed.
“Let’s go shopping!” Malik announced loudly and excitedly as he burst into the room.
Vere was eating a bowl of cereal, almost choking on a bite as Malik’s explosion of an entrance shocked them.
“A whole new wardrobe for the both of us!” Malik was acting beyond giddy, basically vibrating out of his bunny slippers. “I just got the biggest tip yet!” He almost singing as he spoke.
Vere wiped their mouth off. “How big?”
Malik suddenly went coy and shy. Posing with his arms wrapped around himself and swaying demurely. “Five grand.”
They choked despite not having anything in their mouth. “How?” They stood up from their seat, staring at Malik is awed disbelief.
Malik blew a kiss towards Vere. “Never mind the how,” he giggled a little wickedly. “Enjoy the repercussions with me. It’ll be fun! When’s the last time you got new clothes?”
Christmas, Vere thought, the year before Grandma passed. “Uh-” They were still staring at Malik in disbelief.
“Exactly!” Malik beamed with excitement. “We’re gonna go shopping like it’s a new school year and mama has a sugar daddy.”
Vere didn’t really have much time to process that sentence. They weren’t one for clothes shopping, not at all. Even as a child and being forced to wear what their mom got for them, Vere saw clothes as a trap. They hadn’t found a style that represented them, that expressed how they saw their gender and themself. It was easy to slap on nondescript t-shirts and baggy jeans because everyone wore that. But anything else? What if someone said something? What was allowed?
All eyes were luckily on Malik as they shopped. Even in a human guise, Malik was beyond captivating. Tall, deep olive skin, covered in tattoos, it was no wonder he was growing in popularity on Spicy Dish. Vere caught people staring at Malik, often unaware of their expressions or how they turned so suddenly. It must be an incubus thing, Vere thought. They stood closer to Malik, unaware they wanted people to know he was with them.
“Vere! Vere!” He ran up excitedly, grinning from ear to ear as he showed off Vere a piece of clothing. “This would look so good on you.”
“That’s okay.” Vere said, already taking another long, plain tank from a rack. “I know what I like.”
Malik frowned slightly. “Okay. Sure.” He folded the article of clothing over his arm. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“I’ll probably ask for some fancy shoes, don’t worry,” Vere tried to blow it off.
Malik scoffed, pouting as he watched Vere go for the same old, same old. “Well, would you at least indulge me and try this on?” It was a jean jacket, with various color blocking, and big, striped sleeves.
Vere shrugged. “I guess that’s fair.” They took the item of clothing.
“And these.” Malik handed Vere a few more things. “Please?” His big, sappy puppy dog eyes made Vere nod in silent agreement, heading to the dressing room.
Vere began taking off their clothes, stalling when they saw themself in the mirror. They stared for a moment, watching their hand go down their chest then back up. Hurriedly, Vere put on a shirt. The tight black turtleneck showed off their figure. The high collar made their jaw look twice as sharp as normal. They took the top off in a hurry, replacing it with another that was more billowy, slightly sheer.
Vere wasn’t sure who they were looking at each time they put something new on. By the time they reached for the jacket, it was too many people.
“You’ve been in there a while,” Malik said, knocking on the door. “Can I see anything?”
“Wait-” Vere’s voice garbled by how thick their throat had become. The lump inside was unbearable, aching.
“Vere.” Malik’s tone was soft as concern came over him.
Vere gasped for breath. “Wait-”
Malik had somehow opened up the locked changing room door. He flung himself inside, wrapping Vere up in his long, strong-arms. His hand cupped the back of Vere’s head, holding them against his chest where it was warm, safe.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
The tears had started before then. Vere clutched at Malik, pulling to find shore after this horrible storm washed them away. “I don’t know-”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Malik pet their hair. “You could have told me this made you nervous.”
“I hate clothes,” Vere spat. “I hate shopping!” They could remember being forced into overly starched pants and stiff collared, button up tops. Their hair cut and buzzed close at the ears, making their head cold. Ugly socks. Dreary colors. Shoes so shiny Vere could see themself in them. How they hated those shoes! Matte shoes from then on out! Every kind of hair! Baggy clothes!
“Look at me,” Malik cooed lovingly, holding Vere’s face between his hands. He smiled when Vere’s eyes focused on him, bleary with heavy tears. “I’m sorry. I was just so excited to take you out.” He kissed Vere softly, their lips, cheek, forehead. “Get what you’re comfortable with.”
Sniffling, Vere stepped back to allow Malik to see them in the jean jacket and one of the tops he picked out. “I like this,” they muttered.
Malik smoothed down the front of the shirt, holding Vere’s hips in his palms. “The colors suit you.” He smiled again. “What if we got you a few out of the norm pieces?” He asked. “You can wear them around the house, get used to them, play around, find yourself your own style as you like.”
“You won’t get mad if I don’t wear it?” Vere mumbled.
Malik’s brow pinched deeply. “What? Why would I get mad?”
Vere’s eyes darted away, remembering how every school year they would get yelled at for not wearing the clothes bought for them, and instead wearing the same variation of the same outfit every day.
“I’d be happy to see you in a long t-shirt and boxer shorts every day!” Malik said with his full chest. “Just so long as you were comfortable. You also have good legs, but that’s besides the point!”
Vere sniffled again, smiling softly. “Okay. And thank you.”
Malik cupped their palm against Vere’s cheek again. “Can I kiss you and mean it?”
Vere nodded, closing their eyes as Malik dipped down, pressing his lips firmly to Vere’s. The dressing room grew so warm, Vere was sure their face was bright red.
“My Vere, you’ll be you no matter what you wear. I’ll see you shining through, as beautiful and dashing as the first time I saw you through the glass of my fish tank.” His smile was loving and Vere knew there was no stopping this feeling that was ever growing, ever persistent.
Back at home, Vere was hanging up their new clothes, seeing colors shine through as their wardrobe became more packed. They stepped back, noticing hints of purple and yellow they never would have seen before. There were no shiny shoes, but plenty of comfortable, expensive sneakers to choose from. Vere smiled to themselves, unsure if anything Malik bought would get worn, but happy. He had someone care enough to listen to what they wanted.
“One more thing!” Malik came happily, skipping into Vere’s room. “Something I think you’ll enjoy.”
Vere scoffed, shutting the closet door. “You bought me enough already.” They turned around, seeing Malik hugging something to his chest.
“I didn’t buy this.” Malik laughed, his tail wagging behind him.
Instantly, Vere wondered what Malik stole.
“This was mine ages ago.” Malik held up before Vere a sort of patchwork hoodie. It was long, frayed, and quite old. It was the same colors as Malik’s skin of deep red and dark purple. The sleeves were long and full, coming to a fitted cuff at the end decorated with gold stitching.
“I want you to have it,” he whispered. “It would mean the world to me if you wore it now and again.”
“It’s beautiful,” Vere murmured.
“I know. My sister and I had matching ones growing up. But now, I want you to wear it, as long as you’ll have me.” Malik’s eyes widened as Vere instantly put it on. It was baggy on them, extra long.
“It’s so comfy,” Vere remarked. They smiled up shyly at Malik, then stood before them, posing a bit. “How does it look? Does it suit me?” For the first time in, well, forever, Vere was excited about showing off their clothes.
Malik looked like he was shaking as he watched Vere in his old hoodie. “Vere, may I tackle you to the bed and cuddle you relentlessly?”
It wasn’t just the hoodie that was turning Vere bright red and warm. “Okay.”
They were flung onto the bed, pinned down by Malik’s body and arms. They closed their eyes, wrapping their arms around Malik in return. Heaven was the first word to come to Vere’s mind.
Malik sighed heavily. “Heaven,” he murmured dreamily.
Vere’s throat tightened, and tears came to their eyes again.
“It’s okay,” his voice was gentle, sleepy. “I feel it too.”
Closing their eyes, Vere hugged tighter onto Malik, curling into them, finding they couldn’t get close enough. They weren’t ready yet for intimacy, or, well, the physical act of it. But this? This was perfect. The warm embrace, the scent of his skin and how soft it was against their own.
“I’ve never been so satisfied.” He whispered into Vere’s ear. “You’re amazing, Vere.” Their firm hand petted up and down Vere’s back. “And to think, you’re all mine.”
Vere sniffled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I can’t believe it myself sometimes.” They peered up, seeing a sleepy, childishly cheerful expression on Malik’s face. “What has it been like before? I mean…have you had other partners?”
“Oh, of course,” Malik sighed. “An incubus has to eat, now don’t they?” They pursed their lips, thinking for a moment. “They always got what they wanted. I also got the meal I needed. But it was transactional. Like Spicy Dish. I’ve never had it given like a gift before. I’ve never felt it directed at me in such a way as kindness. Lust isn’t love. Love isn’t free.” He smiled back at Vere, petting their hair away from their forehead before kissing it. “We have earned this. It’s fulfilling.”
Vere nodded, smiling back shyly. “Yeah-” they felt stupid replying with just that, but they were breathless, swept away.
Laughing, Malik hugged them tighter and nuzzled the top of their head. “Take your time growing. I am not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready to blossom. I am patient.”
Patience. Was that all Vere needed?
“It will happen,” Vere assured them.
Malik chuckled smugly. “I know it will. But that doesn’t matter. As long as you want me to cuddle you until the end of time, I do not ask for much else.” He kissed the top of Vere’s head, but Vere lifted their chin, meeting his lips and falling into a deep, gentle kiss that turned into two, three, countless, until they passed out in a puddle on the bed.
It wasn’t hard to notice all the attention Malik got when he was out and about. People stared in a way Vere knew wasn’t just staring. It was more than that. It was deeper, warm, biblical in a sense. Vere could agree Malik was attractive. Anyone could see that. But what Vere didn’t get was the depth of it all. They could look at Malik all day. Hell, they lived with Malik, knew his habits and rituals through and through. He knew Malik better than any of these people. So, why was it so hard to understand that sort of biblical glance?
Vere had taken to studying Malik to try that perspective. But every time they did, it only led to more confusion on their part. More doubt. They tried studying people online to get some sort of grip on things. But nothing. They could admit when someone was beautiful, and all that nonsense. What they couldn’t get was that…oomph feeling. They’d never had that oomph feeling. Vere had accepted it long ago, they were just ‘built different’ as the memes suggested. They had been happy in that regard, just as they were happy proclaiming themself nonbinary.
But then Malik came into their life.
Vere was happy with Malik. Having someone who understood them comforted them. Vere had been so touch and starved until Malik. And now?
Vere wouldn’t say they were being possessive of Malik, far from. But there was a jealousy. It came when they noticed people giving Malik that up and down look. Also, when they would smile or linger too long.
It wasn’t because they wanted to lay claim on Malik. Not at all. Malik could do as he pleased. It was more a sense that they wanted to look at Malik the same way. They could just never conjure up those feelings? Powerful emotions? What was it?
For the first time in their life, Vere felt incomplete. After all these years of being assured in themself. They had been proud to fly their flags high and mighty. Now, doubt had seeped into them. And now, nothing made sense.
“Vere? You awake?” Malik’s voice sent shockwaves through Vere.
“Yes!” Vere hurriedly tried to close the windows on their computer. They didn’t want Malik to walk in and see Vere peering at swimsuit models, cosplayers, and weird Sonic comics. They couldn’t imagine a more horrifying situation.
Malik popped his head in and held up a mug. “I made some tea. Thought you’d enjoy a cup.”
“Oh, thanks.” Vere turned red from embarrassment, something they knew Malik could sense.
Coming into their room, Malik set Vere’s cup down on the desk. “You’ve been awful quiet. I wanted an excuse to check on you.”
“Oh. Yeah. Just um…gaming.” Vere said, nervous.
Malik eyed them suspiciously, but sipped their tea like they were none the wiser. “You seem anxious about something. A lot recently.”
“Yeah well. In this economy?” Vere tried tossing out a joke.
“You know I know better than that.” Malik set their mug down and held Vere’s chin in his hand. “Talk to me.”
Vere pouted, suddenly afraid of saying any of their thoughts out loud.
Malik gave that soft smile. “I’m here for you. Remember?”
They let out a heavy sigh. “It’s hard to say.”
Malik sat down on the edge of Vere’s bed. “That’s okay. We can talk until you get it out. I like that about us.”
That twinge of doubt again as Vere watched Malik pose on their bed. Wearing booty shorts and nothing else. This was a major fantasy, right? Some hot demon in booty shorts? Why did they feel that? They just liked Malik being there, nothing else.
“Hey,” Malik whispered. “Look at me.”
Vere’s eyes flooded with tears. “I’m trying!” The words came out harsher, sharper than Vere intended.
Malik’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “Vere-”
“I want to see what everyone else sees!” Vere snapped again. “I look and I look and I just…” They shut their mouth up tight since everything sounded strange coming from them. They hiccuped, trying to suppress their frustrated tears.
Malik’s smile was sincere then, soft and sympathetic. “I’m not asking for you to look at me any other way than how you already do. I told you before, I’m here for you and I can adapt to however you need me. So tell me, what on earth is bothering you?”
Vere sniffled and wiped their eyes, using the hem of their shirt. “You mean a lot to me. And having you here…I’m not sure why but, I feel like I should-” They scoffed, unable to get it out.
Standing, Malik went back to Vere’s side and knelt down before them. “I’ve been sensing a tension every time we go out. A spark from you, I’m not sure how I would classify it. It’s nothing I expected from you. You’re not the jealous type.”
“I’m not.” Vere ran their fingers through Malik’s long hair. “Not of you, not how people look at you. I mean…kind of how they look at you. But not in like the ‘stop looking at him’ way, more like-” Their voice cracked as they tried to find the words.
“You don’t have to force anything on my account.” Malik lifted his head from their lap. “I like us. I like our life.”
“I know but-” Vere looked into Malik’s eyes. “I want to…I dunno.”
Malik smiled. “Experiment?”
Vere’s hands trembled. “I mean-” Their chest was tight with lost breath and shivering nerves. “I’ve never had that thought…until you.”
Smiling, Malik sat up enough to place a soft kiss on Vere’s lips. “That’s why I am here. To help you, to comfort you. In any way I can.”
Vere sniffled again, leaning in closer to take another kiss, a stronger one. They held Malik’s face in their hand, parting their lips, tasting Malik. There was a strange stirring, just from the sensation. Tongues, warmth, wetness.
“Easy.” Malik whispered. “Come here.” He took Vere’s hands and led them to the bed, laying down beside him like so many times they cuddled. Only this time, Malik’s intensity spiked. There was a heat, a pulse.
“You’re so lovely,” Malik whispered. “I’ve always thought so. Slender, soft, sort of my type,” he chuckled. His fingers traced lines along Vere’s shirt, going down slowly until his fingers snuck up along their bare belly, their chest.
“Don’t tease me.” Vere knew they were bright red. Flustered didn’t even describe this.
Malik grinned. “I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.” He sat up, pushing Vere’s shirt up under their neck. He began stroking, caressing his palms along Vere’s soft skin. “I think you’re beautiful, Vere.”
“You are-” Vere didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. Doubt, uncertainty, and frazzlement consumed them. “I mean-” they panted out breathlessly. “You’re beautiful. I want to see you how everyone else does. But they don’t get to see you come out of a shower or make breakfast in the morning. They don’t see what I see and…and I’m glad they don’t.”
Dipping down, Malik kissed Vere, deep again, his tongue parting Vere’s lips. He tasted like green tea. His hands continued to touch, but his kisses traveled down, along their neck, down their chest.
A pulse of fear washed over Vere, and they quickly sat up. “Wait. Stop!” They held Malik at arm’s length and stared into his lavender eyes. “I’m not sure-”
“It’s okay.” Malik touched Vere’s face. “What would you be okay with?”
Vere sat there a moment, thinking. Staring at Malik’s well toned chest and broad shoulders. They leaned in, kissing Malik’s neck, touching his skin. He rested against Malik’s chest, holding him, kissing his neck and shoulder slowly.
“Touch me,” Vere spoke softly.
Malik did so, stroking Vere’s bare back, slowly.
Shutting their eyes, they took in the sensation of Malik’s palms upon them. Warm, soft, inviting. Vere kissed Malik’s skin more, the deep purple stripes, the blue splotches. They took a deep breath and reached down, searching around below until they felt.
Oh.
Oh!
It was bigger than they expected.
Malik chuckled into Vere’s ear. “Never seen me hard yet, have you?”
“Do you have enough blood elsewhere?” Their voice shuddered from nerves. It was their first time ever touching…well. They had seen and tried this kind of thing once before. But they had never…
Oh!
Malik whispered into Vere’s ear. “May I touch you too?”
Vere shuddered, nodding.
A soft caress of Malik’s hand along their belly, down between thighs, moving over the fabric of their Hello Kitty pajama bottoms. A moan from his lips echoed in Vere’s ear. And there. Holy shit! Vere gasped in alarm.
“Ah,” Malik panted. “What do we have here?”
Vere buried their face in Malik’s shoulder with a whimper.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m impressed. Then again, your body is beautiful, it would make sense your cock would also be, well, impressive.”
“Nothing compares to you,” Vere whimpered against Malik’s neck. “Moan in my ear again. Please!”
Malik did so eagerly, whimpering, gasping in response to Vere’s touch. Each breath, each sound that came from his lips, enraptured Vere in a way they had never felt before.
“I want to see it. I mean, you!” Vere looked up at Malik with frightened eyes. “Can I watch you, um…show me what to do with it…exactly…”
Malik kissed them. “Alright. I’ll show you.” He eased back onto the bed, laying down. He arched his lips, stripping, then kicking away his booty shorts. Vere’s eyes focused on his legs, his tail. He then spotted a patch of dark purple hair. His cock stood high, arched, pulsing above his body.
“Whoa-” Vere whispered under their breath.
“I like your eyes on me,” Malik panted. He took his hand around his cock, stroking slowly, focused on Vere. He moaned, gasping for breath. His back arched slightly. “It feels so good. Vere. Vere!”
The way Malik moaned their name made them stand at attention, in a couple of ways. Vere slowly stripped, removing the rest of their shirt, kicking off their pajama pants. They crawled up closer to Malik, laying down by his side. Kissing him, they ran their hand along his body. They were trembling, but they were also so certain. At least, they thought so.
Malik took Vere’s hand and put it around his cock. “Touch me. Please?”
Silently, they nodded, moving their hand up and down, watching Malik shudder in pleasure. Vere wanted that, too.
“Hmm?” Malik licked his lips and looked at Vere. “That’s new.” He rolled onto his side, stroking down Vere’s body. “Is it okay?”
They nodded silently again.
Malik tugged down Vere’s underwear, smirking in delight at seeing Vere completely exposed. “Look how cute you are. All smooth, so handsome.”
Vere bit their lip.
“You’re so hard.” Malik took hold of them, and their entire body pulsed and shook. “This is beyond delicious. Oh Vere,” he moaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”
How could they ever drive anyone crazy? Vere thought, though it was a shambled and patched together thought.
“More,” Vere whimpered. “Touch me more.”
Malik kissed them, rubbing his body against them, his cock against their hip. He moaned in Vere’s ear, drinking in the trembling delight Vere took in it.
“That’s it, good, so good,” Malik panted.
“I’m so dizzy,” Vere breathed. “Malik…you’re amazing. You’re so-” They went in for another kiss.
Malik took hold of both their cocks, stroking them together. “Breath, don’t pass out on me.” He kissed Vere again, moaning as their pulses mashed, becoming one. “You’re doing amazing. You taste divine.”
“I’ve never felt like this.” Vere shivered again. “It’s…strange…”
Malik smiled. “Do you want to take a break?”
Vere nodded while a few tears in their eyes. Malik released them and they hugged tight onto him, grasping him close, their grip iron tight.
Malik cupped the back of Vere’s head. “I’ve got you, love. I’m here.” He stroked Vere’s soft hair. “I’m yours.”
Taking in a shudder breath, Vere tried to calm themself. “Is this…is this how you feel all the time?”
“No,” Malik chuckled. “Only occasionally. If I were to go around like this all the time, I’d go insane.” He kissed Vere’s temple and breathed in the scent of their hair. “Usually, when I’m with you, I’m quite satisfied.”
“Really?” Vere whimpered.
“Of course! I told you that in the beginning, didn’t I? My libido is based on your libido. So what I feel right now is all you.”
Vere was shot by a lightning bolt. It coursed through their body, tensing their muscles, shocking their brain. Every thought was silenced, but wired. “It is?”
“Yes, I’m aroused because you are.” He nuzzled into Vere’s neck. “Your pulse is my pulse, and I am surging for you because of you. I am desperate to satisfy you in any way you desire.”
“I-” Vere’s throat went tight, dry in that instant.
He pulled back to look Vere in the face. “Vere, I adore you. I love my life here. I love you.” He smiled and petted the tears that came to Vere’s eyes. “Of all the things you doubt, never doubt that.”
Vere kissed him deeply, sniffling. “You mean it?”
Malik laughed, hugging Vere tightly back. “If I lie, please, lightning may strike me!” A silent beat, and then they both laughed at the absurdity of the moment. “See? No lightning. That means I love you. Doesn’t it?”
Tears poured from Vere’s eyes as they buried their face in Malik’s chest. It was strange to hear. Especially here of all places. They kissed Malik again, holding them close, rubbing against his strong, large body. Malik moaned against their lips, breath catching as the pulse continued to grow.
Vere grew dizzy. They were uncertain what to do with their hands. Do I touch him here? Do I feel him up there? They scrambled, grasping at Malik’s back, only knowing they wanted him close to his body.
Closer!
Closer!
More! More! More!
Vere’s entire being tensed. A new feeling! No. More than that. It was so intense, so extreme. It scared them for a moment. There was no pulsing, no breathing. It was a rush. No. More powerful than that even.
It was a release.
“Look at you,” Malik whispered into Vere’s ear. “You came for me.”
Vere was shuddering, barely able to speak. They just went limp.
Malik moaned into their ear as something warm surged against Vere’s belly. “Look at what you’re capable of.”
“I can’t think-” Vere whimpered.
Laughing, Malik kissed them, stroking their hair. “You did it.”
Vere shut their eyes, trying to put all their thoughts together. It was…so much! So much they weren’t used to. More tears.
“It’s okay.” Malik held them close. “You did beautifully.”
Vere remained silent, clutching Malik until it was as if the world was melting away. They were warm, safe, and then everything was soft. They drifted away, passing out from the exertion in Malik’s arms.
Vere woke in their dark room, aware they weren’t alone in the black inkiness of the night. They stretched out, yawning and relaxing against the warm bed. They stared out through the darkness, thoughts pieced together much better than before.
“Vere?” Malik murmured sleepily.
“Thank you,” Vere whispered. “That was…wonderful.” They chuckled, still a bit in disbelief.
Malik sighed dreamily, his hand resting on Vere’s bare chest. “I will do anything for you. I’m so glad you allowed me to share that with you.”
Vere inched closer to Malik on the bed, laying there, hoping their eyes would adjust so they could see Malik in the dark. “I don’t know if, or when, I’ll ever feel like it again.”
“You don’t need to force yourself on my account,” Malik purred.
“I liked it, though. Now that I can sort it out. I love being with you. But…I think it would only ever be you. I don’t think I could ever feel that way around anyone else,” the confession slipped out easily, freely. “It makes me so happy it’s you. I only ever want you.”
“You’ll make me cry,” he chuckled.
Vere smiled, able to see Malik’s lavender irises in the darkness. “I like what we have,” they continued. “If I ever lost that, I don’t think I’d ever be okay again.”
“It’s not going away,” Malik assured them, touching their face. “It will never go away. I promise.” His tail brushed against Vere’s leg under the comforter. The velvety texture of it relaxed Vere, helping them to ease back to sleep in Malik’s arms.
Harsh morning light woke Vere next. They sat up, rubbing their eyes, grumbling irritably under their breath. They got up, barely realizing they were nude, as they shuffled to the bathroom. Vere rinsed out their mouth, gazing into the mirror. There was a hickey on their neck.
“Ah-”
“Good morning.” Malik slinked into the bathroom door, a love drunk smile upon his face. “What would you like for breakfast this morning? Something big to recover all that energy from last night?”
“You gave me a hickey!” Vere gasped.
Malik licked his lips as he smirked. “So I did! Are you going to wear turtlenecks or should we go shopping for concealer?”
Vere’s face was bright red. “I’ve never had one before.”
“Lots of firsts last night.” Malik kissed Vere’s cheek lovingly. “I’ve got coffee on. Why don’t we chat over a cup or two?”
Vere looked into his eyes, heart skipping a beat. “Chat?”
“I want to tell you how cute you were last night, in very vivid detail.” He chuckled, holding out his hand. “I wouldn’t mind hearing my praises sung as well.”
Vere took his hand, holding it tight. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, the beginning.” Malik grinned from ear to ear and Vere followed suit, clutching his hand tight as he led them into the kitchen.
PREV PART
trigger warnings: (semi) violence, talks about wanting to die, illnesses, (past, kinda) medical + physical + emotional neglect, DRUGGING SIDE EFFECTS, anger, (light) infantilzation, tell me if I missed any!
main m.list series m.list good ending m.list
Something is wrong, terribly wrong. You went home to confront Dick and Jason yet here you are in your bed unable to move without your sight disappearing and you basically passing out. Perhaps you should have listened to Francis, perhaps you should have gone to the hospital with them like the ambulance worker suggested. Perhaps you should have listened to your supervisor and calm down before you stormed over there.
But it doesn’t matter, you can’t change your choice.
You just need to get Duke here, perhaps he can get Alfred and Bruce of your back. Because if you hear your sperm donor tell you another bed-time story you will join your mother sooner then later. You don’t know why but you feel as if something is wrong with medication, as if the pills might be expired even though the date on them says otherwise. The American health care system isn’t known for their transparency and ethical bounds, so you wouldn’t be surprised if the company that made your medication cut corners.
There is no way Bruce messed with them right? He wouldn’t have done that… Not when he is Batman ‘protector of the weak, the dark knight’. That would be going against his moral code, right? Especially when the chemical reaction of a drug with another drug could easily kill you, your sperm donor isn’t that reckless… Right?
But then again, all of his robins started at a young age, he didn’t take you the hospital when Jason had beaten the shit out of you and he ignored how long it took for you to finally walk properly. He had refused to send you to a physical therapist that isn’t Alfred, too terrified of your injuries being reported and then his secret would have been exposed. But not the secret of how neglectful he truly was, he doesn’t really care about that one. He knows he can buy off any journalist that would even think about spreading the truth such fake news. No, even then he cared more about Batman than you.
You can’t count on Bruce having morals when he never had chosen the right path in his life as Bruce Wayne, all he has ever done as a Wayne was put up a mask and harm those around him.
You can’t trust him. Even if you know that you are being paranoid, you just can’t shake the feeling of something sinister hiding behind his eyes.
The same sinister look that you had seen on Alfred’s face so often that you no longer tensed up when you saw it. But on Bruce’s face it feels even more dangerous, it sends your whole nervous system in overdrive. But you can’t tense up, you can’t show a sign of your pain increasing because that would trigger Bruce to start coddling you.
Even more then he has already been doing.
You don’t know how late it is, but you feel as if you have been in your room for longer than a day. But you can’t read your digital clock and pulling out your burner phone would fuck up your line of communication with your friends for when you can see.
“What day is it?” you ask Bruce, swallowing your pride as you cringe at how your voice sounds. It sounds high and hoarse at the same time, it sounds painful to talk and it is. It is as if the vibrations of your voice is enhancing your headache, enhancing your pain. You know it hasn’t, it can’t be, not when you know every pain trigger and every movement that can enhance your pain as if you had gotten a guidebook when you became ill. No this has to be induced, or your illness has gotten worse.
If it did, you just hope it will finish the job.
Bruce doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “do you want to take a bath? You have been sweating quite a lot.”
You can’t believe this, but you do want to take bath. Not just to wash the sweat of you but to also get the fuck away from this man and use your burner phone. “Yes,” you say as you push yourself up, ignoring how the world spins around you and most importantly ignoring the look of pity Bruce send your way. “get out.”
Bruce scoffs; “You are not taking a bath alone, you could drown.”
You laugh, pretending to wipe away a fake tear in amusement. “I didn’t know you had humour old man,” you say, trying to look as casual as you can. “but I am taking a bath alone. I am almost an adult, I do not need daddy dearest to watch over me as I clean myself.”
“Do you want Duke to help you wash up?” He asks, clenching his hands onto the book he’s holding. He’s almost tearing the pages, he’s clearly jealous.
“No,” you spat out, rolling your eyes. “I don’t want anyone helping me bathe, you see I like this thing called privacy.”
This time Bruce laughs as you have just said the funniest thing alive. “You are lucky that you even have a door,” he hisses, his eyes narrowing but you just glare back even if you are unsure of where to look. Your mama didn’t raise someone who would just back off the second a confrontation got hard, no she raised you to be a fighter and if you have to fight you will. “you should be happy that I didn’t move you into my own room or the living room where you can be watched at all times!”
You don’t care about what Bruce things, so you push yourself off your bed as you attempt to make your expression passive. Truly, you would think you would have perfected a poker face after being ill for so many years. After hiding all you have been through, but to Bruce you look like Dick attempting to intimidate his scowl for the first time. He just can’t seem to find it threatening, even when he sees your mother’s face in yours.
“You have no say over how I should feel,” you hiss, stepping closer to him as Bruce stands up from the chair he has been sitting on. You ignore how your heart starts pounding louder when he grabs your arms hard enough to Bruce, hard enough to increase your pain. “especially when you continuously hurt me, even now.”
NEXT PART
is my writing block decreasing a bit? Seems so :D
hannibal lecter x gn reader
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, nor 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.
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, hence the hesitant invitation.
you stepped into the room, careful, 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, don't you think so?”
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. “haven’t decided that 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 yet 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. 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 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 vintage wine as 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, effortlessly intimate. the flavor lingers, subtle. 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.
No I don't wanna see shit ton of smut making reader submissive and calling {{male character}} daddy or some kinky shit. Seriously, if you wanna post this much smut on here go to wattpad atp. I want a homosexual reader who's a bad bitch, I want a nerdy incel reader who has absolutely no one that catches their vibe.
hiii i hope this is okay to request, if not, feel free to ignore this!! could you write headcannons for the vees (poly) being supportive of trans reader? i imagine that if they found out a transphobe was harassing their partner they'd straight up murder the person and then spoil reader rotten to help them feel better <3
If you’ve read literally any other post I’ve made with the Vees, you know what to expect when I see that gods forsaken Val pic in my gallery
Anyway!! Uh no real warnings here! I mean I guess implied transphobia but nothings said at all… oh wait murder that’s a thing um.
Also!! The reader is gn but they are explicitly trans and as such there are mentions of gender affirming care (like hrt and surgeries)!! The readers assigned gender at birth nor their actual gender is mentioned, so you can read this if your transfem, transmasc or enby! Or a secret fourth option idk genders a lie live your life
Uh I myself am transmasc, so there might be some projection on my part soz
All that to say your mileage/experience may vary from mine so be warned
Ask box is open, requests are not!
Vox—
Can I just say I love the trans Vox hc?
That’s not gonna be a part of this post but it’s important to me that you know that
Okay anyway
In a weird way he kinda understands what you feel?
Like not the dysphoria exactly but
The need to change yourself physically to match how you feel internally
His own experience isn’t a one to one comparison but like
He kinda gets it
Oh but!
If you want anything
In general but specifically in relation to gender stuff
He will buy it for you
Hate how your clothes are sitting on you today?
Well he’s got onesies and hoodies and an entire closets worth of nice clothes to wear whenever you feel ready for it
(All courtesy of Velvette, of course.)
You want to go on hormones? He’s got it.
Surgery? He’ll book a consultation!
He’s like
The opposite of that one bi guy every trans person seems to date yknow?
The great thing about controlling the media is that he’s fantastic at convincing people
You ever feel bad about yourself? He’s on it
He’s not super… into feelings and junk but he’ll have you feeling a little more confident
Oohhh but if he finds out someone’s being a bigot?
Well
His reaction depends how badly you’re upset, how well known the other demon is, how public things are…
That prick will be getting what’s coming to them don’t worry
It just might take a bit
He has to decide the best way to ruin their life, y’know?
Velvette—
She’s your personal stylist.
You want a haircut? No awkward bobs because “that’s too short!” Or crappy extensions on her watch
Every outfit you wear is custom made, perfectly tailored to hide whatever you need to hide, and accentuate whatever you want to highlight
In an odd way I feel like all the Vees relate to changing how you’re percieved to match something internal
But I feel like she understands better than the other two
Like there will always be a disconnect between how you experience life and how they experience life
But shared experiences with different contexts can still be shared and bonded over, y’know?
She’s probably the most aware of trans stuff
Liek just the concept and some health stuff (like hormone blockers and stuff!!)
If you ever consider getting surgery, talk to her about it
Her whole thing is like
Being the perfect version of yourself
I think there’s a poster where she’s advertising plastic surgery so
You want top surgery? She knows a guy
And it’s hell, and the Vees are rich as fuck!! Anything can be changed with enough moneyyyyy so if you end up wanting to change some stuff
She’ll probably have some ideas on how to help :)
Now, if someone was being transphobic to you?
Well
Velvette is less likely to wait, like Vox would
She’d ruin their life, no hesitation!
But she wouldn’t get her hands dirty hunting them down and killing them
Too busy styling you to her hearts content
Valentino—
If someone’s being transphobic they are getting shot
No questions asked
Valentino probably knows the most about all the medical stuff tbh
Like unfortunately trans people are fetishised and he’s
The porn demon
He knows about that shit
At least the concepts
Uh he probably doesn’t really understand dysphoria
Or how to help with it
In a traditional sense
“Like, everyone’s into something. So even if you don’t have the parts, you’re still hot/fuckable!”
That’s probably his best attempt
Whether that works is up to you
Still he is probably the best at boosting your self esteem
Like he’s pretty comfortable in his body
So if you need help with that he’s definitely the best person to go to
You can rock a skirt or suit regardless of your gender
First Chapter Here! Trans MasterList | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Date night gets Rio into trouble, she just so loves opening packages.
Warnings : Bathroom Smut / Gender Exploration / Non Binary / Good Boy Nicknames / Mommy and Daddy Kink / Agatha + Reader + Rio / Married Wives / Semi Public / Choking / Spitting / Packer Sex / Humping / Silicone Packer in boxers / Rio and Reader Scene / Agatha isn't going to be happy / @panicatthestrap request ! / 18+
Your cock had only taken three business days to come.
God and Adam would have had an opinion on this.
Yet in a little box on your porch, you found it, and as you looked over your shoulder - absurdly shy. Hoping none of your neighbors could magically see through the box. You wondered if FedEx knew they had given you the proverbial rib for your new life.
You threw the package into your backpack and practically ran to the bar. A date spot previously picked out for tonight.
You’d known that Rio would be there first, and she clocked you just as you walked in.
Your eyes met like sonar in the thick bar atmosphere. You self-consciously tugged the backpack strap closer to your collarbone.
You attempted to wear something a little nicer this morning as you got dressed for work. It was a simple white button-down and black jeans. Rio had bought your shoes. These were black Oxfords. But it had a print on the sides of tiger lilies.
Your watch was Agatha’s grandfather's; she’d taken it to a horologist to get the gears fixed up for you. You wore it religiously now - almost superstitious to go out without it.
At one point this week, Rio had thought it would be fun to try dyes in your hair, and you were all too happy to have your wives play with you. So when she took out the blue spray and got your hair looking this new aquamarine, you couldn’t help but grin.
Your social circles were slowly learning a new language to talk to you with. And while there were bumps and some stumbling. Your home was full of love and gentleness, and your new gender expression didn’t stop that.
If anything, it almost opened a new sense of intimacy.
A way for Agatha and Rio to take care of you, to dote on you, to connect with a raw, untouched garden in your mind.
The three of you were planting flowers together, little by little. Until your mind wasn’t such a dark place. Thorns cut away long ago, and only the buzz of honeybees remains.
Your dress shoes click a little on the hardwood as you make your way over to Rio, who has already ordered you a drink and you lean in to kiss her cheek.
But Rio doesn’t approve of quick kisses, as her fingers find the back of your neck and pull you into a PDA packed kiss. Not for the other patrons, but herself.
Your head gets dizzy as Rio leans back and bites her lip, looking you up and down.
“Chico bonito, you aren’t wearing it?” Rio’s hand slides down your stomach and lingers on your black belt. Your dress shirt is tucked in and you try to cough away the moan that threatens to escape as Rio’s slender but strong fingers were hot on you, teasing at the top of your belt buckle. Letting her pointer finger dip under the fabric just enough to have your ears turn dark red.
The bartender came over and you turned your head, but Rio couldn’t care less.
She doesn’t have eyes for the bartender; her prize lives in your pants.
Rio didn’t move her hand away, and you watched as the hipster bartenders gaze went from you to your wifes hand threatening to slide into your pants.
You blush from your hot-tipped ears down to your toes now.
“Uh..uh.” You fumble dumbly only for him to smirk at you, a knowing smirk. Like you were just another guy getting a handjob. And walk away to the next patron.
Maybe this is what it’s like to get a bro nod. Huh, what strange gentlemen’s territory you’ve entered.
“Rio, we’re in public.” You grumble, not sure how to deny your wife even now.
Rio’s lipstick kiss hits just under your jaw once, then twice, a smil pressed against your skin.
“Why so shy guapo?” Rio flirts with you and you’re sure your skin must be on fire from how hard your blush is.
“There's other people here…” You remind her as Rio’s hand moves down to your crotch and she cups your cunt.
“I don’t see anyone else.” Rio’s hand rubs back and forth, letting the material press against your pussy.
“Aggie’s gonna be so mad-” You start but Rio’s already grabbing you by your belt and walking off towards the bathroom.
They’re two gendered bathrooms and you get slightly nervous but it seems Daddy has you by crotch and you are being dragged like a naughty thing.
Rio’s wearing her leather jacket, that one she’d wrapped around your shoulders when you’d gotten too drunk on your birthday. The smell of it makes you feel safe instantly.
Your heart is beating so fast in your chest. You think you might explode.
Before Rio rips the door of the bathroom open and you are yanked inside, the stall at the end is the biggest but it’s locked so she pulls open the smaller stall.
You almost fall as she manhandles you into the space, twisting around she locks it.
It would be awkward in the tiny stall. But Rio’s movements are skilled, she has no room for questions.
Your wife lifts your backpack off and drops it to the floor with a thud louder than you’d like.
You eye it on the floor like you were cis and your penis just dropped.
You bend down dumbly to reach for the bag - like a buddy or a fallen soldier.
But Rio’s faster, her hand flat against your chest, thrusts you back to the door.
“Stay.”
“Rio!” You whine, somewhere in your gut there’s a twist of embarrassment.
You hadn’t opened it at home, what if it was wrong or made you feel weird. Now you were going to have to have all these strange feelings in front of your wife.
Rio expertly locates the dick, pops open the carboard and smiles big - mischivioulsy even.
You hold your breath.
The joke ‘what’s in the box’ from the movie ‘Seven’ would be good here. But you don’t have the goofy mood. So you just stand frozen, a young guy with a clip on tie at his first school dance.
A butch with their first fade haircut.
A queer baby just waiting to fit.
Your toes curled anxiously in your shoes and you waited.
Rio looked up at you with nothing but love.
“Oh baby, you are gonna look so good.” Rio’s tone was thick like the whiskey she’d make you taste when you went to visit her family.
You open your mouth, wanting to tell her she’s wrong, wanting to have her put it back in the box.
Your anxiety is too much, too big in this space.
You put both hands over your eyes, you want to disappear now.
How could you make this all go away now.
“Shhhh No tengas miedo, dulce niño.” Rio whispered low in the bathroom. Noises of people coming in and putting on makeup, kissing, living their lives all washed away.
Your wife pushed her body against your own and the breath you were holding left your body.
Rio was at your height but her heels made you feel like a tiny king now.
She kissed the knuckles that shielded your eyes. Your trusted love didn’t give you an out though.
Even though you’d had twelve years of marriage, twelve years of trust, of still asking consent.
Rio wouldn’t let you hide, so when her kisses didn’t do the trick (which was never an issue).
Her hands easily moved to your belt, causing your hips to jerk at her strong hold.
You heard the metal clicking, then your button, the zipper.
You can’t watch, can’t imagine the dysphoria after waiting for something made of silicone.
Rio makes a kiss to bless your new member.
Your ring finger and middle split just enough for you to peak out. Rio smirks, catching you peaking.
But you quickly hide again, this time a small smile playing on your own lips.
“It’s only right that Daddy gets to introduce you two,” Rio tells you and you gulp.
Rio’s free hand grabs at your throat, you moan and tilt your head back. Her thumb traces your tiny adams apple.
“You should know after all this time, there’s no part of you that I don’t own.” Rio’s tone holds no room for debate. As she slips the toy into your boxer briefs.
You hiss at the coolness, and Rio makes an empathetic noise in the back of her throat.
There’s movement, and you feel her pull the silicone shaft through the brief holes front.
You aren’t sure what’s happening until the movement begins.
Back and forth, slow at first, the base of the silicone against your pubes is different.
But that feeling… her hand.
“Open your eyes big boy, look at what I’m doing to you.” Rio’s voice is commanding, just like Aggie's is.
You gasp when her other hand squeezes your throat harder.
You drop both your hands and moan, guttural and loud in this public bathroom. Letting everyone know you two weren’t in here to write on the walls.
Rio’s face is close to yours, you see the flecks of gold in her iris, but just - she’s mere centimeters away from kissing you again.
You quiver at the way she’s gazing at you, like you were her last meal.
You move your lips to chase her own, but she backs up, holding your throat in a more commanding way.
Causing you to grind your teeth in sexual frustration.
“Watch Daddy, I’ll teach you baby boy.” Rio tells you and she slowly spits, letting it drip down.
You follow the glistening spit until you see your silicone head.
Both of you looking at your new cock, the way it’s perfectly sticking out of your underwear.
Rio is holding you from underneath, like you’ve always fit in her palm that way.
You see the moisture pool from the top of your tip down to her strong hand.
Then she makes a show of stroking your cock, just like you would a real one…In that moment you inhale sharply, Rio watches you carefully.
Seeing how you’re completely enraptured by this new image.
“Daddy’s boy, you look so pretty. You like it baby, fuck Daddy likes it.” Rio doesn’t whisper now, and you don’t even notice a wolfwhistle from behind the stall.
Your hips lift as Rio pulls your cock towards her.
“Look at my naughty boy chasing your own orgasm. Is that what you need? Need Daddy to make it all better?” Rio’s so turned on, she’s desperate for you to say something, anything.
Because her intentions had been to fit you in this and sit back down, Agatha would be here anymoment.
But seeing your shaft in her hand, fuck.
Rio was ready to get on her knees in this dirty bathroom and suck you like it would be her last meal.
Rio pumped her hand a little faster and you could feel the base of the silicone brush against your clit, once, twice, oh fuck right there.
It was the smallest of sensations, yet your clit was desperate for it, your cunt pulsating with ever stroke of Rio’s hand against your shaft.
“Daddy-” You gasp, in that high pitch way that Rio knows to mean your going to lose this battle.
Rio’s biting her own lip now, smearing her lipstick because she just can’t believe your about to cum from this - damn she’s about to cum from this.
“You know your cocks all mine? You don’t get to cum without asking, you know better baby boy.” Rio can’t take it anymore and she kisses you with the intensity that shakes the whole stall.
Your knees are bending as your hips thrust up, your dry humping Rio’s thigh as your toy is still in her hand. Like some kind of chastity belt, she holds on to the toy like it’s a direct like to your pleasure.
And fuck, you weren’t sure the thing wasn’t enchanted because you give a high-pitched whining noise as Rio swallows each bit of you.
Not about to waste a drop of your orgasm for the people outside the stall.
You grapple with the leather on Rio’s shoulders; you're pretty sure you’ve ruined the boxers.
As well as smeared some cum up your wifes own pants.
By the time she stops kissing you you’re almost hyperventilating from the intensity of it all. Rio’s looking at you with wonder.
Then she moves her hand from your shaft down the bottom of your cotton boxer briefs to feel all that wetness.
The soiled boxers make her moan and shiver as she’s about to drop to her knees when a very loud knock hits the back of your stall.
“Rio, I swear to god if you’re in there with my boy - before dinner - on fucking date night!” Agatha yells, and the bathroom voyeurs scatter like rats.
Rio bites her bottom lip and rests her forehead against yours.
You don’t make a sound for a solid ten seconds.
“GET THE FUCK OUT HERE! IF YOU WANNA SLEEP IN BED TIME YOU’LL OPEN THIS STALL.”
Rio starts cursing in spanish and you maneuver your pants back up and start buckling, but your guilty wife is already opening the stall to see Agatha still in her work clothes.
Rio grabs your wrist to look at the watch.
“I think our table is ready,” she tries to play it off as if you don’t have a handprint around your neck and a dazed post orgasm haze about you.
Your short blue hair is all messed up, pomade be damned, you practically had road head.
Agatha’s glare is terrifying, but your pussy is raw from humping, and as you try to buckle your belt your hands shake.
Rio’s grabbing your backpack and walking out like it was no big deal.
The bathroom door opened, and Agatha doesn’t turn to look before she yells.
“PISS IN THE ALLEY BITCH.”
Making the poor patrons run away, your wives had a certain commanding tone about them that could scare a biker into a quivering mess.
You don’t get the heat though, as the youngest, you always were treated like a horndog who was easily fucked with.
“Hey, guess what came in the mail!” Rio brought up like she wasn’t ready to suck your new toy like a lollipop in a bathroom stall.
“Get the car.”
“You aren’t hungry babe?” Rio tried, but the lipstick was gone from her bottom lip and smeared on her top. Most of it was located under your jaw and around your lips now.
You two looked like you were caught behind the bleachers.
“I am, and I’m going to enjoy my meal. Now go get the car, because tonight's punishment is going to make the 4th of July look like foreplay.” Aggie growled and now Rio’s cockiness is taken down big time.
“Aggie-” She tries but your older wife is shaking her head, then pointing to the door.
Rio’s shoulders sag, she hesitates looking at you, wanting to give aftercare to such an emotionally charged moment.
“NOW!” Agatha shouts and Rio seems anxious, and so your older wife is walking over to you. She licks her thumb and starts to smear the lipstick off of your face and neck. “I’ve got my boy, go!”
Rio makes a frustrated noise but takes your bag and walks out of the bathroom.
“Hi,” you smile now, scared that you're in trouble too. But Agatha leans forward and kisses you, low and slow. Like she’s been waiting all day for this kiss.
You melt against her, and she’s cupping the back of your head.
She does this now, loving the short hair, it’s so fuzzy against her fingers.
You're released from the kiss with a wet noise before her hand reaches down to the mound in your pants.
“Oh my love,” she laughs in evil delight.
“No dinner?” You ask, as she wraps her fingers in yours and pulls you out of the bathroom much like how you entered it.
“You’ll eat, oh don’t worry about that.” Agatha laughs and you two go out the back alley, you stop short, just as the dom had wanted.
Your newly acquired dick pressing against her buttcheeks like it was coming home.
You moan, just from the sensation, your hands fall to her hips and she grabs your fingers.
You feel like you could cum again just from this grinding in the parking lot.
The cold air hits your red cheeks, your hands hold your wife's hips with a new ache.
Twelve years later you didn’t think it was possible to have new ways that you would explode for them.
You try to back up, maybe it’s the embarrassment, or the headlights of the car coming around.
But Agatha pushes her hair to the side and leans back into you.
You kiss the spot where her shirt droops, right on her shoulder, right next to her bra strap.
The bra you can’t wait to take off of her, it was doing too much work, your hands and mouth would happily take over for the lacey bralet.
“You want to behave for Mama now?” Agatha’s words were like warm hands down your spine.
“Yes,” you whisper, your lips still pressing against her shoulder.
“Yes, what baby?” She pushes, your submissive side sparking like fireworks.
“Yes, Mommy,” you say as Rio parks in front of you both. She lingers her hand on the horn but doesn’t want to be in more trouble.
“Get in the back,” She tells you, and you stumble towards the door to open it.
Agatha laughs and rubs at her face in this coy kinda way, like she knows that she owns two dorks who are dripping for her. She lingers on your faces as you both are hungry for what only she can provide.
Rio’s about to get out and get the passenger side door when Aggie holds the back door open so you can’t close it and climbs in the back seat with you.
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