#is so fascinating to me because it could work SO WELL
Note
for the bat boys (or bat boys x feyre), I really wanna see rhys just tied down, desperate, and overwhelmed with pleasure. like everybody just decides to show their high lord some love!! I wanna see rhys in tears (in a good way), and they just praise him and love on him so good!! I can def see rhys having a major praise kink. feel free to ignore tho, thank you!!💖
Our Girl (Bat Boys! x Female! Reader)
Based off this ask as well
AN: HAHAHA guys I’ve been reading The L.O.R.D.S series by Shantel Tessier and I’ve been fucking loving it. Also I wrote the second half of this in a fucking Barnes and Noble cafe, I was SWEATING, but I wanted to get it done for you because I have some cool Az stuff I’m working on for you!
Summary: When Rhysand becomes High Lord the boys find themselves too busy and too well known to visit their local pleasure house. So they hire the reader to to satisfy their needs.
Warnings: Smut (shocker),sub/dom dynamic, dirty talk, bondage, threesome, objectification, size difference??
Word count: 6,058
Things in Velaris were changing. The second the new High Lord rose to power it was like things were lighter. Shops stayed open later, the people laughed and drank at dinner more often, everything was just better. Yet in the Riverhouse at the edge of the city it seemed there were clouds stirring, in a metaphorical way of course.
No one had seen Rhysand since the night his father died, which was months ago.
The most powerful High Lord.
The most dangerous High Lord.
The most handsome High Lord
And known by the girls at the pleasure house…the most well endowed High Lord.
At least what all my coworkers were whispering around me the day I was brought to the front by the mistress who ran the place. In all honesty I thought I was in trouble, not that I had done anything wrong in the past year I had been here. But no one ever got called to her office for nothing.
I closed the door behind me to where my mistress was reading a letter, a violet wax seal stamped to the front. Her red hair and red gown complimented the scarlett of her office, of the whole pleasure house really. She claimed it was the color of passion, and demanded that we all practically bathe in it.
“You asked to see me?” I say timidly.
I couldn’t afford to lose this job, I had no family, no support system. Nothing to rely on or depend on. Sure it wasn’t the most prestigious career, but I did like it. I had always been interested in sex, fascinated with it really. The woman who lived next door to my family growing up was a sex worker. She always wore the most beautiful gowns and jewels, and lured the most handsome men to her home. My mother cursed me when I said I wanted to look like her one day but I didn’t care.
“Yes I have a letter here, from the High Lord,” she says, showing me the letter she had been reading when I walked in.
My eyes widen and the air is sucked from my lungs. What could the High Lord want with the house? Hell, what would the High Lord want with me?
“The High Lord?” I gawk, taking a step forward attempting to catch a glance at the letter.
She puts her glasses back down on her nose and reads the paper again, “yes, he asks that I send my very best girl to his townhouse at my earliest convenience.”
“And you’re picking me?” I ask, my eyes wide.
“You rake in more money than all the rest of the girls, you’re beautiful, elegant and well versed. I can think of no one better.” she explains setting the letter down on the desk.
My mind swirls, what does the High Lord want? Well sex of course, but I wasn’t one for house calls. Though I suppose he was the High Lord , he couldn’t very well walk in here with the anonymity that others could.
“Well don’t just stand there!” my mistress shouts. “Go to the townhouse before he thinks me to be a simple fool.”
I jilt from my thoughts and nod, walking briskly out the door. I bypass the other girls who are chatting about the High Lord and I wonder if any of them are aware of the letter that was sent, what his intentions might be. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I had watched the townhouse on the hill my entire life, knew that the High Lord lived there, and constantly wondered what it might be like inside. It was like the scary house at the end of the street that children stayed away from; it had been built up to that mythical status. Except it wasn’t scary—unless you counted scarily prestigious.
As I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door a woman with dark skin and darker hair opened it and signaled for me to come in. The lush, thick, carpets gave reprieve to my aching feet. Stilettos on cobblestone was never a good idea, but what else did one wear to meet their High Lord?
She gestured to a set of double doors at the end of the hall. I took in my surroundings, for what it was worth the place was beautiful. Ornate but tasteful. Expensive but lived in. I can see why the High Lord never left. I took a deep breath but before I could even knock on the doors a deep voice, one that could only be described as Night Triumphant, beckoned me to enter.
I creaked open the door to find the High Lord busily doing paperwork at his desk. He was nothing and everything that I had expected. When the girls at the home whispered of his looks, his charm, I thought of something mythical. But the male before me? He transcended even that.
His legendary violet eyes flitted up to mine and I swore my breath caught in my throat. He sat his papers down to the side as he stood, bracing his hands on his desk. If his height didn’t make me feel small the sheer power radiating off of him did.
“My, my,” he croons, rounding the desk to lean against the front. “You are exquisite,” he says, crossing his strong arms in front of his chest.
I suddenly remember the reason I was summoned here in the first place and I put on the mask, the role I was supposed to play.
“Well my Lord, you asked for the very best.” I say smoothly taking two steps towards him. “So here I am.”
“While I love the way ‘my Lord’ rolls off that pretty tongue, feel free to call me Rhysand, you’re going to be here for a while.” he smirked, and I swore there was a star that flashed in his eye.
I nearly gulped at his words.
You’re going to be here for a while…
I had been with needy men before, made a career out of it. But this was no man, and I wondered if I could keep up with him.
“As you wish,” I say nodding my head obediently. Males like him strived for dominance, it was my job to anticipate that.
I feel a hand tilt my chin up and once again I’m met with his intense gaze. I was right about the stars, his eyes were littered with them.
“The selfish part of me wants to play with you right now, but I have a feeling my brothers would be more than angry at me for having you first,” he smirked, his breath so hot on my face I almost jumped when I realized how close he was to me.
Wait, the High Lord didn’t have brothers, he was an only child, an orphan really. “Brothers?” I ask, the question had slipped out before I could think of a better more professional way to ask.
“Well not my biological brothers, but my brothers in arms I suppose,” he smirks, releasing my chin taking a step back towards his desk again. “Cassian, the general of my armies and Azriel my spymaster.”
My breath gets caught in my throat. I had heard stories of the High Lord’s most trusted members of his court. They were large, Illyrian, and death on swift wings. My face must’ve given away my shock as Rhysand let out a low chuckle.
“Don’t worry they won’t hurt you. They are to care for you as I do, it’s all written here in your contract,” he explained, sitting down and sliding a piece of paper over the desk.
I made myself comfortable in the seat opposite of him, plucking the paper from the desk and skimming it over.
“You see,” he begins. “Becoming High Lord has been rewarding but…well…tiring. Cassian and Azriel are just as tired. We aren’t given the same anonymity we had in our youth which has made finding sexual release difficult.” he said, his cheeks blushing slightly.
“You’ll live here, I already have a room prepared for you. I’ll provide you with a salary and provide for you in any way you need. In return you provide us with your…services?” he says the last word like he can’t think of a better way to say it. How is he sexy reading my contract to me?
I set the contract on the desk, “And what are the parameters of these services?” I ask leaning forward on the desk.
Rhysand smiles leaning forward with me, “Mostly we will seek you out on our own but there will be certain times, like tonight, where we will want to share,” he grins like he can already see the scene.
I nod slowly waiting for him to add anything else and he does.
“Of course there will be safewords, though I doubt you will need them. Your mistress said you have a rather large palette,” he says and I get his meaning immediately.
I can’t help but blush, the male already knows more about me than I do him. Something that rarely ever happens in my line of work.
“She didn’t mislead you,” I say, my lips tugging into a small smile.
“Then you’ll take the job?” he asks plucking a fountain pen from its resting place.
I look at the large number with lots of zeros written under ‘Salary’, it’s more than I make in three months. I could pay off all my debts with the first two paychecks, and after that? Well the shops of Velaris wouldn’t know what hit them. I could have the life I always dreamed of, expensive silks, fancy soaps, wine aged for thousands of years. And all I had to do was sleep with the three most powerful males in the Night Court. What female could possibly say no?
“I will,” I say, plucking the pen out of the High Lord’s hands singing the marked places next to his ornate signature.
I look up to see Rhysand already staring at me, with a lust I hadn’t seen before, not in any male. How long had it been since he had sex?
He stands holding his hand out to me, “Allow me to show you to your room.”
“Are you ready to meet them?” Rhys asks with a glint in his violet eyes.
I nod.
“Good I’ll go preface in, come in when I call you,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow.
Gods this man was incredible. Paycheck aside, I think I would bend over backwards just to hear him call me a good girl again. Something told me I would be doing just that for the foreseeable future.
Rhysand opened the double doors and slipped in, the moment he closed it I pressed my ear to the door so that I could hear him.
“Rhys what’s this about? I have business to attend to,” I hear a deep voice rumble.
Rhys’ signature chuckle echoes off the walls, “I assure you Cassian that this is well worth your time.” he says. “Az you look tense,” he jests.
“That’s because I am.” groans another voice. “We’ve been running all around the court righting all wrongs while you sit holed up in here doing paperwork.”
“As I am well aware,” Rhys starts again. “And I don’t want to be known as the High Lord that merely takes, especially from the two males I consider to be my brothers. So, I got you a little gift.”
A pause of anticipatory silence fills the room.
“Darling won’t you come out now?” Rhys beckons me.
I open the door to find Rhys standing before two Illyrians sitting on the couch, both of them relaxed like this was their own home, and perhaps it was.
“Huh?” asked the slightly larger one, with longer black hair.
“She’s your gift, well, our gift,” Rhys said, pulling a hand around my waist. “I just hired her from the pleasure house in town, she is the best of the best. I know we all haven’t been able to visit the establishment since I came into power and I’m sure you’re both just as…frustrated as I am.”
“How long do we have her for?” the same Illyrian asked, the one beside him seemingly more quiet.
“She will be living with us. Use her as you’d like. Dress her however you want, but keep it classy. She’s as much yours as she is mine” Rhys smiles tilting my chin to meet his gaze and I swore my knees trembled a bit. “Though I’m sure she’ll remember who pays her?” he teases.
“Yes my Lord,” I say seductively, it used to be an act, but not anymore.
“My Lord,” he repeats. “I quite like the sound of that,” he purrs, looking over to the males sitting on the couch.
The one with the red siphons smirks, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and spreading his legs. His thighs alone were the size of my head and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to get myself off on them alone.
“Come here princess, sit on my lap,” he purrs, patting his thigh.
I slip out of Rhysand’s grasp and pad over to perch myself on the Illyrians leg. The rippling muscles under me tensing. His hand comes up to brush a stray hair from my face as he takes in every inch of me.
“You are a pretty little thing aren’t you?” he smirks as his other hand comes to support my back.
Oh I was in for it, I was so in for it.
“She’s the best of the best, her name is y/n.” Rhysand drawls watching intently as his brother who I have deciphered is Cassian, inspects me. “We decided earlier that her safeword will be starlight,”
“Y/n, huh?” he smiles brushing a stray hair from my face as he drinks in my attire, something Rhysand had clearly purchased for me to wear tonight. A black sheer little nightgown. Revealing, yet classy like he has said. It was clear to me that the male had exquisite taste.
I feel a warm leather bump into my back as a scarred hand runs over my shoulder. I crane my neck up to find Azriel standing above me, from where he stands he can no doubt get a great view of my tits.
“How should we thank dear old Rhysand for this marvelous present?” Cassian asks Azriel and the shadow singers eyes gleam.
“Oh I can think of a few ways,” he smirks.
As if they all had one mind we were winnowed to the bedroom upstairs, my bedroom I realized. The bed had been made big enough for all of us, and I wonder how empty it would feel when the boys weren’t around.
I look around me, the positions of us all haven’t changed. I find myself gazing up at Azriel, the hungry look in his eye has me taking a step back only to bump right into Cassian earning a chuckle from the general. A glace to my bed has me seeing Rhysand sitting on it’s edge.
“Az,” Cassian mumbles, sharing a knowing look at the shadow singer.
Before I can put together the pieces of Cassian and Azriel’s interaction, bands of shadows shoot from all over the room wrapping themselves around the hands and wrists of the High Lord. Rhys struggles for a moment, like it's second nature before he gives in, his face stern.
“Az that’s enough,” he scowls.
Azriel brushes off the command and turns my chin to meet his gaze. His finger brushes over my bottom lip and I close my top lip over his thumb, giving it a gentle experimental suck. His eyes darken and the next thing I know I’m sucking on his thumb and looking at him like a doe eyed fool.
“What a good girl she is,” he croons before dragging my face to him, replacing his thumb with his lips.
His kiss and deep and searing, like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. His hands come to cup my face, keeping me there as he kisses me like a starved male. Gods, how long had it been since any of them had sex?
My hair is pushed to the side as I feel the general begin to leave sloppy kisses on my neck. He pulls my hips toward him, and I’m met with his hard on pressed to my back and his bare chest warming my skin. Azriel steps back with love drunk eyes and Cassian takes his opportunity to turn my hips so I’m facing him.
Somehow he’s even more hulking and intimidating when bare. My eyes glance over the expanse of well built muscles to where his cock is already hard and leaking, and by the size of it I could tell I would be sore tomorrow.
From behind me I can hear the faint unclasping of buckles signaling that Azriel is mimicking Cassian’s movements.
“Let’s see you now, little one,” the general smirks before sliding both straps of the see through the gown off my shoulders. The black mesh falls to a pool of fabric on the floor and I’m laid bare for him, for all of them.
A snap reverberates through the room pulling my attention to Rhysand, his sophisticated garb now long gone. The plains of his toned muscles and swirling tattoos that resemble his brothers on full display along with his aching cock. He’s even more marvelous nude than he is clothed. His lips tug up at the corner as he sees me eye fucking him.
Cassian’s hand goes under my bare breast bringing my attention back to him, it seems that while I was ogling Rhys, he was studying me.
“Rhys you’ve outdone yourself,” Cassian smirks and I’ve never felt so exposed. “Her tits are perfect,” he smiles before bending down to suckle an aching nipple into his mouth.
I moan and lean back ever so slightly into a muscled chest, when I open my eyes Azriel stares down at me. A scarred hand drifts over my shoulder, down my side, and across my bum until it cups my sex and I gasp.
Cassian’s lips smile against my breast before he moves on to the next one, my breath catching in my throat once again.
“So small,” Azriel teases, referring to my cunt. “I’m not sure she can take us.” The glint in his eye tells me that this is a challenge, a test.
“I can,” I say confidently and the shadowsinger laughs.
“I think I’ll test that out,” Cassian grumbles, taking me in his arms.
I’m pulled from Azriel’s fiery touch as the warmth of Cassian seeps into me. For the first time in a while my eyes snap to Rhysand. His brow was laced with sweat, as well as the skin on his chest.
“Oh poor Rhys, did you want to touch her?” Azriel taunted, I was honestly surprised that they would dare to put their High Lord in this position.
“Please,” Rhysand whimpered, making my heart lurch.
Did the most powerful High Lord, the most dangerous High Lord. the most handsome High Lord, the most well endowed High Lord… just beg?
A sudden boost of confidence fills my chest.
“Az pull him back on the bed, I’m going to be needing some room,” Cassian boasts massaging circles on my hips.
Rhysand is pulled to the headboard, the shadows on his wrists pulling his arms out to either side as well as the ones on his ankles, preventing him from getting any sort of friction. The High Lord cursed, as if the brief fiction on his balls from being dragged across the sheets might’ve been enough to get him off. The logical part of me knew that he could break free of these restraints at any given moment, hells the power practically radiated off of him. But he was here to play the game and I was too.
“Why don’t you go play with your High Lord a little bit sweetheart,” Cassian croons, clearly loving the power trip he’s on. I take two steps forward before the general grabs me by the throat hauling me to his chest again. I look up at him like a love sick fool. “But stay clear of his cock. He’ll be the last to cum tonight. Doesn’t that seem fair Az?”
“Seems more than fair to me, seeing as we’ve been doing all the flying around these past few weeks,” Azriel chuckles.
Cassian releases my throat and I make my way over to the breathless High Lord. It takes everything in me not to straddle him and take him right there. His cock was red, angry, practically begging for it.
I sit on the edge of the bed to his right giving him my best bedroom eyes. Gone was the cocky male from earlier who made all sorts of promises of bedding me the best. Instead a male stripped to his most vulnerable sat before me, chest heaving, eyes wild. The muscles of his arms and legs flexing and bulging from trying to break free of the shadows that bound him, the bindings that made him this way.
“They aren’t being very fair to you are they?” I say seductively trailing a hand down his shoulders, over the plains of his chest and to his abs.
He shudders under my touch, “no they aren’t,” he breathes.
“Mmm,” I hum, placing a kiss on his neck, even the thin sheen of sweat on him tasted divine. “And you were so nice, sharing your little fuck toy with them and now they won’t let me play with you,” I say donning a fake sadness.
My hand brushes over his hip bone and down his thigh, carefully avoiding the hard erection begging to be brushed.
“Please,” he whimpers his lips hot on my cheek, and I swear I hear Cassian and Azriel chuckle behind me.
My hand swoops to his inner thigh, teasing the muscles there. His whimper has me caving, and I feel as though I’m suddenly not acting of my own accord as my hand wanders towards his cock.
“Ah, ah, ah!” I hear Cassian tut before scooping me into his arms and pulling me away from Rhys. Causing the latter to groan in frustration.
“Using daemati to get a female to jerk you off? That’s a new low for you, Rhys.” Azriel chuckles
Daemati. That would explain why I didn’t feel like I was in control for that one moment. I had heard that the High Lord possessed such powers, but I thought they were simply myths.
I feel myself being bent over the storage bench at the end of the bed, the cloth covered fluff cushioning my knees and hands as I feel a harsh slap to my bum.
“Fuck this is going to be so good,” Cassian murmurs from behind me.
Azriel stands at the other end of the bench fisting his cock but before he can speak Cassian enters me.
“Oh Gods!” I scream as I feel myself being pushed forward on my hands.
The stretch of the general filling me so completely had me wondering if Azriel was right about my ability to take them all earlier. Cassian’s hands come to pull me down onto him, as if he needed the help to fully sheathe himself. One hand on my lower back, one on my hip.
“Shit she’s so fuckin’ tight,” Cassian groans as he begins to rock into me.
“Please, please,” Rhysand begs from his spot on the bed.
I don’t even bother to see the new beads of sweat dripping from his brow, the drops of precum leaking out of his painfully hard cock. Hell, I can’t even think about anything other than the feeling of Cassian picking up the pace behind me.
“Shh Rhys, I’m enjoying this tight little pus,” Cassian groans, tightening his hold on my hips.
My arms are starting to go limp when Azriel’s hand tilts my chin up so he can see my fucked out face.
“Open your mouth little one,” he says, fisting his cock and I obey like a puppet on a string. “What a good girl,” he smirks before tapping his cock on my outstretched tongue.
“Fuck her mouth Az,” Cassian groans doubling down on his thrusts behind me.
“You’re such an obedient little thing, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” he croons before thrusting his cock inside my mouth.
The general’s relentless hammering shoves Azriel’s cock down my throat in perfect tandem and I start to wonder if there are other females who have found themselves in my position. With the way they fuck both ends of me so efficiently I wouldn’t doubt it.
It isn’t until my drool is falling down my face mixing with my tears that Azriel grips my hair forcing me down on his cock more. The male became more needy than he had been all night as his soft grunts filled the room. My eyes flitted to his hazel ones and a self satisfied smirk crossed his face.
“You like this don’t you? You like being fucked in both your little holes?” He teases me, pulling my hair harder.
His words have me whimpering around him and curling my toes. The spymaster was right, I loved this. That I could make these males, the most powerful in the Night Court, so feral, so unhinged.
Cassain chuckles behind me slapping my ass again, “Too bad we don’t have someone to fuck this third hole back here,” he says taunting Rhys as I feel him trace a finger over that said third hole.
“Fuck,” Rhys hisses from where Azriel has him restrained, watching the show they’re giving him.
I feel my legs starting to tremble beneath me and as they start to give out Cassian swipes both hands under my hips to keep me upright. So upright my knees don't even touch the bench anymore allowing him to fuck me harder, deeper, and faster.
“You going to cum little one?” Cassian taunts me, picking up the pace a bit.
My whine is enough to have Azriel slamming his hips into my face, spilling himself down my throat as my nose brushes the hair at the base of his cock. For a moment I can’t breathe at all, as I feel his seed spill over my tongue. When he pulls out I finally take in a deep breath, which is short lived as he grabs my chin forcing me to meet his gaze again.
“Swallow,” he orders.
I do as I’m told, feeling the thick white ropes slide down my throat, warming my stomach.
His thumb tugs my jaw down forcing my mouth open as he makes sure every last drop is gone. When he’s satisfied he closes my mouth and gives my cheek a light slap, “good girl.” he mutters.
“Finally,” Cassian breathes and I feel my front being shoved into the cushions on the bench before me, allowing Cassian to drive deeper. It seems his brother's use of my mouth was quite the inconvenience for him.
I make eye contact with Rhys who's painting and sweating. Moans and curses fall from his lips as he watches Cassian take me hard. It’s not long until I’m cumming around his cock.
“Oh gods!” I scream feeling my legs shake and the knot in my stomach unwind as I cum all over the general’s cock.
Cassian growls, deep and primal, before delivering one last thrust, spilling himself into me, “That’s a good girl. Take it, take all of it.” he groans, forcing my body down.
As the Illyrian pulls out of me I can feel my heart beating in my throat and in my head. My chest rises and falls in time with my shaking legs. But I know I’m not done, not while Rhysand looks at me like I’m water and he’s been wandering the deserts of summer for too long.
“You were so good, Rhys,” Cassian taunts, running his hand down the High Lord’s leg making his chest rise faster. “We just wanted to thank you for your wonderful gift, didn’t we Az?”
Azriel nodded next to me, his scarred hands pulling me up by my shoulders and then hoisting me up by my thighs so my back was to his front. The position was more than awkward, but as he placed me on his High Lord’s shaking lap I understood why.
“Make him feel real good princess, we love our Rhysie,” Azriel laughs upon seeing Rhys breath picking up. Despite his words he kept his restraints on the Lord, one last test.
I place my hands on his chest, the skin there cold and clammy, and I can’t help but want to feel more. His eyes are blown out, and I feel as though he’s looking right through me. He’s a vision like this, maybe even more so than when he was sitting behind his desk looking like sheer power. He was vulnerable here.
I run a hand down his face like I’m unable to help it and his eyes widen, “So handsome my Lord,” I breathe. “What do you want from me?” I ask as I press my lips to his.
He can hardly kiss back, can hardly even think besides anything but the need. Beside him his brothers run a hand through his hair and whisper praises to him, trying to bring him back.
“Anything p-please, t-touch me,” he whimpers and I swear I see a tear roll down his face. From not being touched at all, to being touched everywhere but where he needs most, the High Lord was being pushed to his limits.
“Yes my Lord,” I whisper before sinking myself on his cock.
Where Cassian was thicker, Rhysand was long, digging so deep into me that I felt a pinch as he brushed my cervix. The pain bringing me back from the fuck out haze the spymaster and the general left me in.
Rhysand hissed low, “Oh fuck yes,” he groans pushing his head back on the headboard.
Cassian’s hand comes up to brush the fallen hair and sweat from his High Lord’s head, “She’s a tight little thing isn’t she?” he asks, pressing a kiss to his temple.
I splay my hands across Rhys’ chest, trying to give myself the leverage needed to bounce myself up and down on his cock. The slow drag of him inside of me has me scrunching my eyes shut trying to savor every sensation. My shaking legs make it hard to move myself up and down.
“More, p-please,” Rhysand groans, his voice dropping deeper and starting to resemble the tone I heard this afternoon.
“Az give her a hand,” Cassian instructs from where he sits by Rhys.
I feel Azriel settle in behind me, his warm chest bumping against the clammy skin of my back. His hands lift my hips helping me to bounce up and down like I’m nothing but a cocksleeve. The motion makes me gasp and writhe as I’m able to settle to a faster and more stable pace.
“Oh fuck Az,” Rhysand bites out. “I can’t,” he groans and I watch the muscles of his chest and arms go taut as he pulls on the shadowy bindings that keep him from touching me.
The strain in his arms and chest is so great that I can see each individual muscle the Lord had built through the years. I couldn’t help but run my hands over him feeling each one.
“Let him go Az,” Cassian instructs the shadowsinger and within seconds the bindings are gone, like even Az wanted to see what his High Lord would do next.
Rhysand’s hands fall from the headboard and find their way to my hips. Turns out him not being able to touch me was a punishment for both of us. He shifts his hips so I fall forward, and he connects his lips to mine as he thrusts up into me, putting me at his mercy.
He consumes my mouth fully, running his hands up and down my sides greedily before squeezing my breast making me moan into his mouth. The way he kisses me tells me that I’m no longer in charge and neither is anyone else in this room for that matter.
His lips detach from mine and fall to my neck leaving opened mouthed kisses there. His hands leave bruises in the skin of my hips as he slams up into me, his cock hitting my cervix with each stroke, those initial stings of pain becoming pleasure.
“Oh fuck Rhys,” I moan completely forgetting his title.
“Say it again,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “Let them know who owns you!”
I had completely forgotten about the other Illyrians in the room with us. I glance to the side to find Azriel fisting his cock beside me. When I don’t moan the Lord name again a swift slap comes across my ass.
“Rhysand!” I cry out, feeling the euphoria of him.
“Fuck it,” he seethes and before I register what he means by it, my back hits the mattress.
The new position gives him a new range of motion to piston into me. Somehow he’s able to hit me even deeper this way. Causing me to let out wanton cries and moans as he fucks me, my polished nails scraping down his back trying to find purchase.
“Yeah Rhys get it!” Cassian cheers from the edge of the bed.
The taunt makes the High Lord feral, slamming his hips into me. He’s more animal than man at this point having been teased all night. The near primal growl he lets out has me cumming on his cock, my back arching off the back, my moan guttural.
My cunt squeezes his cock as pleasure lights up my body like lightning, and it isn’t long until I feel his hips stutter as he cums inside of me with a groan.
“Oh fuck yes,” his voice is like gravel as I feel him spilling inside of me endlessly, his seed joining Cassian’s.
Faintly, through the roaring in my ears I can hear Cassian and Azriel’s grunts as well as they finish. The idea of them getting off to their High Lord cumming inside of me is almost enough to make me beg him to do it again. But as he collapses beside me I feel how spent I truly am.
Rhys hand comes to brush back my hair from my face as he places a kiss to my temple, “Such a good girl for us,” he says to me before turning to Cassian again, “Go get her a towel and a glass of water.” he orders, clearly re-assuming his role as the High Lord.
He spends the next minute or so running a hand over my hair as he cradles me to his chest soothing me. My breath starts to slow and I feel a warm towel beneath my legs as Cassian wipes away the mess they both made. Glass touches my lips as Rhys helps me to drink the water brought to me. Whatever I don’t finish he downs in one go.
“Leave us,” he orders pulling the covers over our cold and clammy bodies.
“What no post sex cuddles for me?” Cassian laughs, throwing up his hands. I laugh before placing a kiss on Rhys chest, as much as I wouldn’t mind all three of them holding me right now I know who pays my bills now.
“Fine,” Rhys huffs, throwing back the covers behind me so Cass can slip in.
I wonder where Azriel will lie, but when my eyes search for him he’s already out the door walking to his own room undoubtedly. Something tells me he’s different from his two brothers, he’s quiet, but the words he told me earlier have me wondering what’s up his sleeve.
Cassian’s arms curl around me, and eventually the three of us fall asleep. But the voice that swims through my head as sleep takes me is Azriel’s.
I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with you…
(This is going to be a series! I think I'll do one for each bat boy! If you want to be tagged let me know and if there's any kinky shit you wanna see let me know in the comments or drop it in my inbox!)
Taglist: @yearninglustfully, @moviesismylife, @readingislife2006, @bookishbroadwaybish, @danikamariemain, @winchesterbbygrl
Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202, @batboyrhyrhy , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark
#bat boys x reader smut#bat boys#bat boys x reader#bat boys acotar#rhys acotar#rhysand#rhysand x reader#azriel shadowsinger#rhysand angst#azriel x reader#rhysand acotar#rhysand fluff#cassian acotar#azriel x you#acotar#cassian x reader smut#cassian x azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x reader smut#azriel x cassian x reader#cassian x azriel x reader#cassian smut#rhysand smut#rhysand x reader smut#rhysand x cassian#poly!batboys
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Daryl wasn’t always such a tough guy, he was emotional like any other child when he was little.
Between the ages of 4 to 6, Daryl was fascinated with the play park. The only bad thing about it were there were other kids there, kids that wanted to make friends with Daryl, kids that weren’t overcome with such painful anxiety at a young age that Daryl couldn’t understand.
However, he’d still go to the park all by himself because he liked the swings. When he’d get there, if there was someone on the swings already, he’d sit on the tarmac floor (right next to a perfectly fine bench but he was not taking the chances of someone coming to sit by him) and wait. He wouldn’t ask for a turn, he would just wait.
Sometimes, if Merle came with him he’d encourage Daryl to go and ask for a turn. Merle so desperately wanted Daryl to make friends, making friends meant play dates and play dates meant going to somebody else’s house that didn’t have a drunk, abusive man in it, he wanted Daryl away from it. But Daryl never wanted to make friends.
One day Daryl went to the park by himself, which was more common than going with Merle, and when he got there the swings were free! He ran to his favourite swing, struggling a bit to get on it since he was quite short. He persevered and completed the difficult task, next came swinging himself, which was hard too but he managed to get it going. After being on the swing for about half an hour, he wanted to get off to go on the slide. He found that stopping the swing and getting off took way too long for how excited he was, so he decided to try what he’d seen some bigger kids do. He wanted to jump off.
He was sure he could do it, he prepared himself, jumped, completely missed his feet, landing on his hands and knees. Now, his knees were scraped and bloody, along with the heels of both palms.
The five year old’s eyes welled with tears, quickly he rose to his feet and his little legs worked as hard as they could to get him home. He planned on getting in and going to momma, knowing daddy wouldn’t help.
Merle was round the side working on something when he heard the scuffing of shoes and loud sniffling and he knew exactly what had happened.
Quickly, he rounded the corner and stepped in front of the front door to stop Daryl.
“Ya got hurt, baby brother?”
Daryl shook his head and sniffled, trying to get past Merle to get to momma.
Obviously Merle could see Daryl was crying and he could see his bloody knees. He took Daryl’s forearms in his hands and turned them to see his scraped palms.
“Looks tough, brother”
“Move… needa get momma…”
Merle knew that their mother wasn’t home right now and if Daryl went in there, crying, all he was gonna get was yelled at and beaten.
“She ain’t home, bud… s’only pa… C’mere”
Merle tried to pull Daryl in his direction but Daryl hastily shrugged him off. Merle could be a huge meanie sometimes and he was sure he was gonna make fun of him.
When Daryl wouldn’t budge, Merle reluctantly lifted Daryl straight off the ground, carried him to the side of the shack and sat him on the rotting bench.
Of course the whole time Daryl was grumbling.
“Put me down, merwe!”
“S’for your own good, lil brother, show me yer hands”
Daryl slowly held his hands out to his big brother, hoping he’d help. Daryl had originally planned to go cry in mommy’s arms but now he was with Merle, he was trying not to.
Merle poured some water from a plastic bottle over the little boys palms and knees and wiped over them with his handkerchief.
A few tears fell from Daryls eyes but Merle ignored it.
“Some pretty nasty busts ya got ‘ere… musta been doin’ some real brave shit, huh?”
Merle wanted to cheer Daryl up but he wasn’t sure how.
“Jumped off da swing”
“Ya ain’t quite stuck the landing’ yet… plen’y o’ time ta practice… I’ll go wit’ ya to the damn park tomorruh”
“Pwomise?” Daryl looked at him with wide, hopeful, blue eyes.
Merle hated making promises to Daryl, but he reckons he could keep this one so he ruffles his hair and nods before reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out a bandaid (that may or may not be in there for when he takes Daryl’s blood and needs to put a plaster over the needle hole) and gently putting it on the more scuffed knee of the two.
“You gon’ sit ‘ere n watch me work on this piece o’ crap?”
Daryl nodded and Merle was relieved, he didn’t want Daryl going inside yet, not with how his eyes were still misty and red rimmed.
He’d never said this before, it felt awkward to say it to be honest but he figured it’s what mom would’ve said to him and he knows that Daryl wants her.
“Good boy, Daryl… pass me that driver”
Daryl’s feet kick a little at the praise, he’s too little to reach the ground, as he passes over the screw driver.
#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#norman reedus#twd daryl#merle dixon#little Daryl#young daryl dixon
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The Nanny
Pairing: Rafe x Nanny Reader
Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside was dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?
Warnings: Fluff, 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), cream pie, mention of oral, fingering (f receiving), mentions of drugs
Wc:8.2K
A/N: Sorry for the long wait it has been a hectic week. I had a lot to do for this job I applied for so I was busy. But good news is that I got it! Anyway last chapter which is sad, but I hope you enjoy. Thank you for all the love this series has gotten. I owe it all to everyone of you!
Chapter 9: Laying All Our Cards Down
There’s a tickling feeling on your chest. It slowly stirs you from your sleep. The objects in you dream fading into shapes, then blobs of random color. Your hand goes to relieve the itch, still half asleep. Your fingers brush against a hand, their fingers the cause of what woke you.
Rafe’s eyes watched you as you woke up, his fingers dropping the pendant to lace together with yours. Your eyes squint open slightly foggy from sleep still. They clear and Rafe is staring at you, his fingers playing with yours. “You put the necklace back on.” He points out, fine lines wrap his eyes showing his confusion.
“Yeah.” You carefully look at his face, waiting to see if he will mention last night. “Why?” His blue eyes are burrowing into yours, forcing you to look at him. “You know why.” You won’t be the first to bring it up. Refusing to let him back you into a corner to crack you. His nostrils flare, a sharp breath leaving. “I don’t deserve you. It would never work anyway.”
There he is doing it again. Taking back the things he says, leaving you broken. “Well that’s not for you to decide.” Your voice is tense, starting to get upset at where he’s about to go. “How are you feeling?” He’s trying to ignore this conversation. Once you have it there’s no going back.
He can’t sit here and wait for you to leave him. You may be forgiving him now but in the end you will leave him. His mom died to get away from him, his dad would sell him out in a heart beat to get away from him, no one stays. That’s the one thing he learned growing up. The only constant in his life will only be him.
“Don’t ignore me.” You exclaim, your body shooting up to look down at him. “We are having this conversation now. I just want this to be over with.” Your eyes burn him so badly that he has to look behind you at the wall. “I’m not. Just worried about how you feel after what happened.” Liar. You both know he’s not telling the truth
“Please don’t tell me that you really don’t want anything to do with me. This means something to me.” Your voice is hopeful, wanting him to say he feels the same as you. “Last night was scary until it wasn’t. That’s because I had you. Now please talk to me.” You plead.
Rafe turns his gaze back to you. His red eyes are lined with tears, he knows what he needs to say. It’s just hard for the words to form and make their way out. “This means something to me too.” It’s a whisper, afraid if he says it loudly he’ll wake up from this dream to reality. To a place where you won’t forgive him, a place where he doesn’t have you. “I’m scared you are going to leave me.” He admits, swallowing his pride.
“Why would you think that? Is that how you view me?” Your mind is trying to wrap around his confession. If that’s what he thought of you then you are hurt even more. You could slightly stand the thought of him just not wanting you anymore. The thought of him not trusting you, thinking that you would just leave hurts worse than when you caught him kissing someone else. A panic rises in your body due to your emotions.
Rafe picks up on this, his hand rubbing the arm that is holding you up. Giving you comfort as he speaks. “That’s not what I mean. I just…” He flops on his back to stare at the ceiling. You place a hand on his chest. Returning the sense of safety he gives you. “Everyone leaves me. You know how sad it is that the only person to actually worry about me since my mom died was you? Before her death my dad hated me and it only got worse after. No one has ever liked me and I was okay with that. Then you show up and change everything. I can’t lose that, I won’t be able to handle it.”
You watch each other, letting the words sink in. He’s shocked he even indulged in that conversation, you are just as shocked that he opened up. “So why would that mean I would leave you?” His hand lays on top of the one you kept on his chest. Giving your fingers a squeeze. “It’s inevitable, everyone leaves. Only a matter of time before you realize I’m worth nothing and you leave too. I’m just cursed.” His fingers have a tight hold on you. Using you as his life line, tethering him to the real world as he feels like he’s drowning.
This talk is starting to feel too real for him. Highlighting all of his flaws to put on a talent show for you. A bright spot light shining on a RUN sign to ward you off. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, pounding against his chest. “You are worth something.” Your hand leaves his, cupping his cheek to make him see you. “You Rafe Cameron are worthy of love. I’m sorry no one was smart enough to see it. But I do.”
Rafe leans up, closing in on you. “You don’t know half of the shit that goes on in my head. I’m not good enough for you. I couldn’t even get this shit right, I’ll only hurt you more.” His hand brushes hair out of your face, tracing your brow and then your lips. “I won’t hurt you. You deserve better than this.”
A tear runs down his cheek and you wipe it. “See that right there just proves you won’t hurt me. I didn’t want to see it at first but you owned your mistake. You ran after me that night and begged me to talk to you. You kept asking me to give you a chance to speak. Then you gave me those flowers with the note and I realized I was shutting you out. I was afraid of you not wanting me and I iced you out.” You take a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m scared too. It’s okay to be scared, we both let it get the best of us. What counts is what we do after. You kept trying, I hope it’s because you care-” “I do. I care.” He interrupts. “See you care and you tried to put in the effort. You even gave me space because you wanted to respect what I wanted. You made a mistake but you are trying to fix it. You might not see it but you are good. You deserve to be loved, don’t punish yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”
His lips crash on yours, stealing the air from your lungs. The kiss is all consuming, devouring you from the inside out. A moan slips out of your mouth, your hand gripping his shoulder. The sound was like an alarm, alerting him of what he was actually doing. He pulls away from you, his hand moving to your chest to put distance between you both. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Stop taking everything back. I want this too, stop running away from us.” There’s some commotion in the hallway but you ignore it. Voices get louder for a second and then fade as they go down the stairs. His eyes catch the pendant on the dainty chain held on your neck.
He remembers the day he bought it. He had just dropped you off to get the food and stopped at the store. Rafe was walking back to his truck with the bags in his and had to pass the jewelry store. When he got to the front of the shop he looked over and something in him took over. He just had to go inside.
As he walked in, the man behind the counter greeted him. “Are you looking for something specific?” The older man asks. Rafe just shakes his head. “Just looking.” He walks around the store, aimlessly looking at the pieces laying around. He’s not really sure why he came in or why he is even looking at anything. Just when he was going to turn around and leave the store, that's when he saw it.
A dainty necklace that had a sun charm on it. He walks closer to it on instinct, being drawn to it like a beacon. It’s silver, which fits perfectly with the rest of your jewelry, he thinks. The only things you wear is silver, never any gold seen on your skin. “Nice necklace right?” The old man pipes in.
“Huh?” Rafe looks at the guy who is now in front of him. “The necklace. Just got it recently, no one seems to want it.” Rafe looks back down to it. “There a girl you want to get it for.” He just nods, pulling out his wallet without thinking. “Yeah my girl. She uh, she’s like the sun. Thought it would be fitting.”
The man opens the case, taking the piece out for Rafe to see up close. “She must be special then.” Rafe just smiles, looking at the guy as he slides his card over. “You have no idea.” The guy doesn’t move from his spot, looking at the boy that reminded him of when he was younger. “You know it comes with a ring. It was a set this old lady brought in.” He walks over to a different case and pulls the ring out, walking back to the boy.
“Would you be interested in buying that as well or just the necklace.” Rafe has half a mind to chew the man out for trying to up-sell him. The ring is a band made of silver as well, carvings of a little sun with stars surround the band. His mind is telling him he has no need for the ring. Then the voice in his head stops him, instead of degrading himself it does something different. It reminds him of the car ride, the feeling he had as he looked at you.
He meant it when he said that you were like the sun. A dazzling ray of sunshine personally made for him. You are the greatest thing that’s happened to him in his shitty lifetime. You deserve to feel special too.
“I’ll take them both.” He knows why he got the ring. A part of him deep down knowing that he was falling in love with you. The other part rationalizing the purchase as wanting the old man to fuck off. “You remind me of when I met my wife.” Rafe stops at the door and looks back at the guy who helped him. “I was so in love with her that I bought her an engagement ring a month into seeing her. You just have the same look that I had. I wish you two the best of luck.”
The memory now seems laughable to him. Some random old man could spot how Rafe felt before he could even tell. He only gave you the necklace because he was scared of what he said, he couldn’t have been in love. Leaving the ring in the first drawer on the bedside table. Now he sees just how dumb he really was, he didn’t have anything to worry about.
“Your love.” That’s all he says to you, leaving you more confused. “What about it?” He chuckles at you, giving you a quick peck. “That’s my favorite song, Your love. I didn’t have one when you asked but I have one now.” This really isn’t helping his case. You sit up fully, looking at him like he’s dumb. He hates that look, especially coming from you. “What the hell does that have to do with any of this? Rafe I’m being serious here, you can’t just keep changing the subject. If you don’t want this anymore just say it.” You kinda feel stupid now. You thought he wanted to work things out, that last night was a step forward in the right direction. But clearly not.
“It’s the song that was playing in the car after Barry’s.” Okay now he’s just getting on your nerves. Who cares what song was playing in the car ride. When you go to speak he puts his hand on your mouth to cover it. “I just couldn’t stop looking at you. You were glowing, so pretty that I couldn’t think straight. My heart felt like it was ready to jump out my chest and my body felt weird. Everything shifted in that moment for me.” His hand lowers, his eyes telling you to not say anything.
“I’ve always had feelings for you, I know that. I’m not dumb. I just thought it was because you didn’t give me the time of day and were so nice. That night when you caught me I figured you would walk away and I got caught up in the moment. Then it escalated and I couldn’t get rid of the taste of you. Every touch was as addicting as the last, I kept craving it. That song, in that moment made me realize how much I actually liked you. Got that necklace right after I left you to get the food. I guess it was my way of telling you I loved you without putting it into words.���
He said it again, love. Rafe froze the moment his brain caught up to his words. He can’t believe this is how he is saying it. Right after he just figured it out he goes on blurting it to you. Not only that he tells you when you aren’t even together. This is honestly the dumbest he felt and he just said how he isn’t dumb. Good job Rafe.
“Fuck I can’t believe I just said that. Ignore me.” His hands rub his face as he freaks out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, exposing his face to you. “You said it last night so don’t worry.” You lay down, your chest pressed against his side as he wraps himself around you. “What do you mean?” He plays with the ends of your hair to ground himself. “Last night as you were falling asleep you said you loved me. I just thought it was the drugs and you were out cold after you said it.”
“Oh.” Yeah he has to take his dumb statement back, he definitely is. If he’s already said it then there’s no taking it back, he’s got to commit to it before he chickens out again. “It wasn’t the drugs. Yeah they helped me say it but I meant it. They didn’t make those feelings, they were already there.” You smile, the heaviness you felt being melted away. You move closer to his face.
“Here’s what you missed after you fell asleep. I love you too.” It’s his turn to smile. This one reaches his eyes, creases deepening from the joy. His hand cups your cheeks, thumb caressing your cheek. Pulling you to him, kissing you deeply. Pouring all his feelings into you, hoping you are feeling just an ounce of what he does. He pulls back to talk to you but you have other plans.
Your lips trail down his neck as he fights to stay level headed. “I meant it when I said I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs into your shoulder, pressing kisses to your skin. You stop, not wanting to move in case this is going in the wrong direction. “But I want to be. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I want to be someone you deserve.”
“I like you the way you are. You don’t have to change for me.” He tugs your hair, coming face to face with your eyes. “I want to do it for me, for us. I don’t like who I am without you, I’m just some addict no one likes. I don’t need to be that anymore, I know I can be different.”
The words seem more for him than they are for you. A way of telling himself that he can get clean and he is worth being with you. “Then I’ll be there every step of the way. I believe in you.” That’s the first time someone has said that to him. He’s been told he was loved before, but not one has believed in him. Now that he’s said he loved you, the feeling keeps bubbling up.
Like it’s boiling in him ready to spill out once it gets too much. The way you care for him is unsettling due to it being so new, he’s not used to this. But he can get used to the feeling it gives him. The sparks of joy lighting his insides like fireworks.
You lean in and kiss him again, enjoying the feeling of having him close. The days following the incident were awful but they seem worth it now. Some obstacle that needed to be overcome before the two of you could open up. You know for sure that once Ward and Rose got back you would have most likely ended things due to the fear. But losing each other showed you that it’s not what the two of you wanted. You wanted each other.
This kiss was getting heated, your leg bracketing his hips between yours. As you start to grind on him, he stops you. “We should stop.” There’s a knock at the door before you could ask him why. “Who is it?” He shouts towards the door, fingers digging into your flesh as you roll your hips. “It’s Wheeze. Where is she?” You both look at each other not knowing what to do. “She’s not in her room or the house and I know she’s in there.”
Of course she would check everywhere for you. “Go back to your room Wheeze or wherever. I’ll be out shortly.” You answer, trying to get her to leave . “Fine but I better not hear any moaning. Just because I’m okay with this doesn’t mean I want to see it.”
Her footsteps retreat as you giggle. “I want us to take things slow this time. I don’t want to rush in and fuck things up. We should do this properly.” Your fingers drag along his chest, you are still sitting in his lap. “We can do that. Where do we start?” He grins up at you.
“How about a date?”
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
After that morning you had a talk with Wheezie. You and Sarah sat her down to tell her that the night before was not okay. “Wheeze you could have gotten hurt. Someone could have spiked your drink or worse.” You try to reason with her, conveying your worry for the young girl. “I know but nothing happened. I’m fine.” “And if you weren’t? How do you think dad would have reacted if he found out? You would be grounded and out a nanny.” Sarah chimes in, not really making her sister feel any better. “I know you wanted to hang out with your friends but you need to do it safely. Where were they when Sarah found you? You were alone and drunk Wheeze.”
“It wasn’t supposed to go like that. Sure I had a drink or two but I just wanted you to come find me. I thought you would run into Rafe and everything would fix itself. But hey look it worked.” She’s trying to lighten the mood and it ain’t working. You sigh, not knowing what to say. This mess of a night happened all because Wheezie parent trapped you.
You honestly can’t help but to laugh at the ridiculous thought. “You parent trapped us? Wheeze that’s sweet you cared enough to help us, it really is. But maybe don’t do things that put you in harm's way and give me a heart attack. I was scared when Sarah couldn’t find you and you wouldn’t answer phone calls.” Thinking back at it now she can see how messed up a plan that really is. “It was stupid. I’m sorry for scaring you.”
The rest of the day was simple. Relax around the house as Wheeze was feeling the aftershocks of drinking. Rafe had chilled with you for a little before running off to do lord knows what. But when he got back it was with a single yellow rose and your favorite chocolates. “Thought you could add it to break up the white.” He makes it seem so effortless, as if he has always done this. You don’t understand why he was so worried.
“How about a date on Saturday?” He asks, picking a chocolate to eat. “Sure what are we going to do?” There’s chocolate smeared on his teeth when he answers. “That’s for me to worry about and for you to find out. Now I’m going to go up stairs and shower. Come up and we can watch Bob Burgers or something.” He finishes off with giving you a kiss, walking out like nothing.
You watch as he leaves, a smile displayed. He remembers the small things about you. The foods you like, shows you watch, he sees you. He may not realize it yet but you do deserve him. He can do all of this without you asking, you are used to having to beg for things you want.
Needed new stuff for school beg your parents. When they say no, beg your job for more pay for just that week. First boyfriend, beg him to even notice you when it didn’t come to sex. You had to beg friends to stay in your life even after they hurt you. The last person to care about you in this way has been gone for years. Now a memory you play back to make yourself feel loved. But here he is, the playboy of Kildare, giving you that same love.
As you make your way to his room you promise yourself one thing. You won’t give up on him, he deserves happiness just as much as you do.
The rest of the week goes similar to that day. You and Rafe would sneak off to spend time with each other. Sharing secret kisses away from prying eyes. Rafe knows that Ward is suspicious, he had made a comment at lunch the other day. “The two of you seem close again.” He stared blankly at his dad. “Just be safe.” It felt like some validation was thrown his way. It’s not like he was trying to hide you but sneaking around made it more fun.
Everyone already knew that whatever happened was water under the bridge, but it seems like you two didn’t get the notice.
You giggle as Rafe kisses your neck, teasing your bikini straps with his fingers. “Rafe, come one we have to get back. People will start to look for us.” Your words do nothing to stop him. “Let me enjoy my girl. Screw everyone else.” His kisses travel up to your jaw. “Well really can’t screw them if you keep me here.” Rafe knows you are teasing but it rubs him the wrong way.
“You do realize that you’re mine right? Ain’t no way in hell someone else is touching you.” The possessiveness isn’t new but heightened. Since your talk they thought of the other with someone new terrorizes your minds. It’s a new feeling for you, wanting someone to be yours always. To feel a strong sense of anger when thinking of him with someone else. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him into a kiss. “I do. As long as you know your mine too.”
“Only yours, baby.” He mumbles on your lips, teeth biting on the lower one to suck in his mouth. “We can go back out now. You go first gotta take care of something.” He nods down to the obvious boner in his pants. “You know I can help you with that.” You say seductively, fingers brushing against the bulge in his swim trunks. “Let’s wait till after our date tonight, please. Trying to be a gentleman here and treat you right. Plus I don’t put out on the first date.”
You laugh as you walk away from him. “No, you just sleep with them before you even ask them out.” You mock him. Leaving Rafe alone to fix his little, well not so little, situation. You grab water from the kitchen before walking back out to the pool. Everyone is there chatting to one another.
A part of the “new” Rafe plan was rebonding with his sisters. Sarah of course was a little wary of the plan but saw how much he actually meant it. She was brought back to when she was little and he would sneak into her room to check for monsters. The little boy who gave her so much comfort was staring at her when he apologized, owning his mistakes and wanting to correct them. Even if she wanted to say no she couldn’t. Even with all of his wrongs he's still her brother and it seems like she’s getting him back.
Wheezie on the other hand was on board once the place was told to her. Being the youngest she doesn’t have many memories with the Rafe before their mom died. The one that was happy and not as broken. She can recall some moments where he cared deeply for her at a young age, barely even an image to see. She never really had issues with him after their mom’s death. Her and Rafe become the background as Sarah was the main event. They connected in a way that they could only understand. She was just happy that Rafe wasn’t as angry as he was before.
The downside to this plan also meant a new beginning with the pogues, which was hard to do. It took a whole day of you and Sarag convincing everyone that it could work. Which brings you to this right here, pool day. Which is also the same day as your first date. The pogues as well as Topper and Kelce are here. Everyone agreed to be civil for the day, wanting to give Rafe this chance. You don’t know why the pogues said yes but you can’t complain, only happy that they are willing to see the good side of him after all the bad.
It’s been hours of you all getting to know each other. Playing silly games such as never have I ever. It wasn’t till the clock hit four that Rafe realized he hadn’t gotten a moment with you alone. That’s when he dragged you away when no one was looking. That was almost an hour ago, the shame of it all is eating you. Cheeks blushing red as everyone’s eye’s turn to look at you.
They just carry on with conversation, not mentioning what they all knew. You're relieved as you sit down, even more when Rafe sits besides you. His arms wrapping around your shoulder so you are leaning into him. Looking around makes you happy. Rafe has been great all day, no pogue comments or rude remarks. Your friends seem to be having a good time, joking around as if this was a normal day.
The feeling continues as you get ready for your date. Your jams in the shower only improve your mood as you shave. Extending as you pick out your dress, smile so wide your cheeks hurt. You are putting on earrings when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in.” You look in the mirror to see if there are any finishing touches needed. “Wow.” It sounds more like a breath than words.
“You look beautiful. Maybe we should stay home instead, don’t need people seeing you like this.” He walks in the room, flowers abandoned on your dresser. “Actually nevermind, I want people to see that my girl is taken.” His hands land on your waist, arms hugging you from behind. “Your girl?Taken?” He loves when you tease him. That shit normally pisses him off, yet with you he can’t help but love it. “Yeah my girl. Always been my Sunny.”
He really hasn’t used the nickname much since you told him not to. You miss when he did. Your name doesn’t feel right coming from his lips. It sounds outrageous but it feels wrong. Even the other nicknames he gave you don’t feel the same. “I miss hearing you say that.” You lean further back to look up at him. “Calling you Sunny?” You hmm in reply. He pecks your lips, then nose, cheek, and finally ear. “I miss saying it. Glad to have my Sunny back.”
He twirls you around in his arms. Breaking away only for the two of you to leave the house. The car ride to the mysterious destination seemed to take forever, every turn just adding to the allotted time. As he drives the beach comes to view, waves crashing against the shore. The truck pulls onto a sandy road in between some trees, leading to an isolated part of the beach.
“Found this spot a couple years back. I usually come here when I want to be alone, but I thought it would be perfect for tonight.” The hand on your thigh tightens and releases the flesh. More of a way to ground himself to say that this was real, not a dream. “Why? Want to murder me where no one can see?” Your joke swayed his nerves. The nervous smile replaced with the one you’ve grown to love. “Haha, very funny. If I was going to kill you I would have done it that day on the Druthers.”
You give him a death stare, his dead tone making it seem like he thought of this before. “What? The sea would get rid of all evidence, nice and simple.” He shrugs, putting the truck in park. “Yeah I don’t like that you’ve thought of this before. Maybe I should have shared my location while I had the chance.” He chuckles, pulling you into a kiss. “Too late.” He retorts, getting out the truck to grab the last minute things from the back.
He had set things up the night before. You and Wheezie were having a movie night and he took the time to set up the place. There were fairy lights wrapped around the bare trees, the trunks illuminated by the light. A bouquet of hydrangeas, your second favorite flowers, were in a vase by two trees. It wasn’t a big space, the truck was parked on the road so it didn’t interfere with the layout. It was the perfect amount of space to be on the sand without getting splashed by the waves.
Rafe takes a few blankets out and walks over to where the vase is. You follow picking them up to set out of the way. “Those are for you. Wanted to get you something different than roses to change things up.” He explains as he lays the blankets down. “Thank you, I love them. They are actually my second favorite.” He gives you this little smirk and a wink. “I know.” Then he’s off getting the last item from the truck bed.
How much does he know about you? It’s like he has this book where he writes everything down so he won’t forget. None the less you like how he remembers the small things. It makes you feel important to him.
You look to see him walking over to you with a basket. Raising it up, he shows the basket off to you. The other hand was holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “You didn’t have to do all of this. We could have just stayed in or got food.” He sits down next to you, placing everything on the blankets. “I wanted to do this. Saw somewhere that your actions speak louder or some shit like that.” Even when he pretends not to care he does
“You’re really good at this.” Rafe watches you from the side of his eye as he takes out the snacks he packed. “What are you talking about?” He moves the basket once everything is laid out, reaching for a strawberry to take a bite. He brings the strawberry to your lips.You take nibble, the sweetness of the fruit sitting on your tongue. “The whole relationship thing.” You swallow what you had in your mouth. Rafes eyes watch as your tongue chases and remnites on your lips.
“It’s just you care. You get me my favorite flowers, snacks, it makes me feel special.” “You are special.” You smile at him. “So are you. I just need you to know that I appreciate the effort you are putting in. Especially today with the pogues, it meant a lot to me.” He’s leaning on his side as he listens to your words. Soaking in the praise, relishing in the feeling it gives him. “I meant it when I said I want to change. I know they're important to you, so that makes them important to me. Plus they aren’t that bad, I guess.”
The rest of the night was filled with small talk. Taking the time to know each other better. It was easy to get in the rhythm of sharing information, knowing the other can’t judge. He tells you about every negative thing his dad has done. How he feels useless in his life, that he doesn’t know who to be if it’s not done with anger. In return, you tell him about what it was like living with your parents. The constant pressure to be perfect and bring them money. How after your grandmother died every sense of a normal childhood was taken from you.
Rafe listens as you divulge your inner demons. Wanting to go to your house to yell at how stupid your parents are. How they should be ashamed of treating you like some cash cow. He realizes you two aren’t so different. Both had different experiences but still the same outcome. A home that never loved you. “Have they talked to you sin-” “No. They refuse to answer all of my texts.”
You are both laying on your backs, heads turned to the other. His hand closest to you grabs yours. Pulling it to his mouth he gives it a peck,resting it back down again. “Then you don’t need them. You have me and I have you. Plus my family loves you so the family part is covered. You’ll always have us.” You tear up, emotions bubbling up in you. “You can’t promise that.”
Rafe scoots closer, hugging you to his chest. “Yes I can.” It was a promise. A way of letting you know this is the long haul for him. He’s always known that you were different by the way you were with everyone. Always been drawn to you in some way, something in him not able to get enough of you. He realized that he can’t be without you during the time you ignored him. He’ll be damned if he has to go a lifetime without your love.
You start to kiss his neck, softly biting the skin with your teeth. “It’s our first date.” Your words are mumbled. “Good observation there babe.” His eyes shut, the sensation of your lips on his skin sending shivers down his spine. “You said after our date.” You remind him. His chuckle causes vibrations on your lips.
“Couldn’t even wait till we got home, just have to have me now. Hmm?” He pulls you over him, your hips slotted with his. Using your hips, he drags you back and forth over his dick. Your clit keeps catching the seam of his pants. “Such a little slut for my dick that you want to fuck me out in the open. Fucking me in the car wasn’t enough?” You moan out. No it wasn’t enough. None of him will ever be enough for you, entranced by the mere thought of him. “Never enough.” You moan again as he leans up, his lips meeting the exposed flesh on your chest. Leaving marks over your chest so he can enjoy the look of them later. “Get up.”
Your hands fly to his shoulders pushing him back. “What?” You stare down at him, trying to see if you crossed a line somehow. “We’re doing it right this time around. The first time we have sex again isn’t going to be on a deserted part of the beach. It’s going to be in my bed or yours. I really don’t care which one.” You huff at him, your breath causing some hairs to fly around. “Well maybe I don’t care about that. Maybe I want you here, right now.”
Rafe is about to give in, only really wanting to make you happy. Willing to let go of the plan he had of showering you properly for your first date. Then you see the look in his eyes, sort of disappointed his plans are being skewed. “Okay, okay.” You say as you get up and reach a hand out. “You better drive fast or we might have to settle for the car again.”
You meant it when he said he needs to be fast. You were down the street when your hands were gripping him through his shorts. Lips peppering kisses along his neck. Rafe was relieved when he put his truck in park. Throwing to doors open and tossing you over his shoulder as he walks into the house. “Put me down silly.” He ignores you and makes his way up the stairs to his room.
You’re grateful that everyone in the house isn’t up. It’s close to twelve so most likely they are all sleeping. Rafe kicks his door open and then shut once you are in. You let out a squeal when he discards you on his bed. “Take your dress off now.” He commands, taking his shirt and shoes off. “Yes sir.”
Taking the dress off you are left in your white lingerie on display. He lets out a whistle, placing himself on top of you on the bed. “A perfect little angel.” He kisses up your stomach, stopping at your breasts to suck on them through the cups. “If only god knew what a whore you really are.” He bites one of your nipples, a shocked yelp forcing its way out of your throat.
“Shhh. We have to be quiet, don’t want to wake them up.” Now that he thinks of it, he should have said yes when you wanted to stay on the beach. At least he would be able to hear the way you moan for him better. He pulls the cups down, nipples pebbling due to the air.
Your hands work his pants and boxers down, leaving him naked. Next thing to go were your panties. Really they were only pushed off to the side so his fingers can touch you. You’re soaked, his fingers coated in your juices. He swirls them around, teasing your clit before pushing a finger in. A little impatient he adds another, staring as your mouth hangs open.
“There you go, beautiful. Such a good girl.” You haven’t been touched like this since that day on the Druthers. At first you were too heartbroken to do anything. Then too caught up with making up to even think about masturbating. It’s been a while and you are so wound up you could explode. With one last pump of his fingers you do, squelching noises filling the room.
“Rafe. Oh fuck, right there.” You had no time to recover when he was pushing himself in. He couldn’t wait anymore, his dick was aching to be inside you. This is probably the worst time to be so riled up. He’s been trying to make things better with you that he neglected himself. He couldn’t even think about touching himself this whole time. But now that he’s here, feeling your walls clamp around him he knows he fucked up.
“Fuck… oh fuck.” He encases your body, his forehead on your shoulder. His arms wrap you, bringing your body closer to his as he nails dig into your back. You match his actions, nails dragging on his back, welts rising as you go. His lips can’t stay off of you, kissing any part of you he can get. Your mind is fixated on the feeling of his hips meeting yours.
Rafe’s perfectly huge dick piercing you g-spot over and over again. The two of you are just a mess of words. None of them are even audible yet you still understand the other. “God Sunny.” His fingers get deeper in your flesh, pain increasing your pleasure. “I’m not going to last long.”
Your left hand holds Rafe’s head. “Please.” His hips pick up pace, hurdling the two of you to your ends. You try to switch your positions, wanting to send him over the edge faster. “No no. Want to see your face. Need to see my pretty girl.” His moans are mixing with yours. The only thing that can be heard in the room is skin hitting skiing and your moans. “It’s okay baby. Fill me.” That was the end of him. He moans loudly as he fills you, his release triggering yours. Slowly rocking his hips to watch you awe stocks face for longer.
Rafe lays motionless on you, the orgasim of his life taking everything out of him. Your arms hold him to you, not wanting to let him go. “Shit that was amazing.” His words tickle you, air following them as they leave to dance on your skin. “Tell me about it.”
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
It’s been a month since your first date. When Rafe said slow he sure was not kidding. You would fool around when you can but really haven’t had the chance to fully sleep together. Every time you try he finds a reason why you shouldn’t. The furthest you got was when you gave him a blowjob and he ate you out. It’s been a whole month of tiptoeing around to not get caught.
Everyone knows now that you two are practically together. Ward is thankful that the issue is over and you have passed it. He can see Rafe changing, no more fights around the island. But more importantly no more drugs. Rafe quit after you gave him another chance, not fully at first but he got there. Ward was surprised not taking it seriously at first, as time went on he couldn’t deny it. Rafe actually was doing good for the first time in years.
The relationship between Rafe and his sisters had also improved. They spend time together without you now, not for long but they no longer argue. He even hung out with John B, JJ, and Pope alone. Everyone was shocked to see the boys all in one piece. You could say the only issue right now is once again what you and Rafe are.
You know you are exclusive. He had made that clear the night after your date. Saying how he won’t let anyone else get in the way. There was never a conversation about if you are boyfriend and girlfriend. No confirmation that you were fully together. It’s been eating away at you but you want to respect him taking things slow. Which was all fine until the party that happened tonight.
Rafe was still selling with Barry even though he decided to spot doing drugs. He was going to the party to help push some coke and pills to all of the kooks. Instead of leaving you at home he asked you to go with. “Just come along. We can sit on some couch the whole night.” In truth he just didn’t want to be in a party setting alone. It’s one thing to stay away from drugs when he’s at home, at a party it’s different.
If he was there by himself he would fall back into temptation. He can still feel the need to get high at times, missing the way it made him numb. Sometimes being sober is too much for him, having to take a few hits of a joint to calm the nerves. Weed and alcohol are the only things he allows himself, since he knows he can control those urges. He needs you there for moral support.
The party was in full swing when you reached the house. Rafe pushes through the house, hand in yours to guide you. He found a couch in the back easily and set up shop. Kook would come by asking for some coke, exchanging cash for a little baggy. Some would sit on the chairs next to the couch and take bumps right there. Others just take their goods and leave.
Two hours into the party Rafe goes off to the bathroom leaving you alone. The only instructions he gave was to tell anyone who wants to buy to come back later. Which wasn’t a problem, then some guy walked up. “How much for a baggy?”
You look up from your phone to see your ex from highschool. “Ben?” He smiles at you. “Long time no see. Didn’t know that you started selling drugs.” He sits down next to you, leaving arms length of space. “No my… uh no I don’t sell.” You don’t know what to call Rafe. You wanted to say boyfriend but you aren’t really sure.
“Hey.” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You smile at him but see that he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are trained on Ben. “Hey man. Looks like we got to wait, apparently this saint doesn’t sell.” Ben’s comment pisses Rafe off. “Well I hope not. She would take me out of business.” He’s trying to keep his cool, not wanting to lose his temper after working hard on it.
“Wait, you're the one selling?” Ben asks, he went off to college in a different state so he hasn’t been around much. He doesn't know a lot about Rafe after highschool or you for that matter. Rafe nods at the guy, tossing him a baggy and telling him the price. Ben says your name. “Do you know this guy?” You can’t get the words out since Rafe is answering for you. “Yeah she does. I’m her boyfriend.”
You look at Rafe, eyes expressing how you feel. When you get happy there’s these golden specks that get brighter. He doesn’t even notice as he and Ben stare at each other. “Wow. Never expected this when we broke up.” The money he was handing over was snatched by Rafe. He wants to punch him in his stupid face. “Yeah well never thought you would cheat on me. I guess we just didn’t know each other.”
The anger Rafe is feeling intensifies. His eyes meet yours, as if you could read his emotions you shake your head. Instead of acting out he gathers the rest of the drugs laying out. Putting them away and grabbing your hand. “Come on baby. Let’s go home.” You try to protest. “Wait, don't you have to sell more?” “Nah go all I needed.”
Rafe drags you out the house and into the truck. Driving to Tanny hill in silence. “Rafe?” He doesn’t say anything, only focusing on the road. His grip on the wheel is making his knuckles white. “Ray.” The new nickname surprises the two of you. He pulls into the drive-way and sits there. “Ray? That’s new.”
“I don’t know why I said it. Just you call me Sunny and a ray is associated with that. Thought it would be cute, but I don't know.” You feel a little self conscious now. “I like it.” He assures. The truck is silent after. You’re waiting for him to open up to you. “I got jealous.” There it is.
“I know.” He sighs. “You said you were my boyfriend.” He gives you this look. “Yeah no shit. I am.” He doesn’t get why that would be a problem. “You never asked.” Rafe looks at you before laughing. “Fuck I thought it was a given. Just assumed you knew I wanted you to be mine.” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “You’re such a dumbass. You need to ask a girl these things. I’ve been losing my mind over this.”
He gives you a kiss. “Will you be my girlfriend?” The words brush your lips. “Yeah I will.” You kiss him again. Not feeling his hand move around or his body shifting in a weird way. Pulling back something catches your eye. You glance down to see a ring. “What is that?” Rafe grabs your hand and puts the ring on your middle finger. “Got it the same day as the necklace. Was too scared to give it to you at first. This time around I won’t let it get to me. I promise I’m here for the long haul.”
The ring is beautiful, one of the nicest things you own now. Smiling at the boy in front of you, you realize how deep this really goes. Glad that you aren’t the only one who feels the same. “For the long haul.”
#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe obx#obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#drew starkey smut#outer banks smut#rafe x you#rafe x nannyreader
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Pretty Please? (18+ Hannigram Fic)
Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent, Mild Blood Play, Dom/Sub Undertones, Aphrodisiac Use, Mild Homophobia, Subspace
(6.7k Words)
Summary:
Will enters Hannibal’s office for the first time, drugged and confused with the effects of an aphrodisiac. He begs for Hannibal whose touch seems to help the impact of the drug, while simultaneously struggling with the fact he is in fact, attracted to men. Hannibal gets the brute end of it, and knows exactly how to satisfy his fascinating new toy.
A/N: Hannibal is Hannibal, also known as the biggest narcissistic and manipulative freak I have ever seen. So, just keep that in mind while reading.
This will be a mini series, maybe 2-4 chapters long. I haven’t decided yet, but read the tags for future warnings ;)
- Koo
Chapter 1:
Will steps into Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s waiting room. The only reason he knew where he was at that moment was because of the glittering bronze name tag that framed the man’s name like a medallion, greeting him on the door leading to the office.
He felt disoriented. Unlike himself. He couldn’t recall how he had shown up to the man’s office in the first place. He had no appointment, no number to call, not even an email to warn the man of his arrival. He didn’t know why he was here. Hell, he had only met the man a handful of times.
Will flinches, the letters of the psychiatrist’s name blurring momentarily. He felt a particular pinch in his side that reminded him of the vivid sensations of pins and needles across his entire body. He was thankful for it though, seeming as it was the only thing stopping him from succumbing to the fatigue that clouded his brain. He pushes back his messy bangs with a weak hand, absently noting how his hair sticks up sloppily from the sweat accumulated on his forehead, and lifts a heavy limb to knock on the dark wooden door.
Courtesy was appreciated by the man, he had remembered that much.
After he knocks, he recognizes the chatter of two voices stopping abruptly. He curses himself for not paying attention. Of course, he would have patients, it was his office after all. So much for courtesy, Graham.
He hears a faint voice muffled by the door. Thick, accented, ridiculously smooth like melting butter. He could almost find himself envying the undeniably attractive voice. Man or woman, it had the same impact, melting their bones to jelly and allowing the tactile doctor to mold them to his liking with those strong large hands, which seemed unusual to have as a psychiatrist. He must work out. Of course he does, he can’t just be rich, handsome and intelligent. He’s gotta be ripped as well.
“Will?”
He could feel the rumble of the syllable, crawling up his throat and forcing him to swallow it back down, trapping it there, storing it away behind his ribs. He soaks in the way it rebeverates down his spine, and a stronger tremble of pins and needles envelops his body. They’re pleasant, he decides.
“Will.”
The pins and needles shifted to his left shoulder, forcing out a hiss from behind his teeth. The entire width of his shoulder tingles pleasantly, not unlike a massage. He feels himself answer the pleasant feeling with a rumble of his own, unknowingly leaning into the source of the pleasant feeling.
“Your name is Will Graham. You are in Baltimore Maryland, in front of Hannibal Lecter’s office. It is 11:21 PM. You are safe. Can you repeat that for me?”
“Hannibal?” Will sighs dreamily. As his eyes flutter open from being half closed, he begins to piece together the figure in front of him. A crimson suit with checkered patterns, maybe with some yellow stitching— he couldn’t focus his eyes well enough to know for sure—paired with a creamy white undershirt. Glossy black shoes tied meticulously, dark slacks with even darker stripes. Cologne. Rich, warm, and spicy but not overwhelmingly so. Just enough to alight his eyelids to flutter open all the way.
“That’s it, very well done.” Hannibal doesn’t exactly smile, but his eyes suggest that he is satisfied with Will’s response. Will lets out a shuddering breath, his heart fluttering at the thought of pleasing the man before him. He doesn’t let himself think too much about that.
“Jessie, I’m afraid I will have to end our session short. It seems I am faced with an emergency.”
Will only then registers the person inside the office, sitting down in a velvet seat. But he doesn’t process the curt exchange of words they share, his unfocused eyes eventually darting back to Hannibal’s eyes, which he notes haven’t once left his own. Then only once he begins to move his legs, does he realize the hand on his shoulder firmly guiding him, and a second tremor of butterfly wings beat at his chest. The same warm solid hand he was just thinking of, long fingers that encompass his shoulder effortlessly. He leans his weight against it, just to test the firmness of Hannibal’s grip.
“Will, please come in,” Hannibal says, unfazed by the weight of his colleague. He simply guides the man inside with a firm hand.
“M’sorry. You had a client.” Will says, looking at the now absent chair. He hadn’t seen the person leave.
“That is irrelevant,” Hannibal replies smoothly. Will can’t help but notice the way his accent becomes accentuated on certain vowels, and it has him looking back at the older man’s face, specifically his lips.
Hannibal studies him momentarily, his expression unreadable.
“Where did you go tonight, Will? It is awfully late.”
Will grunts, shaking his head in dismissal and motioning to the chair across from him.
“Who was that? Didn’t think’ya had customers… er clients, this time around.” He says with an irritated lilt. He couldn’t remember what the person looked like, but if they had the company of Hannibal at this time of night, then it must’ve been something personal. A boyfriend? Or was it a girl? A girlfriend was more likely... Fuck do I care.
“You’re correct, I normally do not have clients at this time,” Hannibal responds.
Will stiffens and shoves his hands in his pockets like a petulant boy. His eyes drop from Hannibal’s face and he shakes off the hand from his shoulder, instantly regretting the solid weight of it. He desperately ignores whatever bubbling emotion is being stirred in his gut. He steps away from the comforting presence of the older man and begins regretting his entire decision to come.
“I should go, dunno why m’here.” Will grunts, shoulders retracting nearly up his ears. He looks down at his scuffed loafers, comparing them to the most likely designer black leather shoes that reflect the orange light from the office. Only then does he realize how pathetic he must look to the man. Dazed, dirty and whiny. Like a kicked dog. He turns to leave, shame nipping at his heels.
“Will,” Hannibal says firmly, his voice descending down Will’s spine, dragging against each rivet of bone. He stills instantly, shoulders hunched and defensive.
“Tell me what happened tonight. You are disoriented, and as my job as your psychiatrist, I cannot let you leave the building until I am assured that you are safe. Both emotionally and physically.”
Ah, right. Nearly forgot.
Jack had assigned Hannibal as his very own psychiatrist. The very reason why he went to a random bar, drank enough whiskey to surely kill some kidney cells, read the email Jack forwarded of Hannibal’s office address, and called a taxi to drag him there just because he wanted to look at the man, and in spite tell him he didn’t need his help, that he wasn’t unstable.
Then forgot all about it because of the damn pins and needles the man gives him just from thinking of his stupid dreamy accent and his fancy clothes.
“Went for a drink.” Will shrugs, refusing to turn around, staring at the closed door. He feels a prod of anxiety from the realization that he’s alone with the doctor.
“And how many did you have?” Hannibal replies firmly, leaving no room for an argument.
Will turns the question around in his head, trying to remember the evening. It’s all blurred and it gives him a headache from trying.
“Three.” He answers. He knew that much.
“Three,” Hannibal repeats warily. Will hears the shuffle of clothes and the waft of that spicy, woody, addictive cologne come closer. His head tingles with a fuzzy feeling just from the scent alone. He tells himself everyone would react the same, despite their gender. They must have put some kind of pheromone in that crap.
“Who were you with tonight, Will? Did someone accompany you while drinking? A stranger, perhaps?”
“Ya, maybe. So what? So were you.” Will drawls, overly conscious of his Louisianan accent making an appearance.
He squeaks in surprise as Hannibal takes a firm hold of his shoulders, spinning him around to face him. Instinctively, Will reaches to hold onto the older man’s arms to prevent him from falling, the room spinning nearly to the point nausea. But then the fuzzy blend of heat and needles shoot from his fingertips, up his chest, then finally simmering pleasantly around his shoulders and the base of his skull. The heat from the touch was nearly too much and not enough all at once, he could feel the way his eyebrows pinch and his jaw slacken. It felt like electricity and raw nerves, every touch so hot it was almost freezing.
“I believe you have been roofied, Will. Tell me what you remember.” Hannibal says matter-of-factly, leading Will backwards until the back of his knees meet the chair and he falls backwards until he’s seated clumsily into it.
Will can hardly process the meaning behind Hannibal’s sentence. Instead, he blinks up at the solid man above him who is looking down at him with deep maroon eyes, bordering on dark red from the influence of his crimson suit.
Fear prickles at the nape of his neck, telling him that the man was a predator— the looming figure ever so intimidating above him, tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and an even broader chest. He can’t recall ever meeting a psychiatrist who had such a powerful figure. The fear didn’t last long, however. A tingly warmth spread over his scalp like a massage as he felt his eyes struggle to maintain focus on the man’s face. He shrinks away from the intense stare, afraid that Hannibal would figure out the undignified thoughts that began manifesting on their own accord.
“Dunno,” Will responds stubbornly, chanting away the blush he feels rising to his cheeks. He eyes the way the man’s throat bobs in silent frustration, then darts his eyes up just long enough to see his expression, but Hannibal’s gives away no hints to his emotions.
“Then, tell me what you are feeling as of right now,” Hannibal replies calmly as he takes a seat across from him.
Will scoffs, “Lazy psychiatry, doctor.”
“Entertain me then, Agent Graham,” Hannibal says, cold and somewhat unsettling.
Will shuffles uncomfortably, tucking his legs against the chair and squirming around in the chair. Suddenly, he feels too warm. His clothes were suddenly too restrictive. He sighs in defeat and looks down at the floor at Hannibal’s pointed shoes.
“Warm… no, hot, actually. I keep getting these tingles everywhere, and fuzziness too. Like wool is dragged against my skin, but like, the soft wool, not the scratchy kind. Y’know?” Will sniffs absently, making an effort not to look the man in the eyes. He’s painfully aware that he’s rambling, so he looks down at his feet, kicking off his shoes and tucking them under the chair.
Hannibal is silent, patiently watching the squirming man before him. Eventually, Will breaks some more under the penetrative stare.
“It’s especially when m’touched. Or, no, I don’t know. It’s not painful or anything, just a bit overwhelming. Feels like m’just a bundle of nerves.” He shrugs.
Hannibal considers him for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch until it has Will squirming all over again.
“How did it feel when I touched you, Will?”
Will chokes and sinks into the chair, his arms crossing over his body defiantly.
“It was fine.”
“Yet, your expression tells me you ache for it back.”
Will feels on the verge of panic. His eyes briefly meet Hannibal’s, and he nearly loses his breath at the wave of neediness his body swoons with. The tingles return, but only a phantom version of them. He aches for them back, aches for the solid strength of the man before him. The firm grip that was on his shoulder, grounding him, accepting the strain Will forced upon it.
“No, m’not— I don’t swing that way, doctor.”
“That was not what I was implying.” Hannibal has a teasing glint in his eye, a ghost of a smile pulling at his plump lips. “Does that bother you? Homosexuality?”
“No- that isn’t-“ Will shakes his head, eyebrows creasing.
“Tell me what happened tonight.”
Will sighs and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, hard enough for him to see stars. He doesn’t realize his glasses fall from his face as he does, nor the way Hannibal reaches down to grab them, placing them on the desk next to him.
“Nothing! Really. I just, I went for a drink, I talked with this man… I don’t even remember his name or what he looked like. He seemed attracted to me, but I didn’t… I’m not gay. So I left.” He drops his hands into his lap dramatically once he’s finished, he looks at Hannibal’s sternum with a pout to avoid the man’s eyes. He felt frustrated, like his body was punishing him for not satisfying a craving that his brain couldn’t figure out. Subconsciously, his hands begin to rub at his forearms, simulating another’s touch.
Hannibal hums and leans forward.
“May I try something?”
Will frowns, searching Hannibal’s carefully blank face.
“What? Like what?”
“I want to see how you react to my touch. Skin to skin, however.”
Will’s gut nearly roars with heat, and he feels a sudden wave of shame cascade down his spine from his body’s reaction. He thinks his expression gives away the mixture of desire and guilt, and his first instinct is to defend himself. He bares his teeth and turns his head away from Hannibal’s intense gaze.
“Don’t— don’t fuck with me. I told you, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I came here, this is stupid—“
Will hadn’t heard Hannibal stand up, and suddenly he felt the searing heat of pressure against his cheek. His body reacts without his brain’s knowledge, and he finds himself nuzzling his face into Hannibal’s palm. The pleasant pins and needles return, and the heat— flaring and incredibly soothing— takes over completely. He doesn’t hear the sigh he lets out, only feels the release of pressure from his ribs.
Will feels the way Hannibal hums and a heat in his gut alights like a hungry flame from the thought of satisfying the man.
“That’s it, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Hannibal coos, as if talking to a hungry stray pup who had just gotten fed.
Will was about to argue, reel back and defend himself, but then a hand is buried in his hair, and he’s being pulled forward into a solid weight. The cheek that isn’t being caressed by a large hand is being pressed into a hard abdomen, wafting with that masculine scent that he distantly notes isn’t only the cologne.
Will practically melts with a moan, his arms wrapping around Hannibal’s waist and hugs him tight as if at any moment his touch will be taken away from him. His brain feels foggy, his eyelids heavy, and even his body feels limp and malleable, encompassed with a pleasant heat. He imagines this is what it feels like to sleep without nightmares.
Will buries his entire face into the man’s stomach, enjoying the way the material of the man’s waistcoat scratches against his face. He takes a large breath of the man’s scent, and again he feels his body succumb to the pleasure of being touched. He knows he should feel embarrassed, humiliated— ashamed even, but he can’t find the energy to.
“There we go pretty boy, that’s it, just relax. I can give you what you need.” Hannibal coos again, and Will can feel the way his baritone voice vibrates against his face.
“Mm’not pretty,” Will grumbles weakly into the man’s body, his words slurred and obscured by the fabric.
Hannibal chuckles, sending another wave of pleasant tingles and warmth down Will’s spine.
“I care to disagree. I think many people believe that you are a very pretty man, Will. Cherubic, even.” Hannibal responds, a smile present in his voice. He drags a couple of fingertips teasingly light against Will’s nape which ignites an intense shiver down his spine, while keeping a gentle yet firm hold in his hair with the other hand. Will presses his face tighter against the man and bites his lip, unable to keep the groan of delight from escaping him.
Will doesn’t respond this time, instead he stands up, temporarily distancing his face from Hanninal’s body. Surprising Hannibal, Will stoops forward with a dreamy look in his eye and wraps his arms around the man’s neck, then buries his face just below Hannibal’s ear and inhales deeply.
“Y’smell so good,” Will drawls, mouthing absently at the exposed skin just above the man’s collar, as if trying to taste the scent. His hands grab at the neat strands of gelled hair and pull Hannibal impossibly closer.
Hannibal allows him, and moves one hand down to the small of Will’s back, the other pressed across his nape. He notes the feverish heat and the light perspiration against his skin. Hannibal dips his nose into the crook where Will’s neck and shoulder meet and inhales deeply. He smells of cheap whiskey, deodorant and dog, but underneath, below his skin, he smells a metallic sweetness alongside the heady musk of arousal. His suspicions have been confirmed.
Hannibal can’t suppress the shiver when Will gently nibbles at his skin, instantly leaving wet kisses and licks as an apology.
He won’t take advantage of Will like this. Especially not when his fascination for the man has nearly tripled after this new encounter. Instead, he buries his desires and saves them in his memory palace for another time.
But, it proves harder to do so when Will begins panting sweet little moans into his ear while rocking his hips against Hannibal’s, all the while Will’s hands explore Hannibal’s back, shoulders and neck.
“Darling boy,” Hannibal says with a mixture of fondness and sternness, gently easing Will’s head from his shoulder. He cups his jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“Mmm…?” Will hums so sweetly, pupils blown so wide that only a sliver of those gorgeous blue-teal eyes are left. His lips are bitten raw, red and plump, gaping just enough to get a glimpse of that teasingly pink, wet tongue that holds so many sharp remarks and brilliance. Hannibal actively fights the way his gut tightens at the desperate expression Will has, wanting nothing more but to dip his fingers inside that pliant mouth and explore the depths of it. He imagines the velvet heat of his tongue and cheeks, the slippery heat that is the cavern of his throat.
“I am going to suggest something, to help you ride through the aphrodisiac you’ve been given,” Hannibal says in an even tone. He allows himself the luxury of pushing Will’s bangs away from his face, relishing in the way Will instantly nuzzles into his palm.
Will only nods clumsily, opening his mouth to lick Hannibal’s fingers, nibbling at the tips. Hannibal has to take a deep breath to restrain the burning in his gut from intensifying anymore. He watches in fascination as Will’s lips wrap delicately around his skin, sucking and kissing his fingers as an apology for the bites. When he pulls off, his tongue lingers behind, reluctant to leave.
Hannibal clears his throat to try and mask the desire thick in his throat. “I have some paperwork that still needs to be done. I would like you to sit by me as I do so.” Hannibal continues, the only thing giving away that Will’s ministrations have any impact on him is the barely noticeable quiver in his voice.
“Y’still touch me?” Will asks against Hanninal’s palms. Looking up through thick dark lashes, eyes round and sickly sweet. Hannibal wonders if Will knows the impact he could have on anyone just by looking at them the way he’s looking at him now.
“Yes, pretty boy. More than what is being done to you now.” Hannibal promises, successfully appeasing him.
“Please,” Will whispers, pressing his groin tight against Hannibal’s. “M’want more.”
Hannibal can feel the outline of Will’s erection against him, and can’t stop himself from shifting his thigh between the boy’s legs and dragging it beneath his balls and perineum. Will cries out loud, dropping his forehead on Hannibal’s clavicle, and grinds desperately on the thigh graciously given to him.
Hannibal huffs a breath through his nose, silently admiring the frantic rock of the boy’s hips against him. He lifts his thigh lightly, nudging his heavy sac and earning a loud, needy whine.
“Ohhh fuck, please! I can’t…I need more,” Will keens, frustrated tears welling in his sweet eyes. He tugs at Hannibal’s hair and dives upwards to bite at his jaw.
Hannibal quickly grabs Will’s hair before he can leave a mark, yanking him back and looking down sternly at the pouting face below him.
“Violent, greedy thing. That is not how we ask for things.” Hannibal chides, pulling Will back further until he’s straining to keep hold of Hannibal’s neck with his arms. Pitifully, Will whines, squirming and trying to fight against the grip.
Will bares his teeth again, but when the grip in his hair turns painful and the playful expression in Hannibal’s eyes turns cold, he stops and goes limp.
“M’sorry,” Will pants. He struggles to swallow, his neck strained at an angle from the way Hannibal grips his hair.
“You will strip for me until you are in nothing but your underwear,” Hannibal states, ignoring the slurred apology and the keening whine that Will responds with. “You will then kneel between my feet when I am at my desk. Understood?”
Another flare of heat in his gut has Will squirming all over again, and he nods frantically despite the restraint Hannibal has by his hair.
“Use your words, boy. Or have you lost your ability to talk?” Hannibal mocks, cruel eyes staring intensely at the teary blue ones below him.
“Yes! Yes m’understand, please Hann’bol!” Will cries, hands already darting down to his belt buckle and clumsily undoing it. His breathing has become laboured, pants through his mouth rather than dignified breaths. All rationality has flown out the window at this point.
“Good boy.” Hannibal praises. The proud gleam in his eye makes Will’s knees feel like jelly, and when Hannibal lets go of his hair, Will has to slouch against the arm of the chair behind him to stabilize himself. The way Hannibal calls him ‘boy’ has his groin straining painfully against his jeans, and it has him doubling his efforts to rid himself of his clothes.
Will watches as Hannibal takes long strides to his desk, elegantly sitting down in the chair and sliding out documents from his drawer. When Hannibal looks up at him expectantly, Will slides out of his jeans and quickly shucks off his shirt, throwing them haphazardly over the arm of the chair. He doesn’t think twice about how needy and vulnerable he must look— naked, sweaty and flushed from head to toe. All he can think of is getting that incredible sensation back on his skin that only Hannibal seems to provide.
Will rounds the desk somewhat tentatively, unsure exactly what is being asked of him. He silently admires Hannibal’s side profile, his dark eyes paying all their attention to the papers in front of him. Will squirms with impatience, panting through his mouth as he continues to drag his eyes alongside the man’s sharp nose, then his plump pouty lips, and down his jaw, finally catching on the prominent adams apple halfway down a sleek yet strong neck. Distantly he feels the alarm bells go off in his brain— the shame and humiliation that comes with the thought of being attracted to a man. But lust and bursting waves of oxytocin cloud his brain from recalling the touch Hannibal gave, ultimately chasing away those anxious thoughts.
Without thinking, Will pushes his way in front of Hannibal, between his desk and the broad chest of the man. Hannibal relents, rolling his chair backwards to look up at the boy in dissatisfaction.
“I expected you to follow my instructions, Graham.” Hannibal sighs in agitation, an undertone of disappointment in his tone. It has Will’s heart churning in what he could only place as guilt. He bites his lip and climbs into the man’s lap, plopping his pert bottom onto the man’s thighs. Watching Hannibal’s expression closely, he sees nothing but cold blankness stare back at him.
“I did,” Will slurs, hands coming up to wrap around Hanninal’s neck, but his wrists were quickly snatched, and shoved behind his back, earning a pained whimper. He arches his back to ease some of the strain, but humiliating enough, it only pushes out his chest and bulging erection, exposing the hard pink nubs and strained underwear to both his and Hannibal’s eyes.
“You’re testing my patience. Did you want to be left alone, is that it? Without my help? Because that surely can be arranged.” Hannibal pulls his arms further back, forcing Will into a near pornographic pose atop him. With his chest pushed out, inviting pink nipples centimeters away from Hannibal’s lips, and a throbbing cock pressed against his stomach. Never did he imagine Will Graham would ever be willingly presented in this way. But what a pleasant surprise it was.
“No! Hann-“
“Wasn’t it just a moment ago when you were trying to convince me of your heterosexuality? What is this now, Agent Graham? You’re pleading to me like a bitch in heat, all for a simple touch.”
Will moans wantonly at the accented curse. Never had he heard the man swear, and the way it was spat at him like it personally assaulted the man by saying it had his hips rolling forward on its own accord.
“Please! M’sorry, I’ll do anything you say, just- pleeease! M’just… just want it so bad,” Will hiccups, fighting away the frustrated and humiliated tears welling in his eyes. “It just feels so good,” He whines, furrowing his brows and looking up through his lashes at Hannibal, blinking away the tears that cling to his eyelashes.
Hannibal’s grip relents and Will falls forward into his chest. A loud needy moan rips through his throat, and he eagerly scoots closer to the man until his naked body is pressed against his clothed one. Will’s arms wrap around Hannibal’s neck, and he lays frantic kisses and licks against his jaw as a thank you. Hannibal silently basks in the attention, particularly fond of the way Will’s facial hair scratches his clean shaven jaw.
“Ohh, please, need’you so much, anni’bol.” He slurs, indulging in the heat that radiates off the man’s body. His fingers plunge back into the soft tresses of once gelled hair, and he begins to kiss down the man’s neck, inhaling greedily of the scent that is the strongest just below his ear. His hips undulate, and he arches his back, presenting his round bottom obscured by blue boxers to try and entice Hannibal’s touch back on his body.
Hannibal allows him a minute of Will’s desperate touches and kisses, allowing his boy to relax. He can feel the way Will’s muscular thighs tighten around him, as if afraid he will leave him at any moment, but when he grants him a gentle touch to his boy’s nape, Will practically melts, body going limp in his arms.
“Miraculous, deviant thing. How fascinating you truly are.” Hannibal whispers, massaging Will’s nape. “How long have you been without another’s touch, I wonder. Desperate enough to seek the companionship of a male, of which you seem quite averse towards in the beginning. What changed? Or have your walls been weakened enough that your true desire has shown?”
Will only hums, and nuzzles Hanninal’s neck with his nose. He was too far gone to comprehend what was being said to him at that moment, only enjoying the way Hannibal’s baritone voice vibrated his body. Hannibal noticed this and laughed, feeling the unfamiliar emotion of something akin to adoration materialize in his body. He distantly files away the emotion to analyze later.
Hannibal slides a hand up the warm sides of the boy, grazing his ribs and running his palm back down to hold onto his hips. Will releases a pleased moan, muffled by Hannibal’s skin.
“Listen to me, Will,” Hannibal says firmly, but without any venom. Will reluctantly moves his head back, dreamily looking into Hannibal’s eyes after momentarily glancing down at his lips, nodding clumsily, pretty curls falling back into his eyes.
“I’d like you to kneel between my feet while I finish my work. I will continue to touch you, darling boy. But I expect you to be quiet and obedient. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, please,” Will responds with a happy sigh, immediately sliding down from Hannibal’s lap and settling between thick spread thighs, but not without grinding his bottom against his thighs beforehand.
Hannibal smirks at this but says nothing, and once Will is comfortably situated between his feet, he nudges the chair forward, trapping him inside the small space under his desk meant for his legs.
“There we go, beautiful boy. Very good.” Hannibal praises, reaching a hand down to gently caress the thick locks of Will’s head, and he pulls him forward so his head is forced to lay on his lap. He instantly feels the way Will relaxes, nuzzling into the fabric of Hanninal’s inner thigh, just in front of the prominent erection he has worked hard to ignore. He feels Will turn his face to nuzzle at his cock, breathing in a greedy breath and exhaling hot air onto it, igniting a twitch from Hannibal’s tip, but he redirects him to lay his cheek on his inner thigh instead.
“You will stay like this until I say otherwise, do you understand? You will not touch me unless permitted.” Hannibal states, tightening his hold on Will’s hair until he receives an answer.
“Yes, doctor,” Will responds. The name has Hannibal groaning deep, and he pushes the boy's head firmer against his thigh, nudging his nose below his sac, and he hears Will moan in return.
“Good boy.” Hannibal praises, his voice an octave lower and gravelly with arousal.
Will relaxes into the position fairly quickly. His nose rests below the doctor’s heavy sac, his cheek warmed by the inside of his thigh, and the heady musk he inhales with each breath is enough for him to feel high. He doesn’t touch himself, somehow imagining that if he did, Hannibal would be disappointed, and the thought of disappointing the man again makes his heart ache. Instead, he keeps his hands atop the man’s shoes, his legs tucked comfortably underneath him, and his upper body resting against the solid length of Hannibal’s leg. He feels as if he’s floating, tingly and warm despite being nearly naked.
The pins and needles have subsided somewhat, and replaced with a pleasant, fuzzy heat that envelops his entire body. The hand atop his head tugs gently at strands of hair, twirling individual curls and smoothing them back down across his scalp, each time erupting waves of pleasant tingles across his scalp and down his back, punching out a moan of delight. Once in a while, Will will nuzzle his face against the man’s thigh, his nose bumping into the sac, earning no reaction other than a warning pull of his hair.
Will distantly hears the scratch of paper and pen, and the occasional crinkle of paper, but the hand in his hair never leaves once. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but judging by the way his limbs feel tight and a bit sore, he’s been here for at least an hour. Hannibal’s voice penetrates the fogginess of his brain, forcing him back to the present.
“Darling boy, are you asleep?”
Will moans sleepily and shakes his head, lolling his head to the side so Hannibal can see his face. He feels the graze of fingers on his cheekbones, so he presents his neck, shivering when he feels the slide of fingertips across his jaw and down his neck, thumbing at the pulsing artery beneath his ear.
“How are you feeling now?” Hannibal asks, pushing his hair back a bit to get a better look at Will’s adorably sleepy expression.
“S’good,” Will slurs, nudging his body forward to press himself tighter against Hannibal’s legs. Will flinches when he feels a hand slither down his chest and pinch at his nipples, seething through his teeth at the sharp yet pleasant tingles that spread across his chest. He never touched himself there before, surprised at how sensitive he felt there.
Hannibal scratches a nail at the perky bud and Will doubles forward, a whine punched from his throat. He looks up at Hannibal with a confused pinch between his brows.
“Have you ever touched yourself here for pleasure, sweet boy?”
Will furrows his brows and shakes his head as if it is obvious, but when Hannibal gives him a disapproving look, he remembers to use his words.
“No… m’not a woman.” He huffs, yet his shoulders twitch and he exhales a shaky breath when Hannibal pinches rather hard.
“You certainly are not.” Hannibal muses, teasingly shoving a shoe beneath the boy’s balls, and lifting it. Will groans and grinds his hips forward, but as quick as it comes, the shoe disappears. “However, men still can achieve pleasure through their nipples similarly to women. Does this not feel good?” Hannibal twists both nipples this time, scratching the reddened nubs with his thumbnails.
Will’s jaw drops open, and his whole body shudders, savouring the orgasmic sensations rolling down his spine. He traps a moan by burying his face in the doctor’s thigh, hands rising to claw at his knees.
It was a feeling he’s never experienced before, sharp, intense pleasure nearly too overwhelming for him to withstand. He could feel the way his cock pulsed, and a tinge of embarrassment broke through the fog in his brain. This isn’t right, I shouldn’t be enjoying this. He thinks before Hannibal pulls him from that thought by a cruel twist of his nipples.
“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal demands, pulling hard and stretching the abused flesh.
Will moans as a second pulse of pleasure from his nipples runs down his spine and thrums at his tightening balls. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this aroused before in his life.
“No! It’s not—“ A harder pinch has him throwing back his head and each one of his limbs trembling. He felt humiliatingly close to an orgasm, despite not being touched where he needed it most.
“No? Then why are you leaking all over yourself? All messy and dirty, just from this.” Hannibal chides, clicking his tongue and scoffing. “I bet you could come all over yourself just from your chest being toyed with. Hm?” The shoe returns, and applies light pressure to Will’s groin until he presses the hard shaft firmly against the boy’s stomach. Will squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth gapes in a silent scream, his head dropping between his shoulders, his body shaking uncontrollably.
“Please!” Will whimpers, raising his head back up to look at the older man with pleading wet eyes and burning cheeks. His thighs quake, curls damp with sweat cascade over his face, and those adoring lips are shiny with saliva. He looked ravishing, to say the least.
“Please what? Begging for a man to touch your nipples and rub your needy wet cock. I wonder what someone would think if they were to walk in right now, seeing you on your knees, pleading and crying in between a man’s thighs, rubbing your face all over his groin like a mutt. What do you think they would say?” Hannibal becomes cruel with his hands, twisting and pinching the deep red buds, nearly drawing blood from the abuse. His maroon eyes hold a suggestion of a wicked smile, the shadows drawn across his face from the lighting make him look otherworldly, dominant and terrifying— beautiful.
Will only shakes his head, his hips now grinding forward to meet the pressure of the sole of the doctor’s shoe. He can feel the way his balls draw up and tighten, the pleasure intensifying and flooding his drugged mind with oxytocin. He’s so close, and his eyes begin to flutter shut, chanting intelligible sounds and syllables that almost sound like ‘Hannibal’ and ‘yes.’
“You will look at me while you come, boy. You will remember who gave you this pleasure. Of the man who was kind enough to accept your pathetic, whorish act. Then you will thank me afterwards, understand?” Hannibal pulls Will forward by the nipples, breaking the delicate skin open with his nails and drawing little droplets of blood, barely enough to coat his fingertips. Will stumbles forward with a cry, his legs forced to spread around the shoe pressed firmly against his crotch. His hands land further up the doctor’s thighs, and his neck strains further upward to meet eyes with Hannibal like he was told to.
“Yesss! Ohh fuck! Please, doctor, pleaaase!” Will chants, looking through lidded eyes right into the dark pits of maroon eyes, highlighted with what appeared to be a tinge of red. He finds himself lost when looking into those eyes, as if he is floating and losing all awareness of his surroundings. Floating on nothing but solid, firm hands that give him immense pleasure and security— safe and warm in between the cradle of Hannibal’s thighs.
Hannibal’s mouth flickers open in a smile, revealing sharp, glittering white fangs. “Take your pleasure, then, darling boy.”
As if a dam was broken, Will’s orgasm rips through him, forcing his body to double forward, his eyes still locked onto Hannibal's as his hips stutter and his balls draw tight, a high pitched cry ripping from his chest. He feels the powerful force of his cum shoot into his underwear, seeping through the fabric and onto the sole of the shoe he grinds on, creating an uncomfortable stickiness with each stroke of his hips, but the flood of chemicals in his bloodstream makes it hard for him to care.
Even after the initial intense waves have passed, he can feel the pleasurable tingles engulf his body, specifically in his balls and chest. He continued to ride his orgasm through the cants of his hips against the shoe, panting and shaking while maintaining an unfocused, yet direct eye contact with the older man above him, staring down at him in amusement, still teasing the boy’s nipples.
In a lazy orgasmic haze, he moans his gratitude, mouthing and licking at the bulge in between Hannibal’s thighs in appreciation. Hannibal’s eyes darkens, but he allows the ministrations for a moment, groaning deeply at the feel of Will’s warm mouth through his slacks. Then he cuts Will off by digging his nails back into his nipples, earning a high pitched moan muffled by Hannibal’s clothed cock, sending pleasurable vibrations through Hannibal’s balls.
Once the sensation crosses the line of overstimulation, Will keens his chest upward, trying to escape the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.
Hannibal grants him the mercy and lets go of his nipples, then abruptly pulls Will up into the his lap. Will falls forward into the man’s broad chest, boneless. The pleasant tingles remain throughout his body and brain, and he settles into a comfortable position atop Hannibal, his face buried in the man’s neck and inhaling that familiar comforting scent of what he can now identify as spiced cedar and coffee grounds. He feels a large hand at the back of his head, encouraging him to press himself tighter against him and breathe more of his scent in. Will doesn’t question it, all too happy to comply.
“You did so well for me, beautiful, darling boy. Exposing yourself to me and allowing me to bring you to your pleasure. Obedient, precious, cherubic thing.” Hannibal praises, his deep voice like a soothing melody to bring Will to sleep.
Will exhales a big sigh, a happy groan escaping his chest. He presses a sloppy kiss against Hannibal’s neck, then quite literally, passes out.
Hannibal smiles to himself.
Oh the fun he will have with this magnificent boy.
#smut#fanfiction#hannigram#hannibal#will graham#hannibal lecter#hannigram smut#hannibal loves will#hannibal lecter smut#will graham smut
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EDDIE DIAZ IS SO ASPEC CODED I WANT TO EXPLODE
#everything he does is because it’s what he thinks he should do because of society or other peoples opinions#he keeps shoving himself in a box that he doesn’t fit in and saying don’t look i fit in i fit in i’m normal i promise#im doing everything i’m supposed to#but none of it feels right it all feels wrong but if it’s what i’m supposed to do and want and if i don’t want it then society has said#there is something wrong with me and there can’t be something wrong with me#y’all i’m just i’m having so many emotions#i have thousands of things to say#i love buddie but more and more i’m like but what about aroace eddie i’ve always seen him as aspec but him not being attracted to anybody#is so fascinating to me because it could work SO WELL#idk i just there is something so aromantic about this new plot line#rey actually speaks#eddie aspec diaz
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i've seen you when your ship came in
and when your train was leaving
#music#the magnetic fields#fascinated by the 'well you may not be beautiful/but it's not for me to judge#i don't know if you're beautiful/because i love you too much' lines#which could fail to work so easily but merritt makes them sound so sweet#Bandcamp
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royalty & fairy tale au’s are meant to be mixed and u can’t change my mind
Late shuake week 2022 day 3 - Royalty AU
#shuakeweek2022#akechi goro#kurusu akira#I JUST REALLY LOVE SLEEPING BEAUTY OK#or well. i love the idea of 'sleeping curses.' idk why! they've always fascinated me#i used to be obsessed with aurora and snow white for that reason#and so here i am! as always! projecting this interest of mine onto my favorite characters :)#also for reference because i just realized how weird it reads: goro's gonna be in the tallest tower when he's cursed#that's why akira's got a reason to climb it. so. yeah#also in case you were wondering why i said 'see you tomorrow with more art' and then proceeded not to post for.....four days:#1) work decided that i'm going to be doing more hours so i now have very little free time;#2) i decided to actually try my hand at coloring again like an IDIOT and now here we are. sigh. coloring is hard#i was trying to hard not to just overdose on comic dots again lol & it resulted in this nonsense. me and my one very textured stone wall#ANYWAY lmao even though i missed like. every single day of akeshu week so far i'm still gonna be doing the prompts#just at my own pace! so. hopefully expect more art. soon. ish. hopefully not with another uhhh 2 month gap like last year lol#also quick fun fact since you made it this far in my tags! that second page originally wasn't supposed to be there!#i drew sleeping goro just cause i could and i was just gonna stick him under a read more but then i got attached lmao#and now he's in the main post! :D yayyyyyy goro#ANYWAY that was super long. thanks for reading & i hope u have a lovely day!!!!
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A few little sketches of some possible school uniforms for mage schools/learning centers for magic/etc. :0c Though because Nanyevimi is so scattered and disconnected, it'd actually vary much more by region (like not everywhere would have a cultural concept of what a suit jacket or neck tie looks like lol), so it's probably unrealistic for so many of them to follow too many traditional Uniform Conventions from cultures in our world, etc. But, still, fun to mess around with designs, and think about which would be most fun to wear/what school you'd go to just based off the clothing lol~
#I haven't felt well enough to do anything actually productive lately GRRRR.. evil health issues....#but I can sometimes at least draw while I lay on the floor with a heating pad and etc. lol.. so...#goofy little sketches. Still dislike that the ipad thing someone gave me is either like.. maybe the settings are just off OR possibly the#screen is slightly broken in some regard - so the pressure sensitivity does not work at all. thus all lines are blunt looking#instead of having tapered edges. which I KNOW can be a stylistic thing. like I think it's fine mostly#but sometimes shading looks weird for all of the lines to be the exact same size/width with like no variation lol#though since it's just little sketches it doesnt matter lol but still... hrmm... ever working out my strategy for how to use the ipad for a#art things/if I can ever get used to it/etc.#AAANYWAY... still so uniform obsessed.. and have been since I was a child. Like way before going to middle school and meeting#the people who like anime and get into school uniforms of that variety. I mean like... age 7 before even having any friends#and having zero popular media interests or outside influences that would make uniforms Trendy. but I would see like a 'private school#uniform' on a new story on tv or something or in a book and was just like OUGH... I Should Dress That Way#I used to go to thrift stores and find multiple seperate pieces that could be combined together to look like a school uniform#I had like 4 or 5 different 'uniforms' that I made myself in that way. My first outfit that I was ever allowed#to pick out for myself as my big First Day Of Middle School outfit was literally like school uniform inspired#(maybe mixed with a little goth.. like it was a school uniform sort of look but black and white with fishnet armwarmers lol.. plaid +#stripes pattern mixing my beloved... )#I think it's just the same way that I love apartment buildings because I'm infinitely fascinated with like.. observing human nature and peo#le displaying their psersonalities in little ways and how you can give 10 people the same exact identical space but each one will decorate#it completely differently just depending on their own tastes and reasonnig and etc. I love the idea of everyone in some setting#having to be in one specific set outfit BUT you can tell something about them by the little ways they customize it or what type#of accessories they wear or if they choose to button their shirt fully or not or etc. etc. I like the constraints of 'okay everyone has to#be in exactly the same uniform - NOW. give them their own unique style somehow despite this' etc. etc. like#yaaaayyyy.. I love thinking of little obscure details that convey personality. they have a little pin hidden on the inside of their#hat. their shoes are just like everyone else's but more worn out. they have a necklace barely visible beneath their collar. their tie is#always a little more askew that everyone elses. or even. the uniform is EXACTLY on model entirely clean crisp pristine not a single element#customized or out of place - which STILL tells you something about them. etc. etc.#ANYWAY.. yeahg.. struggling to get anything done these last few weeks so.. blam. poof. alakazaam. scratchy little sketches#of nothing very productive or relating to any other project in particular be upon ye
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man why is every single hawk we see in tellius a dude. it's like intsys didn't even realize lady!hawks are BIGGER and thus would CLEARLY be the warriors in any kind of arrangement where they're forming armies and such—
#okay i mean technically there's a case you could make here right#well. in the case of owls actually.#owl dudes are FAMOUSLY bad at taking care of their offspring#like they're coequal parents it's a 50/50 effort but#if the lady!owl dies in a tragic accident the owl kiddos always die#whereas if the dude!owl dies the kiddos sometime survive#mom just works a double and hunts twice as hard.#whereas the dude!owl just seems to not get?? like?? how to actually feed the kiddos?? on his own??#idk fascinating bit i saw a talk about owls a while ago#so you could make a case of ok the dudes are weaker but we send them off to fight because otherwise all the kids fucking die#except owls are notoriously the dum-dums of the raptor world#i'm pretty sure they are actual coequal parents in the case of hawks?#though i'm not able to find literature on it at the moment so#anyway. don't mind me. just going fully nuts over tellius#(i want nailah-but-she's-a-hawk man)
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Something I didn't really notice until replaying Royal but Ryuji really doesn't let the past hold him down? Like in the rank 2 scene he tells Akira that he doesn't want to focus on his past and he's more focused about the future.
I think that's kinda neat tbh he doesn't wanna let the stuff with Kamoshida or his dad drag him down, he just wants to keep going forward.
#not gonna main tag this lol#it's interesting idk i never noticed this before#look ill be honest with you all im specifically thinking about this in context for my au#i think the contrast between dont let the past hold me back ryuji#vs i will never escape my past and i cant bear the future riku is fascinating#ive been thinking a LOT about their friendship lately i wont lie#i think they could really balance each other out well#riku would just listen to ryuji talk about his struggles with his past if he needed it#and ryuji helps riku let go of a lot of his burdens regarding his and the groups past#riku is running away from the future ryuji is running towards it do you see my parallels#or is this me going “ive connected two dots. you havent connected shit. they're connected” or however that meme goes#idk i just think they would make great friends :']#it would make sense too considering captain arcana is the chariot equivalent of its deck lol so there's bound to be parallels#captain au#<- might as well tag it lol#idk if any of this makes like sense#because im refreshing a lot of what i remember from p5 with this playthrough#but i think ryuji's drive to keep moving forward is really cool and fits well with his arcana!!#ANYWAY DO Y'ALL GET WHAT IM SAYING ABOUR RYUJI jesus i feel like im tripping over my thoughts#but riku/ryuji (platonic mostly but romantic works maybe) is important to me....#hope my ramblings make sense to someone<3 live laugh love <3
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i need to think more abouyt roboy. i need to think more anout roboy. i keep forgetting him i dont want to forget him i like him.
#mod noname#not yoyo#its too late at night for me to start rambleposting bc i have work tomorrow#but like. i reread task failed successfully and bluescreen and roboy is barely mentioned in tfs and i tjink Not at all in bs#just realized bluescreen abbreviates to bs. Yeah seems abt right. anyway#and anyway the reason is definitely because me and pseud wrote those early in our hypfix and had not thought much abt roboy#(least of all what his dynamic with yoyo would be)#but still. WE FORGOT ROBOY AUUUURGH.#its not helped that we kind of jokingly hc'd that roboy doesnt get out of the garage much til postgame bc of like. battery lifespan issues#(a decision we made bc roboy is only playable postgame..... Well technically its a second roboy whos playable but we're ignoring that)#so hes kind of getting excluded both in and out of universe?!?!?#irt tfs and bs forgetting roboy you probably could read into it given theyre both yoyo pov and assume YOYO forgot roboy most of the time#or even more uncharitably simply Tends Not To Think About Roboy#which. i may dedicate more thought to that at some point bc it is a fascinating concept to ponder#(EVEN IF IT MAKES YOYO SUPER EXTRA ASSHOLISH LMAO)#but either way the truth of the matter is We Just Forgot........#i guess we could retroactively edit in Acknowledging Roboy More at some point if we felt like it#though i have an irrational aversion to editing my fics after theyre published XD#anyway the point is i need to think more about roboy. i like him and do not want to always forget him.
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Watched a video on weird anatomy in cadavers and can you believe they showed the bodies?
#it makes a lot of sense when you think about it#I did not#I just wanted to learn about weird anatomy#but then I saw lungs#and the thing that made me leave was displaying the flexibility of a Achilles’ tendon#nope nope nope#I can’t stand real blood#and even images of before and after surgery makes me ill#why did I try to watch this#I know I don’t do well#I made myself throw up before because I thought I could just breathe through it#it did not work#if it’s my blood or injuries fascinating#other peoples I don’t want to see it ever#put it back where it came from or so help#me#personal
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Here's the list of main romances I can see for my unholy BG3 OC trio. I will note I have only done Astarion's romance so I don't know much on how the other romances go but from just the characters themselves this is what I can see. This is not in a particular order I'll note, I'm a huge multishipper after all.
Sylve: Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale
Raven: Shadowheart, Wyll, Lae'zel
Nimue: Astarion, Karlach, Gale
#{oc ramblings}#{oc: sylve}#{oc: raven}#{oc: nimue}#in hindsight tbqh now i am actually less inclined toward raven x astarion even if i can most definitely still see it#im still developing raven so i cant be 100% sure but with how things are looking they'd possibly be a bit toxic to one another#which a-ok to explore for me but im also a lil less-inclined cause of it#ive ofc spoiled myself so i know how things go at the end with astarion's romance and raven depending on her character development-#would DEFINITELY be super like 'yeah go ascend go kick cazador's ass and gain power!!' because like#as a drow she absolutely equates power = freedom. thats how it was for her. she was only able to have a better life after gaining power#and astarion i doubt would be so inclined to dissuade that worldview. what he'd definitely dissuade though is the worldview of#drow society. he'd i'd say would come @ her like 'yeah you were fucking abused you know that right?' and she'd just stare at him like#'wdym i was abused ive lived like this for 250 years and been a-ok' and like he'd see himself in her cause of that i'd imagine#he was at least always well-aware that he was being abused. raven has NO fucking idea. like shes always had doubts but like. she doesnt-#know that what she thinks is normal is actually so fucking NOT normal. like shes always kinda wondered why things are like this-#but she knows nothing beyond drow society. so she thinks this is just how the world is and that the surface is way worse.#but shes getting the chance to realize no actually drow society is hellish and is not normal. which makes astarion x raven fascinating-#but could easily spiral into toxic because again i dont think astarion would fully go against the notion of power = freedom?#because thats why he wants to ascend. he thinks he NEEDS power to be safe. both him and raven's conflicts have a crux of-#thinking they need power to be safe. its just that raven's conflict has her faced with the idea of GIVING UP power she worked so hard for-#whilst astarion is about not giving in to the temptation of power and learning of what he actually needs in order to heal and thus breaking#the cycle of abuse that has been perpetuated for so long.#its fascinating but again these two could so easily end toxically. and depending on how i develop raven it could end worse than i already-#think they could since raven is still a WIP and im thinking of ways to tie her into things more. might end up changing her noble house-#since mizzrym i went for cause it seemed like a good grab but it seems to have a lot less info on it? i needa do more research#but yeah. stuff's wild KJNFKGJBGF
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this was a comment on one of my post from a recent live event. it was photos of joyful queer buckaroos celebrating together and proving love is real through creation, community, and a trot of love. most important I AM LITERALLY IN PHOTO AS A REAL FLESH AND BLOOD HUMAN
it got me thinking about how DEEP AND VICIOUS the irony poisoning of these early internet communities goes. the way buds like this cannot fathom someone just being a sincere person unrelated to their OWN old days of cynical posting. it is fascinating, and i will admit, sad too
despite a DECADE of work, countless live events, 350 tinglers written well before large language models were a thing, there are still people who cannot imagine someone like me could exist. it is a strange place to be. not just part of me, but my entire EXISTENCE is often gatekept
it is easy to say ‘well chuck your art IS strange’ but honestly i think it is more than that. magical realism is common. there are stories about dinosaurs and bigfeet and unicorns. this scoundrel reaction is about two unspoken things: my art is neurodivergent, and my art is queer
heres the thing: I WILL BE FINE. what concerns me is not an issue of MYSELF, it is a concern for the other young outsider buckaroos who see comments like this one and think ‘is that what they will say if i express MY unique way? will i be dehumanized like this at every turn?'
i will be honest, i cannot say that WONT happen, but i CAN say this: for as deep as this irony poisoning goes, it is slowly dying. the way i was treated at the start of my career is LIGHTYEARS DIFFERENT from the way i am treated now. there is a massive shift towards sincerity
BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY. to young artists trotting up, the things that i am harassed over and doubted for and made fun of for are NOT tangental to what has made me successful, THEY ARE LITERALLY THE SAME THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME SUCCESSFUL. YES I AM STRANGE, WHAT OF IT?
the things that you tuck away for fear of a review that says ‘there is a PROBLEM with this art because it has always been done another way’ THOSE ARE YOUR SUPERPOWERS. the gatekeepers want you to tuck those parts of yourself away because THEY TUCKED AWAY THOSE PART OF THEMSELVES
never forget that your unique way is PURE UNFILTERED 100 PERCENT ROCKET FUEL. it will stick out (maybe, if you are lucky, scoundrels will even say that someone like you could never actually be real), but sticking out isnt so bad when you are waving the flag of love.
in fact, when youre waving the flag of love, sticking out is pretty dang cool. what are flags for, after all? LOVE IS REAL BUCKAROOS. thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this long post then please consider preordering BURY YOUR GAYS.
LETS TROT
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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 ❞
❝ I CAN'T BREATHE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE TO... ❞
✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader (canon / multi au)
✧ summary: "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk manga spoilers (236 spoilers), multiple lives, assassin!reader x duke!gojo, actor!gojo x singer!reader, prince!gojo x knight!reader, model!gojo x photographer!reader, oral (f!receiving) in a car, semi-public, making out in public, pantyhose ripping, canon compliant except towards the end, angsty, but also bittersweet / implied happy ending
✧ wc: 6,589
“Do you think we would be together in another life?” you ask, not thinking much of the question, as your fingers draw lazy circles against his bare chest, your head resting right between his shoulder and chest.
Satoru chuckles, vibration against your skin, “Of course we would, sweetheart,” his arms curl around you, tugging you higher, as he gazes up at you, “you think I could live any lifetime without you?” He murmurs, his lips finding yours, “I know we’d find each other, time and time again,”
“How do you know?” your fingers brush against his cheek, shaking as he presses his cheek into your palm, a smile pulling at his lips.
“Because, I love you,” he kisses you again, sweet lips gliding against yours, his breath warming your lips as he parts.
“You did say love is a curse,” you give a small smile, and he presses his forehead to yours.
“Then I’d want you to curse me — in every life.”
“I swear on my life,” you press the dagger to his throat, blade digging into his formerly perfect porcelain skin, drawing scarlet to the surface, “I’ll kill you, Satoru Gojo,”
“I’m flattered to be a target of the infamous blueblood assassin,” his cerulean eyes glinted like stars in the candlelight, flames flickering across his eyes like burning comets, “but I didn’t think you would announce yourself as you did — what if I called for my guards?”
You scoff, fingers flexing against the hilt of your dagger, “Then you would be dead before you uttered even a single sound and do you think I left your guards to chance? All of that schooling to be a duke and you haven’t learned a single thing have you?”
“And what have I done to end up as your target?” he hums — as you bit back a sigh stuck in your throat — you preferred your marks to be much less chatty, but all he had was his mouth you supposed, “you only target the rich and the corrupt — and while I may fit the former, I do not fit the latter,”
“You’re certainly sure of yourself,” and he’s unfazed by your reply, as his eyes wander the only thing visible of your expression — your eyes.
“Since you have not stated my crime, I can only assume that I’ve committed none, and the infamous assassin whose morals could not be compromised have been,” and your grip wavers a moment, and he takes advantage of your hesitance to disarm you, and pin you to a nearby chaise all before the clatter of your blade hitting the marble floor, “and now what’s an assassin’s price who has done all of this for no reward?”
“How do you know I’ve done this for no reward?” you squirm in his grip, but it’s ironclad, and you know all too well he could have broken from your grasp at any point, but he had chosen not to — your heartbeat roars in your ears as one question repeats again and again stuck between beats — why? “I very well may have taken a payment you don’t know of — you act as if you know of me,”
“Because I do,” the heir replies with a simple smile, “I have followed your work for a long time, and I found myself fascinated with what you do — and why you do it,”
“Honored to have caught your attention,” you say in mock reverence, your arm beginning to ache, “now do you plan to call your guards?”
“Didn’t know you were so eager to die,” he stares still, as you turn your head away from his piercing gaze, “shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your target or now your captor?”
“Do you ever shut up?” You mumble as you flinch as you squirm under his grip, sleeve riding up ever so slightly — and then he sees it. His eyes narrow, as his hand grasps at your wrist now, “hey! Don’t—“
In a moment his fingers nearly rip the fabric of your tunic to tug your sleeve up — angry red cuts and purple bruises litter your arm. Your breath catches as his eyes stare for several moments before sliding back to you — no longer a placid pool but a raging ocean.
“Who did this to you?” he says quietly, and you’re blinking, nearly slack jawed, as you try to rip your arms away, but he won’t let you, “who is it? Is it the same person who told you to kill me?”
“Stop—“
“Is it the same person who’s taken someone important to you?” and you grit your teeth in silence, “is it the little orphan you adopted? Yuji?”
And your eyes snap to his, “How do you know this? Who are you?”
His lips curl, “You told me yourself, I’m Satoru Gojo,” and his fingers brush your cheek, “it’s a shame you don’t remember where we first met — because I never forgot,”
You furrow your brow, “What are you talking about? I think I’d remember you. You’re…” you jerk your head, eyes looking him up and down — lingering on his white hair and eyes, “distinct,”
“Well what if I had black hair and green eyes, would you remember then?” And he whispers your name in your ear, and you pause, “the fireworks were nothing compared to you,”
And your breath catches — “You? But—“
“I had snuck out, had a disguise and everything, and I had planned to explore the festival alone but who do I find but you?” His grip on you loosens only to pull you a little closer, “the girl who had stolen two steamed buns and pinned me with part of the blame, making me run after you—“
“You didn’t have to run—“ and he snorted.
“Well, it was that or get caught sneaking out — so I chose the lesser of two evils,” you can’t help it, your fingers trace the curve of his jaw to the back of his ear, “are you seeing if I’m defective?” And you find it.
“No, he—“ you stop yourself, “you had gotten a small cut right behind your ear, it was deep enough that it would have left a scar behind,” and he had gotten a small cut from one of the soldiers who had grabbed them, bucking him with his sword, before you wrenched him out of there. The two of you spent the rest of the night eating food and sneaking around guards. And then finally climbing up on a rooftop to watch the fireworks.
“How did you—“
“One of my father’s advisers found me later that night, in exchange for never sneaking out again without telling him, he said he would keep tabs on you,”
You have no words, but one left — “why?”
“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe it was because I’ve been surrounded by nothing but my family’s yes-men, and you were the one person who treated me like a person, maybe it was the fact that day was the only day I actually had fun,” and he glances at you, “or maybe it was because I was drawn to you,”
And you snort a little, “Do you believe in that fates nonsense they fed all of us as kids?”
“I think fate is a very real thing, and I think it’s up to us to seize it,” he releases you, holding your hand before bending to press the barest brush of his lips against the back of your hand, “so, will you seize it or continue to evade your fate?”
“We’ll never be able to evade the press if you do this,” you whisper, as he presses you against a wall of a secluded pillar of whatever place they had chosen to have this awards show, “and our teams will definitely chew us out if we don’t make an—ah,” you gasp, as his teeth nip at your neck, “Satoru, don’t leave a mark,”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he licks his lips, as he leans up, his normally messy white locks combed and parted to the side, his lips kiss bitten red from the liplock he had you in for the last ten minutes, and his white suit slightly ruffled and pressed against you, “you taste so sweet,” his thumb runs down your puffy lips, “and the desserts tonight sucked,”
You chuckle, your fingers toying with the hair resting against his undercut, “Think you would have been pleased with receiving the award for best actor, is that not enough Mr. Gojo?”
“The only thing that pleases me is my gorgeous wife’s singing and,” his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, and you could taste the fruity mocktail he had earlier on his lips, “and her moans when she’s under me,” his hand slides under your dress, dragging over your pantyhose clad thighs, “do you think anyone would notice if you came back without these?”
“Yes, I do,” you gasp as he tugs at the delicate fabric, “Toru, we shouldn’t—” but your pleas are half-hearted, as his lips drift to press butterfly kisses up your jaw, “you deserve me insane,”
“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s why you love me,” and you hum, your noses brushing before you meet lips again, “I love you so much,”
Your fingers cup his cheek, as he leaned into your touch, “I love you too — don’t you want to enjoy all the accolades, the interviews, the congratulations? You won such a big award, Toru, I want you to celebrate,”
“I am celebrating,” he grins, tilting his head, “I’m surprised at you, princess — and you’re the smart one between the two of us,” he teases, as he turns his head to kiss your palm, “in an entire ballroom full of people in there and all the places in the world, there’s no one place I rather be with than here with you.”
“How did I end up stuck with you?” you grumbled, your armor weighing on you heavier than other days, as you stood in front of your prince — the little sun of this kingdom and the future king, the man you were sworn to protect for the rest of your earthly days, and your best friend, for better for worse, “if the fates have written it, I must have done something horrid in a past life,”
“Do you really believe in that garbage?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, as he places his sword down from practice, waiving off his training partner, as he wipes off his sweat with a towel offered by a maid, “You know that stuff they fed to us so we wouldn’t throw tantrums during classes — so we didn’t turn into slugs for our next life,”
“Why turn into one when you are one already?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes, as he runs his hand through his hair.
“Has a slug ever looked this good before?” and you roll your eyes.
“Think your ego is going to be so large by the time you become king, your crown won’t sit atop your head correctly,” you sigh, rising to your feet, “now we must get you cleaned and dressed, you have a meeting with the—”
“I actually cleared my schedule for the rest of the day,” and you blink, frowning.
“His Majesty will not—”
“His Majesty will be fine — old man hasn’t kicked the bucket over the last fifty things I’ve done — I doubt this will be more than a ten minute lecture on decorum, fifteen if I decide to poke the bear,” he throws you a grin, as he pulls on a fresh shirt, “come, I have something to show you,”
“Show me?” you repeat, before his hand finds yours — his hands are smooth despite the constant swordplay and practice he put in — he supposed he owed that to the royal staff, tending to his looks as much as they did his health. The same could not be said about yours — riddled with cuts and calluses alike. Your cheeks burned as your unkempt hand held his — “your highness, this is—”
“‘Your Highness?’” he repeats, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder, “when have you ever called me that?”
The appearance of holding your hand as he pulled you down several hallways through the palace was beginning to attract the attention of several gawking onlookers. Your cheeks burn — and you’re not sure if it's from the stares, his words, or the fact he was still holding your hand as you both arrive outside his chambers. But you can’t stop him — but you never could stop him when it came to this, could you? It reminded you of the times he dragged you through the gardens, wanting to show you the rabbits’ hidey hole he had found in the corner of the royal gardens.
“Well I was made an official royal guard and appointed as your personal guard yesterday so I thought a little professionalism—” he unlocks his door, turning to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips.
“There’s no need for decorum between us, now is there?” his fingers find a stray strand of your hair, and presses his lips to it, as he opens his door. You glance inside to find a lovely decorated cake and a present wrapped perfectly on the table, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,”
“What—but—” and your mind realizes the date, “how did you—”
“You think I’d ever forget your birthday?” he tilts his head, as your eyes slide to him, “it’s the day we met,”
It was — the day you were brought from your home with your father who had been the king’s royal guard for many years, you were brought to be the prince’s — but you didn’t know you would find more than that in him.
“I didn’t know you did this for your personal staff,” you teased, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, “I certainly can’t imagine what they would think of you inviting a woman to your room for it,”
“Well, you are my personal guard, you’re here to personally guard me against anything, right?” and this was the nature of your relationship wasn’t it? Teasing and goading — toeing that line of proprietary before one of you eased off.
“It seems like I need to guard you only against yourself, your highness,”
“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes sliding to you, as he says your name with a softness that you wished he wouldn’t, “you had no issue calling me that before,”
“We were only friends then, I’m your guard now—“
“Do you kiss all your friends?” And your cheeks flare, as your gaze refuses to meet his.
“That was—a mistake,” you whisper the last two words, “we can’t do this—“
“Why not?” You turn away, your eyes sliding to the cake, a frown pulling on your lips.
“Because you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to you,” and his fingers find your shoulder gently, giving you leave to pull away — but you can’t, you couldn’t.
“My only duty I desire is the one to you—I love my people, but I can’t be the king they deserve if you’re not the one beside me,” your gaze still cast downward, “I will cast away any responsibility, if I could have a chance with you, sweetheart—“
“The king has discussed your engagement with me,” you murmur, “he told me he plans to have you engaged with a princess from a neighboring—“ And his arm is wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer — your gaze lost in the endless blue skies of his eyes, “we can’t—“
“I’ll find a way,” and you scoff.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mutter, and his warm palm slides against your cheek.
“This isn’t me promising to find a unicorn when we were five, Princess,” and you chuckle at the thought of his child self trudging into the woods with carrots in hand and what he thought was fairy dust (it was ladies’ finishing powder), “I swear that we’ll be together,” and he reaches into his pocket, and holds a small box, opening it to reveal a beautiful infinity pendant, “and this is my promise,”
You bite your lip, staring at the silver glinting in the sunlight trickling in from the windows, “Satoru—“
“Finally giving in?” And you sigh.
“How can you be sure we’ll be together?” He chuckles, as he gently turns you, making you face the mirror in his room as he places the necklace delicately around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck before he clasps it. His arms slowly slide around your middle as he meets your gaze in your reflection, lips curling.
His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Because I know I’d choose you, again and again.”
“Why did they choose him as my model again?” You groaned as you looked at the list, tossing it back on your desk, “he’s so impossible to work with—“
“The shoots are finished quick—“ your boss replies gruffly, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, “and he said he’d only shoot with you. Said he likes your work and you’re the only one who can ‘capture the real him,’ some crap like that,” he shrugs.
“Yaga, I can’t keep dealing with this man, can’t he shoot with anyone else?”
He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Look, the magazine we’re working with chose him as the model, and he said he would only do the shoot if you did it,”
You sigh, leaning on your palm, elbow against your desk. “you’re not giving me a choice are you?”
And no, he wasn’t.
Because now you were at the studio for the sight of the shoot, getting everything ready that you could before your model arrived. You made sure his preferred makeup artist and hairstylist were available, you picked out his favorite snacks, got his preferred lighting (to be adjusted when he was on set), and had your cameras adjusted for his light sensitivity.
All of which reduced the amount of time you had to spend with this man — but not even the most divine snacks would stop him from running his mouth.
“Sweetheart,” you turned to see him, “miss me?”
“When pigs fly, maybe,” but your words don’t faze him, a mock pout on his lips, “why do you request me to do your shoots, Gojo?”
“Because it’s the only way you’ll see me,” and you sigh, as you continue to adjust your camera again, “you still haven’t given me a chance—“
“I gave you one chance, wasn’t that enough?” Before you turn to him, “look, I’m here because I have to be. I want to shoot — get in and get out and not have to—“
“One chance to talk to you — please, even if you don’t believe me or forgive me—“
“Fine,” you shake your head, frustrated, “go finish the shoot and we can talk for five minutes after,” and maybe he would stop forcing you into this situation.
Satoru Gojo was the top wanted model by all the agencies — agencies were looking to snipe him and others were looking to have exclusive deals with him — whether it was photography businesses or brands.
You couldn’t blame them, as you adjusted your lights and took a few test shots — he was gorgeous, even by model standards. From his skin to his body to his attitude, it was effortless for him. Even a bad angle or bad lighting did very little to detract from his flawless look.
The chiseled cut of his jaw put statues to shame, his eyes shone brighter than the shiniest gemstones, his charm the envy of the love goddess herself, and his smile was enough to change hearts and minds alike.
The shoots always look little time — the part that took the most time was choosing the best shots — you’d love to take one bad picture of him. Even for yourself — but that had proved impossible. Even deprived of sleep in the hours of the early morning, he was perfect.
Perfect — except for his loyalty, you supposed.
How had it gone so wrong so fast? And how did you let yourself become so carried away that you thought you were different from the others he bedded?
And the shoot was over in a moment, and just like he said, Satoru was by your side as you begin to break down the equipment, as the other staff filed out, “can we talk now?”
“If you have to,” you would give him an ear, but it didn’t mean you’d give him anything else.
“I never cheated on you—“
“Bullshit,” you reply, as you pick up the tripod you set up, “I guess you didn’t the full five minutes,”
“No, I didn’t—what you saw—“
“I saw you kissing another girl all over social media—“
“You saw me with Suguru,” he sighs, “and we weren’t kissing — we were hugging. You thought it was kissing from the angle of the picture, and before I could explain, you had blocked me on everything,”
You pause, “Suguru?” You repeat, as you pull out your phone and pull up the picture — black hair, hair half up, and they could have been hugging. And Satoru pulls out his own phone and shows you a selfie he took that same day, the meta data matching, “oh, oh fuck,”
“Was that an apology? Not familiar with those coming out of your mouth so—“
“Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I saw the pictures and I heard the rumors and I assumed the worst of you,” you run your fingers through your hair, “even though I knew you better than that,”
“You did, but I understand why you thought that,” he shrugged, “we had only been seeing each other for a month, but it meant something to me,” his voice softens.
“To me too,” you shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I don’t know how to make it up to you,”
“I know,” he smiles, “have dinner with me,”
You blink. “why?”
“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone eats dinner, it’s a—“
“Satoru,” you sigh, “I didn’t believe you, I didn’t trust you, how can you forgive me like that? How could you want to be with someone like that?”
“Well, you made a mistake — you forgave me for the other mistakes I made during our time together, and if I hadn’t let my team convince me that my fake reputation as a playboy would help sell my image — maybe we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with,” his fingers brush against yours, “besides, I want to believe in second chances — because I’d want to believe you’d give me one too,”
Your fingers intertwine with his, “Even when I don’t deserve it?”
And he lifts your hand to his lips, blue eyes glinting like an ocean dabbled in sunlight, “All the more for you make up for, right?”
This wasn’t right. No. No.
“Satoru, Toru, please,” your fingers cupped his face, your fingers smeared with his blood as Maki pulled gou away, “no, no!” You don’t remember screaming, but you know you did because your throat was raw, your tears streaming down your face as your hands shook, staring at the dried blood on your fingers.
He promised you he would win. He promised you he would come back. He promised you a life, a family, a home — something beyond jujutsu.
And now you were left with nothing but that.
“I’ll come back,” he had murmured in your ear the night before, his fingers tracing your cheek, “there’s no way I won’t. Have you ever seen me lose?”
You give a small chuckle, “You just got trapped in a box for almost twenty days?” And he pouts, as he tilts your head up, fingers sliding against your cheek.
“It was a one time fluke, sweetheart,” and his lips grazing your lips, “and I’m here now aren’t I?” you hum, “and I’ll always be there,”
“In every life?” He smiles.
“In every one.”
In every one — except this one.
“One would think you’re helpless, if you pout like that,” you teased, as you crawl into bed beside him, a smile on your lips, as he tugs you steadfast into his arms, “it’s only been a few minutes,”
“It felt like a lifetime,” he presses a kiss to your head, “Is he asleep?” And you nod, a sigh on your lips as you settle into bed.
“After about twenty minutes of arguing, he passed out while I was telling him a story. He’s still not accustomed to this mansion,” neither were you — you had spent a few nights lying awake after jerking from the clutches of sleep — the paranoia still rampant in your mind. But those thoughts were a little farther now as you lie against his chest, heart thrumming under your body — the very heart you were meant to stop, and a chuckle escapes your lips.
“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and you shake your head.
“Why did you help me?” You draw circles on his chest, “you had every reason not to,” your fingers traced a line across his neck, “I even held a knife to your neck,”
“And that was very attractive,” and you roll your eyes, “what? I like a woman who takes charge,”
“Oh I know,” you chuckle, your lips pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “but I still don’t understand — you had every reason to distrust me, we barely knew each other, and yet—“
“You were still the girl I fell in love with that night,” he murmurs, “I just knew you were something special and when I saw what you were doing — trying to uproot corruption, I knew I was right. And I knew I had to make you my duchess,”
“Well I’m not your wife yet,” you tease, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s got you pinned under him, “Toru—“
“Now, I told you I was going to seize my fate when I saw it,” and he kisses you, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your body, his touch filling you with warmth in return, “and I see it right in front of me,”
“And what does it look like?” you smile against his lips, as he leans down to kiss you again.
“Bright.”
“Is it just me or do these paparazzi lights get brighter and brighter each time?” you rub your eyes as the two of you slide into your car for the night, the driver setting off towards your home.
“I don’t know, I was too busy being blinded by my gorgeous wife,” and Satoru’s hands are all but under your dress, sliding up and down your sides, before one cups your cheek, “did i mention how incredible you look, sweetheart?”
You hum, “about a million times,” your fingers slide against his shoulders until he’s practically lying on top of you against these leather seats.
“That’s a million times too little — you look incredible, sweetheart. This dress was made for you,” and his lips taste as sweet as his words, your fingers sliding into his snowy locks while his slide against your bare thighs, “and I can’t wait to take it off when we get home,”
“You’re going to take it off now if your hands slide any further up,” he draws a shiver from you as his hands do just that, daring further up your thighs, “Toru—“
“Don’t worry, the partition is up and it’s just you and me, sweetheart,” and he’s sinking to his knees on the floor, as his hands slide up your dress, “just keep your voice down, don’t want anyone hearing my wife, do we?” And his lips are grazing your inner thigh, his smirk against your skin, “good thing I relieved you of those pantyhose, huh?”
“Toru,” you whined, as his fingers parted your thighs, and he could see your all too soaked panties, a damp patch and the fabric nearly translucent while it clung to your clit, “please—“
“So needy — and now that mouth of yours is being as honest as this one,” his lithe fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties to expose your cunt, “all this f’me? Been like this since our make out earlier? Surprised I didn’t see your cum drip down your legs,”
And his words make you squirm, “Satoru, I swear to god—“ and his lips kiss your clit, as two fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your pre on his fingertips.
“You don’t have to call me god, Princess — just Satoru is fine,” he murmurs as his lips close around your clit, as his fingers work inside your walls, a delicious stretch that draws a pretty gasp from your lips, your head falling back against the leather headrest.
The sounds of the squelch of your cunt and the slurping of his lips against your clit rang in your ears — your fingernails digging into the seat as your other hand clamped over your lips.
“That’s it, just like that, Princess,” his tongue darts out to drag circles around your clit, while his fingers find the spot that makes you see stars.
“I’m—“ you manage, before you’re cumming around his fingers and lips, your toes curling as you do, head back against the headrest. Your eyes find him to see him looking all too perfect even ruffled, as his lips were glossy with your release, tongue darting out to clean it, before he licked his fingers one by one.
“And you were worried about the paparazzi noticing your missing pantyhose,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, a smirk against your mouth, “let’s hope no one saw that,”
And there’s a sharp rap on the window, “Sir and madam? We’ve arrived,” and his lips quirk, as he adjusts your clothes, cleaning your smudged lipstick with his thumb, as you reach up to wipe his lips where the lipstick had gone.
“Shall we celebrate my win properly?” He opens the door and slides out of the car, holding out his hand for yours.
“As we always do?” And your fingers find his, as he presses his lips to the back of your palm.
“Always, Princess.”
“Are you ready yet, Princess?” Your Prince’s arms slid around your waist, his lips already at your neck, as his ocean blues met your gaze in the mirror, “how lucky is our kingdom to have such a lovely future queen? And how much luckier am I to have her as my wife?”
“We do not know if the people will approve of me still, Toru,” you murmur, eyes shying away from his, your fingers finding the infinity around your neck, “you promised me forever, but will they grant it to us?”
“Do you have such little faith, sweetheart, in your future husband?” His fingers find your chin, tilting it upwards to meet your gaze, “I’ve already done the impossible — I charmed you over the last two decades haven’t I?”
“More like wore me down,” and he pinches your cheek, before he presses a kiss to the affronted skin, “re-defined the long game,” and he kisses your nose, “and stole my heart and soul while I wasn’t looking,”
“I never steal,” he smiles that same smile that was emblazoned in your memory all those years ago, when he emerged from the woods with not a unicorn, but a baby fawn he had frightened from very same thicket, “I only take what was given to me,” he smiles, “and you willingly handed over your heart the moment you let me into your life,”
“What was I thinking?” you murmur, cupping his cheek, “now I’ll have to deal with the politics of a kingdom for the rest of my days,”
His lips curl widely, as his lips find yours, a heat that simmers into passion and then into simple love, “I promise, in exchange, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you the happiest you’ve ever been,”
“The happiest, huh?” you murmur, foreheads pressed together, “that’s a tall order, so you think you can do it?”
“I know I can,” he smiles, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, “because I’ll never trying to make you happy, Princess.”
“You’re far too happy with this arrangement,” you say through the door, arms crossed as you pressed your back against it, “I don’t want to come out,”
“You agreed to this, c’mon sweetheart, you’ve taken countless pictures of me—“
“You’re a model — it’s literally your job,” you glare at him through the door, “I’m behind the camera — not in front of it,”
“But you’re just as beautiful in front of it as you are behind it,” and you can hear his pout through the door, “if you really don’t want to, sweetheart, I won’t make you—“
And the door opens, your lips curled in a pout as you emerge in a cerulean gown — the same color as his eyes, the very same that widened upon seeing you.
“Was this necessary?” you squirm in place, as he bites his lip, eyes raking over you, “Toru—“
And he’s in front of you in an instant, his arms winding aaaaaaaaround your waist, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I’ll mess up your makeup,” your breath catches, so his finger brushes against your lips and presses it to his own lips, a little of your lipstick sticking to his lips.
“Toru,” and his lips quirk at the nickname, “why do you want to take pictures of me?”
“Because, I want pictures of you that are just for me,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “because I’ll never have this moment with you again, but I’ll have these pictures with you,”
“And when do I get pictures that are of you and just for me?” And he presses a kiss to your head.
“Anytime you want,” he murmurs, “we have all the time in the world, don’t we?”
Time — that was the one thing Satoru Gojo always lacked. It felt as if his whole life was an hourglass, waiting for the sand to run out — and the one time it came close, blood seeping like sand through his neck, he was able to turn it on its head, until time was on his side agai.
He wasn’t sure if time was on his side now.
He could only see the winter sky above — flecks of white he could think were snow but never be sure if that was his vision going blurry. He couldn’t feel anything — but he heard the all too distant squelch of his blood against the ground, the sounds of footsteps, the feeling of his body being lifted, a smile still on his face.
He was going home — the one person who always made his world right side up — the only person who could catch the sand that slipped between his fingers and hold it between warm palms. He forced his body to keep running — to keep going, the flow of cursed energy may have come from the stomach and his brain may be able to power his reversed curse technique — but that didn’t compare to his will to make it home — make it to you.
“Toru! Satoru!” he couldn’t will his eyes to open, only managing the barest flutter of his eyelids, “it’s okay, Shoko’s got you, I got you,” you murmur, a soft brush that must but your lips.
Love was always the most twisted curse of them all — and he knew it had always been a curse to love him. Anyone drawn into his orbit seemed only doomed to fall around him — whether it was by their choice, his choice, or fate’s choice.
Fate. That was a word he never had put a lot of stock into. Suguru always said there was a certain order to things — sorcerers were made to defend humans, and that was our duty. He had replied that fate was an excuse for people too afraid to challenge the status quo.
Maybe Suguru took that too seriously.
When Suguru defected — Satoru knew something had to change — he couldn’t let others go even when they had that blue spring. The time that he had stayed frozen in — even as everyone else left, he still lived in those moments, and so he barely lived in the present at all.
Not until you had shattered his self made prison.
And it wasn’t without difficulty.
He told you so many times that it was dangerous to love him, it was foolish to love a person like him with a constant target on their back because inevitably the target would shift to you. And he didn’t want to live in a world without you — but he could choose to, as long as you were the one who would live.
But you were steadfast in your love, roots cracking through concrete until he was covered in your ivy, entangled so deep that there was no escape—because one look from you had stolen his reservations out from under him. Because loving you was as simple as breathing — it just was.
“I would want you to curse me — in every life.”
That’s what he told you the night before this battle — because he knew if he didn’t make it in this life, maybe he could be with you in the rest of them. But how many days would it take until you couldn’t remember the sound of his laugh, the smile on his lips, the way his face looked — because he always feared the same about outliving you. He would only want to outlive you, if only because he didn’t want you to have to bear the pain of outliving him.
Love was twisted, he thought — as your lips brushed his, he could hear you whisper sweet nothings, falling on deaf ears, but heard all the same — once one found it, they cannot live without it — until they have to.
His eyes flutter open, and he sees the blurry image of your face, scarlet smeared on your face, as his hand shakily lifted to your cheek, “I love you, sweetheart,” he manages barely a whisper, “I’ll see you again, I promise.”
Maybe he did curse you in the end — because your souls were bound together in existence — to fall into each other’s orbit and live together happily in every lifetime—
Your fingers gently shut his eyes closed, as tears streamed from your own — except in this one.
“Is it really a curse to meet you again?” you had murmured that early morning, as dawn peaked over Tokyo, and his lips brushed against yours, “sounds like a blessing,”
“You know that blessings often wear disguises — and words like that always carry a price—” but his lips curl, “but if the price is to meet you and fall in love again and again, I suppose I could pay it.”
“‘Suppose?’” you repeat, and he laughs at your immediate pout.
He kisses away your pout, as you slowly melt into his kiss, “Y’know I’d pay any price to fall in love with you again, sweetheart”
You smile, “Just stay with me in this one, that would be enough.”
Did other lives matter when this was the only one he had fallen for you in this life? He wanted to stay with you here — in this moment, in this time — he wanted you in every life — not just all the others.
And he vowed that he would— his fingers twitched—
He would love you in this life too.
✧ a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i had a lot of fun writing it. it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hey, i enjoyed it. although i questioned my writing ability a lot while writing it lmao
✧ taglist: @gojolova4eva, @xxemmarldxx, @gojolvrr34, @lilbrubby, @jaixxxsc, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @elaemae, @gojonegs, @captain-shittykawa, @sillyrabbitreads, @akumicchi, @satorustorm, @equikaz, @imaginativeghorl, , @dhoranbolt, @strawmariee, @catsgomurp, @that-goth-bisexual, @fushitoru, @dazailover1900
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo fanfiction#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk fanfiction#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x you#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru fanfiction#gojo satoru x reader
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・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖝𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖑 ♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡ 18+!
♡ “𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈.” – 𝒥𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒿𝒶 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓂 ♡
All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡
I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.
ᴍᴅɴɪ!!!
ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴀᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!
~ XOXO 💋🎀
౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა
[Ace of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, Five of Cups]
You are a golden opportunity pile 1. People would feel lucky to have you, and they have fantasies that they know for sure you can fulfill. There is a steadiness about you, an abundance of confidence and ease that makes your presence big and undeniable. The closest thing I can liken this energy to is someone in a workplace setting being the number one go to, someone who is fast, reliable, and always gets the job done well and beyond. They are seen as a gem to the people they work with and are a lucky treasure, a constant that never disappoints. This makes your sexual appeal grand and constant. You can never fall below expectations, and you are seen as rare to find and appealing to keep. Always efficient and unshakable. You appear to be almost fearless. Nothing seems to faze you, and you give off the energy of liking challenges. You're very determined and passionate, but you also are a bit of a wildcard. I think this pile can be a bit all over the place, but not so much that you come off as neurotic. You just appear daring. Experimental. You're firm in your wants and needs and are willing to meet your partners halfway, but I also think you're unafraid in showing your distaste. You're vocal, but you won't let anyone cross your boundaries. I feel like you have such a strong and unwavering front that people become more curious about you and want to disassemble you to expose who you are underneath. Not many people carry themselves as well as you do, and that only makes others more and more inquisitive of you. They feel you may hide behind a shell, and want to explore the parts of you others can't see, even if they involve tears, and sadness, and pain, and anger, people want to see that come out because it's raw and authentic, and makes you more relatable, more vulnerable, and more sexy.
⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧
౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა
[Page of Swords, The Tower (rx), Death (rx)]
Hm. It took me a minute to decipher this energy, but now I get it. Pile 2, your sex appeal stems from some darkness that's within you, a well of emotions and mental sharpness that create a type of steeliness about you, an appeal for the unknown and possibly dangerous. On the outside, you could have a sort of innocent feel about you. Some of you may actually be innocent but are in denial of this, still growing and maturing into this energy, but for others, you are actually quite experienced and have explored all types of facets of yourself and other people. You know your emotions, triggers, and know how to look deep within your shadows and make use of them (in a healthy way, of course). You want to teach other people how to do these things too. Ya'll are actually quite jaded, beautifully so. A dark manic type. Kind of witchy. Ya'll likely lean towards a pain and pleasure type of dynamic, a type of satisfaction derived from things nonphysical and uncommon. People feel they have to sacrifice something of themselves to get you. I'm getting a fascination with the body, a want, and need to explore other peoples limits, take them for your own, and consume them. People literally feel like you could chew them up and spit them out with ease. Some here may like BDSM, definitely getting knife-play here, dominance and subjugation, but I'm getting a myriad of things here. Lots of kinks. Many unexplainable (some of you are still exploring). People know that you could test their limits and expose them to things they would otherwise never discover. It's super sexy. Moth to a flame kind of thing. Your allure is strong and almost forbidden. I'm thinking people who are taken would love to have you. You are an experience, a once in a lifetime type of opportunity. Maybe long-term relationships don't come easy to you because people fear they will get burned by you, that either you will be too much for them, or you will get bored of them. There's a mix of reactions from others; some think they can corrupt you, others think you will be the one to corrupt them. There's a mixture of ya'll in this reading that can go either way. You're very decadent pile 2.
⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧
౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა
[The Empress, The Chariot, The Hierophant]
Pile 3, you barely have to try. Your sex appeal is very feminine and relaxed. Ya'll are the epitome of chill and unbothered. I think people just naturally gravitate towards you. You're so far off from everyone else, I'm seeing you have your own orbit. People really don't know where they stand with you because your appearance is hard to change, as you greet people with the same indifference. They can't tell if you like them. People feel you are guarded, and it's hard to have your attention. It gets polarizing reactions of, "I want them even more" to, "Why bother?" Your feminine energy has a strong reaction with masculine energy. Men may especially be competitive over you. You just naturally have what men find desirable. You raise peoples hackles without meaning to. To some, you come off as a prize, someone to impress and win over. If you find men are especially aggressive with their tactics of flirtation, it's because they feel they are trying to fight you to get a piece of you. It may seem that sometimes you find yourself the most sensible person in the room, and everyone else is acting ridiculous. That's because you bring out the primal/dumb side of people (basically their lizard brains). You grasp the attention of the room without noticing or caring, and everyone is busy trying to calculate a game plan to come towards you, while you are just your chill self, avoiding anyone that you don't know (there has to be a bunch of Taurus's here, lol). Sometimes, you're just a prize too hard to get, and talking to you is as hard as trying to reach a princess in a tower. Peoples confidence waivers with you because you're so unpredictable, too. You're someone in particular that has something special going on within them that people are curious to know. They also know they can't come to you with shallow offers. You seem the type to want commitment and more than what people are willing to give off the bat. People have to give their best, or chance being like the rest of the crowd. If you don't get as many offers as you would like, it's just because you're intimidating. Your appeal is kind of unexplainable, really, but powerful.
⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧
౿૮꒰ྀི pile 4 ๑◞꒱ა
[The Tower, Judgment, Queen of Swords]
Hmm, your sexual appeal is powerful, too. People here are especially intelligent, quick-witted, and have a cold, untouchable type of look. I think there's some great, show-stopping beauties in this pile, as I'm getting looks that could cut glass. Ya'll however have what they say, a resting bitch face, and while that sounds disenchanting, it's the opposite in your case. That untouchable quality is exactly why people pursue you. You seem like the type that can destroy anyone that crosses you, and that excites certain people. You give off the impression of pure confidence and grace. You have natural elegance is and public appearences may be important to you, so you try to be on your best behavior whenever you're out in the presence of others. Youre booksmart but also streetsmart because you can sense BS 15 miles from you. People think you have a lot of sexual experience, and believe you can show them a plethora of erotic knowledge. You likely attract younger people. They fantasize about you being their teacher and pushing them down a rabbit hole of sexual discovery. People's fantasies of you are so wide ranging because you give them little to go off of. They're stuck playing the guessing game while you keep cool as a cucumber calculating your next moves. You exemplify leadership and attract people that are wanting to be given direction, in and out of the bedroom. Some suitors will have a masochistic desire. Others will have a need to dominate you. A few will try to level with you, but there's something about you that makes people pick a side. You have intense energy. It's like you trigger people's flight or fight response, which seems strange, but just proves you bringing about peoples primal urges. Some of you have the spirit of a dominatrix, and others just naturally fall into a position of control. Your other half of suitors that have just as much as a dominant trait as you do want to see your perfect, pretty facade demolished. They want to strip you of everything that makes you, you, and have you kneel for only them. There's a quote that I'm being reminded of with this pile, and it's about how the pursuit of sex, is actually the pursuit of power. I would say this is true in your case. Also, lot of your suitors see that you have a judgemental eye and feel they can not disappoint you. No one can come to you acting a fool or with foolish proposals. I think you can be quick to cut someone down, and that's a turn on for some. You also have a way with word's and can seduce with your voice. You know exactly what to say to have someone wrapped around your finger. You've mastered the art of persuasion and making appearances. I think you carry yourself with grace and civility. You have an old soul, a reminder of what societies' ideals used to be in older times, but also a reminder of the hidden and heavy erotiscm that came with that time, too. It's very classy, naughty, and elegant all in one.
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ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡
ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ
© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡
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✨️ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️
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