Hannibal request!! Hannibal and the reader are going to an event (maybe the opera or dinner but definitely something fancy). the reader decided to wear a short dress with no panties and is teasing Hannibal all night and being bratty- then I imagine this going one of two ways, either Hannibal takes them home to punish them or shoves them in a coat closet or something to fuck them and is degrading the reader about being a slut and making everyone hear her moans.):):) okay that’s the requests if you write it thank youu💓💓
EEEEEEE YESSSSS (i hope you don’t mind i snuck a lil bit of Mr. Graham in there 🤭 and also yes they are married hee hee AND also yes i got carried away)
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As soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, Hannibal knew he was in for a long night.
He was taking you out to see Turandot, one of your favorite operas. It was the perfect excuse for both of you to dress up even more than usual, and your gown was one he hadn’t seen you wear before.
Not only did it have a plunging neckline, but a prominent slit on one side too, showing just a little too much of your thigh.
It was a pleasant surprise, sure, but it did worry him some. Especially considering he’d also invited Will to join you two for the show.
“Playing games tonight, are we?” He asked, adjusting the cuff of his shirt.
“Whatever could you mean?” You tilted your head in an attempt to seem innocently confused. “I just thought you’d appreciate having some arm candy this evening.”
You busied yourself by touching up your lipstick in front of the mirror as he looked you over. The fabric clung to you in a way that didn’t leave much to the imagination — all those curves and soft angles he’d memorized over time.
Hannibal didn’t mind showing you off, but he still had a possessive streak he could not deny. He knew well that you loved taking advantage of that by being rebellious, always eager to test just how far you could push him.
He inhaled deeply, immediately scenting that perfume you knew he liked. He also detected a sharp note of adrenaline, which told him you were more thrilled than you let on. He huffed in amusement, shaking his head.
He supposed he could leave it be for the time being, but he would have to be cautious. At the very least, the balcony at the opera house would be dark, should you decide to misbehave.
When you two met up with Will in the reception area, Hannibal did not miss the way his eyes wandered. Or how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“My, aren’t you a striking pair,” Will said, earning a smile from you. “I feel woefully underdressed now.”
You hummed, returning the favor of drinking him in. "That's never a problem in my eyes."
"I'm sure your husband agrees with that."
Hannibal merely smiled politely, but his jaw was clenched. More eyes strayed in your direction as the two men led you up the stairs and toward your balcony. You basked in the attention, especially because it made Hannibal keep his hand on the small of your back.
Will slid onto his seat first, and before you could even try, Hannibal scurried in after him. He offered his hand to help you sit, pointedly keeping eye contact with you. You offered him your most charming grin, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly.
The lights soon dimmed, and the orchestral notes of the first act subsequently filled the cavernous room. The rising voices of the choir reverberated all the way to your bones, and you let them carry you away for a moment, closing your eyes.
Hannibal eyed the column of your throat as your head slightly tipped back, enraptured by the performance. His gaze dipper lower, seeing that your fingers were splayed over your sternum to feel the thrum beneath.
As the first song came to an end, you clapped uproariously along with the rest of the crowd. For a while after, you simply watched, forgetting all the mischief you had planned. Or so it seemed, at least.
Then, you re-crossed your legs, making a point of leaning just a little closer to him, and the slit of your gown widened. Hannibal couldn't help himself, his fingers ghosting past your knee and trailing upwards. When he couldn't feel the hem of your panties, he realized you weren't wearing any. That earned you a pinch on the hip, hard enough to bruise.
You pretended to be none the wiser -- despite the fact that your slightly upturned lips gave you away -- folding up your opera glasses.
"Excuse me, I have to go to the powder room," you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing the back of his hand.
Before you could get up, he leaned in close, grasping your forearm.
"Try not to get lost," he said, his breath hot in your ear. "Or else I'll have to come find you."
This time, your smile had a lupine quality. "Is that a promise?"
He did not respond, instead releasing you. You felt his burning gaze on you as you left, your heart frantically racing.
It only took him a couple of minutes to keep his word. You could vaguely hear the last song of the first act as he ushered you toward the coat closet.
There, away from prying eyes, he wasted no time, pinning you against the wall among a sea of fur coats.
“You did always like putting on a show, didn’t you?” he said, making you gasp with a particularly hard thrust.
"I think we can both agree I can captivate a-an audience…”
“Oh, and how I wish they could see you now, rightfully claimed.” He smirked, bringing a hand to your neck. “Go on, let them hear you. Isn’t that what you wanted all along?”
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