#just slightly but… enough. Not quite as respectful not taking me so seriously
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ivystoryweaver · 2 days ago
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It's Everything - Jake Lockley
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Jake + First Date + Haunted Corn Maze
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Fall Fluff Masterlist | Jake Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Word Count: 684 || for @blablabiblejesusmagic and @howellatme
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Jake Lockley's been driving the van for the retirement home you work at for the last few months
He's so mysterious and dashing, always sporting a leather jacket, black dress shoes and trousers, a flat cap
and the most interesting sexy facial hair. He changes it up - sometimes it's a beard or a mustache or realllllly hot stubble
The little old ladies adore him. He helps them in and out of the van with a kiss on the hand.
The men love to tell him long stories. He listens to them like they are the most interesting people in the world
So there are many reasons you became slightly smitten
You accompany the senior adults on many outings like the movies or to a concert. Today is a fall festival.
Jake's only job is to drive the van there and back, but he ends up walking around with everyone, helping out, while the seniors shop for antiques and crafts, eat a snack and listen to live music.
That's when the two of you notice the corn maze. Definitely not an activity for the seniors but Jake nods toward it.
"Do you own boots?"
You lift your booted foot, turning it this way and that.
"You're not scared of a little mud, are you?"
"Jake, we cannot take them in there, you know that."
"Maybe we could come back another time. Like tomorrow night?" His dark eyebrows arch curiously.
You point to yourself, mouthing, "Me?"
"Yeah, you." He winks.
So that's how you end up on a date with Jake, at a corn maze.
"I didn't think people liked to do corn mazes at night."
"They do if it's a haunted corn maze."
At the maze entrance, there's a creepy looking clown selling a variety of glow-in-the-dark items to illuminate the maze and make it more fun.
Jake buys you a glowing headband and multicolored flashlight. You feel like a kid again.
"How do I look?" You twirl around once after fixing your headband in place.
"Glowing."
The two of you enter the maze, brandishing your neon gadgets to ward off anything too spooky.
"No one's gonna jump out and grab me, are they?" You whisper, huddling next to him.
"Not if they wanna keep their arms," he quite seriously assures you, taking the opportunity to pull you close.
After enduring more than enough jump scares, you realize you might actually be lost.
"Please tell me you know the way out of here. I haven't been paying attention," you confess, shining your light this way and that.
Jake has finally released his hold on you as the two of you try one path after another.
For some reason you get the giggles and start laughing every time you hit a dead end.
"If we get stuck in here, I'm going to blind you with this flashlight," you warn, brandishing it like a weapon.
"Good luck with that," he cockily teases, holding up his own flashlight and making a whooshing lightsaber-type sound.
This leads to a quick duel, and you're thrilled to learn that the suave, sexy Jake is actually as big of a nerd as you are, at least in some respects.
"Come on, I think we're close to the entrance," he encourages, boldly taking your hand to lead you along.
"There's no way you know where we are," you tease. "You just want to hold my hand."
"Accurate." He grins. "Well, this anyway." He brings your fingers to his lips and steals a kiss.
You turn another corner and realize you're at the exit.
"Jake, we did it!" You cheer, throwing your arms around him in celebration.
It feels good to hug him. To hold his hand. To be close. To have his undivided attention.
"I thought you were just nice to everyone," you admit as you stroll along near the food trucks. "I didn't think you liked me as much as..."
You trail off, realizing what you just blurted out.
"I knew it." He winks. "It's the mustache, right?"
You breathlessly laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "It's everything."
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Fall Fluff Masterlist || Jake Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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dreamerwriternstargazer · 2 months ago
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So I’m still in my old IGCSE English classroom despite the fact that another teacher’s taken over
The class with students who were just. Kind of a nightmare, I was struggling to get them to work, but we had started to improve towards the end of the year and the beginning of this school year
I felt a bit good about that, like okay they clearly didn’t want to be there and didn’t want to do the work but I finally got through to them a little to get them to do a bit of homework, and to pay attention in class more
Anyway, the first week of the new teacher doing it by herself, it seems she has managed to get them both to submit full essays on time in the classroom
…. And I am left wondering if I’m just. Really incompetent as a teacher.
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sstrwbrryccke · 10 months ago
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— bullying him pt.3 | sub soobin
part 1 | part 2 | part 4
tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, possessive reader, mentions of possessive acts, pet play slightly, dubcon, tons of public humiliation, public sex, bullying, mutual pinning with heavy denial, both are obsessed for each other, unhealthy relationships, reader is pretty sadistic, foot on crotch, exhibitionism, handjob, multiple orgasms, public fondling, fluff at end
tag: @zuzuhasablog
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you tapped an impatient foot on the ground, periodically checking your phone for the time. he was late by 2 minutes now, and you feel your irritation rise as you type snarky texts to him. how was it that you were the one who came early to the pity date? it was seriously ridiculous. shouldn’t he be on time to the date he looked forward to?
yn: where tf are you? loser: im sorry im sorry im so sorry im coming right now yn: im going to pull your hair out when i see you mutt. loser: im sorry please forgive me
if it turned out that he had stood you up, you were seriously going to rain hell on him. he’s going to get shoved into the locker, have his hair roughly grabbed and face thoroughly punched until he’s bloodied and bruised. though perhaps it wouldn't be that much of a punishment compared to your usual bedroom activities with him. he would probably enjoy the process too; as it meant all your attention was on him. you realised after a bit that he really was a desperate. masochistic. mutt. (or maybe he just craves your validation that badly)
just as you were cursing him out in your mind, you see a tall figure in the distance, stumbling and running towards you like the loser he is. you can tell he spots you as well because he quickly turns to the nearest reflective surface to fix his appearance and hair; even popping a mint in his mouth before running up to you. his face was pink, probably from the exercise— his plump lips pressing into an apologetic smile.
“sorry, i’m sorry i’m late.” he was slightly out of breath from running.
“sorry? fucking mutt. do you not respect my time? if you were any later i would’ve stood your ass up.” you shove him by the shoulder and he looks at you like a kicked dog.
he shakes his head profusely at your accusation, desperately trying to get back into your good favours.
“no— no! i’m, i, i’m so sorry. i respect your time, i’m so dumb i know.”
soobin degrades himself as he chews at his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t upset you enough for you to leave him. he had been thinking about this date all night, he could barely even get any sleep. if he messes up now he’ll never forgive himself!
“—you, you look amazing by the way.” he stammers, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater.
“i always look like this.” you deadpan, you didn’t bother to dress up more than you usually do in your school uniform. the most you did was pick out a simple, trendy outfit and brush your hair. bare minimum really.
“yeah you always look- i mean no, not that you don’t look amazing, always, because you do! but you look extra. amazing. compared to, usual…” he awkwardly stammers, making it worse for himself. he decides to just shut up before he embarrasses himself more and you ghost him.
“shut up and start walking, you loser.”
he follows behind you eagerly, glad you still want to hang out with him even after the most embarrassing stumble of his life. though to be honest, he stumbles like this quite a lot, and for some reason, you tolerate it (with only a few snide comments here and there). it was a few quiet seconds of walking, him being too afraid to speak up and you taking sly glances at him.
“why were you late?” you break the air, his head was lowered the entire walk, but he raises his head with your question. he was clearly nervous and sheepish as he averted his gaze.
“i… was picking an outfit.”
you give him a doubtful look and he continues, stuttering. “i— i didn’t know what style you liked. and… and i was trying to comply to your requests.”
ohhh... right, the request. you snicker to yourself. you forgot about that. it was just a small throwaway statement you texted him with no real thought behind it. you wanted to see if he would really follow through or not.
“so? show me.”
he’s nervous again, arms bracing himself as he glances around to check for people. soobin mentally hypes himself up before he pulls down his white turtleneck, showing you the silver collar around his neck. you cover your mouth with an audible pfft, laughing at him and he quickly rolls his turtleneck back up. god he was so foolish, but so obedient and cute.
“and? what about my other request?”
he looks at you wide eyed, stammering. “i, i can’t show you that!”
“did you do it?”
he blushes, hands clutching the edge of your hoodie, looking at you through his bangs. “please not here…”
he begs and you feel your heart soar. fuck, who taught him to act so cute? since when did the nerd know how to play sly? you clutch his crotch to feel for his cock and he silently whimpers.
“you didn’t wear any underwear, good boy.”
he trembles, moving away from your touch to look around, hoping no one caught you two. but his heart was in his throat and he was so excited about the praise you gave. so you liked what he did? he was over the moon. ‘good boy’, he repeated in his head. ‘good boy’.
it was unbearably adorable watching the cogs in his head malfunction, and you had to control yourself from ravaging him right here and there. you take the moment to appreciate his appearance, it was pretty obvious without him having to say so that he put a lot of effort into his outfit. he was wearing stylishly rimmed glasses, a jean jacket with a soft-lined collar, a white turtleneck and black pants. he also managed to get his hair under control, bangs carefully styled and curled.
you always thought he had looks, but this just proved how stunning he could look if he cleaned himself up. everyone else seems to agree too, and you notice the unsubtle glances thrown towards soobin. he stands out, tall and lean with a bunny-like charm. a few girls whispered and giggled, clearly blushing about him. but the attention twisted something dark in your chest, it grasped and dug its filthy nails into your heart. you wanted to lock him in your room and never let him see the light of day ever again. it was an insane thought process, deranged and unhinged. he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a victim. you needed to get a grip.
you clutch his wrist tightly, pulling him along so he walks faster. he winces at the hold but lets you roughly handle him because it’s almost like you two are holding hands. he stares longingly at your hand and his, wishing you would interlock them again like you did yesterday. when you reach the mall, you watch with silent satisfaction as his eyes rake over the stores. there was a subtle pride you felt seeing him enjoy the choice you made.
“we have some time to kill before the restaurant reservation.”
he looks at you, eyes wide and plump lips smiling, you could almost see his irises sparkling. stupidly hopeful eyes. “you made a reservation for me?”
“don’t look at me like that. i just dont want to wait in line.”
he turns his gaze back to the front as you demand, but you can tell he is still giddy, ecstatic that you put even a sliver of effort into the date. it really didn't take much to satisfy him. even the slightest attention had him trembling. the two of you explore the mall, and naturally, soobin’s nerdy ass is drawn to the anime and manga stores. you tail behind him, mindlessly noting each thing he stares or geeks at.
while he was shuffling through the array of mangas, you pick out a shirt with a few familiar characters on it; you faintly remember soobin mentioning this show when you asked about his phone background. you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing to the shirt. “isn’t this your favourite anime?”
“oh! it’s limited edition!” he gasps out, excitement in his tone. taking the shirt from your grasp. his eyes widen in glee as he examines the details. the joy didn't last however, and soon he was putting the shirt back on the racks with a meek smile.
you raise an eyebrow “thought you liked it, nerd?”
he shyly looks at you, “yeah, but it’s too expensive.” he admits, clearly embarrassed. he feels like he was parading around his misfortune, look at this loser! no friends, no lover and now he doesn’t even have money. choi soobin, born on this earth and destined to be a loser.
“i’ll buy it for you.” your words cut through his thoughts. his cute hopeful eyes look up at you, and you interrupt him before he could utter out another word.
“but, you need to try it on for me first.” you continue, a pointed look on your face.
he pause for a second, the request was innocent enough, right?
☆★☆
he should’ve known, nothing was innocent with you. that's why he’s standing in the middle of the changing room with you sitting in the corner. a smirk on your lips.
“strip.”
he hesitates, but slowly shrugs off his jean jacket, he’s done this many times in front of you, and you’ve explored every nook and cranny his body can offer. but he never ceases to feel shy in his own skin, especially when you observe him like a collector would with a jewel. maybe its the setting that’s making him bashful, it feels borderline illegal to do such an act in the mall. even though many people have stripped down naked in the changing room, the way you make him feel is so sinful.
he takes off his turtleneck, exposing his bare chest, the silver collar complimenting his pale skin beautifully. it wasn’t much of a striptease and more of an activity he had to get over and done with, but it was still extremely arousing for you. watching him debase himself in his casual clothing. normally you only saw him in his school uniform (bruised, injured, crying, fucked out of his mind and all other similar variants), but watching him in his own clothing made you feel so much more powerful. like you had control and dominance over him even outside of school.
he awkwardly stands in the middle, half-naked. waiting for your next command. it didn't even take that much to train him! naturally so obedient.
“take off your pants too.”
he whimpers at this, clutching at his pants but not making a move. he begs you with his eyes, take pity on him please! not here!
“i’m… not wearing anything underneath”
“i know, take it off.”
“i, i, no, it’s.” he stammers, sweaty hands staining his pants.
“no? are you saying no to me?”
he shivers at your tone, nervously gulping. this didn't seem good at all. “i—!”his ears ring, reverberating in his chest. his right cheek was stinging red. “wh—“
you slap him again.
“mutts don’t talk.”
he shuts up at this, tears threatening to spill onto his glasses. you pull him forward by the silver collar and he helplessly stumbles as you tug him around. you observe the red slap marks on his cheeks, intertwined with his blush.
“you’ve been disrespectful since the beginning of the date. first you show up late and now you refuse to do something so simple? are you trying to make me mad choi soobin?”
he shakes his head desperately, a tear slipping down. he must be the lowest scum of the earth, because the rougher you treat him, the tighter his pants get. he isn’t a masochist he swears, but your attention (no matter good or bad) on him feels so good. he was so touch and attention starved, desperate for any kind of recognition from you.
“i’ll only repeat myself once, strip.”
he stumbles up, shaky hands quickly peeling his pants off his legs. his already hard cock embarrassingly erect and dripping the moment it’s exposed.
“look at that.” you coo, slapping his dick, making precum drip to the floor as he cries. “pretending to be so shy and innocent while you’re sporting a rock hard boner.”
he snivels pathetically, shaking his head and making his hair tousle around. the silver collar glints like a gem in the light. you chuckle cruelly. “okay, put your limited edition shirt on now.”
he bites back a whimper, he wanted you to touch him so bad. but he obediently slips on the shirt, it feels so dull against his skin, barely covering his cock. soobin rubs his thighs together, now more interested in you rather than the shirt. he wanted you to adore and spoil him, hell, spank him and hurt him too— just anything!
as if you read his mind, your hand reaches out, before you could even touch him, he starts trembling. you pull back with an amused smile and he immediately begins to cry and beg.
“no— no please touch me please touch me i’m sorry, i, i wanna, i wanna be good for you please!”
“bunny can’t even keep quiet?” you tease, putting your hands behind your back and he whines. the nickname thumping in his heart.
he starts again, though this time he tries to control his voice, suddenly aware that you two were still in public— only hidden away by a thin curtain. his bottom lip quivers as he moves closer to you, fingers meekly reaching out to grasp your hoodie. he leans his head on your chest and a small weak whisper escapes his pink lips.
“you already own me… so please just touch me…”
a shiver runs down your spine, holy shit this was dangerous. playing sly at first and now coy? he had an effect on you that you weren’t sure you liked. “i get it already so shut up and come here.” you lowly groan, pulling his body flush against yours. he tremors out a whine as you roughly grab his cock. he couldn’t complain though, because your warm hands were embracing him and touching him exactly where he wants. he melts in your hold, face comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as you played with his cock. his groans and whines die down in your shoulder, and the way you thumbed his slit was almost domestic.
fuck what was this pathetic man doing to you? here you are in the changing rooms, letting this loser hug and sniffle into your shoulder as you jerk him off. the whole situation was bizarre and you were starting to feel lightheaded. weren't he supposed to be the one servicing you?
you press down on his cockhead particularly hard and he cries into your neck, biting the collar of your hoodie as you slide his cock underneath the limited edition shirt, rubbing him with the friction of the fabric. this sets him off, the motion just felt way too good, he keens into your fist, panting into your shoulder as he holds your hoodie tightly.
it was taking a little more than usual to make him orgasm, normally you would describe his orgasm speed as 'embarrassingly fast', but he seemed to be holding out for some reason. you give his cock an experimental squeeze and he just digs his face into your neck more. then it hits you, you haven’t given him permission yet. could he have been waiting for your verbal confirmation? maybe that's why he was squinting his eyes so tightly and biting down on your collar. just the thought itself sparked heat in your lower regions. it satisfied you more than you would like to admit.
so you lean down to where he was tucked, breath touching his ear.
“come for me”
it was a simple test on a guinea pig, cause and effect.
you eye him down as his body quivers, face flushing a thousand shades of red with an embarrassing amount of saliva wetting your hoodie collar. right after the command he releases, cock jittery and shaky as it spurts out come into the limited edition shirt. he finally lets go of your hoodie, taking a second to gain back his strength. when he comes to clarity, you can see the panic set in his throat. staring at the ruined limited edition shirt.
"what do we do? it's dirty now!"
"we buy it, what else?"
he hesitates and you raise a brow. "but, the, cashier she might, see this."
he vaguely gestures to the come stain on the shirt, right above his now flaccid cock.
"so? hurry up and change."
soobin seems troubled at your nonchalant response, but changes back to his outfit as you asked, timidly holding the ruined limited edition shirt. you shove the dollar bills in his hand.
"go up to the cashier, and pay."
somehow he summons up the courage to walk up to the counter, trying to ignore the feeling of his dick making contact with the rough jean fabric each time he took a step. it was all smooth at first, he let the cashier scan the item (making sure the stained patch was hidden), paid with the cash and felt the relief of freedom just as the cashier took the shirt to bag.
only for her to pause, soobin feels his palms clamber with sweat. she was staring at the shirt, an unreadable expression on her face before her eyes meet back with his.
"sir, it seems this shirt is stained."
god please just strike him down already.
"oh." he feels so dumb, only able to let out a sound in response. his tongue wasn't cooperating, how was he going to explain? what could he say? what should he say?
"ugh," the sound of exasperation makes him jolt. she's disgusted. she's definitely disgusted and he can never show his face in this store again.
"—it seems like the only one in stock. i'm so sorry for that sir."
she still doesn't know a thing. his heart was threatening to jump out of his throat. "it's, it's alright." his words came out weaker than he would've liked.
"are you sure si—"
"yes! yes! please give me that!" he couldn't help his sudden outburst, snatching the item from the poor lady's hands and running off in the opposite direction. he was dying from humiliation and his feet carried him like the wind over to you. he bit back tears as he faced you, bashfully showing you the receipt. it was times like this when he wishes he wasn't so tall, it would be so much easier to hide away in shame.
"what happened?" your introspective voice came through, he could hear your smirk.
"she saw the stain" he had to use all his willpower not to cry, hands clutching onto the shirt tightly. it was humiliating to admit, but a small part of him felt relief in his confession— as if the natural progression was for you to give him comfort and ease his anxieties.
"look at you soobin, so embarrassed and ashamed of your come stained shirt." you coo in your familiarly condescending yet comforting tone and he folds, nodding in agreement, tears brimming in his eyes. you rub his cheek, which was still red from the slap. it was such a surprisingly caring act that surprised both you and him, but he melted into your touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you were so obedient bunny, let's go to the restaurant." he dumbly bobbed his head at the nickname. all he could think was how the humiliation was so worth the reward.
☆★☆
the cafe was packed, but it wasn't a big problem in the private booth. you tap your finger on the counter as you watch soobin go through the menu for the fifth time now. indecisive was his middle name.
"hurry up."
"what do you want?"
he's asked this for a millionth time now, could he really not decide without your input? the waiter has been standing there for a good minute. "dude, just choose what you want already. i'm getting impatient."
he purses his lips in clear panic, pointing to a random food item on the menu. "i'll, i'll have this!"
"an extra spicy jjamppong coming up." the waiter escapes quickly, leaving soobin with an exasperated and intimidated expression after having his order read out for him.
"what? loser can't handle spice?" you tease. he looks at you with a frown.
"i can eat spice!"
"right." the conversation ends there, but you weren't just going to just let him off like that. the table was so nicely set up after all, such a thick tablecloth.
"soobin, pull down your pants."
he immediately widens his eyes, looking around rapidly to see if anyone heard. "i, i don't know i,"
"calm down, no one can see under the tablecloth. pull it down." you rest your foot on his inner thigh, signalling to him. he lets out a shaky breath. your grin broadens as his hands travel down, shuffling his pants down to his knees. still paranoid, he takes another glance at the other customers.
you focus on something else entirely, your trailing foot to his exposed crotch to be exact. when the leather of your soles makes impact with his naked cock he wails before slapping a hand over his mouth. his thighs instinctively clamp around your foot, shivering and shaking his head. "mean, you're mean."
his bottom lip was quivering, thighs still clamped tightly as you pressed your foot down harder. "please." he whispers.
"hm?"
"please please ple—"
"here's your orders." the waiter interrupts with both of your orders, soobin glances at the man with terrified eyes, looking over at you in a silent prayer.
you smile graciously (you press harder on his cock) as you take the plates (his thighs shake and you rub your foot ever so slightly), what a nice waiter, of course, you had to start a conversation! (he tried to control his panting but his face was a scarlet red), turns out the waiter was born in japan, how very interesting (you start going in a circular motion and soobin nearly keens), his father met his mother during a road trip! (you knew from his expression that he was already leaking onto your shoes), wow and he's fluent in three languages (soobin's thighs are spasming and you were rubbing him hard, you can tell he couldn't hold it in anytime soon).
"it all started when i encountered a multilingual tourist as a child."
the conversation was a little redundant now, wasn't it? you were talking to the waiter, yet staring intensely at soobin in the eyes, a snicker on your lips. "come again?" you press down, and his body shudders, thighs so tightly squeezed around your foot it could almost cut circulation, he was curled in ever so slightly. shivering in the aftereffects of his second orgasm today.
"huh?" the confused tone of the waiter piques.
"nevermind, thank you for your time."
the waiter leaves, slightly befuddled by the conversation. while you turn your attention back to soobin who is breathing heavily with red-tinted cheeks. "wow, orgasming in a public space again, what a perv."
the words hit him hard in his chest and tears drop from his eyes, he could only let out a small 'sorry' in shame before dropping his head down. his sleeves come up to desperately wipe at his eyes and save some face, at least it was all over now and he could enjoy his meal in peace, hopefully!
"can... can i pull my pants back up now?"
"hmm can you?" you tease, and he pauses, unsure of how to approach the situation.
"can i please?" some begging would do the trick, right?
"you can if you jerk yourself off."
he pouts, and more tears drop on the table as he squeezes his thighs around your foot. but he obediently slides his hands down to try and make himself hard again. his cock was so so so sensitive to the sensation, but limp in his hands. it hurts to stroke, it hurts to touch. the longer it took for him to get it up the more he frowned and panicked.
finally, you had enough, you were just playing with him anyway, so you slide your foot off with a chuckle. he looks at you in confusion. "i was joking dumbass, put your pants back on."
you dig into your food, and soobin follows suit right after he shuffles his pants back on, looking up at you hesitantly. though the moment the food touched his tongue, all he could think was—spicy! now he was crying for an entirely different reason, he was never the strongest spice contender, and this was another league of spice.
you notice his discomfort, laughing when he ducks his head down. "too spicy?" "no..." he responds, surprisingly stubborn on this matter. he pettily eats another spoonful of noodles (swiftly to regret it). you just roll your eyes, watching him eat in amusement.
☆★☆
the date ended smoothly after, nothing else notable happened (other than some pervy touches and teasing from your side), back at your room again (it was a common occurrence for the two of you to stay in your room, he told you once he didn't enjoy staying in his home).
you flopped onto your bed while soobin shuffled in, putting his things neatly to the side and closing the door behind him. he stared at you as you typed messages to your friends (they had been filling up your notifications all day because you were ignoring them), he awkwardly stood near the foot of the bed.
"uhm, i, thank you, for today. i had fun." he starts bashfully.
"so you don't have fun with me every other day?" you deadpan and he stutters, being caught off guard.
"n—no that's, not what i—"
"i wasn't serious, idiot."
he shuts his mouth quickly, silent again and unsure of how to start up another conversation.
"god you're such a loser. look in that bag over there." you break the air, pointing to a grey bag you had been carrying for the whole day. he was curious about it but wasn't brave enough to ask. so when you gave him the go-ahead he didn't hesitate to dig his hand in. when he pulled out a box containing a figurine from his favourite anime, clear confusion was evident in his face.
"i didn't know you liked—"
"no shithead it's for you."
his mouth drops open, bunny-like eyes widening as your words start to register in his head. instantly he lights up visibly, smiling uncontrollably as he admires the figurine in his hands. it wasn't anything crazy, was rather affordable compared to the prices of other figurines, but soobin's heart soared at the gift and he felt like he was on cloud nine. you didn't pay attention to his reaction, or that's how it seemed, because you were secretly staring at every differing expression on his face.
"thank you... i, thank you so much..."
"it's not even a big deal, you're so dramatic."
but it was a big deal for soobin, he tenderly held the gift in his hands. this was the first time he's gotten anything from anyone other than his parents and occasionally aunt and uncle. it really did feel like the two of you were dating, even if nothing is official and the most accurate label on the relationship was 'bully and victim'.
"can i unwrap it?"
"i don't care."
he slowly unwraps the gift, taking the figurine out of the box carefully as he begins to admire all the details of the sculpture. you, on the other hand, admire him, no matter how much you deny it, there was something so addicting about both his happiness and pain. it hooked you on like a drug.
"sleep over."
he knew what you meant, in a seemingly harmless phrase. it often happened like this, an insignificant and passing statement. strange in retrospect, you were his bully and the door was right there, if soobin wanted to, he could make a run for it.
but the both of you knew he wouldn't. your attention was almost an obsession to him, no matter how good or bad.
"okay."
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darnell-la · 2 months ago
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I love your writing so much and I have mad respect for the quality and quantity of your work. Those often don’t go together but you must be superhuman
Anyway, I’ve seen a few fics around about Logan in a rut (which I absolutely love) but what if it was the other way around?
I imagine being on a mission with him and you are some sort of animal hybrid. You get hears but take suppressants normally but one night you start to feel it but have run out of pills
Not a super openly needy !reader and possibly even superficial “enemies” with Logan and you are very stubborn
note: Logan Howlett loves himself a little animal he can ruin.
———
“Have you heard about y/n?” Hank asked Logan as Logan walked through the lab doors. “Nah,” Logan said plainly as he walked towards the cabinets for sleeping pills Hank had made for him to ease his sleep a bit.
“So, you know how she’s quite literally an animal in a human's body, right?” Hank asked, making Logan hum, because he couldn’t care less about anything that had to do with her.
“Well, she’s going through a rut,” Hank slightly whispered, speaking as if that was a bad secret he should’ve kept to himself, and he should’ve.
Logan snapped his head towards the man, eyes widened and eyebrows scrunched. “What do you mean by rut?” Logan asked, already having an idea about what the beast meant.
“You know — Mating season. The professor had me make some pills for her a few weeks ago, and y/n already ran out of them. That’s why I’m making more right now,” Hank said, having no idea what he just awoke in Logan.
“Ran out?” Logan asked. “Yep — Guess they’re not strong enough so she took double or triple of what I prescribed to her,” Hank replied as Logan thought to himself.
The man’s mind had run wild, not thinking he’d ever feel this cocky or needing to tease y/n about this.
“How come I didn’t know about this?” Logan asked. “Oh, I didn’t know you didn’t know. Mostly everyone in the house knows about this, so I don’t see a problem with you knowing,”
Logan hummed with a nod before he left the lab, completely forgetting and not caring about the pills anymore. He had some things to do.
For the past hour, Logan had been setting up to get to y/n. When it came to making her mad, he was quick with thinking and doing whatever he needed, but teasing? He knew this would feel better.
The man had taken a long and nice shower, making sure the soap he used had a strong smell to it. Afterwards, he got out and lotioned down which he never does. Maybe his hands, but never his whole body.
When he got dressed, he dressed in normal blue jeans with a nice thick and heavy leather belt. He matched his undershirt with a white tank top that was a bit tight on him.
Logan was known for using a bit of cologne, maybe a smell more in the manly side, but today he wore a cologne Scott had given him for his birthday. “That shit you always wear scares the woman away. It’s too strong,” he remembered the man’s words.
After Logan was all done up for y/n, ready to start his evil torment, he walked out of his room and made his way downstairs towards the living that y/n was always in.
The man had entered the room, giving y/n no eye contact as he sat down on the sofa he’s always on, making sure to let out a louder groan the usual.
Y/n was confused about who had just walked into before she looked up from her phone to see Logan. She’s never smelled him or anyone this way? Why does he smell so clean and good?
Logan grabbed the remote that was on the arm of his sofa and clicked through a few channels until he found a good movie. A very sexual move that he was not really into, but he knew they had a lot of explicit parts.
Long and hard minutes and buy for y/n. The smell of the man and the sounds of the movie only made the time go by slowly. She prayed she could handle whatever she felt, but she would soon break.
“What are you even watching, Logan? Like seriously?” Y/n asked, a hint of anger in her voice, but she tried not to make it seem that way. She had told almost everyone in the mansion about her rut, but not Logan. She didn’t want him to know something like that of her.
“Nothin’ sweetheart,” Logan said in his normal tone, but for some reason, that sent a shock through y/n’s body. “Well, could you maybe put something else on? Ian tryna listen to all that,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
“Why not? We’re all adults here,” Logan argued back which y/n hated a bit more at this time. “You’re a fucking dick, you know?” Y/n sighed as she shifted on the couch.
“Oh, and why is that? Can’t handle a bit of porn?” Logan asked as he looked at the going lady. He knew his plan was working. Watching her this uncomfortable was far better than arguing with her.
“Whatever, Logan, just- Just shut the fuck up,” y/n cussed, feeling more annoyed and bothered than ever at the man. If she hated him so much, why did she feel this way? She didn’t know, and it bothered her. It bothered how much he got under her skin with little things.
“By the way, the professor has a mission for us in an hour, so if you needed to get dressed and shower, do it now. Don’t needa be late because of you,” y/n said, making the man chuckle. He knew what she was trying to do, and she failed.
“Already showered and dressed, Bub,” Logan replied, which made her roll her eyes again. She wanted to cuss him out and demand him to do something about his smell and look, but she stayed calm. She had to, or else, he’d know.
“Do we seriously have to stay in this fuckin’ hotel? We’re only a few hours or so away from the mansion. Our plane can fly that itself,” y/n said as Logan opened the door to a semi-expensive hotel room.
Logan told the professor that he and y/n were pretty beat up tonight, and needed time to sleep before they flew back.
Of course, since the professor saw no problem in it, he didn’t read Logan’s mind and saw he was lying. He just called the hotel and told them a couple of X-men needed a place to stay. The hotel had no problem with giving the two their best room.
“Are you serious? A fuckin’ one bed!? You’re sleeping in the voice,” y/n said, thinking Logan wouldn’t argue about it like anything other time, but tonight he did for specific reasons.
“I’m sleepin’ comfortable tonight, princess, so if you’re too childish to share the bed, lay on the couch yourself,” Logan said, knowing she would be er do that. She loved a soft bed.
“Fuck you,” she cussed before placing her luggage down to go through it and see what she had for tonight. She felt bad for how much language she had used today, but she couldn’t help it. She was furious.
“Fuck!” She cussed once again as she went through her bag, only finding an extra suit, underwear, and bra. She thought she’d be home by now, and not in a fancy hotel with one bed to sleep in with Logan.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked as he sat in the bed, taking his shirt off that y/n hadn’t seen yet. “Don’t have any close to sleep in,” she said with a hint of anger that she tried to hide.
“Just use mine. Ain’t that hard,” she said as he went through his luggage to pull out a large shirt he had sprayed with some cologne earlier today. He planned well.
“Thank you, I guess,” y/n said as she turned around to grab the shirt. When she did, she froze, seeing Logan’s whole upper body on display. He’s always walking around the mansion shirtless when the kids aren’t there, but tonight, she actually felt bothered by it.
“God, put a shirt on,” y/n tried covering her stare up before she yanked his shirt away. “Can’t do that — You took my sleep shirt,” he smirked to himself as her head dropped.
“What do you mean, Logan?” She asked with a sigh. “Hey, you’re the one who ain’t being shit, so done get mad at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his belt. That sound made her heart pump.
“You didn’t bring an extra!?” She asked. “Either you wear the shirt, or you wear nothing. I don’t mind taking my shirt back,” she said. She caught his slight flirty comment, and she really wanted to reject him, but couldn’t.
“Whatever,” y/n said before getting up quickly to head to the bathroom before Logan took his jeans off. She couldn’t stick around for it. She didn’t want to test her strength tonight.
“Look, I don’t know what making you pissy today, but fuckin’ cut it, alright?” Logan said as he dried himself off. “You’re making me pissy!” Y/n yelled at the man after she flopped on the bed.
“Yeah? And why is that? I haven’t done shit or even said shit to you all day,” Logan said, already knowing what was wrong with her. He could barely keep his smirks together.
“Logan, can you please just dry off and change in the bathroom like I did? Is that so hard?” She asked as he dried his hair. “Kinda,” he said, making the girl sigh with a mentally painful whine.
“I heard you’re going through your little rut, but it shouldn’t be this bad. Like c’mon. You can’t game a bit of smell and skin?” Logan chuckled, making y/n snap her head towards him.
“You know about that?” She asked, not knowing if she should feel embarrassed or be upset at the man. “Yeah — Ain’t too hard to see either,” the man smirked as she got up from the bed.
“You know I’m going through a fucking rut, and you got us a hotel? With one bed!? And the only thing covering you is a towel? And your shirt smells like this!? — You planned this,” y/n growled.
“Indeed I did, and it’s pretty fun to watch,” Logan said as he put the towel he was drying himself off with, down. The other hung around his waist loosely, making sure his v-line showed.
“Logan, you can’t do that shit. This dangerous!” /n yelled at the man. “Dangerous? How come? Because I’m locked in a room with a woman who needs to rub one out? Oh, so dangerous,” Logan threw his hands in the air.
“No, it’s dangerous for me! I don’t have my pills, a-and it’s just hard to keep himself together,” y/n slightly explained. “Why is it hard? You know if it’s that bad, you can just ask me to help you,” Logan said, feeling a little bad, but not too much.
“In your fucking dreams,” y/n spat, making him laugh. “Don’t think I’m dreamin, Bub,” Logan said as he began to walk towards y/n. “Hey, no! — No! — Stay back!” Y/n yelled at the man as she backed up until her back hit the wall, next to the bed.
“Why? You horny? Can’t have a man close to you or you might devour them?” Logan asked, a few feet away from y/n. Y/n ran for it and jumped on the bed to get over and on the other side, but Logan caught her.
The man grabbed her ankles and pulled her body into his before leaning over her to trap her in between him and the soft bed.
“Just say the words, and I’ll help you, princess,” Logan said, his own animalistic tone breaking through. “No!” Y/n yelled again, only making Logan grind his lower body in between her legs.
“You sure?” He asked as the towel rubbed her clothed cunt. Logan made sure to only bring a shirt, so that would be the only thing she slept in. No sweats and no shirts.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Logan,” y/n tried keeping her moans in as the towel rubbed her harder. “P-Please stop this. We can’t,” y/n said, but Logan wasn’t having it.
“But we can, and you know it,” Logan said into her ear, lips only a few inches away. “Just tell me you want me, and I’ll rock your little word,” the man said slowly, voice almost enchanting.
“Lo,” y/n said, voice trembling at what she really wanted to say. She was too embarrassed to ask the man to touch her. She was also too stubborn. They hated each other, and he’d constantly tease her if she let this happen.
“I can smell you, y/n. Just give in,” Logan said as his hand slowly traced down her body. Y/n panicked and pushed him off, using strength that he’d never felt come fr her before.
Y/n basically backflipped over the bed to get on the other side and away from him. He was getting to her, and she hated how much her body reacted.
“Little girl thinks she can outrun me, hm? Let’s see who’ll get to that door first,” Logan challenged. Before she y/n thought, her feet moved, taking off to run to the door and maybe get out, but she should’ve known better.
Logan had jumped over the bed like an animal on all fours then pushed her up against the door, hard, knocking the wind out of her body.
“Too slow,” Logan's voice was in her ear before she was sung around. She didn’t know how, but she ended up on her back, legs over the man’s shoulders as her head spun.
“Logan, stop this! W-We can’t,” y/n tried crawling back, but the man held her in place with one hand as the other ripped off his towel. Y/n’s eyes widened when she saw the sight of Logan.
“You wanna know a secret?” Logan asked before he ripped y/n’s panties off, earning a yell from her. “I’m always in a rut when I’m around you, but I rub one out to save your pretty little cunt,” Logan said before he spat on his hand and rub it across her folds.
Y/n struggled to get away from the man. His one-hand grip was tight, and the way her legs were over his shoulders, made it harder for her to push back.
Logan wasted no time pushing at y/n’s entrance, moving forward until he filled her with every thick, veiny, long, and leaking inch he had.
“Logan!” Y/n basically screamed as her hand instantly gripped his wrist which held her down and pulled her into him. “Nah uh, get your hands off of me, or I put mine all on you,” Logan threatened.
“Too much- Too much!” Y/n cried out as his hips snapped harder. “That it, y/n, I fuckin’ warned you,” Logan grabbed the young lady and lifted her body. Her legs still stayed over his shoulders, only making the angle harder for her to take him in.
“L-Lo,” y/n stuttered with a broken whine as one of his hands wrapped around her back and the other held her up by one ass cheek, allowing him to spread as much as he could to fit in her further.
“Told you to quit it, but you never listen,” Logan breathed heavily into her head as his hips thrust forward, moving at an incredible pace that made her feel dizzy.
“So fuckin’ tight, I’m definitely coming back to you. Always wanted you anyways,” Logan admitted as he felt her squeeze him at his confession. “You like that, don’t you? Mean old Logan bully you and this pussy,”
“C-Cumming,” was all y/n could get out as she gushed around him. “That’s it, baby — Keep it up, and I’ll fill you twice tonight,” Logan’s hands gripped the woman’s body tighter, leaning mini bruises that probably weren’t going to be too visible, bye who cared? He didn’t. He planned to mark her up tonight to surprise the crew when they got back.
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chosok-amo · 5 months ago
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JJK HEADCANON : THEIR REACTION WHEN THEY SEE YOU WEARING THEIR SHIRT
satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, ryomen sukuna, toji Fushiguro
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!
MASTERLIST!!
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
As Satoru Gojo opens the door to his home, he's greeted by a sight that instantly brings a smile to his face. There you are, standing in the living room, wearing his oversized shirt that drapes over your frame, looking incredibly cute and comfy. The shirt's sleeves are rolled up just enough to reveal your wrists, and the collar slightly slips off your shoulder, adding a touch of casual allure. His eyes light up with delight as he takes in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled as if you've just finished a nap or lounging around. There's a playful glint in his eyes as he leans against the door frame, his usual confident demeanor softened by the warmth of seeing you so relaxed and content in his presence. "Satoru," you say, looking up with a mischievous grin, "Do you mind if I borrow this? It's so comfy." He chuckles softly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "You look absolutely adorable," he replies, his voice low and teasing. He reaches out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You can borrow it anytime you want," he continues, his gaze lingering on you with undeniable affection. "But I think I prefer seeing you in my shirt. It suits you." You blush slightly at his words, feeling his warmth enveloping you as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. In that moment, surrounded by his scent and the comfort of his shirt, you realize there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in his arms, feeling cherished and loved.
𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
As Suguru Geto enters his home, his expression shifts from the usual seriousness to a rare moment of surprise and intrigue. There you are, standing in his living room, wearing his shirt that fits snugly on your frame, the sleeves rolled up just right to expose your wrists. The shirt's collar is slightly open, revealing a glimpse of your neck and collarbones, adding an unexpected allure to your appearance.
His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the sight, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You turn towards him, a hint of amusement in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "Hey, Suguru," you greet casually, a playful tone in your voice. "Hope you don't mind me borrowing this. It's quite comfortable."
He steps closer, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. "I must say, you wear it quite well," Suguru remarks, his voice low and smooth, tinged with a touch of admiration. His usually composed demeanor seems momentarily softened by the sight of you in his shirt, looking both relaxed and captivating.
"You have a way of making even my clothes look better," he continues, his tone teasing yet sincere. He reaches out to lightly brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet assertive. His eyes hold a subtle intensity as he meets your gaze, his admiration for you evident in his expression.
"You're full of surprises," Suguru murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I don't mind this one bit." He leans in closer, his presence enveloping you as he wraps his arms around you in a confident yet tender embrace. In that moment, you feel a sense of warmth and reassurance, knowing that despite his enigmatic nature, Suguru Geto has a softer side reserved just for you.
And as the evening unfolds, you both savor these quiet moments together, each appreciating the unexpected bond that continues to grow between you, fueled by mutual respect and a deepening connection.
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
After a long day at work, Nanami Kento finally steps into his home, quietly closing the door behind him. The weight of the day’s challenges begins to lift as he makes his way through the house, his thoughts filled with anticipation of seeing you. When he reaches the doorway of your shared bedroom, the sight that greets him makes him pause. There you are, lying on the bed in his blue shirt, which is slightly too big for you, its hem reaching down to your thighs. The shirt's collar is a bit askew, and one sleeve has slipped off your shoulder. You're almost asleep, having waited for him for too long, your eyelids fluttering as you fight to stay awake. Nanami's heart softens at the sight, a rare, gentle smile touching his lips. He quietly approaches the bed, careful not to wake you. "You must have been so tired," he murmurs softly to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He kneels beside the bed, taking a moment to simply watch you. There's a serene look on your face, your features relaxed in slumber. Gently, he reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. The feel of his fingers against your skin makes you stir slightly, and you slowly open your eyes to see him gazing at you with an expression so full of love and warmth. "Kento," you murmur sleepily, a small, tired smile forming on your lips. "You're finally home." "Yes, I am," he replies, his voice low and soothing. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long." He leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, the touch reassuring and comforting. "It's okay," you whisper, your voice tinged with the remnants of sleep. "I wanted to see you before I fell asleep." Nanami smiles again, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and tenderness. "You look beautiful in my shirt," he says softly, his hand gently resting on your cheek. "But you should get some rest now." He carefully lifts the covers and helps you settle comfortably into bed. As he joins you, pulling you close into his embrace, you feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. His presence is a balm, a source of unwavering support and love. "Goodnight," you murmur, your voice fading as you drift back into sleep, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. "Goodnight," he whispers back, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. And as the night wraps around you both, Nanami holds you close, grateful for the moments of peace and love that make all the hard work worthwhile.
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
After a night of mayhem and mischief, Ryomen Sukuna finally returns to his domain, the air still tingling with the remnants of his dark aura. As he strides into the living area, his crimson eyes catch sight of you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a TV show, wearing his robe. You look up from the screen, noticing his arrival. The robe, oversized on you, drapes loosely over your frame, hinting at your figure beneath. Your expression lights up with a mixture of surprise and amusement upon seeing him, though you're clearly comfortable in his attire. Sukuna pauses in his steps, his imposing presence momentarily softened by the sight of you. A rare smirk curls his lips as he approaches, his gaze sweeping over you with a mix of possessiveness and intrigue. "Well, well," he drawls in a deep, velvety voice, "What do we have here?" You meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing this," you reply casually, gesturing to the robe. "It's so cozy." He chuckles lowly, standing before you with an air of authority and allure. "Cozy, huh?" he muses, his tone laced with amusement. "You wear it surprisingly well." You can't help but smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of both excitement and nervousness under his intense gaze. His presence, though formidable, carries a strange magnetism that draws you closer to him. Sukuna steps closer, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against the collar of the robe, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Next time," he murmurs huskily, leaning in closer until his breath brushes against your ear, "I might just have to keep you in my robe." Your cheeks flush at his suggestive words, but there's a thrill of excitement that courses through you at his proximity. Despite his menacing reputation, there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a tension that neither of you can deny. "Maybe you should join me," you suggest, unable to resist teasing him back, your voice laced with playful defiance. Sukuna's smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "Oh, I intend to," he replies smoothly, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. And as the TV show continues to play in the background, forgotten in the heat of the moment, you both revel in the dangerous thrill of being together, knowing that in each other's presence, nothing else matters but the intoxicating pull that binds you both.
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎
Toji Fushiguro arrives home after a long day, his demeanor as rugged and aloof as ever. As he steps into the living room, his eyes catch sight of you wearing his clothes—a casual shirt that fits loosely over your frame and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. The sight brings a rare, genuine smile to his lips, softening his typically stern expression. "Well, well," he says in his deep, gravelly voice, his tone surprisingly warm. "Looks like someone's made themselves at home." You turn to face him, a playful glint in your eyes as you stand up to greet him. "I hope you don't mind," you say with a teasing smile. "Your clothes are just so cozy." Toji chuckles softly, his eyes lingering on you with undeniable affection. He closes the distance between you, his presence commanding yet surprisingly gentle. "You look good in my clothes," he admits gruffly, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, feeling the warmth of his touch. "Thank you," you reply softly, feeling a rush of affection towards him. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms strong and protective around you. "Come here," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let's get you comfortable." You follow him to the couch, sinking into its soft cushions as he wraps his arms around you. The feeling of being held by him is both comforting and exhilarating, his closeness enveloping you like a shield against the world. As you settle into each other's arms, the outside world fades away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between you and Toji. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers trace soothing patterns on your back, grounding you in his presence. In that moment, you realize how much his simple gesture means—his acceptance, his warmth, and his unspoken promise to always be there for you. Wrapped in his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and utterly content.
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l44serbeam · 2 years ago
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— PASS TIME ࣪𖤐 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
warnings — swearing, insecurity, anxiety, blood, guns, smut, heavy make out, fingering (r!recieving), nipple play, softdom!ellie, hair pulling, hickeys, degradation (y/n calls ellie pathetic in a joking way)
Stuck in a abandoned pharmacy closet during a storm while on a patrol, Ellie seems to have some interesting ideas on what to do while you wait it out. these ideas lead you to believe that maybe she doesn’t hate you as much as you thought she did.
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There was one thing y/n had in agreement with Ellie Williams and that was that the two of them did not get along.
Whether it was being paired together on patrol and disagreeing on working methods or bickering over meals, the two just couldn’t seem to live in harmony.
It wasn’t because they were polar opposites or anything. On the contrary, the two were quite alike. Both carried an aura of intimidation and were known to be very good fighters. In reality, they had no real reason to have this dispute.
So when Maria partnered the two up for a two day long run to an abandoned town many miles out, not even an hour went by before they were both banging at her door.
“Its for the best. You two are my strongest forces and it’s a far place…” Maria began, looking away from them as she folded the blankets on her couch. “We’re running low on medical supplies and i don’t have enough people to spare to send a whole team. Plus, it’ll do you guys good to be out there with one another. Get to know each other maybe. End what ever stupid rivalry y’all seem to have going on.”
The two groaned and protested but Maria made it clear her pairing was final, no questions to be asked about it anymore.
“This isn’t some simple patrol y/n. No fucking around. Follow my lead, we don’t separate, and we don’t detour.” Ellie instructs sharply as the two rode down the forest, freshly leaving Jackson and preparing for the mission ahead.
“You talk to me like im not the one who was literally raised out here. If anything you should be following my lead.” y/n responded.
Ellie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “That doesn’t make you better. Just means more people were around to save your ass.”
“Then why am I here?”
“To make my life miserable apparently.”
Y/n sighed as her tongue poked the inside of her cheek. She seemed to almost be trying to contain herself, a desperate look of wanted to punch the girl on the horse next to her lingered on her face.
“Literally the only reason im on this run with you Ellie is because i am just as capable as you. So please, shut the fuck up and leave me be.” She retorted sourly, looking the opposite way from Ellie and into the trees. She didn’t want to deal with this now. The hollow, harmful words that they threw at each other.
Ellie turned her head the slightest, catching a glimpse pf her, almost slightly stunned at her response.
The two always argued, that was known, but it was never like that. The harshness and seriousness of her last words surprised Ellie, not being the usual sassy clap back she gave that Ellie could actually respond to. This time, y/n looked distant and out of it but Ellie decided to respect her wishes, looking back ahead and letting silence remain between the two.
The people that surrounded them always tried to recall why the two fueded, but no one ever could. It seemed like from the very first time they interacted, they just didn’t like each other. But, their “first” interaction according to those people wasnt truly their first interaction.
Y/n was brought into Jackson three years ago, scared and alone. Covered in blood and looking with eyes that seemed to shoot daggers at everyone. A team of people had come across her, running from three runners in a torn down office building. Once settled, she had been given a house next to Joels, being one of the smaller ones considering she was just one person.
For the first few days, y/n didn’t leave her house, taking advantage of the fact she hadn’t been assigned with a job yet and avoiding interaction with the public. The majority of the town still hadn’t even seen her since she first came in, rumors beginning to spread about who she was. Some said she had a face covered in scared skin, others said she was tiny and frail but her hands were stained a deep red with blood.
Ellie being the way she was, desperately wanted to know who she really was. She wanted to see this girl and figure out whether the monstrosities people whispered about her.
Y/n was awoken one morning by three heavy knocks on her door. She seriously considered ignoring them, groaning into her pillow as she stood up.
Could be important. She told herself. When she swung the door open, the girl that stood before her was unfamiliar. Unlike most people, she looked closer to her own age, being 17 at the time. The wide smile on her face faltered and her eyes widened when her eyes met with y/ns. Her hands flew up to the hairs sticking out of her bun and tried to smooth them back as much as possible.
“Um… Hello?” Y/n quipped, breaking the girl from whatever trance she was stuck in, her cheeks reddening and eyes rushing the the ground.
“Oh- Uh- Hi! Im Ellie. Your neighbor.” She began, pointing at her own home in the distance. Y/n nodded and gave her an acknowledging smirk.
“Im y/n,” She introduced, leaning against the door with her hand still on the handle. “Is there anything i can help you with?” She asked when Ellie returned to silence again.
“N-No not eaxctly. In all honesty i came by out of curiosity. Wanted to see if you were really like some murderous crazy person.” She laughed slightly, a strange pitting feeling in her stomach.
Y/ns eyebrows knitted together and her demeanor changed as she shifted on her legs.
“Why? Because im from the outside? So seems like since Im not from some fuck ass FEDRA base or some community im automatically a wild animal that kills people for fun?” She begins, clearly offended by Ellies comment.
Ellies eyes opened worriedly. “No no no. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that thats what people have been sort of saying about you since no ones really seen you. Kinda cant blame them-”
“For titling me as some savage just because I was born outside their little bubble?”
“Im just saying you haven’t really given them much to work on. And its not like your the sweetest either.” She said, mumbling the last bit.
Y/n scoffed, stepping back into the house but leaving the door open, her hand still on the door knob. “You come to my house, call me a murderous crazy person, then try to justify it?”
“I wasn’t calling you that. I- I just meant i get why youve stayed home but you really havent gone out and last time people saw you was when you first came in and-“ Ellie hissed and raised her eyebrows, suggesting severity, “that wasn’t exactly the kindest sight.” She finished rambling, realizing it didn’t help in the slightest when her eyes fell on y/n.
“Ok you know what, fuck you.” y/n said, slamming the door shut and leaving Ellie wide eyed and red.
How could i have fucked that up so badly. Ellie asked herself frozen in guilt and embarrassment.
After that, Ellie couldn’t bare being around her and not feeling that turmoiling feeling in her gut. She automatically counteracted it with harsh comments and rudeness. Even when a few days later, y/n attempted to apologize, Ellie dismissing her with a rude comment and sparking another fight that solidified their dislike.
But after a year or two and one drunken evening where their bickering turned into borderline foreplay, the dynamic changed. The majority of times, their stabs at each other seemed to be laced with an igniting feeling and fiery looks at each other. People close to them had seemed to start noticing this shift, whether it was the devilish smirks on Ellies face or the way y/n seemed to gravitate closer and closer to her.
So now, when y/n had barely even looked Ellie in the eye and dryly responded to every comment thrown at her by the girl as the walked down the foreign towns roads, the map in Ellies hand and a knife in y/ns, Ellie couldnt help but feel a growing sense of concern.
Did someone do something to her? She wondered, anger stacking up at this imaginary person just at the thought of it
“The pharmacy should be up ahead. Joel gave me a side note to check back room closest and storage rooms. Most should be locked so they’ll probably have shit inside.” Ellie began, scanning her surroundings.
“If the rooms are locked how are we getting in?” Y/n asked.
“Lucky for us, i have a lock pick and 6 hours worth of learning from Tommy.” She says with a smirk. Y/n simply nods and keeps walking with precaution.
“Whats up with you?” Ellie finally voices, her tome coming out harsher than she’d meant it to.
“Nothing. I thought we weren’t fucking around so thats what im doing. Not fucking around.” She shot back. Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes.
“God you’re dramatic.” She mumbled under her breath.
Y/n scoffed a sarcastic laugh, suggesting her comment to be absurd, but she didn’t respond.
Suddenly, thunder boomed from the gray clouds above, the scent of rain invading their senses with the gust of wind that hit them.
“Shit.” Ellie hissed beneath her breath. “We should get to the pharmacy soon. Seems like it gonna be a bad one.” She finished, referencing to the harsh wind that rocked the trees and over grown vines around them, the sky darkening above them.
“We should pick up the pace.” Y/n suggested as she began jogging and Ellie trailed behind her.
As the two felt patters of rain fall on their shoulders, the jog became a run as the wind picked up.
“There!” Ellie yelled, pointing ahead of them to their left. As the two approached, they saw the busted out windows, the glass covering the ground around it.
They jumped through the glassless windows and unto the store. The two breathed heavily when they reached somewhat safety.
The pharmacy looked completely ran through, shelves thrown all over the ground and trash everywhere.
“He was right! Come back here Ellie.” Y/n yelled against the sound of the wind whistling. By this point, the weather had reached full storm level and the strength of the wind tunneled throughout the exposed pharmacy.
With the aggressive push of the wind on Ellies back, she ran to y/n.
“Fuck i don’t know how well i can do this while a fucking tornado is going on.” She yelled at y/n as she crouched before the door knob.
“Ill block you.” Y/n said as she stood behind Ellie, bringing her arms to lean on the door on each side of Ellie above her, y/n head near Ellies neck and the gusts of wind pushing y/ns front into Ellies back. How the fuck is this supposed to help me focus.
Ellie inserted the lock pick into the slot and began twisting and turning it, different clicks falling into place and the knob rattling.
Y/n couldn’t lie, but her apathetic mood almost slipped with Ellies proximity. As Ellies arms moved to undo the lock, her back muscles flexed against y/ns chest, the wind blowing her into Ellies neck, the scent of pinewood soap and the metallic sent of blood from the infected they’d taken down earlier.
“I got it!” Ellie beamed, shooting up to pull the door. The resistance of the wind made it particularly difficult to open, y/n grabbing onto the door through the little crack Ellie opened and helped her.
When it opened just enough, the two rushed in as Ellie gripped the door, letting it slam closed when they were in. The room was pitch black, the two utterly unaware of their surroundings.
Ellie fiddled with the knob and tried to open the door, her theory being proved when the door didn’t budge at her push.
“Guess were camping in here tonight.” She said as y/n clicked on the flash light. The two looked around and saw quite a few things they could bring back. Bulk packages of ibuprofen and other medications.
“Fuck yeah.” Ellie said, inspecting the items and making sure they weren’t broken open or contaminated.
y/n set down her bag and removed her sleeping bag from it, laying it on the ground.
“Think the horses will be ok?” Ellie asked, attempting to start conversation.
“Yeah they should be. I tied down the garage door pretty well.” She responded, grabbing amo and supplies out of the bag to clean and reload her gun.
Ellie sat down on the ground in the small spot that wasn’t covered by y/ns sleeping bag, her lip in between her teeth and eyes nervous, like she was resisting saying something.
Y/ns eyes flickered up from the gun to Ellies face. “What?” She asked.
“Why are you acting weird?” Ellie finally asked. “You’ve been super fucking offputish and like not talking.”
Y/n sighed and shook her head in almost disbelief. “I haven’t been acting weird Ellie. Were on a mission and im focusing on it like you said.” She repeated, making Ellie bite her cheek at the rising feeling of guilt . “And why do you even fucking care. You dont want me to be here and i dont want to be here. We dont have to pretend.”
“What do you mean i dont want you to be here?” Ellie asked accusatively.
“You’ve made it pretty obvious Ellie! Like for the past three years maybe!” Y/n said, putting down the gun and investing herself into the interaction.
“Why would you say that? I never said i dont want you here. Never.” Ellie retorted, putting a punctuating finger in the air.
“You practically do every day! You pick apart everything i do and make sure to insult me on it. I mean Jesus i cant breath around you without you telling me im doing something wrong!” Y/n began yelling, rising to her feet and towering above Ellie, her eyes going up all of y/ns body as they fell on her face.
Fuck. y/n thought. Her eyes. Her big, round, bright eyes looked up at her, her eyebrows knitted together and tongue cupping her teeth.
“You say that like you don’t do the same thing y/n! Dont act like im just some bully, this situation goes both ways!” She said, also coming up to her feet to match y/n.
“I do it because im not gonna let you just insult me and act like nothing happened! Im not going to let that slide Ellie so of course i argue back but thats because you start it!” Y/n said, punctuating her ‘you’ by aggressively poking Ellies chest, her wrist immediately being caught by the girls strong hand.
They’re eyes met one another, anger coating them. But, beneath, there was something else. Something almost animalistic.
“Stop fucking yelling at me.” Ellie said, her words bitter but tone almost pleading.
The closeness between the two finally seemed to settle in their minds. Y/n’s wrist still in Ellies hand, their fronts pressed together. Y/n could feel Ellies warm breath against her skin, igniting goosebumps all along her spine.
There was no way Ellie didn’t feel it too, she thought. There was no way that Ellie would let herself be in this position if she wasn’t feeling the same carnal compulsion as her. She wouldn’t be looking at her with the eyes she was.
“Make me.” y/n said, her actions turning to become beyond her own control.
A devilish smirk painted Ellies lips for mere seconds before she slammed herself into y/ns lips, the force so strong y/n back hit the wall behind her.
Their bodies flowed together violently, pushing each others hips back and forth against one another. The kiss was fueled with regressed anger and burning passion, tongues not waiting a second to collide.
Y/ns hands found themselves to grab onto the girls hair, nails scratching at her scalp as she hissed into y/ns mouth.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Ellie groaned into her mouth.
“You’re telling me?” Y/n responded, Ellies taking advantage and letting her lips trail down y/ns neck, latching onto her pulse point the second she felt ut and biting down, a breath of air harshly leaving y/ns lips as she felt Ellies thigh press against the place she wanted her most.
The lack of friction from layers of clothing made y/n whine as she tried to find some kind of it, grinding against Ellies leg as she made an attack on y/ns neck, leaving red marks in her trail that were sure to become purple within a few hours.
“Desperate aren’t ya?” Ellie litted.
“Fuck you.”
Ellie laughed, her teeth pressed cold against y/ns jaw. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?”
y/n rolled her eyes and pulled Ellies head back into a heated kiss, one Ellie cheekily smiled into. Her warm hands found themselves under y/ns shirt going up, dragging up y/ns shirt with it.
“This ok?” Ellie asked, y/ns frantic nods being her signal to fully separate and remove the shirt over y/ns head.
She looked down at y/n in awe, her tongue peaking out from between her lips and her cheeks reddening. “Fuck. i’ve been wanting this for so long.”
“Oh really?” Y/n responded as she brought her arma up to rest of Ellies shoulder, her own hands on y/ns hips, holding the two of their pelvises pressed together.
“Yeah, really. From the time you opened your door front door and yelled at me.” Y/n laughed at that.
“God you’re so pathetic.” She laughed as Ellies arms wrapped around her upper body and unclipped y/ns bra, slowly pulling the straps down her arms.
“Watch yourself. Just cause im gonna fuck you does it mean im gonna be nice.” Ellie said into her ear, shots of electricity flying down y/ns back.
Before y/n could say anything in return, her head flew back against the wall as she felt Ellies lips wrap around her nipple and her hands knead the other. Her tongue worked against it and she rolled her thigh up and down, an extended groan leaving y/ns lips.
She switched positions, paying attention to the other nipple and reciprocating her same movements,
Y/ns hand knotted itself in Ellies auburn hair as her lips seared her chest.
Ellies lips kissed up her breast, her neck and her jaw and fell into y/ns mouth, her hand crawling down and being met with the barrier of y/ns jeans.
“Can i get these off of you baby?” She asked into y/n’s mouth, her words rushed and desperate.
Y/ns hands came to the button of her pants and undid them, lowering them slightly and undoing the zipper. Ellies didn’t wait a second before dipping into the pants, the pads of her fingers pressing into y/n’s aching clit.
Y/n let out a lengthy moan as Ellie drew tight circles, her slick pooling in her panties. She mewled desperately, her hips grinding against Ellies hand.
“Shit- Please Ellie. More.” Y/n groaned, her head falling into the crook between Ellies shoulder and neck.
Ellie smiled smugly, pressing kisses into her exposed shoulders as she pushed aside y/ns underwear. “Whatever you want, pretty.” Ellie said, her middle finger running through her wetness, separating her folds and making a mess of her.
Ellie cursed under her breath at the feeling of y/n clenching around nothing, practically begging for her fingers.
Appeasing her wishes, Ellie sunk two fingers into her slowly, hooking her fingers to bottom out into the sweet spot that caused y/n to moan out into Ellies neck.
Gently, Ellie pulled put her fingers and pushed them back in, her palm hitting y/ns clit in the movement. She Ellie repeated her movements over and over, her free hand coming down from y/n’s waist and to the back of one of her thighs, lifting it from the ground and up to Ellies waist, giving her better access to hit y/n as deep as possible.
Y/n’s moans and pants made the hairs on Ellies neck stand. She couldn’t believe this. She thought shed utterly blown her chances from the second y/n first raised her voice at her, standing on her porch. Now, she was knuckle deep in her and cradling her body against the wall.
“Fuck Ellie don’t stop. Im close-” Y/n groaned.
Impossibly, Ellies fingers started to slam into her faster, the vibrations shooting straight to y/n’s clit and the tips of her finger repeatedly plunged against the spot that made y/n moan out in pleasure. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Y/n legs began to shake, Ellie keeping her pressed against the wall and holding her up with her leg and hand. Ellie could feel y/n’s insides spasming around her fingers, her orgasm close and brimming.
“C’mon baby. I know you’re there.” She mumbled into her ear.
Y/n’s eyes squeezed tightly and her mouth flew open silently, her hand flying to Ellies wrist as a way of stabilization as her orgasm flushed over her like a tsunami. Wetness rolled down Ellies fingers, Y/n’s pants and underwear made a complete mess.
Once y/n’s breathing settled, Ellie removed her fingers from her and brought them to her own lips.
“Fuck. You taste good.” She whispered, kissing up her neck and into her lips.
She settles y/n’s leg down but still held onto her waist, her knees bucking the second she put weight on them, making them both laugh.
“I should change into the other pants.” y/n quipped, separating from the kiss.
“Yeah you should..” Ellie said almost dismissively as she pulled y/n down to lay on the sleeping bag, flipping over and placing herself on top.
“Whenever im done with you i mean.”
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a/n: heyy babes! my bad i said i was gna post this last night but i got a little too high and fell asleep at like 5pm and forgot to post it 😭😭 also i got carried away with added backstory and setting so i hope you enjoy my beauts. Also wanted to giv a big thank u for the positive feed back on Tired of You!! part two is gna be out on sunday for any of you guys reading this that are waiting for that too!!
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theredofoctober · 8 months ago
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MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE
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Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic
TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)
Read after the cut
-
By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.
Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.
You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.
More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.
Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.
“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.
That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.
“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”
Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.
“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”
“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”
You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.
“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”
“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”
“Not scared, no.”
“Sure you’re not.”
There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.
Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.
His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.
He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.
Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.
“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.
Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.
“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”
“One...”
“Not my name.”
So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.
Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.
Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.
You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.
You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.
At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.
You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.
“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”
“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”
“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”
“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”
Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.
“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”
He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.
“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”
“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”
You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.
“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”
Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.
*
 
You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.
“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”
“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”
An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.
“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”
Will’s brows rise.
“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”
Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”
Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.
Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.
Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.
Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.
Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.
Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.
It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.
“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”
Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.
“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”
You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.
“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”
"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”
“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”
Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.
“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”
“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”
“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”
He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.
“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”
“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”
Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”
You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.
In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.
“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”
Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”
You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.
“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”
You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.
“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.
“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.
“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”
Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.
“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.
“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’
“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”
Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.
“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”
“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”
Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.
“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”
“I want it to,” says Will.
You snort dismissively.
“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”
Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.
“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”
His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.
“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”
You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.
“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”
“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”
Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.
“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”
You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.
What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?
Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.
Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.
“When you said it’d been years since you...”
“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”
Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.
“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”
Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.
“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.
You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.
“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”
“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”
Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.
And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.
You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.
He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.
*
 
You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.
Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.
Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.
“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”
Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”
“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”
Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.
Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”
“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”
*
After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.
You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.
A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.
Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.
“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”
He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.
Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.
"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”
Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.
Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”
You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.
"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."
Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."
In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.
“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"
"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.
“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”
You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.
"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”
“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”
You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.
“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”
Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.
“A copycat, then.”
Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.
“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.
“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”
You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.
Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.
“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.
“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”
“Her stomach?” you repeat.
You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.
Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.
“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”
He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.
The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.
While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.
“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”
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httpsdana · 1 month ago
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you could do one where cubarsi sees the reader as someone very serious and intelligent so he thinks he has no chance with her but in fact he does
The Misunderstanding~Pau Cubarsi
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*Pictures are from Pinterest*
enjoy <3
request from here
master list -> part 2
players/drivers i write for
y/n had always been someone who takes things seriously. Focused, determined, and meticulous, she's the kind of person who gets lost in books and thrives on deep conversations. Most people respect that about her, but she can’t help but feel that they also find it intimidating. Especially him—Pau Cubarsi.
She always noticed the way his gaze lingers on her when he thinks she's not looking, the subtle way he keeps his distance, never quite venturing into her space for more than a casual greeting. It’s as if he’s built a wall between them , one she can’t seem to break through. What she didn’t understand is why.
Pau has always seemed so lighthearted, so effortlessly charming, and yet when it comes to her, he acts like she's on another level entirely.
And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he doesn’t think she's approachable. Maybe he sees her serious side and assumes she wouldn’t be interested in someone like him.
But the truth is, she has been interested for a long time. She just didn’t know how to show it.
It all comes to a head one afternoon when the two of them got paired together for a project. The silence between them is stifling as they both sit at the table, her notes spread out, but neither of them saying much.
She catches him glancing at her a few times, his eyes darting away quickly when she met his gaze. It's almost...endearing, the way he seems nervous around her. She has never seen him like this before.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, y/n break the silence. “So, should we start on the presentation or the research first?”
He fumbles with his pen, tapping it against the table. “Uh, research. Yeah, that makes sense.”
The awkwardness is ebident. Normally, she'd find this kind of silence uncomfortable, but with him, it's different. There’s something unspoken hanging between them, something that’s been building for months.
As they work, the tension only seems to grow. y/n steals glances at him, wondering what’s going on in his head, why he’s acting so strangely around her today. She wants to say something, anything, to ease the tension, but she's not sure where to start.
It’s Pau who finally breaks first.
“I, uh... I just want to say something,” he mutters, not meeting her eyes.
y/n puts down her pen, her heart rate picking up slightly. “Okay...”
“I’ve always thought you were, like...really smart. And serious. And, you know, I just figured someone like you wouldn’t ever be interested in...well, in someone like me.”
Her eyes widen. Someone like him? Is that what he’s been thinking this whole time?
“Wait,” she says, trying to process his words. “Why would you think that?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always does when he’s nervous.
“You’re always so focused and put-together. I just...I don’t know. I thought you’d think I was too...I don’t know, not serious enough? Not on your level.”
y/n blinks, the realization hitting her like a wave. All this time, she thought he was keeping his distance because he didn’t like her, but it turns out he’s been feeling the exact same way about her.
“Pau,” you says softly, leaning forward. “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just thought you didn’t like me.”
His eyes snap up to meet hers, wide with surprise. “What? No way, I—” He stops, swallowing hard before continuing. “I’ve liked you since forever. I just didn’t think I had a chance.”
A small laugh escapes her lips, and his confusion deepens.
“We’re ridiculous, aren’t we?” she said, shaking her head. “Both of us too caught up in what we thought the other person felt.”
Pau chuckles softly, his shoulders relaxing as the tension between them begins to dissolve. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
The air feels lighter now, the awkwardness replaced by a sense of relief. They both smile, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable.
“So,” y/n says, trying to hide the smile creeping onto her face, “what now?”
He grins, his usual charm shining through once more. “Well, how about we actually start talking? You know, instead of assuming things about each other.”
y/n laughs, feeling the weight of all her previous assumptions slip away. “Sounds like a plan.”
As theh continue to work on their project, the conversation flows more naturally. There’s no more distance, no more unspoken tension. They shared stories, laughed at each other’s jokes, and for the first time, they both saw each other clearly—not as the intimidating or unattainable person they each thought the other was, but as equals.
When the project is done, he walks her to the door, hesitating for a moment before speaking again.
“I’m really glad we cleared that up,” he says, his voice a little softer now. “I didn’t realize how much I was holding back because of what I thought.”
y/n smiled, stepping closer to him. “Me too. But now we can stop holding back, right?”
His eyes meet hers, and there’s something new there—something unspoken but understood. “Right.”
Before she can say anything else, he leans in, gently pressing his lips to hers. It’s a soft, tentative kiss, but it’s enough to make her heart race.
When he pulls back, there’s a teasing smile on his face. “Not so serious now, are you?”
y/n laughs, feeling lighter than she have in a long time. “Guess not.”
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coolgrl111 · 2 months ago
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“shouldn’t you be prostituting yourself for a place to sleep tonight?” part 2
patrick x reader
a/n: thank you for enjoying this enough to warrant a part two😭❤️
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his vulnerability is palpable now, the bravado he used to wear like armor has long since crumbled, leaving him raw and uncertain. "thanks for letting me come over," he says, voice low, almost unsure. you offer him a small, tentative smile, still unsure of what to say. it feels like meeting him for the first time again, only this time, he's a little more broken, and you're a little more cautious.
"it's fine," you murmur, though the awkwardness lingers like a thick smoke, curling in the silence between your words. it’s strange, how once you shared everything, and now you can’t even find the right way to ask him if he's doing okay.
he shifts, clearing his throat, his eyes flicking toward you, and for a moment, it’s like the old patrick peeks through—a faint shadow of the boy who used to tease you relentlessly, just to see you smile. “you know, you haven’t changed much," he says, voice soft with an edge of something you can't quite place. you laugh, but it’s a nervous, light sound, and you shake your head.
"you have," you reply, maybe more bluntly than you meant to. his smile falters, but he nods, gaze falling to the floor. “yeah,” he whispers, “i guess i have.”
your eyes linger, skulking over his unshaven beard, his bright blue eyes still brash, yet weary. the same eyes that used to gaze at you with so much love, affection. now with caution.
for a moment, silence wraps around you both again, the weight of what’s been lost too heavy to carry into conversation. and then, in a voice that's just a bit too careful, he tries to break the tension, offering a half-hearted flirt. “you ever think about… us? like, back then?” he asks, eyes meeting yours, vulnerable in a way that makes your heart twist. you don’t answer immediately, and he fumbles, quickly adding, “not that i’m—i don’t mean…”
you smile gently, shaking your head. “i do,” you admit quietly, and for a moment, the tension softens, the past stretching like a bridge between you both. but you both know it’s not the same anymore.
he leans back, sighing, a small, tired laugh escaping him. “i missed this,” he says, almost too softly, and there’s a warmth in his voice that you haven’t heard in so long. you smile only the tiniest amount, exhaling gently.
smoothing out your jeans, you glance toward the small, cozy bedroom down the hall. “you can take the bed,” you say, almost too quickly, trying to avoid any more awkwardness. “i’ll sleep on the couch. it’s fine, really.”
patrick’s brows furrow, his eyes narrowing slightly in offense as he straightens up on the couch. “what, do you think i’m some kind of barbarian?” he says, his voice laced with mock indignation. “you seriously think i’d let you sleep on the couch in your own house? come on.”
you open your mouth to protest, but before you can get a word in, he stands up, crossing the room with a sudden burst of energy. “i’m a gentleman!” he exclaims, a playful edge creeping into his tone. “do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? i would never let you do that.”
you blink, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “patrick—”
he cuts you off with a dramatic wave of his hand, his expression shifting into something more earnest, though there’s still a spark of mischief in his eyes. “no, no. we’ll both take the bed. but—” he raises a finger, like he’s just come up with the grandest idea, “we’ll put up a partition, like we’re children or something. afraid of cooties.”
you can’t help but laugh, the tension easing a little. “a partition?” you ask, crossing your arms, amusement dancing in your voice. “and how exactly are we supposed to do that?”
he glances around your living room as if searching for something to use. “pillows,” he says, nodding decisively. “we’ll make a wall of pillows. you stay on your side, i stay on mine. it’s foolproof. totally respectful.”
you raise an eyebrow, trying to stifle your laughter. “and you’re sure this is the best solution?”
“absolutely,” he grins, the first real smile you’ve seen from him all night. it’s like a flicker of the old patrick—confident, playful, always pushing boundaries just enough to make you laugh but never too far. “you’ll see. i’m a perfect gentleman. nothing to worry about.”
shaking your head, you relent, half-amused, half-unsure how you got roped into this. “alright, fine. but if you cross the pillow wall—”
he interrupts with a hand over his heart. “i solemnly swear, i won’t cross the pillow wall. i’ll be on my best behavior.”
you roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile pulling at your lips. “okay, okay. let’s do this.”
as you both make your way into the bedroom, you can feel the strange mix of nostalgia and vulnerability between you. patrick starts arranging the pillows with a kind of exaggerated seriousness, making you laugh despite the lingering tension. for a moment, it feels like you’re back in the past, before everything got complicated.
when the bed is finally set, with a lumpy, but passable pillow barrier between you, patrick flops down on his side, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “see? foolproof,” he mumbles, his voice softer now, as if the weight of the day is finally catching up with him. “thanks for this, really,” he adds, quieter, more sincere.
you lie down on your side, pulling the blanket up to your chin, the soft hum of the city outside filling the quiet space between you both. “it’s no problem,” you whisper, staring up at the ceiling, your heart beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.
there’s a long pause, and you almost think he’s fallen asleep when he speaks again, voice low and tentative. “i don’t… i don’t really know how to be this person anymore,” he admits, and in the darkness, you can hear the vulnerability in his words. “but i’m trying.”
you turn your head slightly, looking toward the wall of pillows that separates you. “i know,” you say softly. “and that’s enough.”
for a while, neither of you speaks, the air between you settling into something that feels less awkward, more familiar. the silence feels heavy, but it’s a comforting weight, like you’re both slowly relearning how to exist in each other’s lives.
and somewhere between the rustling of sheets and the soft rhythm of your breaths, you fall asleep, the pillow wall standing firm, but the distance between you both somehow feeling a little less vast.
the morning light filters in through the curtains, soft and golden, and you blink awake, feeling the warmth of something—or someone—pressed against you. your heart skips a beat as you realize the pillow partition is gone, and you and patrick are clung to each other, bodies entwined like vines, arms wrapped so tightly you feel like you might snap apart if you move. it’s like the earth itself has cracked between you, splitting the continents, and you’re clinging to the only thing that’s keeping you from drifting away.
for a moment, you stay still, your heart hammering in your chest as you process how close you are. patrick’s arm is draped over your waist, his leg tangled with yours, and his breath is warm on your neck. he stirs, and suddenly, you feel him realize the situation too. his body tenses, and then, almost in slow motion, you both awkwardly pull away, limbs fumbling as if you’re unsure where one person begins and the other ends.
you clear your throat, sitting up and avoiding his gaze, hoping your flushed face isn’t too obvious. but then you glance over at him, and his situation is definitely not helping matters—patrick, fully aware of his morning wood, shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “uh, sorry, i—” he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep, clearly embarrassed. “it’s, uh, it’s morning, you know?”
you laugh nervously, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “yeah, i know. it’s, uh, fine.” you quickly get out of bed, trying to pretend this is totally normal, not at all weird or intimate or… whatever it was. “do you, um, want to take a shower?” you ask, eager to shift the focus.
“yeah,” patrick says, a little too quickly. “that’d be great.”
you lead him to the bathroom, still feeling a little flustered. “towels are in the cabinet,” you say, pointing without making eye contact, because the sight of him is making your heart do weird things again. “just, uh, help yourself.”
as he steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, you exhale, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach. get a grip, you tell yourself. it was just… sleeping. innocent. but the way you held each other, like the world would break apart if you let go—that wasn’t just sleeping, was it?
shaking off the thought, you busy yourself by heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. you crack some eggs, fry up bacon, anything to distract yourself. the sound of the shower running helps, but it also gives you too much time to think. you don’t have clean clothes for him. what’s he going to wear when he comes out? you wrack your brain, and then it hits you.
when patrick finally steps out of the bathroom, damp and only in a towel slung low around his hips, your mouth goes dry. he’s standing there like some kind of ridiculous rom-com cliché, water droplets still clinging to his chest, and you can feel yourself blushing again.
“sorry,” he says sheepishly, running a hand through his wet hair. “i don’t have any clothes…”
you blink, tearing your gaze away. “right! uh, hang on. i… might have something.” you dart past him to the closet, rummaging around until you find them—his old college clothes. you’d kept them, hidden away at the back, not thinking you’d ever have a reason to pull them out again. but here they are, and you’re holding them in your hands.
“here,” you say, handing them over. “they’re, uh, yours. from… college.”
patrick looks at the clothes, then back at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “you kept these?”
you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the warmth in his voice, the look in his eyes—it’s making your heart race again. “i guess i did,” you mumble, turning away before he can see how flustered you are.
“awww,” he teases softly, pulling the clothes from your hands. “didn’t know you were so sentimental.”
you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “just put them on,” you say, trying to sound exasperated, but the blush creeping up your neck betrays you. “breakfast is almost ready.”
as he disappears back into the bathroom to change, you lean against the counter, heart pounding in your chest. what is happening here? this was supposed to be just an awkward sleepover. a kind gesture to an ex boyfriend going through hardship. but it’s starting to feel like something else entirely. and the fact that you still had his clothes—his old clothes—it’s stirring something deep inside you, something you thought you’d buried a long time ago.
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orphan-account123653 · 5 months ago
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𝕴﹕𝕾𝖎 𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖒, 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖒
if you want peace, prepare for war.
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cw: fem! reader, fyodor's probably ooc, reader goes to church, religious themes (it’s just Jesus tho)
word count: 2.0k
a/n: can you tell i got grammarly premium? please tell me you can tell that I got grammarly premium.
Staring into the oval mirror, you see your face streaked with dried tears. (The makeup the servants had applied hadn't done the best job of covering them) Your hair is styled into a bun, and your wedding dress is hanging on a rack in the corner of the large room. It's off the shoulder and dyed a pure white with gold and ruby accents. You stare at the dress from the corner of your eye, glaring at it contemptuously. 
You didn't want to marry him.
You didn't even know him.
You cover your face with your hands and start to sob once again, the carefully applied makeup becoming ruined further by your crying. You uncover your face but continue to hold your head in your hands. Your mind is running with so many thoughts. However, the one that weighed the most on your conscience was how you got into this mess.
The first time you saw him, you were going to buy sewing supplies from the tailor to teach your younger sister how to sew so she could fix her old teddy bear by herself. The manager had brought you the tools, and you grabbed the needed money out of your pocket. You placed the coins on the counter as the owner started to count the amount.
"Uh, miss? This amount of money isn't enough." The tailor had told you.
"Oh? I really thought it was, and that's all I have…"
You were about to take the money back and apologize when a man with black hair placed more than enough coins on the counter for you.
"I'll pay for her." The man said.
"Huh? No, there's no need to pay for me!"
You pause your sentence when you finally recognize who it is.
"Mr. Dostoyevsky?? What are you—"
"Don't mind me. I'm just here to pick up my new suit," Fyodor said, nodding to a fancy black suit in the back of the store. He turned back to the tailor. "It should be enough for my suit and this lady's items. Now go get our things, please."
The worker nodded and ran into the back of the store to grab his newly tailored suit. When he returned, he handed the respective items to both of you and accepted the money.
"Thanks for buying the sewing tools for me." You thanked Fyodor before he could walk off.
He nodded in acknowledgment of your thanks before walking away. 
The second time you saw him was Sunday, and you were walking to church alone. You weren't particularly religious, if at all. But it couldn't hurt to at least try to pray for your little sisters' health, could it? Isabella was getting increasingly sick, and neither you nor your mother knew what was wrong. You were too poor to afford a doctor, so all you could do was sit and wait. 
As you walked towards the church alone on that quiet Sunday, your footsteps echoed against the sidewalk as you noticed a figure leaning against the fence bordering the front of the church.
His silhouette cast a shadow that had seemed to sway with the soft wind. As you walked closer, you finally recognized him.
Him again? Seriously?
He looked up as you approached, his violet eyes softening ever so slightly as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The quiet moment between you was interrupted by the loud ringing of church bells, marking the start of another Sunday service. You hesitated, unsure whether to acknowledge him or walk inside the building without speaking to him.
"Hello," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that did nothing to ease the uncertainty in your heart.
The last time you ran into him, you had just bought three loaves of bread and were walking back home when you bumped into Fyodor again. You had tumbled to the ground along with your bread. 
It was getting quite odd at how many times you two had met, almost like it was on purpose. 
Your eyes widened as you blabbered words that sounded like they were trying to be an apology, but it wasn't working well. 
Fyodor let out a small chuckle as he bent down slightly, lending his hand toward you to help you. You froze momentarily before graciously taking his hand as he pulled you up.
"We must stop meeting like this."
"Indeed," you replied nervously, the loaves of bread scattered around you. You looked around at the mess, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Would you like me to buy you some new bread? I don't think you would find eating dirty bread delightful."
"Oh– It's alright, I'm sure I'll manage." You reassured him.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." You bent down to pick up the loaves of bread. You could just wash the dirt off, probably.
You immediately fled the scene after picking up your food. You quickly opened your house door and found your younger sister lying in bed. You genuinely wished you could get a doctor for her. But you can barely afford bread.
You bent down next to the bed, gently shaking your sister awake. After a while of shaking, her eyes finally opened.
"You're back?" She asked.
"Buying bread doesn't take much time."
"It feels like it does." She retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.
"I know," you sigh. Your little sister can be pretty impatient sometimes. "Where's mother?"
"I don't know. I was asleep when she left." 
You shrugged before returning to place the bread basket on the table.
"She'll come back soon, I know it." Your sister said.
Your conversation is interrupted by a loud knock at your door. You stand back up and head to open the door. Standing there is a mailman.
"I have a letter for [Name] [Last Name]. Is she here?"
"You're speaking to her."
"Oh, well then, here you are." The postman hands you a letter and walks off. 
You close the door and stare at the envelope. In the middle is the crest of the Dostoyevsky family.
You walk back towards your sister, who is sitting in bed. You sit at the foot of her bed.
"What does the letter say?" She asks curiously.
"I'm not sure. I haven't read it yet." You respond to her.
"Well, then read it!"
You ripped open the envelope and started to read the letter.
Dear Ms. [Last Name],
With the quill in my hand and the ink flowing from the depths of my heart, I must express how you have attracted me with your beauty despite your poverty. You have truly captivated me.
I was enchanted by the aura radiating from your soul when we met in the tailors' shop. 
Though fate has seen fit to place us on entirely separate paths—you, a child of the fields, and I, a child of noble birth—I am compelled to defy the standards society has set for us. Even though I had only met you three times before writing this letter, you are the one with whom I wish to share my life's journey.
Therefore, if you allow me, permit me to pledge myself to you in the blessed bond of marriage. Together, we shall travel the trials of life, hand in hand, as equals in love's timeless embrace.
My dear, I beg you to consider this proposal with an open heart and a willing spirit. For in your acceptance lies the promise of a future bright with the shine of my utter devotion to you.
With all the sincerity my soul can allow,
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"Wow, a rich person wants to marry you?" Isabella clasped her hands together as she fixed her posture, becoming more interested by the second.
"This must be a joke– but if it has the official Dostoyevsky family crest, then it should be real."
"Will you accept?" Your sister asks.
"It'd be in my best interest, but I'll ask my mother and see what she thinks." You said as you stood up, "But until I can speak with her, you should go back to sleep. It's way too past your bedtime anyway." 
"Aw man, but I wanna stay up with you!" Isabella complains.
"Fine, but don't come complaining to me when you're all crabby in the morning."
"Fineee…"
"Thank you, Isabella." You thank her and sit up from her bed.
"Mhm."
After tucking Isabella into bed, you walked to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. While you were making it, your mother walked into the house.
"How was your visit to uncle's?" You asked her. She was always at his house. Your uncle had always been better off than your mother. So she always hung around his home, probably because it made her feel richer.
"It was fine. Is Isabella doing any better?" She eyed the dusty bread on the table as you poured the tea.
"She's doing just as fine as yesterday."
"Ah, well, I'll be heading straight for bed. I've had a long day." Your mother yawned and stretched her arms,
"Wait! There's something I need to ask you."
"Yes?" Your mother asked, "What is it?"
"Read this letter I've received. I need your opinion."
You hand your mother the letter you have gotten. She scanned it, and when she finished, she set it down and sighed.
"You're going to marry him. It's the best choice." She said bluntly.
"But– I don't love him. I've only met him three times?"
"I doubt he cares much if you love him. Besides, think about Isabella. You can get her a proper doctor if you marry him. The Dostoyevsky family has lots of money, you know." Your mother explained.
“Yeah… I know…”
"So you'll marry him?" She asked.
"Yes, mother." You looked at the ground solemnly as you confirmed her question
"That's good. I'll get you paper and a quill. I want your response by tomorrow morning."
"Alright."
You're brought back to the present when one of the servants knocks on your door. "Ms. [Last Name], are you ready for the wedding?"
Oh shit, while you were busy having flashbacks and a mini-mental breakdown, you had completely forgotten about the thing that had caused you such stress!
"Uhm– I'll be out in a minute!"
You hurriedly put on the dress and fixed your makeup to the best of your (limited) ability. Then you opened the door and stepped out.
"You look beautiful. Are you ready?"
"I guess…"
You put on the heels and walk out of the room. You try to distract yourself by looking at the glass windows as you walk down the long hall toward what you consider to be an execution. The stained glass depicts different imagery on each piece.
Jesus, with his lamb,
Jesus, with his sacred heart, 
Jesus, on the cross,
Yeah, there's definitely a pattern.
You open the wooden doors at the end of the hall and walk towards the carriage outside. Once inside, the carriage begins its way to the church.
Your mother is waiting in front of the doors leading into the venue. She's holding your veil and a little piece of paper containing the vows you wrote down at the last minute.
"Remember to smile and be polite," your mother says as she fits the veil onto your head.
"I will."
In the grand venue of the church, the air was thick with anticipation as guests dressed in their finest clothing gathered to watch firsthand the marriage between two mismatched souls. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the eldest son of the respected Dostoyevsky family, stands at the altar, waiting for you to come down the aisle.  
The grand piano filled the luxurious room as the ceremony started, drowning out the guests' gossip. The marriage between you and Fyodor was initially unknown; most guests only knew you were getting married once the invite was sent to them. Everyone knew how proud Fyodor was of his heritage, so why would he marry someone lower class? 
As the vows were exchanged by the two of you, the weight of your future settled upon you like a suffocating cloud. Fyodor could feel your hands trembling as he slid the ring onto your finger. 
His voice was barely above a whisper as he pledged his forever undying loyalty to you. 
However, for you, this marriage was only an opportunity to secure a place amongst the elite despite your origins.
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ayoharuko · 1 year ago
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Haiwo ! I see your request are open !
You can ignore this if this is too much for you, I don't mind fufu~
As for the request, hm..
Fluff with Shu? Context.. how about clingy shu? If not, how about clingy ver/hex? Fufu~
Your choice if you want to do all or just one of them it's okay too ! If you're actually doing this request, thank you so much !~
Hellooo! Thank you so much for the request, I'm a big fan btw hehehehe~
Anyways, I'll be doing all of them because me love all of them~
Reader here will be gender neutral and this will be in the form of a min scenario, I hope you enjoyed this! :3
REMINDER: Please know that I'm only writing about their persona’s and not the people thats behind them! This is also a work of fiction so please try not to take this too seriously :)
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''Jagiyaa~, notice me~'' Ver said as he clings to your side.
Currently, you were doing some work for your upcoming streams and it seemed like your boyfriend. Ver, had finished with his own work and is now bugging you.....
Now...you thought his antics were quite cute but....
It was starting to get annoying
''Babe...sorry but I gotta finish this....I'll be done in a few minutes'' You said, removing Ver's hands on your arm to focus on the task at hand.
Ver sighs and gets up from his spot, and you heard your office door close, so you assumed that he had left. You crack a smile and continued on doing your worked until......
You were suddenly carried off your chair!
''V-Ver! What are you doing!?'' You yelled at your boyfriend who just chuckles at your reaction.
He put you down on your shared bed and wrapped his arms around you, ''Ver.....I have work to finish...'' You said sighing, ''Nu....Yeobo you need a break'' He responds snuggling his head on your neck.
Your Kaichou was so cute for doing this that your eyes were actually starting to droop down slightly.......
''Hey....I'm getting sleepy so you better let go..of......me'' You trailed off as you finally drift off to a deep slumber.
Ver knew you were tired, I mean the dark circles under your eyes are proof, and good thing his plan: Forcing you to take a rest. Worked!
''Salanghae nae salang~''
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Your boyfriend was the type that didn't wanna brother you with his own needs, so it was hard for you to read him due to the fact he was often stoic and monotone.
But you knew something was wrong when Hex started being more clingy than usual.....
I mean....yea you found it cute but it was just so.....out of character for him.....
Right now, you had Hex hugging you from behind while you are prepping dinner, he was so quiet that you din't really mind, but it was hard moving around with a huge body behind me ahahahaha~
''Honey, could you pass me the salt?'' You ask your boyfriend, he hums and passes the salt to you.
''Is there....any reason on why your being so cling today Mr.Hex?'' You ask in a teasing way, Hex berries his head dipper onto your neck blushing
''I....I just missed you..'' He responds with his honey filled voice, you chuckle at this and turn around in hi arms to look at him, and you surprised to see him flustered.....
My, his so cute~
You put your hand on his cheek and he leans into it sighing, ''I...I've had so much work to do that lately we don't get to spend as much time together unlike before'' He said as he looks at you with his beautiful golden green eyes.
You smile at this and lean up to kiss Hex and he did the same as well, and when your lips touched you both got so lost in the moment that dinner had to wait~
Lets just say your entire night was passionate and filled with love~
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Shu Yamino respects you a lot, enough that he puts your own needs above his sometimes. But today, he choose to follow his needs.
By following you around like a puppy
''Shu....babe....you don't have to follow me to the bathroom ya know..'' You said looking at your sorcerer of a boyfriend who just chuckles nervously at your words.
''Sorry....'' He saids and you shake your head and do your business inside the bathroom as Shu waits in your shared living room.
After your bathroom break, you come to the living room and find Shu waiting for you patiently......
You smile and sat beside him at the couch, ''Soo what do you wanna watch?'' You ask him, ''Anythings fine'' He responds and you nod, putting on a romance-type movie.
An hour had passed and Shu had fallen asleep in your arms, his face looked so peaceful yet so cute~
You took a couple of pictures and than tried to wake him up, ''Shubert~, come on. Lets change to the bedroom'' You said slowly shaking him.
Your sorcerer boyfriend just grumbles and wraps his arms even more tighter around you.....
Ah....he doesn't wanna let go
''Babee, we'll wake up sore tomorrow....'' You said trying to reason with the sorcerer but he still wouldn't move.....
After a few minutes of you trying to wake him up, you finally gave up and cuddled beside him trying to be more comfortable.
You soon drift off to sleep and Shu opens his eyes while smiling and kissing your forehead while whispering something in Japanese to you.
''Ai shiteru, watashi no kokoro~''
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Done!~
Tysm for the request! I enjoyed doing it :3, I hope that you loved it~
Btw Ver's and Hex's headers were made by me, Shu as well ofc~
Thanks for the request again and see you all on my next post!~
Korean words spoken by Ver: Jagiya(Baby), Yeobo(Honey or Darling) and Salanghae nae salang(I love you, my love)
Japanese by Shu: Ai shiteru, watashi no kokoro(I love you, my heart)
Please tell me if I got the translations wrong, I will gladly correct it.
Reblogs are appreciated and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3
(Note: please don't copy and paste my works anywhere, and if you do see them on other platform please inform me.)
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elkonigin · 7 months ago
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Why Inuyasha: Swords of an Honorable Ruler is the worst Inuyasha movie
The third movie is my absolute least favorite of the four. I'll watch 4 over 3 any day.
But it's got Inuparents! Yeah great, fun times, anyway
Here's why I hate it, short and sweet:
It's like Sunrise tried to butcher Inuyasha's character even more than they already have.
Take this scene from the beginning(ish?) part of the movie.
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Inuyasha looks concerned about Kagome being injured. That's a canon InuKag moment right?
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But then he just leaves? Don't give me that, "he wasn't in control of himself" bullshit. When Naraku forced his demon out, he still refused to kill Kagome and instead tried to save her! He's controlled himself enough that he wouldn't hurt her even when he wasn't in control of himself.
This is the same guy like 100 chapters into the manga series went
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Like this guy wasn't about to let Kagome just lay there injured with zero protection and this pompous asshole who probably uses gravel as toilet paper because he likes the aesthetic or whatever
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anywhere near her without leaving her with some amount of protection. When Sesshomaru tried to attack Inuyasha with the whole fake arm business, Inuyasha left her in the care of Miroku, whom he didn't quite fully trust either.
And he abandons her with Myoga? Who flees at the slightest perception of what maybe-could-possibly-slightly-be-considered-if-you-squint-and-spin-around-really-fast danger?
And you're going to tell me that he's just going to get up and be like "yeah, this is fine" and stalk off after his half-brother. Canon Inuyasha would've either let it go or carried Kagome with him until he found her a safe place.
But leaving out in the open like that? Please. We know you want to paint him as the ultimate two-timer for drama and 12-year-old-teen-romance-fantasies, but seriously, show some respect for characterization.
Maybe Yashahime wouldn't have sucked more ass than Jaken, if you hadn't been so obsessed with painting Inuyasha as the cheater you dream him of being.
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adamwatchesmovies · 5 months ago
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The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
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The Silence of the Lambs is an unnerving film with memorable scenes, intense performances and terrific characters… along with plenty of gore. This makes it a horror film - the only one to ever win an Academy Award for Best Picture - so far. On its own, the central mystery would be enough but we get much, much more.
25-year-old FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is assigned to interview Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a former psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer apprehended six years ago. Officially, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) wants her to convince Hannibal to fill out a questionnaire. Unofficially, he hopes she can convince Hannibal to help find “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), a serial killer who has been abducting and murdering women.
It doesn’t take long for you to realize that director Jonathan Demme isn’t simply giving us another serial killer detective story. When Clarice hops into an elevator at the academy, all of the men inside tower over her. While she isn’t the only woman studying to become an FBI agent, there’s a recurring theme of her being debased or disrespected because she is a woman. Jack Crawford makes an unintentional remark to some police officers, Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald) at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane doesn’t take her seriously and makes certain assumptions about her interview with Lecter (considering what Crawford says later, he might be slightly right), at least one inmate gets particularly lewd once he sees her. The theme continues with Buffalo Bill, who has a fundamental misunderstanding of what a woman even is, which leads him to commit his gruesome - and bizarre - murders. The only person (besides a female student played by Kasi Lemmons) who seems to treat Clarice with respect… is Hannibal.
Labelling Clarice as nothing more than "the film's female aspiring FBI agent" would be a mistake. Starling is a memorable character. She’s resourceful, smarter than she looks, doesn’t easily get rattled, and develops this odd sort of relationship with Lecter that says a lot about who she is and why she wants to join the FBI. At one point, Hannibal is offering her clues that could help her apprehend Buffalo Bill but in exchange, he demands to know more about her childhood. Obviously, he's using the techniques he learned as a psychologist to gather more information than even we could understand. During the interrogation, we learn where the movie's title comes from. Considering all of the grisly sights we see, it’s telling that the most chilling moment is that exchange. There’s something about Lecter that’s so dangerous. He’s classy. He’s smart. He always seems to have the perfect remark whenever anyone says anything to him. He’s alluring but just as you start getting close to the glass, you remember that he’s a monster.
With Clarice and Hannibal sufficiently covered, we can now talk about the mystery. If it took me this long, it's because if the movie was just a conversation between those characters, it would be enough. You’re glued to the screen watching them interact. You’re having a great time putting the pieces together, trying to figure these people out. Then, they part ways and you remember "Oh, right! The mystery!" How could you have forgotten? Buffalo Bill has captured another victim (Brooke Smith as Catherine Martin, who actually creates a memorable character with her few scenes). There’s only so much time before he does whatever it is he does to her. We've seen the other victims. We don't quite understand what it is that's going to happen, but we know it's not good. Martin’s mother, a U.S. Senator (Diane Baker) has the power to accelerate processes - anything to get her daughter back. Hannibal knows it. So does Clarice. Jonathan Demme and screenplay writer Ted Tally (who bases it off of the novel by Thomas Harris) keep playing tennis with you, moving you from the interviews with Lecter, to the mystery with the FBI and back again.
The Silence of the Lambs is a thriller that makes you sweat. Its horror elements will make you uneasy and one thing’s for sure, there’s no forgetting this movie once you’ve seen it. The performances are exceptional and even some of the smaller parts are far and above what you’d expect to see, even in a classy horror film - well, as classy as you can be when you have severed heads in bottles and rotting corpses dug out of rivers. I'm returning to the idea that it is a horror movie because it's an important quality of Silence of the Lambs. It's gruesome, it's thrilling, it's filled with engaging characters and it is undeniably frightening. (On Blu-ray, January 16th, 2023)
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courtingchaos · 1 year ago
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Vulnerable
Gator Tillman x Female Reader
Shared Inflicted Pain
A/N: So I’ve been writing about this guy…I’ve had this and another piece kicking around my notes for a few weeks. Lost steam on them but I found my footing again. Still very much into this make believe asshole I’ve created. There’s some *gasp* feelings in this one, I know. Hope y’all like it. Also this ends maybe a little weird and abrupt but that’s because there’s more 😀
Warnings: Sex, mentions of bodily harm, knife play, blood, feelings (lol)
18+ NSFW No minors allowed
Gator had let you come along with him while he rode all the way out to Roy’s expansive ranch. You’d stayed in the truck obviously, staying out of sight if Roy decided to get feisty.
“No, you just creep him out and I don’t trust him to not pull a gun on you in his own home.” Gator warned you actually, kept looking over his shoulder the whole walk up to the house just in case you wanted to be a shit about it. You’d just wiggled your fingers at him over the long dashboard and settled deeper into your cocoon of flannel.
By the time he’s done you’ve almost dozed off, the sound of the engine turning over pulling you out of whatever frozen dream you were in.
“Where to?” You yawn, stretching as far as you can in the cab. He doesn’t reply, just shakes his head slightly and puts the truck in reverse.
“You kidnappin’ me Tillman?” You poke the side of his head enough that it jerks to the left. He slaps your hand down with his still casted right one and holds it pressed against the bench seat.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“I’ll tell you now, father won’t go over 5k for me.”
“So you’re worth less than a used Civic?”
You laugh, bobbing your head left and right in a mockery of thought. “Basically.”
He lays off your hand so he can whip the truck around in the driveway, headlights blurring over the freshly fallen snow. Instead of leaving the way you came, he drives slow up a small incline and off towards the tree line on the edge of Roy’s property.
“Seriously though, where are we going?” There’s a brief thought that maybe Gator was told to bring you out here. Maybe it was all under the guise of asking if you wanted to go for a ride. He still doesn’t answer you and you turn your body towards him. “Gator. I’m serious.” The quick change in your tone makes him glance at you. You’ve got your hand in your coat, pocket knife gripped in your fist. You try to remember if you brought your phone but it’s not like it’d do any good out here. Basically wilderness this far out and this late at night.
“You gonna knife me out here?” He’s not looking, just points with his right hand at your coat. “At least wait till I stop the truck.”
“Are you supposed to kill me?”
“What?” He laughs disbelievingly at you. “You think…” He trails off laughing again. You feel cornered and trapped and very fucking stupid until he gets past the trees a bit and slams the truck into park.
“I’ve got a helluva lot more respect for you than that.” He gives you a crooked grin. “Definitely more than your father.” He undoes his seatbelt and leans over to unclip yours. You flinch back against the door and he pauses. Tilts his head at you and rolls his tongue over his bottom lip before he sighs.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’d be unusual.”
He chuckles and grabs your knee to pull himself across the seat. “Mm. Well I won’t kill you.”
“Even if Roy asked?” Your heart isn’t hammering quite so anxiously now that he’s got his face this close. There’s a flutter of an expression across his brow but it’s gone before you can think about it too much.
“Why would he ask.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t like my father.” You drop your gaze when his good hand starts working on the snaps of your heavy coat. He’s got a little bit better movement with his bad hand now and he uses it to pull your leg closer to him. “I’m too smart for my own good. You said I creep him out. Take your pick.” He pulls your zipper down and gets his hand in your coat to push it aside. He just hums at you and leans into your neck to bury his nose under your ear.
“Why’d you bring me out here then?” You aren’t exactly in the mood for this right now. You’ve barely gotten your hand unwrapped from the pocket knife and he’s already trying to fuck.
“Jesus christ, I just asked if you wanted to go for a ride.” He leans back annoyed.
“You don’t ask me to do things. You don’t ask anything actually.”
“Do I need to?”
“No, but if you’re gonna take me out to the fuckin’ woods on a whim, I’d like to know ahead of time. That’s how you end up with a bullet in the head!”
His hand grips your jaw and knocks your head back into the passenger window with a thunk. He hovers over you best he can in the truck cab, his knee digging into your shin.
“If I wanted to I woulda done it by now.” He pushes your chin up to resume his attack on your neck. That first bite makes you hiss and he smiles against you, hand dropping to pull at the button on your jeans.
He’s got you sighing and squirming under his mouth, making quick work of putting an end to any protest you may have been thinking of. You wedge your hands between the two of you to work on his thick belt and when you manage to get your hand past his stupid camo pants he sits up from you before yanking you down the seat. He pulls your legs till you’re on your back, shirt and coat bunched up under you. You start to open your mouth to say something but he clamps his left hand over it and pulls at your jeans roughly until you cut him some slack and help him. Your laughter bleeds out from under his palm and he takes the opportunity to shove his middle and ring fingers in your mouth.
“It ain’t nice to laugh.” He warns you. He watches you for a moment, a deep sigh pushed through his nose while you suck loudly on his fingers.
“Pull your jeans down.”
You smile around his fingers and wiggle your hips to work your pants down. You bite into his knuckles when he tries to pull them out of your mouth, the rest of his fingers squeezing at your cheeks till you release him with a quiet laugh.
Pants barely down your hips he grabs the waistband and yanks them to your knees and lays into you. Your huff turns into a groan when you feel him pull his cock out and slide it along your wet slit. He lets out a shuddering laugh and leans back to stare at your cunt, right hand holding your knee back.
“You thought you were in real danger out here and you’re fuckin’ soaked.” He taps the fat head of his cock against you, pushing down till he slides between your folds and catches your clit, your eyes rolling back continuing his laughter.
“All I gotta do is take you out to the woods.” A few more rocks of his hips and he finally pushes in quick to bury himself deep.
It’s cold even with the truck on and the heat running. When you pant heavy under him you can barely see your breath and you could think of worse ways to stay warm.
“Gator?” You ask when he doesn’t move right away. With both hands braced on the backs of your knees he just grunts at you, face scrunched up in what looks like concentration. “You gonna move?”
“Y’warm.” He stays seated right up against you until he snaps his hips hard enough to knock your head into the door. He does it a few more times before he reaches up and grabs the top of your head to cushion it with his good hand. He keeps your knees pushed into your chest while he fucks the cold air out of you, small gasps forced out of your throat on every thrust. He goes about his normal and tries to bite your neck as much as he can, teeth nipping into sensitive skin while he pushes all his weight on you.
This feels a little different than normal to you. There’s a frantic feeling that’s missing from him tonight but maybe it’s the truck. The snow does make it feel like something akin to romance and he did ask you if you wanted to go for a ride.
“You got s-somethin’ on your m-mind?” You warble out between thrust. He doesn’t respond with words, just keeps mouthing along your neck and getting the collar of your shirt wet with spit. Tonight should be like all the other times, a quick one off. Except he’s moving over you with a purpose, mumbling against your throat and rolling your skin between his teeth gentler than normal.
He tells you you’re taking him so good. He tells you he loves how wet you get over him and the danger. He tells you you’re a good girl, his good girl.
Your hands end up tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back so you can get a good look at his face. He’s not supposed to start this shit, neither of you are. This was supposed to be a fucking around in dark corners kind of thing. A quick release of venom and a purge of anger to keep you both palatable to the masses. Suddenly though he’s talking about you like he thinks about you in the off times.
“Gator.” You strain out on a particularly hard thrust. He won’t let you pull his head up no matter how much it must sting against his scalp.
“Gator look at m-“ He brings the hand cushioning your head against the door to instead over your mouth again, a frustrated growl crawling out from between the two of you. You because he won’t listen to you yet again and him because you won’t shut the fuck up and let him have this.
“I just wanted you to myself for once.” His nose drags harshly up the underside of your jaw. “Not in a fuckin’ mud room or some garage.” His skin is slick against yours where a thin sheen of sweat has found a home along his cheek. He sits up enough to look down at you finally, hand still clamped over your mouth. “No Roy. No family.” His movements have stopped and you can feel him twitch deep inside you. “It’s quiet.” His eyes roam your face for a moment. “I like the quiet.”
“Be good, yeah?”
When you nod silently he lets your face go to fish around in your coat pocket, pulling out the silver knife you’d kept hidden. He flicks it open with ease and wedges it into your lax hand. You barely have a grip on it before he gets in your face and pulls your fist up to lay against his collar bone.
“I’m not gonna kill you.” A slow roll of his hips makes you moan high. “Roy can’t tell me to do that.” You watch the edge of the knife make a dent in his skin as he leans closer, nose brushing yours, eyes locked in your gaze. “I might hurt you, but you did break my fuckin’ wrist.” Your laugh is mostly breath, eyes flicking between his face and the metal pushing slowly into his neck. “If I go too far, you can knife me then, but it’s only me.” He picks up his pace, the rolling of hips turning into deep rutting, and he holds you in place with your coat bunched up in his fists. “Only me, right?” If he sounds desperate you don’t acknowledge it, just nodding at him breathless while he starts to loose whatever control he had. You’re nowhere near the edge, too lost in watching him fall apart while the knife digs further in and you have a moment of worry. Before you can voice it though he lurches in to kiss you. A hard press of teeth behind lips, a low groan streaming out of him when your hand slips and cuts him shallow, and he’s coming hot inside you. His hips stutter while your hands wind around his neck to hold him in place against your mouth, heavy breathing trapped between you two.
You expect him to catch his breath and pretend like this didn’t just happen. He’s not concerned with your end of things usually, just zipping his pants up and leaving, but when he pulls out you barely have time to process before he’s shoving your knees back into your chest and burying his face in your cunt, tongue bullying it’s way in until he hits your clit.
“Oh fuck!” You’re more sensitive than you realized and his relentless lapping against you makes your hips rock into his face until he holds you still. You’ve got nowhere to go, can’t move away from his mouth no matter how much you squirm under his iron grip so it’s barely a minute later and you’re gasping his name. Grasping at anything in your reach you leave a streak of red down his passenger window, his blood still on your hand. Dizziness claws through your head, the crash of your orgasm quick and fast and all you can do is stare up at the headliner and take deep breaths. Hands still clawed on the freezing window and wound in his hair.
He tucks your legs down and does a half assed job of trying to get your jeans up before he climbs over you, pushing your hand away from his head. “You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Maybe.” Your voice sounds foreign to you, the pitch too high. Your heart thrums in your chest and you’re positive he can hear it. When you finally drag your eyes down you catch the shine of both of you on his chin and the red on his neck. Not dripping but wet enough to catch the light. Your finger trails lazily over his face and then down his neck, still cold from being pressed into the window. He barely registers it, too busy watching your eyes dance over his neck and his blood.
It’s how he watched your lip bleed over the wall, and how he watched the bites bloom over your throat for a day or two after some dark corner. He gets the stupid thought in his head that he’d let you cut him whenever you want if it means you keep your cold finger on him.
“Do you wanna go home?” It’s a stupid question. Neither of you want that but he doesn’t know what to say right now. The air shifted about 20 minutes ago and he hasn’t found his footing again, that creeping feeling of emotions he ignores swirling around his skull.
“No.” You don’t look at his eyes when you answer, finger going tacky over his skin where the blood starts to dry. Instead you wordlessly sit up and wiggle back into your jeans while he tries to find his belt loops again. You slump into your corner of the cab and quietly toy around with your knife while he puts the truck in drive and acts like he can’t feel your eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. When you stretch out your legs and shove them over his thigh he just huffs, and when he notices your breathing go heavy he drops a hand on your ankle.
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till-death-us-do-part · 1 month ago
Text
One of the earliest interviews of Chris about Lord of the Lost that I’ve found, sources and such at the end, originally in German
Lord
By Pamela Stahl - 6th December 2008
Chris "The Lord" Harms is no longer an unknown entity in the dark and colourful world of the alternative music scene. The former singer of Philiae has already performed on stage with Big Boy and is currently known as the guitarist of the glam rock band The Pleasures, as well as the voice of UnterArt.
But as if all that wasn't enough, multi-talented Lord has now come out with his latest music project of the same name. In an exclusive interview, the musician revealed how Lord was founded, what we can expect from the debut album "Not From This World", as well as the good news that the band will be appearing live on stage for the first time in early January as the support act for Big Boy.
Pamela: Hello Lord. The most important question for you is of course: How are you?
Lord: Oh, I don't think I've ever been asked that in an interview. I usually skip a question like that because nowadays it means nothing more than "hello", but obviously not in this case. So I'm fine, even if I'm very tired this morning.
Pamela: You seem to be a very busy person. Until four years ago you were the singer of Philiae, for a while you supported Big Boy as a guitarist and currently you are known as the voice of UnterArt and as the guitarist of the glam rock band The Pleasures. How and why did you come to form your new project Lord?
Lord: I just had to do something completely my own again. Strictly speaking, this is not my first album of this kind, I made an album under the project name Vagueness in 2004 and 2005, but this time there is a completely different seriousness, conviction and ambition behind it. I think that is what you would call pure passion.
Pamela: Lord was initially intended as a solo project, how and where did you finally find suitable collaborators?
Lord: It was a gradual process. At first I was just looking for a live band. At first I was fascinated by the idea of ​​having an all-girl band around me because it's a great contrast. But then it quickly became much more important to me to have people around me that I respect and have known for a long time. So I didn't cast them or anything like that, they are all friends of mine. I know Class from Just Music, where I always buy my guitars, Sebsta has been tattooing me for many years, Any was a crew member with The Pleasures on tour a lot, and everyone knows Sensai.
Pamela: Your debut album will be called “Not From This World.” What does this title mean to you personally?
Lord: That's the title of the first song I wrote, the unplanned start of this band. It describes the moment of falling in love so madly that you feel like the other person is not from this world. Total helplessness and blindness, fearless surrender. I can only recommend it to everyone ;-)
Pamela: Have you finished working on the album yet? If so, how long did the recordings take in total and how did they go?
Lord: Not quite yet. I still have to sing a lot of songs, Sensai is still working on a few additional guitar add-ons and this evening I'm going back to the studio to see Corvin, who plays piano on a few songs on the album. He's been arranging something on the album outro song "Sooner Or Later" and I'm really excited.
Pamela: You can already listen to two songs on your MySpace page. Both have a noticeably dark and slightly melancholic touch. Does Lord give you the opportunity to write the songs that you couldn't write in the same form with your other bands?
Lord: That's the point. But not only couldn't write them, but especially didn't want to write them, so that the bands remain what they are and what they stand for.
Pamela: Are these two songs and their general mood representative of the entire album, or are there still surprises in store?
Lord: The general tone is a bit harder. The two demos are more of an easy-to-digest fare. Don't expect black metal, but I've listened to Nine Inch Nails and Rammstein for too many years to hold back on the heavy riffs.
Pamela: What else can you tell us about the album at this point? What aspects of the content will it cover and perhaps the most important question: When is it likely to be released?
Lord: I actually managed to put 13 love songs in the broadest sense on one album. That's 100%... I don't know when we can release it. I hope before it gets warm again. I don't want to wait any longer!
Pamela: The music not only sounds dark and atmospheric, but also very emotional. It is reasonable to suspect that many personal experiences and events went into the songwriting. How was it in your case?
Lord: Yes, exclusively. I like to express myself metaphorically or in images, and I package everything in fictional stories, but the lyrics are all an absolute reflection of my emotional world. Musically, I didn't do everything on my own; Sebsta in particular composed a lot.
Pamela: What do you personally expect from a good song?
Lord: It has to convey an emotion in a tangible way, whatever it may be. That's all that matters.
Pamela: When you compose new songs, do you need a certain mood and atmosphere, or are you one of those musicians who get ideas in their sleep, so to speak?
Lord: The latter, sometimes even literally. The songs are just there and I go into the studio and put together a demo, like recording "Knockin' On Heaven's Door", which is just as easy to remember as a guitarist in my generation.
Pamela: What feedback have you received from your colleagues in other bands about your new project? Do they like what you're doing, or aren't they a little worried that you might even quit sooner or later to concentrate fully on Lord?
Lord: Musically they think it's good, more or less, not everyone is into this whining ;-) And of course they're behind me, and I'm behind them, as well as behind all the music I make, and as long as that's the case, nobody needs to be afraid. I don't think that will change any time soon.
Pamela: Compared to the music and your appearance with the Pleasures, Lord represents a contrast that couldn't be more extreme. Do you think that you can appeal to the same audience with Lord as with the Pleasures? Or to put it another way: Could it be that your existing fan base, who see you as the slightly offbeat and always colourful guitarist, is a little frightened by your new serious, almost serious image?
Lord: I don't think the difference is that drastic. A drastic difference would be if I had a death metal and an RnB band. In addition to my offbeat existence as a colourful diva, I have always represented a darker side with the Pleasures, which most fans know, both visually and musically. I don't think most people will be frightened, but it will certainly happen in isolated cases. I have to live with that, you can't please everyone, and I won't try to.
Pamela: Which image is more appropriate for the private Lord? The oddball a la The Pleasures, or the thoughtful person with a penchant for sentimentality?
Lord: Somehow both, but basically the latter.
Pamela: How did you come up with the idea of ​​calling yourself Lord? Sure, the band is called Lord because you are "The Lord". But how did you come up with that name for yourself?
Lord: That was my ex-girlfriend. I had the weird nickname Vivian back then, but that's another story. That was a bit too silly for me, and I said to her that I would like to have something in front of it for The Pleasures that somehow suits me. She then mentioned "Lord", and that was it.
Pamela: Was there a personal key experience that motivated you to become a musician? Or how else did you come up with the idea of ​​becoming a musician?
Lord: Several. Two decisive ones. My first concert on my mother's lap, I was 3 years old. Two years later I started learning the cello of my own volition. And later my first concerts by Die Ärzte. That's when I felt I had to get on stage!
Pamela: Not only is this interview coming to an end, but so is the year 2008. What was your best experience in 2008 as a musician and personally?
Lord: The UK tour with The Pleasures was a highlight. Personally, definitely my trip to Las Vegas and the unique experience of a “wedding drive-thru”.
Pamela: Were there any negative events this year?
Lord: Yes. But that was so annoying that I don’t even want to think about it anymore and would rather just ignore the topic of “former The Pleasures drummer”.
Pamela: Then a cautious look into the future. What can we expect from you in the coming year? What concrete plans do you have? And when are Lord's first live dates likely to take place?
Lord: Release the album, start on the next Lord album... and very importantly, on January 15th and 16th Lord will be on stage live for the first time, as the opening act for Big Boy, in Kiel and Schwerin!!
Pamela: Thank you very much for this interview and I wish you much success - with all your bands, of course.
[Source, originally in German]
[Archive]
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bigsoftmarshmallow · 3 months ago
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Here's something!
In the middle of battle, the Dorfs’ wife gets seriously injured. He rushes her to the healer's tent &... she nearly dies. Like, her heart actually stops beating for a minute or two.
I imagine him breaking down in utter despair, but then, he feels her fingers tighten ever so slightly around his. So weakly, but still it was something.
When it's all over, her eyes open weakly, a small, tired smile on her face.
I heard him whispering quietly, his voice shaking, “A'nï… A'nï barákúl ladhi gib uàyúl būjūn'so plix'nï…” (I… I believed that death had stolen you from me…)
Her voice rasps at him, yet the sound is the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, “You won't be getting rid of me that easily.”
Later, I can’t help but think that he’d also be curious about what she experienced in death. Though, when asked, she says that he probably won’t believe her. Commenting that she actually doesn’t quite believe it herself.
Ganondorf insists & she looks at him for a moment & told him that when she was… wherever it was she’d been, there’d been a some twink there. Like, a bizarrely “pretty” twink. Which, she’ll comment, not her type. Too teen heartthrob, not enough “could crush a man’s skull with his bare hands.”
But, anyway, the pervert tried to kiss her, so she punched him in the teeth & told him she was married.
Apparently, he liked her loyalty, so he decided to “grant her a boon”? And then she woke up.
She asked if her husband knew what that meant. Who seemed to just stare at her, before calmly informing her that she’d most likely just gained the favor of Ôyáseem, Gerudo God of the Wind, Thieves, Temptation, & Death. He is known to detest infidelity & will grant boons to those who resist his temptations to remain loyal to their significant others.
I’d very much like his thoughts, feelings, opinions, & reactions to all this, please & thank you? Especially to the fact that his tiny little wife had impressed the death god of his people by all-but assaulting in.
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When you punch god in the face because you are HAPPILY MARRIED THANK YOU-
I love this. Ganondorf (and apparently Demise as well. We cannot escape him no matter how much I tell him that THERE ISNT ANY GERUDO IN HIS ERA.) taking in how much his wife loves him and dammit he will never chance losing her again. Nemma may need a beating stick because the man just became her personal body guard. No personal space, because he will never leave.
Wife nearly dies, but comes back? Ganondorf: WHERE EVER YOU ARE I WONT BE FAR TO FOLLOW OHHHH I LOVE YOU SOOOOO JUST SO YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU MEANS YOU ARE NEVER EVER EVER EVER GETTING RID OF ME-
^ Personal headcanon lol
Chat says differently me thinks->
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When Ganondorf's wife nearly dies on the battlefield, the moment is shattering for him. Each version of Ganondorf, shaped by his experiences and personality, would react in his own way, but the underlying emotions would be strikingly similar—despair, helplessness, and a profound sense of loss. Seeing her heart stop would break something deep within him, especially given how much he values strength and loyalty. Her heart faltering would feel like the world itself was slipping away from him.
When she squeezes his hand, even the slightest movement would send a wave of relief through him, though it might take a moment to register. He’d whisper to her, voice shaking, hardly daring to believe she was still alive. Her raspy response would feel like a lifeline, a reassurance that he hadn’t lost her.
Afterward, when she recounts her experience of nearly dying and mentions the strange encounter with the “pretty twink,” Ganondorf’s reaction would be a mix of curiosity, disbelief, and a deep, almost reverent respect for her.
Wind Waker Ganondorf might laugh a bit darkly when she mentions punching the deity. His eyes would narrow with a mix of pride and relief, though the idea that his wife had impressed Ôyáseem would sober him quickly. He might tease her about being so fiercely loyal even to the gods, but beneath the humor, there's a deep sense of gratitude that she’s still with him, and perhaps a bit of awe that she now carries the favor of such a powerful deity.
Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would be more serious. He’s not one to easily express his emotions, but hearing her story would stir something deep within him. He’d likely be silent for a moment, processing the idea that his wife had not only faced death but had also won the favor of the Gerudo God of Death. His respect for her would deepen, though he might not show it overtly. Instead, he’d hold her close, perhaps whispering something about how he’s glad she’s as stubborn as ever.
Twilight Princess Ganondorf would be deeply affected. His connection to ancient powers and his own experience with divine forces would make him keenly aware of the significance of her encounter. He might react with a grim sort of pride, appreciating her defiance in the face of such a being. He would be deeply relieved that she’s alive and would likely become more protective of her, though he’d admire her strength all the more.
Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would have a mix of pride and possessiveness. The idea that his wife impressed a god by rejecting him would fill Ganondorf with a sense of fierce pride. He might even feel a bit of rivalry with Ôyáseem, though he’d never admit it. He’d likely make some comment about how no god could take her from him, and his grip on her would tighten, both as a show of protection and affection.
Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf might react with a sense of grim satisfaction. Having seen the power of the Zonai and other divine beings, he’d understand the gravity of her experience. The fact that she resisted such a being would impress him deeply, though his reaction might be more internalized. He might quietly vow to honor the boon she’s received, recognizing the favor of Ôyáseem as something that could be both a blessing and a responsibility.
Demise would likely be furious at first—not with her, but with the situation that nearly took her from him. Hearing her story, though, his fury might turn into a sort of grudging respect for Ôyáseem, though he’d never voice it. He would be more openly protective after this, perhaps even more possessive, viewing her survival and the boon as something that proves her worthiness even more. Her loyalty would resonate deeply with him, though he might express it in a more intense, perhaps slightly ominous way, promising that no force, mortal or divine, would ever take her from him again.
In all versions, Ganondorf would be deeply moved by her experience, though his outward reaction would vary based on his personality. The idea that she had impressed Ôyáseem by resisting his advances would only strengthen his love and respect for her, though he might also feel a renewed determination to protect her from any further harm.
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